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bahablastplz · 21 days

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Make it hurt: Seungmin x Reader x Jeongin

Your best friend is a menace. A stupid, kinky menace that drags you along to a BDSM event with her when your curiosity gets the best of you. What will happen when a strangely attractive man asks you if you want to do your first scene with him and his friend? Content: smut smut smut smut smut Warnings: Talks of BDSM, use of ‘sir,’ traffic light system, dom/sub dynamics (dom Seungmin, dom Jeongin, sub reader), sensory deprivation, sensory play, fingering, choking, spanking (with a paddle), hair pulling, p in v sex, protected sex, edging, slight overstimulation, little bit of praise, little bit of degradation if you squint, lots of aftercare WC: 5900 (this is the longest smut I've ever written byeee)

Your friend is a menace. Well, that is a given. You’ve always known Lily, your best friend and roommate, to be somewhat unhinged. But now, given the circumstances you’re currently in… it was more apparent than usual.

She was involved in the BDSM community. It was something that she had started getting involved in with her boyfriend and so you were privy to hearing about some of her more… intimate experiences. She talked about what it was like being a submissive in a relationship, relinquishing any and all control to that of her dominant, coupled with sensory play, pain play, you name it.

When you expressed some interest in learning more about the BDSM community she was thrilled.

Let’s just say some of your past sexual experiences were… vanilla, for lack of a better term. While you’ve encouraged some of your previous partners to take charge or to be a little bit rougher in the bedroom, they would indulge but they never truly seemed into it. The one time a hookup agreed to choke you, however, you came harder than you ever had in your life.

When you told this to Lily, she told you that you just had to come to an event with her and her boyfriend. You weren’t too sure how you felt about this at first. Wouldn’t you just be third wheeling? She assured you that these BDSM events were a safespace for everybody of all experience levels to enjoy kink and that you would be fine to go off on your own if you needed to.

That’s how you ended up here. Just as you predicted, Lily and her boyfriend disappear the second you enter the venue, leaving you alone. Upon entry, you are given a pink wristband to show others that you’re new to the BDSM community and ‘open to learning more.’ You also pick out pins to display on your shirt, so you choose one that that says ‘submissive,’ and ‘pain slut.’ The latter you had grabbed just because you thought it was funny, but hey, if you’re here to learn more about kink then that’s what you’re going to do.

The event has a lot of different seminars to sit in on as well as vendors that sell a variety of sex toys or items for BDSM. You look at some of the silk ties and ropes they have for bondage and rope play, body-safe wax for temperature play, paddles and floggers for impact play, and even some lubes and sex toys that you have never seen before. You don’t buy anything, but you grab a lot of flyers and giveaway items that you put in a small bag to take home with you.

You also attend a seminar about kink for beginners and what green flags to look for in a dom/sub. Overall it is a very education-filled evening and you find yourself a little intimidated but also a little aroused. You know for sure by the end of the evening that this community is something that you want to continue to explore.

Sitting down at a table by yourself, you let out a loud sigh. You riffle through some of your pamphlets and check your phone to see if Lily texted you. "We're going to set up a scene in one of the play rooms!! Talk to you later! Xoxo.” She sent that text message 15 minutes ago, which means you would probably be stuck here a while longer. You let out a loud sigh again.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” You look up and your heart skips a beat when you see one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

He has shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair, shaggy but perfectly placed as it frames the front of his face. You notice his plump pink lips and sculpted face before you meet his dark eyes that give him an appearance not unlike that of a fox. Beautiful.

You realize that you haven’t responded to the man before you shake the thoughts out of your head and give him a smile.

“Yes! I mean, no no, it’s not taken. Feel free to sit!” You laugh at your own awkwardness and gesture to the chair to your left. Scanning over the man’s frame once again, you notice he’s wearing a denim coat over a nice white dress-shirt. He also has a pin on that says ‘dominant.’ Interesting.

“Are you okay?” He questions, tilting his head to the side inquisitively after sitting down.

“Huh?”

“Oh, I was just curious if you’re okay. I noticed that you were sitting alone and you were sighing, so I just wanted to make sure–”

“Oh! That’s so sweet of you! My friend kind of dragged me along with her when I told her that I was interested but um… yeah, she kind of ditched me as soon as we got here.” You run a hand through your hair and let out a breath that you had been holding. “I mean, I’m having a good time and all! But I just didn’t want my first time here to be alone, you know?”

“I’m sorry your friend ditched you,” he says sympathetically. “If it’s any consolation, it’s my first time here, too!” He holds up his wrist to show you a matching pink wristband. The action makes you smile.

“Are you here alone?” You question. “I’m just curious, you know, if this is something that a lot of beginners usually attend by themselves or if most people come here with a friend.”

“Oh no no,” he laughs. You think that his smile is cute and you can’t help it when you feel yourself warm up and get more comfortable just by his presence. “I’m here with my friend. He is a lot more experienced in being a dom, he’s been involved in the community for a few years and he told me he would show me around,” he explains.

“I see! Are you… Do you like it so far?” You try not to get shy, but to be fair this man is so unbelievably attractive.

“I do! It’s very educational. I can see myself trying to get more involved, hopefully. What about you? You’re not uncomfortable, are you? I know it must be a lot to be here by yourself since your friend left you here.” You think it’s so sweet that this guy is checking in on you so thoroughly.

“Oh, I’m fine!” You say with a big grin. “It’s been so cool so far! I definitely think I want to get more involved too. While it’s a little intimidating… it’s like… it makes me want to try it, you know? I definitely don’t want to go back to plain old vanilla sex after this, I think.” He laughs with you in understanding.

“My name’s Jeongin, by the way,” he says. “You are…”

“Y/N,” you provide.

He repeats your name, committing it to memory. “Listen, I know we’re both new at this, so don’t feel pressured at all… but would you be interested in setting up a scene with me and my friend? His name is Seungmin, he’ll be here in a few minutes if you’d like to meet him. But, he told me he would be there for my first scene, to walk me through it and make sure that everything goes right… And I don’t know if that would make you more comfortable for your first time to also have someone that is experienced… Shit, I don’t even know if you’re interested at all, and it doesn’t even have to happen right away or anything, and, um, he would be better at explaining it, but we could talk about boundaries and–”

“It’s okay, Jeongin,” you say. “I think I’m interested, actually.” He seems to perk up, as if surprised at your words. “Really?”

“Yeah! I think so. I’m a little nervous, admittedly. But… Do you think I could meet your friend first? Maybe if we talk it over a little more, I’ll feel better.”

“Of course!” He smiles, pulling out his phone. “He’ll be here in one minute.”

You don’t know why you’re surprised, but his friend Seungmin is also ridiculously attractive. He has long black hair, slightly shorter than Jeongin’s that falls around chin-length. He has bright eyes and a wide smile, almost innocently so, and he doesn’t strike you right away as someone that is an experienced dom that has been in the community for a while. He’s clear and concise when he speaks, though, setting clear boundaries with a politeness that makes you want to trust him implicitly.

The three of you talk for almost thirty minutes, surprisingly. Seungmin provides you and Jeongin with little kink surveys, which you think is almost endearing, but it helps you determine your sexual compatibility and any hard limits you have for the scene. He also talks you through protection, safewords, and the traffic light system, which you all determine will be your preferred method of communicating any hard or soft limits for the night.

You even spill the fact that you’ve been completely dissatisfied with previous partners, none of them pleasing you sexually and allowing you to completely let go the way you’ve been wanting. They nod along and you feel very comfortable sharing your experiences with them which you think is probably a green flag.

“Am I going to be having sex with the both of you?” You ask. You let out a nervous chuckle with the question, avoiding eye contact slightly but not trying to appear uncomfortable or shy about the topic.

“Do you want to?” Seungmin asks, turning the question back to you. “You need to let us know whatever you’re comfortable with, Y/N.”

“I think I want to.”

“Well, consent can be revoked at any point. If you decide you want to now but change your mind during the scene, that’s fine! You just need to communicate with us,” he explains. “Because this is your first scene, you should know that we don’t even have to have sex at all. Not all scenes have to involve sex. There’s plenty of other ways for everyone to have pleasure.” Something about the way he talks like he knows exactly what he’s talking about, so educated on the topic but also cautious to establish boundaries and make the whole process safe is so attractive to you. You hide a blush and look him in the eyes this time.

“I understand that we don’t have to. But… if you both are okay with it, I think I would like sex to be a part of the scene. Definitely with Jeongin,” you say. “But also with you, Seungmin, if you’re comfortable with that.”

“You’re doing a great job using your words!” He praises. This time you don’t conceal your blush. He takes note of that. “I think we’re pretty much set for now. Let us know if you have any questions!”

And with that, you set up a time and a place for the scene and exchange contact information before you all part ways. You find yourself exhilarated that this has just happened, but mostly you’re giddy. You’re going to do a scene. And with everything you talked about and communicated that you’re looking for, you have a feeling that it definitely won’t be a boring sexual experience.

When Lily and her boyfriend finally find you upstairs you’re more than ready to go home. She wants to grill you about everything that happened, but seeing as you’re a little annoyed that she left you to your own devices you decide not to tell her everything right away. You at least wait until you get home to let her know that you actually found a dominant that was interested in setting up a scene with you.

Before she can get the chance to lecture you about being safe, you explain to her about all of the boundaries and safe words that you set. You’re not sure how much detail you want to get into about it, but you at least promise to share your location with her during the scene so she can keep an eye on you for peace of mind.

The scene would take place in one week. Next Saturday.

In the meantime, you communicate somewhat frequently with Jeongin and Seungmin in a shared group chat. Seungmin shares articles for both you and Jeongin to read up on, and occasionally you would ask a few questions.

Saturday comes by faster than you know it.

Y/N: Should I wear anything special?

Seungmin: Innie says to wear something pink. And bring a change of clothes, something comfortable.

Seungmin: Don’t be late.

God, there are butterflies in your stomach. Is that the right terminology for this anxious yet giddy anticipatory feeling building up? You’re not sure, but when you knock on the door to Seungmin’s front door at 6:03 p.m., the feeling rises up again and again.

He leads you to his bedroom, where Jeongin is sitting on the bed. You sit in a gaming chair that accompanies a desk in the corner of his room, turning back and forth.

“Jeongin,” Seungmin says. “Do you remember the checklist?”

“Yeah,” he says to his friend. He turns to you. “How are you feeling today? Any hesitation on your end?”

“Nope,” you reply. “A little nervous, but excited.”

“Great. Remember our safe word?”

“Yeah! Traffic light system. Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for ‘God, yes, keep going.’”

“Amazing. So, Seungmin and I are going to go through and show you some of what we had planned for today, just to get you familiar with some of our toys and what not. As we talked about last week, we’re looking to do some pain/impact play, and maybe some sensory play. We’re okay with edging and overstimulation. You were interested in potentially having protected sex with penetration, maybe with both of us. If you feel uncomfortable at any time or want to stop, please let us know. Does that sound good?” You nod your head and smile sweetly.

“Words,” Jeongin and Seungmin both say at the same time. You let out a light chuckle at the action.

“Yes. Yes, that sounds good, thank you,” you answer.

Jeongin shoots Seungmin a look. “Did I miss anything?”

“Nope, you covered it all! You’re off to a great start. I did want to point out that your friend was three minutes late, however, when I explicitly instructed her to be on time. Now, I want you to be in charge of this scene, since it’s your first time, but that would definitely warrant a punishment if it were me.” You blanch at his words. You didn’t think that being late by three minutes would cause an issue but the promise of a punishment has you squeezing your thighs together in anticipation.

“Oh?” Jeongin says, shooting you a sinister grin. “Look at her rubbing her thighs together, she’s already wanting to be touched. I bet she did it on purpose, hmm? Did you come here late on purpose so you could get punished?” He stalks across the room to where you’re sat, tilting your head up to make eye contact with him. His gaze is dark yet firm, and you almost find it unbelievable that this is his first scene. Already you’re finding yourself willing to submit, to follow his every command and to please him.

“No,” you stutter. “Sorry, was an accident.” You don’t break eye contact but your face heats up rapidly.

“Do you remember what you said you wanted to call me tonight? You didn’t forget, right?”

“No… no, sir. Sorry,” you say. The both of you shudder at the term. You can tell it has the desired effect on Jeongin, who grips your chin tighter before letting you go, causing your head to fall down from lack of support.

“On the bed,” he instructs. “Take off your shirt and your pants and wait for Seungmin and I to get our materials ready. If you’re wearing a bra and underwear, keep them on.”

You nod your head at him before standing up then remember to use your words. “Yes, sir.”

“Color?” He asks. His face softens for a second and you let out a shaky breath.

“Green.”

Seungmin reaches to the top of his dresser and pulls out a long box. He walks you through various items, showing you paddles and floggers, restraints, and vibrators and dildos and other various sex toys. It’s reminiscent of the BDSM event you went to the other day, you think, as he explains each item and its purpose. Eventually he pulls out a red silk blindfold and instructs Jeongin to put it on you. You feel your body start to buzz in anticipation, already excited for what is to come as his long, delicate fingers wrap the blindfold around your head.

“Cross your hands and put them above your head. Keep them there or I’ll tie them.”

You let out a breathy sigh. “Yes sir,” you say, and it’s barely a whisper.

“Jeongin, I’m going to let you take the lead here. Let me know if you have any questions,” Seungmin says. It feels like you are waiting forever, and you know your breathing speeds up when you hear someone rustling through the box. When the bed dips next to you you find yourself pressing your thighs together to get some pressure and relieve some of the tension. The feeling of Jeongin’s hands on your thigh startles you, and he kneads the flesh gently, urging you to spread your legs for him. You do so immediately.

Something soft prickles at your skin and your breath hitches. What you can only assume is a feather starts at your chest, barely touching your skin but drawing light lines. You feel hot already from the small actions, breathing when the feather draws circles on your neck. Even more so, you have to stop yourself from pressing your thighs back together when he barely touches your nipples over the fabric of your bralette.

“Oh,” you say. “That feels good.”

“Yeah?” Jeongin breathes, the ghost of a smirk evident in his voice. He sounds almost as wrecked as you do and that makes you smile.

You aren’t expecting it when he grazes your clit. You think it’s with his finger, as you can still feel the feather circling your nipple, but the action makes you whimper.

“I’m going to finger this pretty pussy,” he says. “What’s your color?”

“Green,” you answer. “So green.” His fingers slip into the waistband of your panties, lingering for a second and teasing you until you lift your hips, allowing him to remove the fabric from your body.

One finger dips shallowly into your entrance, gathering just a little bit of your wetness.

“You’re soaked,” he comments. “And I’ve barely touched you.” You nod your head at him in agreement, because you know it’s true. You’re unsure if you’ve ever been this aroused in your life.

Using your arousal coating his finger, he works small circles outside of your clit, occasionally grazing it. Each time he does your breath catches in your throat, and if you could see him you would know he has a shit-eating grin on his face, working you up so easily from teasing you.

You barely register when another body dips into the bed next to you, though Seungmin helps raise your body into a sitting position. He grabs your arms and guides them behind your back, leaning you up against him.

“I’m gonna take this off,” he whispers, fingers sliding underneath your bralette. “You did such a good job wearing pink for us, just like we asked. You’ll just do anything we tell you, won’t you? You’ll be a good girl for us and listen to what we say?” He lifts the bralette over your head, discarding it.

You feel his breath on your neck, warm. You nod and tilt your head back, leaning yourself completely into the man.

A hand wraps expertly around your exposed throat. You feel it, finger by finger curling around and pressing into your skin. It’s at this moment that Jeongin decides to thrust a finger into you, hitting deep inside. You let out a cry at both actions, sounding utterly debauched.

“This will be your last reminder to answer us when spoken to,” Seungmin says, fingers wrapping tighter around your throat. “Do you understand?”

“Yes… fuck, yes sir.”

His hand remains unmoving, keeping you in place as Jeongin stimulates you. You notice that he’s not even thrusting his finger, but rhythmically curling it inside you. You try to rock your hips into him to get more stimulation but you're kept in place by the man behind you.

“M close,” you warn. A series of whimpers and moans leave your mouth, sounds that you’re sure your body has never made before. You know you’re babbling at this point, sounding something like, “Close, so close, oh my God, please, please, I’m going to, please–”

And when a hand reaches and pinches a nipple, hard, you cum. Jeongin’s pace never changes as he helps you ride it through, and you think you’ve never had an orgasm last this long. It feels like a solid minute passes as you cry and spasm in their hold, legs shaking but remaining open. As you start to come down, you feel a hand in your hair, soothing you.

You let out a heavy breath as Jeongin finally removes his finger, slumping forward. At the same time the blindfold is removed from your head and you’re exposed to the brightness of the room again, blinking as your vision refocuses. You’re just in time to see Jeongin stick his finger into his mouth, moaning as he licks your release from his appendage.

“Color?” Seungmin asks from behind you.

“Green,” you answer, still trying to catch your breath. “That was intense. I’ve never cum that hard in my life,” you admit.

“You did so good,” Jeongin praises. “We’re going to keep going, okay? We gotta give you your punishment for being late.”

“Yes, sir.”

The next thing you see him pull out is a paddle, long and wooden with a rounded end. It looks smooth to the touch but also expensive, as if he invested a good amount of money to pick out one that suited his needs. Not that you would be able to tell the difference between this one and any other paddle, since it was your first time getting spanked in any sense of the manner.

“Bend over for me, ass in the air, okay?”

You do as you're told, burying your face in the sheets as you stick your ass up in the air. Seungmin still sits on the bed, watching.

“Gonna do ten hits, okay baby?” The pet name makes your head spin.

“Okay, sir,” you answer, remembering to use your words.

“Want you to count them for me.” And with that, he hits your ass with an experimental tap of the paddle, just a little force behind it. It stings just a bit but doesn’t necessarily hurt.

“One,” you say.

“You can do it a little harder,” Seungmin encourages.

On the same cheek follows a harder hit, one that most definitely will be red. It’s loud enough to make a distinct clapping sound echo through the room.

“Two.”

“That was better, but you can still do it harder. Don’t be afraid to put some force into it, she can tell you if it’s too much.”

Now to your other cheek comes the hardest hit yet. This one is enough for your breath to hitch in your throat, your voice shaking as you say, “Three.”

“Can I show you?” Seungmin asks, standing. Jeongin nods his head behind you and hands off the paddle to Seungmin, standing to the side. You tilt your head to the side, trying to look and see if you can anticipate the blow, but you’re not fast enough.

Seungmin reels his hand back. This time you can hear the whiff of the paddle in the air a second before it comes, and this hit causes you to cry out. You lurch forward, running away from it slightly. “Like this,” he explains. “She wants it to hurt. If you look close enough, you can see her pretty little cunt clenching. It’s going to be red, and it might bruise a little bit, but she can take it.”

Seungmin delivers a second hit just as hard as the first, and this time you moan. He’s right–you clench around nothing at the action. You didn’t realize just how much the action would turn you on. His hand comes down to soothe where he hit you, the cold from his palm soothing the skin.

“Remember to use your words baby,” he chides. “Are you supposed to be counting?”

“Yes, sir,” you stutter. “Four and five.”

“Normally, I would start over if they forget to count,” Seungmin explains to Jeongin. “But since it’s both of your first times, we can go easy on her today.” He passes the paddle back to Jeongin and stands back, arms crossed and observing.

When Jeongin delivers the next hit it’s with much more precision and force than previously. You let out a much louder moan this time.

“Six,” you breathe.

“You should see her face,” Seungmin says. “She looks pretty fucked out.”

“God, that’s so hot,” Jeongin says softly. You can feel him grab your ass and knead it in your hand and you wince, sensitive from the contact of the paddle against your skin. “You’re soaking, baby, I can see your pretty pussy glistening. So fucking dirty for us. Just a few more, okay?”

“Mhmm, okay sir.” You take the rest of your punishment well and you can tell that you’re red and sore without even looking. You start to slump forward before you feel Jeongin’s hands on your hips, grabbing you to keep you in place.

He slides a finger up and down your entrance, gathering your slick. You’re so wet you can hear it and the sound is filthy on its own. But at the little bit of contact where you’re already pulsing in need, you let out a needy sound.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he says. “What’s your color?”

You let out a strangled sound before answering. “M Green.”

You hear him open the condom and you crane your head, trying to get a good look at his length. His cock is long but skinny, red and leaking already from arousal. With one hand bruising your hip he guides himself to you and you can feel him at your entrance, his tip prodding at your hole. Your breath catches in your throat and in response he rubs his cock up and down, teasing your clit.

“Fuckkk, fuck please,” you say, rocking your hips back to try to push him inside of you. When he catches at your entrance you let out a whine, only increasing in volume when he pushes into you at an agonizingly slow pace. He bottoms out and stills, and for a second the only thing you can hear in the room is your breathing. With that same strong grip on his hips he pulls out, leaving just the tip in before he slams back into you. You lurch forward at the contact, not expecting him to be so forceful. He repeats the action, setting a brutal and relentless pace. All you can think is yes, yes, yes, this is exactly what I wanted.

And so when a hand comes up and grabs a fistful of your hair, pulls you back and yanks it hard, you let out a loud sound that you know can only be described as pornographic. He uses his grip to give himself momentum, pulling you on and off of his cock and digging his nails into your hips. You wonder if you’ll have red and purple crescent-shaped indents in your skin tomorrow, and you hope the answer is yes.

Each thrust is hard enough that you let out an “ah, ah, ah,” sound. You no longer worry about sounding dumb, succumbing to the blinding pressure instead.

Steadily, he works you up to your high. You can feel yourself getting close and faster than you ever have before. You’re a babbling incoherent mess once again, trying to warn them of your approaching release. “Close, close, I’m gonna, fuck, please–”

“Edge her on your cock,” Seungmin says, interrupting you. He comes to sit on the bed, face to face with your messy appearance.

Before you can beg or plead any more, Jeongin stills inside you. Your orgasm fizzles and dissipates and you let out a strangled cry in protest. You try to rock back into him, but to no avail. Instead his hand grips tighter in your hair, pulling you up and guiding your face to Seungmin even closer. You try to look away.

Seungmin tilts your head to meet his eyes, thumbing away a tear that you hadn’t realized escaped. “You wanted to see what it’s like to be a sub, let somebody else take over? You wanted to see what it’s like to lose control? This is it, baby.” You whine for a second and he shushes you, pushing two fingers past your lips and into your mouth.

“Keep going,” Seungmin says, still looking at you. You can feel Jeongin start to rock back into you, slower now but you can still feel him pressing deep inside you. It doesn’t take long for him to work you up again, your orgasm approaching much faster than the last. You moan around Seungmin’s fingers, trying to let him know.

“You gonna cum for Innie?” Blinking up at him, you nod with your vision hazy from tears. He pulls his fingers from your mouth and you groan, catching your breath. “Look at me while you cum on his cock.”

And you do. Clenching around him tight, Jeongin works you right through your orgasm. Seungmin’s gaze never leaves yours, though through your immense pleasure you watch his eyes darken. It doesn’t take long before Jeongin finds his own release, spilling into the condom.

When he pulls out and releases his grip from your hair you surge forward, wrapping your arms around Seungmin.

“You’re doing so good,” he coos, a hand coming to graze up and down your spine that leaves shivers on your skin. “What’s your color?”

“G-green.”

“You want to keep going? Think you can take me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re doing so good, so good baby.” He comes undone from your embrace, a hand coming up to soothe your aching scalp for a second. He positions himself behind you, contemplating before flipping you over to face him. You watch your own chest rise and fall from your heavy breathing and you will it to slow, watching the blank expression on his face. He reaches behind his neck to pull his shirt off, revealing his slightly toned figure.

He pushes his jeans down his legs and frees his cock which looks painfully hard. He’s not as long as Jeongin but he’s thicker, and you don’t even have time to think about how he’s going to feel before he’s sliding the condom on and pushing in, slightly stretching you out in the process.

“Shit, sensitive,” you warn.

“You can take it,” he says. “If you need to use your color system you can.” You nod at him in confirmation, wincing from the sensitivity as he starts fucking into you. You can’t help how hard you’re squeezing around him already. When Jeongin settles behind you, cradling your head in his lap, you can’t help but look up at him with wide eyes. Seungmin sets a steady pace, pounding into you deep but not as hard as Jeongin had. After a few consistent thrusts he’s lifting your legs up, pushing them towards your chest.

“Keep these here,” he tells you. With shaky hands you hold yourself in place, presenting yourself for him. This new angle allows him to reach impossibly deeper and you can feel the wet slap of his hips against the back of your thighs with every thrust. “Fuck, so good for us,” he grunts. “Such a perfect little slut for us, yeah? God, Jeongin, touch her clit, I’m already fucking close.”

Jeongin does as instructed, reaching down to circle your sensitive bundle of nerves with expertly skilled hands. His other hand reaches to thumb at your nipple, causing you to close your eyes and tilt your head back.

Your thighs are trembling and before you can even say anything your orgasm is ripped out of you, blinding you with how suddenly it came on.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hear as Seungmin snaps his hips into two more times before you feel him twitch, filling up the inside of the condom.

You finally catch your breath as he stills, pulling out of you. He stands up to discard the condom and you almost don’t catch the whine that leaves your mouth.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m right here. Neither of us are going anywhere,” Jeongin says, his words soothing the discomfort that had started to bubble in your chest. You’ve never felt so clingy before after sex but you feel at ease when Jeongin wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you further into his lap.

When Seungmin returns he slides into a pair of sweats and joins you on the bed. They both dote on you for several minutes, comforting you and soothing the areas of your skin that had received more harsh treatment.

Seungmin finally speaks, “That was intense, but you did so good for your first time. Do you feel okay? Is there anything that you didn’t like?”

You shake your head at him. “That was like, everything I’d ever dreamed of, honestly.” They both let out a soft chuckle at that.

“I liked it too,” Jeongin said. “You looked so… God I loved making you look like that. That was a lot of fun.” You had almost forgotten that it was his first scene, too. You weren’t sure what you were expecting going into everything but you were more than happy with the outcome, moreso with the amount of open communication that they had had with you. You smile happily and nuzzle your head against the bed, almost dozing off.

“Hey hey, I’m gonna run you a shower, okay?”

“Don’t want to leave you,” you mumble.

“Innie can join you in the shower and then we can take a small nap if you’d like, yeah? I have to change my sheets and you need to get cleaned up.” You hear the shower running in the other room and barely register it when Jeongin scoops you up and brings you to the shower. He holds you steady as you rock back and forth under the warm stream of water, even going as far as scrubbing your skin and toweling you dry.

When you get under the covers you hum as you feel a warm pair of arms wrap around your frame, pulling you close. Another body lays to your other side, running a hand through your hair.

“I want to do this again,” you say, your brain still in a deep-fried haze. You smile at the sound of laughter.

“Sure, baby. We can talk about it when we wake up.” *** Part 3/4 of the threesome series!! Ahhh this one took me forever to write but I hope y'all enjoy!! (TBH I have absolutely no experience with this kind of thing IRL but I tried my best and I did some research lol) Masterlist Recs Taglist: @lolareadsimagines @elizalabs3/ let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this series

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majestyeverlasting · 1 year

Text

Just Another Friday Night

This piece contains 18+ content and explores the idea of Eddie as a soft dom.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie Munson's been your best friend since fifth grade. And on a night you think is going to pass just like any other, you realize you can't keep running from the way you feel.

Word Count: 6.2k

A/N: I hath returned. So excited to finally have this one out for you guys! Hopefully the person who requested this many moons ago is still somewhere in my orbit.

As soon as Eddie feels the pad of your finger meet the skin of his cheek, his lips curl into a soft smile. It brings small lines to the corners of his eyes and reveals the glint of his teeth in the dim light. Concentration sparkles in your eyes like water does beneath the moon.

Both of you are seated on his messy bed. Him with his legs falling over the edge, and you angled towards him with your legs crossed. His breaths are steady, fingers lax from no longer strumming the strings of his guitar.

When you finally manage to collect the fallen eyelash from his cheek, you hold out your pointer finger for him to see. If you’d been focussed on the song he was playing rather than studying his face, you never would’ve noticed the tiny hair to begin with.

“M’kay.” His eyes flick back up to meet yours. “Now what?”

You raise your finger closer to his lips. “You’ve got a wish to make.”

If there was anyone deserving of one, it was him. It had been almost a year since he crawled out of the Upside Down by the skin of his teeth. Half alive. You remembered all the long nights you’d spent by his hospital bed as he recovered.

An air of weightlessness washes over both of you after Eddie blows it off your finger. As if somewhere far away, the course of time and happenings shifted in his favor.

“You can finish your song now. Sorry.” Smiling shyly, you tuck your hands into your lap and wiggle to get comfortable.

He smiles wider, but makes a quick work of tampering it back down.

When he begins playing, you make sure to focus this time, letting the music soak in and flow through you. The passion is palpable, along with the underlying sense of purpose that hangs off the tail end of each resonant note.

You’d been around to listen to him since the days he played off-tune chords with unsteady hands. As he sat playing now, hair curtained around his face, you knew he could easily captivate thousands if given the chance.

As the song winds to an end, he looks at you and his fingers slow as the notes dissolve between you. The only thing left for you to do is applaud. Your approval makes him feel like there’s electricity buzzing beneath his veins.

He absentmindedly strums a few quiet notes to keep his fingers busy, eyes remaining on you. “You’re the first person to hear it all the way through.”

“Really? I loved it.” Honesty drips like honey from your words.

He looks down to the fingerboard so you don’t see the faint flush of his cheeks. “Thanks. Lotta practice.”

When he stands to hang his guitar back on the wall, you watch the way his shoulder blades shift under his t-shirt. You don’t mean to look as hard as you do. There was something captivating about the way he moved. Some days, he couldn��t sit still, but there were also nights like this one where he seemed to have embodied the very essence of ease.

“So are you gonna add it to your setlist?”

He doesn’t answer right away, making sure Sweetheart is mounted securely.

“Maybe after I’ve cleaned it up a bit,” he says. “The turnouts have been sick lately.” Gratitude glints in his eyes as they meet yours.

Playing in front of a crowd at The Hideout was incomparable to selling out a venue like The Garden. But Eddie swore the gratification felt the same. With each new show, it’d been getting harder to find you in the crowd because of how many people had finally started giving him and the boys a chance. He never thought that locating you amid a sea head-bobbing bodies would be a pleasure he ever had.

“Will I be getting a raise for spreading the word?” You tilt your head and bite back a smile.

He plays along as easily as breathing, biceps flexing as he crosses his arms. “You already eat my snacks, steal my jewelry, and make me drive you around,” he lists. “I don’t know what else there is to offer you, but it sure as hell won’t be Benjamin’s.”

You have the nerve to blink up at him like a fawn. “It’s not my fault you hardly tell me no.”

You make it easy to say yes a million times over. Again and again.

There’s nothing for him to quip back with, so he sighs and studies you for the umpteenth time that night. There’s something amused about the glimmer in his eyes, but a fondness there as well. You’re wearing soft pants and a baggy sweater, looking effortlessly beautiful in a way that only you can manage.

Guilt wastes no time prickling beneath his skin when you curl in on yourself a bit, self-conscious. You’ve never grown used to the way he makes you feel so seen. Part of you fears he can see right through to feelings you’ve been fighting to keep tucked away.

He clears his throat and runs a hand through his eternally disheveled hair.

“Maybe I should get better about that then,” he decides. “Start telling you no more often.” A lighthearted smile pulls at his lips.

You look over at his alarm clock so you don’t drown within the increasing warmth of his umber eyes. You’re not ready to fall even though that’s what it feels like you’ve been doing for so long.

He bites his lip in preparation for the weight of his next words, “I’ve been meaning to tell—“

“My folks are expecting me back by ten.” It’s the first thing you can think to say despite the fact that they hardly ever give you curfews. “I forgot to mention it sooner.”

“Oh.” He glances to his nightstand to scrutinize the red numbers glowing on the clock. Disappointment swells within him and makes him fidget. “How the hell is it almost ten already? Thing’s gotta be broken.”

He pats the top of the device as if the right time was suddenly going to appear. “You can’t say for ten more minutes?” You shake your head apologetically. “How ‘bout five?” Another head shake. “Fuck—a minute thirty?”

A laugh bubbles up your throat, making a helplessly gooey feeling melt down the walls of his chest.

All too soon, with no success in convincing you, he’s walking you out to your car.

The night’s chill nips at both of you without reprieve. You hug your arms and break into a jog to escape it faster, leaving Eddie slowly striding behind you in hopes of prolonging his last few moments with you.

He watches you hop inside your family’s old station wagon and give the engine stuttering life. The headlights are soon to follow, illuminating a cluster of jittery moths.

The feeling of his stare boring into the side of your face through the window makes you give into the urge to crank it down, handle squeaking faintly along with your movements.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He huffs out a chuckle. “Where am I supposed to look? Up?” He tips his head backwards, and his demeanor immediately shifts. “Hey, the stars are out.”

You peer through the windshield to see for yourself. Sure enough, countless of them shine like dull guardians miles and miles above lonesome Hawkins. They seem to span forever in every direction. The child in you looks for any surges of brightness or streaks that would indicate a shooting star.

“The view’s better out here.” There’s a persuasive lilt to his voice.

You don’t dare get out of the car. If you do, you wouldn’t make it home at all. It was getting too easy to be in his presence, like he was the bread and you were the butter that helplessly melted on top because you knew it’s where you belonged.

“I really gotta go, E.” You swallow the sadness that wants to color your words as you buckle your seatbelt and settle back into the seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He kicks at a cigarette butt on the ground, and nods. You were always within arms reach, yet lightyears away.

“Tomorrow,” he repeats. “Copy that.”

A silence settles between you. The only sounds that prevail are the hum of your car engine, crickets, and muffled peels of laughter carrying from a few trailers down.

Every time, it was you who pulled away at the eleventh hour before the dawn of something new.

“Good night, Eddie.”

•••

The cash register snaps closed with a resonant clamber. A beat later, you’re reaching out to take your change from the middle-aged lady thoughtfully chewing a piece of pink bubblegum behind the counter. The two of you are the only souls in the store. Humming freezers and a quiet instrumental soundtrack fill the air.

She speaks up as you turn to leave, “You alright there, sweetheart?”

“Just tired.” You sheepishly raise the bag carrying the Melatonin you’d purchased.

Even God knew you weren’t going to be able to fall asleep on your own tonight. You’d lie awake thinking of all the reasons why you should’ve stayed.

You take the time to read her name tag then: Irene.

Her frown is sympathetic. “It’s a boy, isn’t it?” Warmth rushes to your cheeks. She then leans onto the counter and you feel compelled to take a step closer. “What’s his deal?” She studies your face for any hints before asking a different question,

“What’s your deal?”

You shrug lamely, and Irene tilts her head. You don’t owe her an answer, but you can’t help but feel as though you need to hear it for yourself.

“I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared.” She blows a bubble and it pops neatly without sticking to her lips. “But it’s up to you to decide if you wanna be scared forever.”

•••

Eddie’s staring up at the ceiling when a faint series of knocks sound at the front door. Instead of moving, he blows out another cloud of smoke and watches as it dissipates into a thin haze in the air. The breeze entering through the cracked window helps filter it out. It isn’t until the knocks get louder that he’s convinced his mind isn’t playing tricks on him.

What he’s not expecting is for you to be standing at the door.

“Hi,” you say softly.

He doesn’t dare question his luck. “H-Hey.” Eddie lowers the joint from between his lips and turns away from you to quickly exhale. “Tonight, uh, doesn’t count.”

He was supposed to be taking a break from smoking, and you’d promised to help keep him on track. But now, as he stood doing just that for the first time in two months, it wasn’t the joint that captured your attention. It was the reason why, the conflicted look in his eyes that the pungent haze failed to mask.

His next words get cut off with a cough, and he doesn’t bother trying to say them again.

You're met by warmth when he motions you inside. Guilt tries to convince you that you don’t deserve another chance, fear says you’re going to blow it.

“Eddie?” He raises his eyebrows. “I’m really sorry.”

The way he nods suggests he knew your curfew was fabricated from the start. “Don’t sweat it,” he lifts his shoulder. “I’m gonna go put this out.” He holds up the joint.

You trail him back to his bedroom, where your eyes roam idly over the posters covering the walls. Different things to say rise to the tip of your tongue, but none of them spill over.

Eddie turns towards you when he’s done.

“You didn’t have to lie.” Your shoulders sink as you meet his gaze, but he easily turns to humor, “You could’ve just told me you were tired of being cramped up in a trailer. I probably would’ve agreed.”

You can feel the ghost of a smile on your face, but you still mean your next words, “I feel like the worst person in the world.”

His nose wrinkles. “Maybe the fourth or fifth, but definitely not the worst.”

In spite of everything, both of you find it within yourselves to laugh. It feels good, mending.

You regain your composure before Eddie, and upon noticing he tries even harder to quell his amusement. It takes a few extra seconds because he’s high, but he finally manages to get himself under control.

He thinks before his next words, “I wasn’t expecting you to come back. You never do.” A lump forms in your throat as you toy with the hem of your sweater. “And all I can think about every time you leave is how I let you walk away without telling you how fucking much I enjoy you being around.”

You swallow. “I know you do.”

He shakes his head. “I like hanging out with the guys too—I’ll hang out with anybody if they’re cool.” You watch him with doe eyes as he speaks. “But you, you’re a whole different story. You drive me crazy in the best fucking way ever.” Those words hang thick in the air. “When I blew that eyelash of your finger, I wished—”

“Wait,” you hold out a careful hand, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Don’t tell me.” Part of you wants him to, but not at the expense of the wish not coming true.

That keeps him quiet for a few seconds. He’s still charged from his confession, electricity having taken the place of blood within his veins.

“You came back,” Eddie states instead. “Why?”

His eyes don’t leave you, and you take in his entirety for the first time since you’ve been back. Long hair, short sleeve Metallica shirt, faded pajama pants. He doesn’t have his chest puffed out or his chin turned up in that charming way he often does when he’s working a crowd or a group of friends.

He’s leveled. No guard up, no mask on, just Eddie.

The one who’s been by your side since fifth grade. Who could make your sides ache on the days when laughing was the last thing you thought you could do. Who got on your nerves almost every time you were together, but still managed to be one of your favorite people in the world.

“You know how you always say there’s no shame in running?” you ask, shifting your weight. You’d sat in on enough of his D&D campaigns to have heard that phrase uttered.

He nods.

“Well, we both know it’s also worth something when you have the guts to stay. So this is me choosing not to run anymore.” From your feelings or from him.

The room shrinks and grows one hundred degrees hotter when Eddie moves to stand closer to you. He reaches out to grasp your hand, calluses brushing your skin. The chunky metal rings adorning his fingers glint.

Your next breath stalls as he presses your palm flat against the left side of his chest. The quickened rhythm of his heart drums against it fiercely. A mix of vulnerability and courage are married in his eyes.

“Same,” you whisper, and his lips twitch upwards. “Here I was thinking this was gonna be just another Friday night.”

You let your hand fall from his chest.

A grin breaks across his face like dawn, more tender than it’s ever been. “I’m glad it’s not.”

Time slows as he cups your face, eyes flitting over every detail as if to memorize it all over again. “You’re so fucking pretty.” He whispers it like there’s nothing to question, like he's been waiting forever.

You don’t mean to smile as wide as you do. His heart skips a beat, maybe two. He’s done holding back from what he’s been wanting to do for so long.

Not another second passes before he presses his lips to yours.

They move with careful earnesty. Despite the fact that it feels like your entire body bursts into stardust, you kiss him back with an innate sense of knowing. You can feel the puffs of air from his nose fanning over your skin, the way his thumbs brush over your cheeks. It’s intoxicating in a way that makes you weak in the knees. Even with the newness of it all, there’s an air of ease and familiarity that you lose yourself within. You don’t worry if you’re doing it right.

By the time he pushes you backwards to sit on the edge of his bed, he’s taken off your sweater and tossed it onto the floor, leaving your pale pink bra newly on display.

From your seated position, you watch him pull his own shirt over his head, further disheveling his hair. His milky skin hosts a myriad of dark tattoos and fading scars. Anticipation swirls in your core as he encourages you to lay on your back, propping himself overtop of you. He pecks the tip of your nose before slotting his lips over yours once again.

A surprised sound escapes you when his lips begin to plant a trail of kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck, head tilting to give him more access. The moment your conscience catches up to reality, you push at his chest and he immediately pulls away.

“Too much?” He studies your face. You can’t bring yourself to say no because you don’t want it to end.

“I think I just need a second. Sorry.” Embarrassment clings to your words, but you muster a shaky laugh. “I’m not used to this kinda thing.”

Eddie had experienced his share of sporadic flings, but his feelings never ran as deep as they do for you.

“You’re okay,” he soothes. “I may like pushing your buttons, but ‘m not gonna do anything you don’t want me to, alright?”

In all your years of knowing him, he’d never given you reason to believe he’d ever discount your feelings. Or that he was even capable of doing so.

You raise a hand to cup his cheek. “Let’s keep going.”

“You sure?” He turns his head to kiss your palm. “Absolutely positive?” He dips down and playfully nips at your collarbone. “Cross your heart?”

You bite your lip to keep from giggling, but fail when he begins to move lower. He drinks in your laughter like it’s an elixir.

He continues a disorderly line of kisses down your stomach, and your mind is beyond hazy by the time he reaches the waistband of your jeans. You don’t utter any words of protest when he kneels to pop the button open. The subsequent sound of your zipper being pulled down might as well be thunder with how quiet the room has grown aside from it.

Your panties are the same pink as your bra, trimmed with thin lace that makes Eddie dizzy. Without waiting for him to ask, you lift your hips for him to pull down your pants. Once they’re on the floor, he runs his hands over both of your thighs, trying his best to memorize the feeling. You briefly close your eyes when his fingers ghost over the soft fabric of your underwear. Nerves bundle low in your stomach to the point where you feel like a live wire laying exposed before him.

“You’re gonna be the end of me,” he says like a scripture.

“Me?” you peer down at him in disbelief.

“Yeah, you. Who else?” He lifts the thin waistband of your panties and lets it snap back down to your skin. “I’m gonna take ‘em off.” He only makes the announcement to give you a chance to refute it.

Rather than doing so, you brace your feet so you can lift your hips for him once more.

You’ve known him for the better half of your life. If anyone, your trust can reside in him.

A string of awed expletives slip past his lips when there’s nothing left between him and your heat. To stop himself from staring, he turns his face into your thigh to suck a bruise into the plush skin. You don’t realize that’s what he’s doing until you feel the tiny pinch that stings so good.

Your silence is perceived as permission to switch to the other leg to do the same. You can hear your heart in your ears, and regard it as a reminder that you’re alive and breathing during a moment you never thought would come.

You’re marked now, his.

He runs a gentle finger from your clit to your wet folds, and your own sensitivity surprises you when your thighs snap closed and trap his hand.

“Sorry,” you breathe, slowly blooming them open again. You make the mistake of meeting his gaze, where fondness seems to radiate like imperceivable rays of light.

After pressing a kiss to the space just beneath your navel, he stands and climbs onto the bed with you. You sit up and look to him for further direction.

An easy smile spreads across his face as he settles with his back against the wall where a headboard should be.

“C’mere,” he stretches his legs out in front of himself.

You crawl to him and sit so that your back is pressed against the warmth of his bare chest. It isn’t until you shift that you feel his erection pressing into your rear.

You peek back at him with hot cheeks. “Sorry.”

Eddie drops a kiss to your shoulder. “You’ve apologized five hundred times tonight.” You shrink in on yourself because you know it’s true. “You’re not allowed to anymore, capeesh?”

You nod.

“Now prop your legs up, buttercup.” You can hear the smile in his voice that hopes you caught his rhyme.

You press your feet into his sheets and spread your knees into a V.

His pointer finger finds your clit without warning, applying just enough pressure to hitch your breath. You’ve touched yourself before, but had never taken the time to truly gain an understanding of the deeper pleasure there was to be felt.

Here Eddie was, showing you what you didn’t know about yourself.

He switches to rubbing your bundle of nerves with his thumb while his middle finger glides through the slickness of your folds, making you clench with want. You reach between your legs with the hope of helping, or perhaps egging things along, but Eddie tuts.

“Hands off or I’ll stop.” His tone is gentle and commanding all at once.

Even though you follow his instructions, he still withdraws his touch. A protest ends up dying in your throat when you feel his fingers undoing the clasp of your bra and pushing the straps down your goosebump-laden arms. It soon joins the rest of your clothes on the floor. You’ve never been so bare in front of another person.

“Jesus, look at you,” he murmurs. His large hands raise to cup your breasts, fingers experimentally pinching both of your pebbled nipples. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight.

You watch with hooded eyes and parted lips. Caught off guard when he grabs your hands and redirects them to your chest to take over for him. You tentatively pinch your nipples in the same way he’d done, sending minute shockwaves through your body.

“There you go,” he coos into your ear. A gasp falls past your lips when his hand dips back between your legs to ease the tip of his middle finger into your entrance. As he pushes it in further, your toes curl tighter.

But his touch disappears yet again, making an exasperated breath leave you as your head falls backwards onto his shoulder.

“Eddie,” it’s a whine. “Are you teasing me?”

“No. I forgot to take my rings off.” They clink as he drops them onto the nightstand. “But I think I will now since you just had to say something.” The charged promise of those words sends a chill down your spine.

You’re begging three minutes later. A melodic mix of weakened pleads, his name, and incoherent bargains that only make him smile.

He’s trapped you on the edge of a freefall. Your thighs ache from tensing, and the strong pulse of arousal between your legs consumes the entirety of your mind. His two middlemost fingers pump in and out of your entrance with no sense of urgency, curling into that spot within you that makes you want to shatter. Whenever he senses that you’re about to topple over the edge, he pauses to let a few seconds crawl by.

It’s scary how good he is at reading you. At holding the reins.

“I can’t anymore,” you breathlessly insist, pressing back into him. “Eddie, please.”

“Sure you can.” He suckles the spot beneath your ear. In your head, you scream at him in frustration but in reality you squeeze your eyes shut.

He doesn’t know who he’s teasing anymore. Listening to you whimper and feeling you squirm has him twitching and straining in his boxers.

Somewhere along the line, he remembers mercy.

As soon as the cord within you snaps, your back arches and your walls flutter helplessly around his fingers. Your orgasm crashes over you in strong heated waves, each one fizzling out in their own time, making you tremble.

When your breaths grow even again, he slowly pulls his fingers out of you as you watch, awed and silent. You place a hand on his thigh to ensure he stays close.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, basking in the warmth of each other’s body, the new air between you. It’s as if you’re waiting to be roused from a dream.

“I wanna keep making you feel good,” he eventually murmurs into your ear, smirking when you shiver. “Will you let me do that?”

The feeling of his erection pressing into your backside suddenly registers in your mind again, and you reach behind you to curiously palm the outline through his pajama pants. He feels it in his bones.

“You can do whatever you want,” you tell him.

Eddie grabs your waist and gently pushes you forward so you know to let him get up. You settle in the middle of the bed and pull your legs up to your chest in a halfhearted reclaim of modesty.

He stalks over to his dresser and scans the cluttered surface with his lower lip pulled between his teeth. You trace his back tattoos with your eyes. After pushing a few stray trinkets aside, he makes a sound of frustration.

“What's wrong?” you ask.

He continues looking. “Coulda sworn there was a condom lying around up here.”

After a beat, you crawl to the edge of his bed so you can peek into the drawer of his nightstand. There’s notebooks filled with song lyrics, old magazines, a Walkman, batteries, guitar picks. No square foils in sight.

“Can’t we still…” your words fade when he meets your gaze, but he gives you an encouraging nod. “You know. If we’re extra careful, right?” Your voice is just above a murmur by the time you stop speaking.

The innocence seeping from your gaze makes a helpless fool out of him.

The next thing you know, he’s pulling his pants and boxers down in one go, cock springing up towards his belly as you watch with owlish eyes. A dark tuft of hair curls at the base, and the head is a pretty shade of rose that’s beading pearlescent pre-cum. A prominent vein snakes along the underside.

You’re more than ready. It’s the lightning in a bottle type sureness that you can’t believe you’ve come to know so well. The second he starts moving towards the bed again, you reposition onto your back.

Though you don’t utter a single word, every unspoken thought from your mind seems to shape his smile. It’s not entirely proud, there’s a hint of softness to it. Something giddy residing just beneath the surface that takes the edge off the intensity of his gaze.

A comforting heat radiates from his body as he positions himself overtop of you.

He reaches between your legs to collect the tell tale sign of your arousal on his fingers, and your eyelashes flutter. “Nice and ready for me, huh?”

The tone of his voice makes you want to hide. You feel small and on top of the world at the same time. Eagerness is written all over your face. And in the way your chest rises with quicker breaths. How your fingers are curled into the sheets.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You’re glad he does because you’re certain all words would fail if you tried to speak.

All you can do is blink up at him, propping your legs on either side of him as he lines himself up at your entrance.

It’s overwhelming at first, incomparable to his fingers. But he takes it slow, watching your face the whole while. Before you know it, you’ve stretched to take the entirety of his length, and his eyes are glued to where you’re joined.

He bottoms out with a satisfied grunt, hair falling into his face. The fullness makes up for the dull ache. Especially as he begins to slowly pull out in preparation for another pump. A gasp escapes you the second time he eases back in, and your face scrunches with the new depth that comes with hooking your legs around the back of his thighs.

“If you wanna stop at any point just tell me, okay?” He tries his best to keep his voice steady.

“Okay,” you whisper shakily.

He finds a rhythm before long, cheeks flushed right along with his chest. He looks beautiful like this. Even his pleasured sighs and huffs rush straight to the pit of your stomach.

“Lemme hear you,” his voice comes out gruff. “Stop holding back.”

You swallow a moan. “‘M not.”

Unconvinced, Eddie rolls one of your nipples between his fingers, and your breath stutters on its way out. You don’t remember being this sensitive earlier, and a few more pinches have your mouth gaping open just as he expected.

His thrusts grow pointedly harder, forcing the fire building in your core to burn brighter.

“Oh, god—Eddie,” you finally choke out, gripping onto his biceps.

He swears he grows impossibly harder, orgasm creeping even closer from its place in the distance. You’re so soft, so warm, so wet, squeezing him in a maddening way. Your blunt fingernails move to dig into the back of his shoulders, leaving crescent indents in their wake.

“Say my name again.”

“Eddie,” you sigh, helplessly clenching around him. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.” You sound dreamy. It rushes straight between his legs, and he can feel that familiar coil beginning to wear thin.

Hearing you say his name like that was going to do him in.

A sudden burst of confidence finds you. “You’re so deep—gonna make me come.”

His hips falter and something shifts in his eyes. He starts drawing circles over your clit.

“I wanna feel you fall apart around me,” he says, and you nod because you want that for him. “But not until I say, alright?”

Your stomach drops.

When you don’t answer, he slows to a torturous pace that makes your head spin. “Gotta answer me so I know we’re on the same page.”

“We always have been,” you half slur, drunk on him.

As Eddie looks down at you, he sees a large fraction of his world woven into the delicate furrow of your eyebrows, the way your eyelashes meet the very tops of your cheeks, the part of your cherry-tainted lips.

He lowers himself so that his chest is grazing yours as he continues thrusting, pubic bone dragging over your clit. The feeling of his warm breaths fanning into your ear makes you shudder, and when you arch up, you’re only met by more of his warmth, more of him. There is no escape, nowhere to run. Only accept.

“Wish I could, shit, wish I could bottle this feeling in a fucking jar and keep it forever,” he grits into your ear. “Never felt anything this good… five stars from me.” He’s fighting to hold himself together.

You miss half of those words because you’re on the verge of an ascension.

“Eddie,” you breathe, somewhat startled. “Eddie, please. Can I come? I’m so close.”

“How close?”

Your voice goes airy and high because he’s hitting just the right spot. “‘M right there.”

“Tell me how good I’m making you feel.” Whining, you claw into his skin with the intent of making it sting, but it only makes his shoulders shake with a chuckle. “I’ll shut this whole show down if you wanna play that game—”

“So good!” you whimper, giving in. “You’re making me feel so good. Just… please.” You clench around him in hopes of earning an okay.

It almost makes him fold, come right on the spot, but he still forces out a, “Not yet, angel. I gotta practice telling you no, remember?”

His constant denial was only adding fuel to the fire of pleasure burning within you and he knew it.

By his next thrust, he could tell the beginnings of an unraveling had begun sweeping you under. Even though he sees it coming from a mile away, he nearly passes out himself when you let go.

Eyes closed, your walls flutter around him in a strong, rapid succession that carries on for a while. You’re being lifted somewhere higher than you’ve ever known. The world fades around the edges, and the distant sound of Eddie’s voice washes over you as your jaw slacks open.

There you go, that’s it. Couldn’t hold back any longer, huh?

Only when aftershocks begin to spark through you do you realize how deep your breaths have grown, and the new laxity of your limbs that makes you feel like you’ve become one with his bed, trembling weakly. A wonderful ache resides between your legs.

A gentle weight soon meets your lower stomach, and your eyes flutter open just enough to see. Eddie has pulled himself from within the warmth of you, and rested his slickened tip against your warm skin. You watch dazedly as he strokes himself a few good times before jolting and releasing onto your belly.

All you get is a glimpse of his blissed expression before he leans down to tuck his face into your neck. You lift a hand to his head and gently scratch at his scalp as you feel him begin to place soft kisses to your throat. You can still feel his cock against your belly, and you work your other hand between your bodies to wrap your delicate fingers around him.

His whole body shudders, and when you lightly circle your thumb around the tip your name breathlessly falls past his lips.

He grunts and makes you stop when you start to do the same lazy motion again, and you chuckle weakly.

“Oh, is that funny?” he asks, wrestling a smile. When you bite your lip and nod sweetly, he pushes himself up so he’s propped higher above you. “You wanna know what else is funny? I don’t think I ever gave you the green light to come.”

You blink up at him innocently. “I couldn’t help it.”

He begins tracing the underside of one of your breasts and you suck in a breath, gripping onto his wrist. He pulls from your hold, and that same hand trails down your body, over your ribs and down your sides. His fingers leave a tingly buzz in their wake. You try not to squirm too much because his spend is still on your stomach.

“I’m trying to decide if I should do something about it or be nice,” he says, ghosting a finger over your oversensitive clit.

When you whimper, his fingertips move to revisit one of the marks he left on the inside of your thighs, and the ticklish sensation makes your muscles tense as you huff out a tired laugh. He playfully quirks his brows at that reaction, but you can see the warmth in his eyes.

You smile when he leans down to give your lips a sweet peck. “I’ll be nice,'' he promises. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

•••

When midnight comes, sleep has found neither of you. You’re both fighting it, trying to stay awake so you can continue sharing hushed stories, soft caresses, and smiles that warm you right along with the sheets covering your bodies.

Your eyes are the first to begin fluttering, and Eddie stops talking when he notices.

“No, keep going,” you murmur. “I’m listening.”

“We can talk more in the morning,” he says. You shake your head no, and he chuckles. “Yes. Go to sleep.”

Before you have the chance to say anything else, he reaches out to turn the bedside lamp off. You press yourself closer to his body after he settles back beside you.

Neither of you say anything for a while, so you begin to assume he’s dozed off. When he speaks up again, his words are soft and honest, “This is what I wished for. A moment just like this.”

You mean to tell him that you think you’re in love.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated.

For more fics, see my pinned post!

To join my taglist, turn on notifications for @taleseverlasting

#eddie munson #eddie munson friends to lovers #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #4 stranger things fic

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nipuni · 10 months

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My dad died yesterday, he was 63

I would like to share a little about him and our story if anyone wants to read, this is not a happy story

My parents divorced when I was three and I went to live with my mom so I saw my dad's life in snapshots, once a week at first and then once a year when he moved abroad and I would spend the summers with him. Every time I would catch up with him he would have a different partner or apartment.

My time with him was always fun, he was laid back, adventurous and open, he would let me do all kinds of crazy stuff while my mom was the strict one. He was a genius to me, he taught me how to program my own games when I was nine, he would make me take computers and appliances apart and reassemble them to teach me how they worked, he made me love science, the outdoors and travelling. He was great at teaching and cooking and driving. He worked on tours for famous musicians as a sound tech, he made 3D films for museums and theme parks when it was all very new, he was a photographer, a programmer, electrician, mechanic, artist and could play many instruments and write poetry!!

The first crack between us was when there was a huge split between my mom's side of the family and his over money and a lot of ugly truths stared coming to light. I realized that when it came to money he was willing to put himself before me and the fights between him and my mom were awful. But in the end once the dust settled we both pretended it never happened.

One weekend I went to visit him and realized his current girlfriend would stick around at last and she had a daughter almost my age!! I now had a little sister and I loved it.

A year later the country fell apart and he fled abroad along with them and even though I missed them I would visit for months at a time every year. I saw him start his life over, he started his own company and I was so proud of him!!

Everything was great for eight years, until one day he told me that my step mom and sister left him and he would sell everything and come back to the country. This was the last time I would ever hear of them, they vanished, I mourned my step sister for years. This was also when his life fell apart.

At 17 adulthood came with a lot of revelations. My mom told me that my dad had been an addict since he was very young, before I was born, my whole life, cocaine and alcohol amongst other things, and everyone around him had been putting up with it and helping him but couldn't take it anymore. He had cheated on her when they had me and had cheated on my step mom too. He would lie to get what he wanted and trusting him was getting increasingly harder.

All of my memories of him were now seen through a different lens. I felt betrayed. I could now tell every time he had been high, and knew where the money he asked of me when to, I was aware of every little lie. I was angry and frustrated at him for the pain he caused my mom and everyone around him. And for squandering the potential I knew he had, for always making the wrong decisions, one mistake after another. And I hated feeling this way the most.

After he came back to the country alone he could never recover, he would relapse, overdose, refuse rehab or any medical help. He would escape psychiatrics facilities and hospitals in the middle of the night, he was a menace!! lmao.

Our relationship was still good despite all this, different but still standing, he had always been my friend even if he wasn't the best at being a dad or partner, I would always scold him and tell him of different job opportunities I came up with for him to try out but now there was this distance between us. I became the parent of the relationship in a way and he didn't like being told what to do. I saw him spiral and I was scared for him.

I've always heard all these stories about addicts finding purpose and fighting for their loved ones, so every time he would jokingly talk to me about how high he was and seemed to enjoy it despite my warnings and pleading it made me feel like I was not enough of a reason to get better, as self centered as it may be I was a teen and I felt powerless to stop him, insignificant. People could get better for their children, but not for me.

I knew this way of thinking was flawed and selfish and he was the one struggling, I knew he was a victim. I spent the last of my teenage years and early twenties trying to fight back this feeling so I could preserve our relationship, we always kept in contact but over time he changed and was no longer the person I knew.

He became a stranger, often times incoherent and delusional, his views changed, he was paranoid, his addiction got worse and worse and now all I could feel was pity and guilt, our once good relationship was now reduced to a few interactions where he would ask me for money, I knew I was possibly funding his self destruction and he was likely lying to me but he also needed to pay for medication and so I couldn't refuse him.

I had my own life now, a husband and plans for the future. When I decided to move abroad a few years ago I knew our hug goodbye could be the last, he was broke and unstable but I thought once I was settled and had a job and a citizenship I could have enough money to get him tickets to visit and show him the life I had made for myself like he had done in my childhood.

But then Covid happened, and he would never agree to make calls. Soon after he was diagnosed with cancer, I would ask about his health and he would say he was fine. He wasn't fine, he was smoking 4 packs a day. He got the cancer removed but refused further treatment, he said he didn't have any purpose left in life and no reasons to keep living, he had a stroke and couldn't feel half his body when he was forcibly hospitalized, his cancer had spread and he hadn't been eating for a long time, he hid all this from me, I first heard it from my aunt in tears over the phone yesterday, he tried to escape the hospital in the night and had to be tied up and sedated, he never woke up.

He died alone, all that is left of his family is me and my aunt and we both live in different countries. There is nobody there to even bury him. I feel like I abandoned him. I've always known I would feel this way when this day came, in a way I've been mourning him for many years and have carried this guilt for even longer.

I had the coolest dad, cocaine took him away. I wish this had a better and uplifting message. I just wanted to get this off my chest. He taught me a lot and made me who I am, and I have a lot of great memories with him. He struggled all of his life with his mental health and despite it all he was still amazing and deserved so much better.

He always said that when he was a ghost he would follow me around, I hope he isl!! so I can live for both of us, I love you dad!! and I'm so sorry 🕯️

#personal #extremely so #tw death #tw drugs #I'm sorry for the depressing post

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autistichalsin · 4 months

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One of the things that fascinates me about Halsin is how, as into sex as he is, he seems singularly focused on his partner's pleasure; he gets on his knees for them in his romance scene, but shows no sign of wanting them to return the favor.

And in fact, he is a lot better at giving advice than taking it. After flirting at the Tiefling party, Halsin tells the player not to worry about coming on too strong and that they were just seizing the moment, and yet, if the player rejects Halsin after he accidentally wildshapes, the next morning he apologizes for coming on too strong.

Whether that's just a hangup of his because he thinks he has to be the Best to make sure his lover won't leave him, or maybe some of it is a result of the Underdark, I'm not sure. But he definitely is harder on himself than others.

And I think that is one thing that would come out in his kinks; as much as he affirms that, for example, dom/sub fantasies are perfectly normal (like in that party banter to ascended Astarion, where his worry is specifically because the player is actually thralled) he seems like he has trouble affirming his own. For example, he shifts into bear form in the Drow brothel, but only does this when they express interest in his bear form; "we must give the people what they want, mustn't we?"

So it would be really interesting, then, for Halsin to have a really taboo kink/desire, and be absolutely terrified to tell his partner about it, terrified they'll think he's sick/a freak and leave him.

TW: Discussion of consensual non-consent, also known as rape fantasy or rapeplay, are under the cut. Read at your own risk.

So imagine Halsin having this fantasy. As a big guy he is used to being the dominant partner; no one has ever suspected he might like to bottom, or to be a submissive. The only time he's done such a thing was with his Drow captors. He knows he would like to give his submission willingly, and he does with his partner a few times, before expressing this particular kink.

One thing that gets horribly misunderstood is what makes one actually want CNC. It isn't that they actually want to get raped; it's the idea of having control forcibly taken so completely, while still being safe. Such people wouldn't enjoy a real assault. It's precisely because it comes from a trusted partner, who isn't actually hurting them, that people enjoy it.

So for Halsin, who always has to be in control, to want to explore his trauma where he was forced to lose control, and to experiment with elements from that in an entirely different scenario, where he can draw comfort from it, is something i could very much see him wanting. He would want to revisit those on his terms. He himself said that while under such endless stress from the Shadow Curse, he began to fantasize about his days with the Drow, viewing it as a safer place mentally. "Perhaps [the Shadow Curse] caused me to gild undeserving memories of my youth..." He is trying to work out his feelings towards when he lost control.

He clearly doesn't want to return to them; if a Lolth Drow threatens to sell him back to his captors, he snaps, "you would be unwise to attempt it, trust me. In any case, the house of my captors is long-extinct." Then he pauses and has a realization; realizing for the first time that they were captors, not hosts, and that captors was a more accurate term. Halsin is still processing parts of his trauma, after all this time, and admits that his current stresses caused him to struggle with this.

So he doesn't want to actually return to them, but in his head he constructed a fantasy version of them that was safer to engage with, where the violations he endured weren't real. And honestly, in his shoes, it's completely understandable how and why that happened.

So that makes the case for why he needs a safe place to explore himself, his fantasies, his fears, all of it.

The issue of course is that Halsin is self-sacrificing and, as noted above, doesn't seem to prioritize his wants as much as his partners'. If he ever did manage to speak about this, it would be, I think, after a great deal of guilt and maybe even self-loathing, thinking there must be something wrong with him for having these fantasies.

So imagine him with a partner who is happy to indulge him, who gets him to finally open up about his desires. Who affirms that he's allowed to have desires, to process his trauma however he needs; after all, any way of working through it is better than doing nothing like Halsin has been doing for centuries. This is him finally being willing to explore it, to see how it interacted with his own sexuality; of course his partner would never refuse him such a thing.

That is the core of the CNC fic I'm going to write; showing how Halsin's unique blend of traumas affect how and why he craves this in particular.

#halsin #halsin silverbough #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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jihyoruri · 5 months

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I feel like nobody has asked this but can we get some wow!yn and aeri moments I know for sure they have questionable but cute friendship moments on camera

✮GISELLE AND YN BEST MOMENTS — aeri x wow!yn

warnings: idol au, wow!yn, you can also find more wow!yn stuff in my masterlist <;33

➩ CLIP #1 PLAYING… 📼

“I’m meeting a friend.” aeri said to the camera as she walks, “most of the time we see each other like everyday but we’ve been so busy lately so I’m excited to see her.” she continue trying not to say the persons name for suspense but everyone knew who she was talking about.

“we always meet at this hangout place that we discovered there’s just a bunch of seating and music and they sell records as well, it’s pretty cool.” the girl rambles as she walks up to the place opening the door the indie music playing loud enough for aeri to wince at the camera.

she scans the area and her eyes lights up when she spots the certain someone sitting in the corner with her face in her phone, her managers sitting a couple seats away from her.

aeri quickly gives the camera to her manager and speed walks over to the girl her manager walking closer behind.

“ynnnn.” aeri sings walking over to the girl with a wide smile on her face, she stands above yn as the girl looks up from her phone and adjusts the backwards cap on her head looking at aeri with a small smile.

yn takes aeri’s hand in hers swinging it slightly, “aeriiii.” she mocks before taking a quick glance at the camera in the mangers hand and sends aeri a teasing look, “using me for veiws?”

aeri rolls her eyes before sitting on yn's lap muttering a “shut up”

yn wraps her arms around the older girl and looks up at the camera singing the lyrics to the song playing in the background, aeri also joining in.

➩ CLIP #2 PLAYING… 📼

both yn and aeri laughed their heart out at the most dumbest things that came out of each other’s mouths, both girls were on live after aeri spammed yn to join her live.

fans enjoy watching the two girls cause it’s like watching two best friends on a facetime, “wait wait I can’t breathe.” yn said taking her face out of the camera and tilting her phone to said causing aeri to laugh harder but the girl took notice of the lump under a blanket beside yn the only thing being shown was hair.

“um, what’s that?” aeri asked trying her best to be serious but the way she asked it had the girls laughing again.

yn tilted the camera back to her, “oh, that’s wonyoung.” she said nonchalantly after another giggling fit.

aeri raised an exaggerated brow at yn causing the younger girl to do one back sending them back into another laughing fit.

➩ CLIP #3 PLAYING… 📼

somi turned the camera so it showed yn, aeri and her all there girls decked out in chrome hearts in an alley way, “the trio is back.” she said to the camera with a serious face, yn making a serious face as well but aeri ruined it by bursting out in laughter, leaning into the girls shoulder as the taller girl looked down at her unamused.

“you ruined it.” she groans as somi explains that the girls have been trying to do with intro for like 15 minutes but it constantly got ruined by the aespa member laughing.

“don’t talk to your elder like that.” aeri said pointing up at yn’s face with faux seriousness.

“I’ll talk to you however I want.” the ive member says with attitude.

“guys she’s so disrespectful to me.” aeri says to the camera as somi turned it towards the two girls.

aeri shoves yn and tries to run away but is stoped by the younger girl grabbing into her hood and pulling the older girl into her, she lets out a scream as yn laughs, somi’s laughs also being heard in the background.

“she thought she could get away.” yn says into the camera wrapped an arm around aeri’s neck pulling the girl closer to her.

➩ CLIP #4 PLAYING… 📼

both girls sat beside each other on the floor their legs crossed as they answered fans questions on the live.

“have you guys ever dated someone?” aeri reads before laughing and turns to the younger girl who unbottens her flannel a little acting like she didn’t hear the a question.

“yn I know you heard me.”

“huh?” the girl asks only to be met with a teasing face from aeri.

she sighs and innocently looks at the camera, “I’ve never dated anyone, I’m too innocent for that.” she says causing aeri to let out the most biggest laugh ever heard.

yn tries her best to be serious and not laugh as aeri laughs her heart out.

“I only belong to my fans.” she says scratching the back of her neck.

“starship training.” aeri says between laughs finally causing yn to burst out in laughter.

➩ CLIP #5 PLAYING… 📼

aeri stands on the stage alongside many other idols waving fans with her members.

she lets out a startled sound when she feels someone wrap both of their hands around her from behind.

she turns around and slaps yn’s shoulder, scolding the younger girl for scaring her.

yn laughs and interlocks her hand with aeri before both girls walk together on the stage, waving at fans and talking to each other.

#aespa x reader #wow!yn #aespa giselle #giselle x reader #aeri x reader #aespa fluff #ive #girl group fluff #girl group imagines #aespa #aespa aeri

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captainkirkk · 7 months

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I can't stop thinking about m!ik so please have some AUs from the shower

AU in which the demon world find out about humans' healing properties, resulting in a surge of humans kidnapped from the human realm to be used as healing blood slaves - including Iruma. I'm undecided who would find Iruma in this AU, but they're going to find One Traumatised Boy

AU in which Iruma's status as human is revealed very publicly and becomes a huge political blunder. People are screaming about cover ups and fake accusations, so Iruma and Sullivan's trial is opened for public viewing (and you best believe the WHOLE demon realm is following along at home). Every demon that's ever spoken to Iruma is dragged in for questioning. Multiple members of the Misfit Class have had to be restrained. They delve deeper into just HOW Iruma has been able to get away with pretending to be a high rank demon for so long - and find the ring of Gluttony. And Ali. And the magical expert inspecting the ring is quick to realise - on live TV with the entire demon world watching - that Ali is the lost demon king Derkila, and he's NOT happy about everyone putting his partner through this media circus.

AU in which Iruma's parents sell him to Sullivan a decade-ish earlier. I know this is an AU that's been thought up before, but I can't get over it. Sullivan is SO STINKING PROUD of his squishy little grandson - who is much harder to embarrass than 14yo Iruma. Toddler Iruma is happy to be shown off to the entire demon world. Sullivan carries him all around Babyls and Iruma becomes an instant celebrity around campus. The students all become No 1 Iruma stans and call him "the little lord" and always want to say hello and play with him. Also please picture rookie student Kalego being saddled with baby Iruma as the Junior member of staff and seething in rage, while Iruma giggles and covers him in stickers.

Demon Hunter AU in which Iruma is sold to an abusive church when he is younger and becomes an exorcist-in-training. He's lead to believe that demons are monsters..... until his exorcist teacher captures a bunch of demons that are HIS age, who just looked terrified at the sight of them (I keep going back and forth on who is in this group - Clara, Lied, Azz? Some of the Misfit Class for sure). Iruma decides to rescue them and return them to the demon world, and along the way the demons and Iruma learn more about each other (including how incredibly fucked up Iruma's life at the academy is). Sullivan has been leading the charge, trying to get his young students home, but he was NOT expecting his students to wonder back into the demon realm by themselves with a baby exorcist?? Or for them to start loudly defending said exorcist and trying to protect him from Sullivan??? It doesn't take long for Sullivan to decide that this wide-eyed baby exorcist (demons' mortal enemies) is his new grandson.

#m!ik #the demon world: NO HUMANS ALLOWED #lost demon king derkila: i've only had iruma for 18 months but if something happened to him i'd kill everyone in this room #the demon world: .......one human allowed #welcome to demon school iruma kun #some of these are so dumb and yet i canNOT stop thinking about them djsksk #my posts #au ideas

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ginnsbaker · 2 months

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (2/?)

Part summary: Leigh goes on a double date with Jules. You reach a tipping point with Leigh's relentless hostility towards you.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5,072 | Warnings/Tags: None for now... smut eventually, enemies to lovers A/N: So... this turned into more than a two-shot. But it will still be a mini-series. It's also kinda slow burn for a mini series (lol). Also, this isn't canon compliant at all. Meaning, I took a lot of liberties and added stuff to Leigh and Matt's relationship, and it doesn't follow the timeline of the show. With that said, enjoy!

Masterlist | Part I | Next Part

The vet bills hit Leigh's bank account way harder than she’s willing to admit.

She knew taking care of pets could get pricey, but she thought that was just for those on their last leg, like Matt's dog, Rogue. Facing those steep costs made her think twice about turning down Drew's offer a while back to bring back her advice column. So, she calls him up as soon as she pays up a quarter of the charges on her credit card for Visitor's medical expenses.

Drew answers on the second ring. “Hey Leigh, what's up?”

Leigh doesn’t beat around the bush. She never has to with her best friend. “Can we meet at the cafe? I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure. Be there in 20,” Drew replies right away.

The coffee shop they frequent is a small local business that specializes in cold brews. Leigh’s favorite thing about it is not the coffee though, but its interior: mismatched chairs, bookshelves lining the wall, and the temperature that’s always just right. Leigh arrives first, securing their favorite table near the window. Drew walks in a few minutes later, coffee already in hand, and greets her with a warm smile.

“Okay, spill. What's going on?” Drew asks as he takes a seat.

“I've been thinking... about the column. I was wrong to turn it down. I want back in.”

The look of utter surprise on his face tells Leigh this was the last thing he expected. She senses his response won't be a straightforward yes.

“I'd be thrilled to have you back, Leigh, I really would—”

“But?” Leigh cuts in. She doesn’t need to hear a bullshit ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ excuse. She wishes Drew would just be as direct with her as she is with him.

Drew lets out a sigh. Under different circumstances, saying no to Leigh would be as easy as declining an upsell from a McDonald's cashier. However, ever since Leigh became a widow, rejecting her feels significantly harder, even though he's well aware that Leigh values honesty over pity.

“But the thing is, the new writer’s really hitting it off with our audience. She's had a string of articles go viral lately.”

Leigh doesn’t look at all impressed by that. “Yeah, I heard.”

Personally, Drew’s not a fan of the new writer's style, and honestly, he still prefers Leigh. It would just be a hard sell if he brought this up to management. As the saying goes: if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

“Look, I still think you have a unique voice. You know I’d still take advice from you over the new girl.”

Leigh scoffs a little at that, shaking her head. Drew rolls his eyes; it’s typical of Leigh to never know how to take a compliment. He continues, “How would you feel about guest writing? Maybe for the first couple of weeks, we could find a way to incorporate your insights into a series or a special feature.”

It’s not what she hoped for, but she recognizes the olive branch for what it is.

And she’ll take it.

“I... yeah, I think that could work, Drew. I've got a ton of new ideas, and this... this could be great,” Leigh says. “Uhm, thanks.”

Drew grins. “I thought you'd like that. Let's kick off with a couple of guest pieces, see how it goes.”

Leigh half-heartedly returns his enthusiasm just as her order of cheeseburger and affogato are served.

“Anything new with you?” Drew asks, his voice taking on that tone he reserves for the really good gossip. Knowing Drew's helping her out, Leigh figures a little life update wouldn't hurt as a form of thanks.

That update is about you. And the moment Leigh spills the beans, Drew's face lights up like a Christmas tree. But his excitement fizzles out just as fast when he figures out Leigh's got nothing scandalous to say. All she mentions is how you might've missed the mark by not doing your homework on the guy you were seeing.

“What’s your plan then?”

“Seems like everyone’s asking me that,” Leigh says flatly.

“You took your stray to her place, right? So, there must be some sort of plan. I mean, you could've gone to any other vet if you wanted to avoid her.”

“Yeah, but her clinic's location is so convenient, and I didn't want to shrink my world just for her.”

Drew hums in response. Leigh admits she’s been unusually passive with you. Normally, she'd confront issues head-on, but even almost half a year later, she still hasn’t fully processed Matt’s death, let alone his cheating. She's been trying a new tactic, almost as if by ignoring her problems, she hopes they'll fade away on their own. She seems to be betting on the idea that if she pretends long enough, maybe one day she'll wake up and find those issues have lost their grip on her.

“I don’t know Leigh, the whole thing’s weird,” Drew says, scrunching up his face a bit.

“It’s not like I’m trying to make a friend or enemy out of her,” Leigh replies with a shrug. “I’m just using her services as a doctor, and she’s getting paid for it. That’s all there is to it.”

“Oh, so that’s why you need your old job back. She’s draining your purse,” he says, smirking as he adds, “Bitch.”

“You don’t have to call her that,” Leigh chides, though the corner of her mouth twitches in amusement. Deep down, she understands the twisted satisfaction in disliking someone without having to justify it.

“The funniest thing that can happen is if you two actually end up being friends,” Drew quips, picking up an accidental curly from Leigh’s plate.

Leigh finds that scenario hard to imagine, almost impossible. She doesn’t think she can be friends with someone Matt liked more than her.

Leigh is hunched over her laptop, with sheets of paper and colorful markers spread out on the table, meticulously designing missing dog posters for Visitor.

Jules, leaning against the doorframe with a mug of coffee in hand, watches Leigh for a moment before speaking up. “You know, you should've done that the second you decided to take Visitor in.”

Leigh doesn't look up from her screen. “His leg needed to be taken care of first,” she reasons.

Jules rolls her eyes, pushing off from the doorframe to come closer. “And? How did it go at the clinic?”

Leigh pauses, then lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I already told you about the tests Visitor had to go through. They said he’ll be fine.”

“I mean with the doctor, not the patient,” Jules clarifies with a smirk.

There's a beat of silence before Leigh quips, “No cat fights happened, I promise,” her eyes going back to her laptop.

“Any chance she knocked off a bit of the bill?” Jules asks, moving to sit behind Leigh to take a peek of her work. It looks like an 8th grader’s art project, but she bites back any criticisms.

“Nope.”

“Told you she’s a bitch,” Jules murmurs under her breath.

“It's not like anyone's doing charity work these days, especially not in this economy,” Leigh argues weakly.

“Yeah, right. Like she needs your money, Leigh. Veterinarians are loaded, if you didn’t know.”

“If you say so.”

Jules decides to drop the subject, and Leigh can hear her shuffling and thinking behind her.

“Hey, there's something I've been wanting to ask you. Don't get mad, okay?”

“Prefacing like that? I'm bracing myself to be utterly scandalized,” Leigh says before smiling and sneaking a glance at Jules.

“Great, you’re cracking jokes again. That’s a good sign,” Jules deadpans but a second later, she’s smiling too.

“Ask away,” Leigh prods.

Jules takes a deep breath, and then:

“Do you think you’re ready to meet someone new?”

Leigh suddenly stops, her fingers just hanging there above the keyboard, unsure of what to do next. What’s the protocol here? If three months is usually the cooling period after a break-up before one can start dating other people, then what's the deal when it's about a husband who's not only passed away but was also cheating? How does that work?

Before Leigh can come up with an answer, she realizes she's already saying no.

Jules groans. “Come on, it's just a double date. It'll be fun. You and me and—”

“I’m really not in the mood to meet other people, Jules.”

Jules cuts in, laying it on thick. “Leigh, seriously, when was the last time you went out and had a little fun? You're practically turning into a recluse. I won't stand by and watch my sister morph into the neighborhood's infamous dog lady.”

“Dog lady? Really?”

“I'm just saying, it's either try something new or start knitting dog sweaters for fun. Your choice.”

Jules can be a real pest sometimes; it’s an endearing quality except when they seem ready to go for each other's throats.

“You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?” Leigh rests her chin on her hand, seriously considering the invitation for a second. “I don’t know how to meet people, Jules. I stopped meeting people when I met Matt. He was my entire world, you know?”

Jules softens, throwing her arms around Leigh’s shoulders. “I know. And I wouldn't push if I didn't think it could be good for you. Plus, I promise, if it's awful, I'll personally escort you out and we can ditch them for ice cream. How's that?”

Leigh senses that Jules won't give up until she gets a yes, so she decides to concede just this time and get it over with.

“Okay, okay, you win. I'll go on your stupid double date. But if this ends in disaster, you're buying me the biggest tub of ice cream you can find,” Leigh says, shrugging her sister off her.

Jules pumps her fist in victory. “Deal! You won't regret this, Leigh. And who knows? It might actually be fun.”

The double date goes surprisingly smoothly, except for the occasional touches coming from her date. To be fair, they are typical for a date and are executed with respect. However, for some reason, Leigh finds herself unusually conscious of every physical contact, making her anxious to move things along and call it a night.

As they step out of the restaurant, Leigh mentally scrambles to remember her date's name. She's bracing for the goodbyes, ready to retreat into the comfort of her room, when Tommy, Jules' girlfriend, suggests they cap the night off at a new bar. It turns out Leigh's date has an investment in the place. He jumps at the suggestion, clearly eager to flaunt this detail, perhaps hoping to impress her.

He does earn a sincere, “That’s cool,” from Leigh, just before she slides into the backseat of his car. Tommy quickly calls dibs on the front seat, leaving the siblings sitting next to each other in the back.

The new bar clearly wants to be the town’s next hotspot, but it seems to be trying too hard. It's got this odd vibe where you're not sure if you should be dancing or just looking around, wondering what it really wants you to do. But Leigh agreed to this, and she won’t embarrass Jules by ditching.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

She stiffens a bit as he draws near, the heat of Patrick's breath—Jules had reminded her of his name during the car ride—making her uncomfortably aware of how close he is. She shifts, trying to put a polite distance between them without seeming too obvious about it. “Um, just a gin and tonic, please,” she says.

She practically sighs in relief as Patrick heads off to order, her eyes darting around the bar. The 90s R&B background gets her head bopping, but all she’s thinking about is her couch and an episode of Parks and Recreation waiting for her at home. Jules and Tommy are in their own little world, giggling and looking all cozy. Leigh never thought she could feel like a third wheel on a double date.

Patrick is taking his time, and when Leigh cranes her neck to peer over the bar, she catches him striking up a conversation with a blonde. Her eyes narrow into slits as she watches, both of them obviously charmed by the other as Patrick laughs at something she said, enjoying himself in a way he hadn’t all night.

Leigh feels a prick of irritation. Sure, she hasn’t been giving him the time of his life, but they’re still on a date. Isn’t there some unwritten rule about not flirting with other people when you're supposed to be with someone?

She waits a bit longer, hoping Patrick would remember he was supposed to be getting her a drink and come back. However, he hasn't moved an inch from his spot and is even passing Leigh's drink to the woman as they keep chatting. Leigh’s mind races. She knows she isn’t into Patrick, has been giving him nothing but the bare minimum, yet she can't shake off the feeling of being slighted. It's not like she wanted his undivided attention, but this... this just seems rude.

She catches Jules looking at her, a questioning eyebrow raised. Leigh just shrugs, not sure how to explain the jumble of feelings she's experiencing without sounding petty or jealous.

When Patrick finally comes back with her drink, the mood has already turned sour for Leigh. She musters a polite smile, accepts the gin and tonic with a thank you, but then heads to the bar on her own without saying anything more. At this point, she's indifferent to what Patrick, Tommy, or Jules might think or say of her; she's finished playing nice for the day.

Leigh slams her gin and tonic like it's water, the sting barely registering. She signals for another without missing a beat and strangers start sliding over drinks with cheeky grins. She toasts to nothing, to no one, letting the conversations slip away before they can get even one word out.

By drink number six—or was it seven?—everything's spinning, laughter too loud, lights too bright. Leigh’s clinging to the bar for dear life when she thinks she sees you. But as quickly as the figure appears, it's lost again, leaving her questioning her ability to handle her alcohol. Back in her college days, Leigh could hold her liquor like a champ, thanks to endless nights of partying. But now, staring down at her drink, she realizes she might've overestimated her current tolerance. The alcohol hits harder than she remembers, making her head swim more than she'd like to admit. It's been a while since she's gone this hard, and her body isn't shy about reminding her.

The worst part of it though is why, of all the faces her mind could conjure up, it's choosing yours.

Just as she tries to shake off the bizarre vision, your face appears again, this time on the dance floor, writhing in a sea of thick, sweating bodies. You're dancing closely with a man, and it’s—

It’s Matt.

Leigh blinks rapidly, attempting to dispel the hallucination because it's impossible; Matt is dead—this can't be real.

But the image of you and Matt refuses to go away. She continues to see the way your grind against him, the way you caress his face as you pull it further into your neck. Anger surges through her, hot and uncontrollable, and before she knows it, her last shot of tequila crashes to the floor. Before the bartender or anyone else can even figure out what's happening, Leigh storms through the crowd, pushing her way to what she believes is you and her husband, and shoves the couple hard. The moment she does it, the fog in her brain finally clears.

She saw wrong. They’re just a random couple, looking as shocked as she feels mortified.

Humiliated and more drunk than she's willing to admit, Leigh doesn't stick around to apologize. Tears start to well up as she pushes through the crowd, dodging empty faces while Jules' calls fade into the background. She shoves through the last of the mob, bursts through the doors into the night, and freedom feels just a breath away. But that breath catches, twists into a violent churn in her gut, and she can barely stagger a few desperate steps away from the entrance before her knees are on the cold pavement, and she’s spilling out onto the ground in front of her. A few groans of disgusts from the people around her doesn’t register as she succumbs to the consequences of her indulgence. Shortly after, she remembers why she’s cut back on alcohol, apart from the fact that Matt abhors it, turns him off more than anything.

“Leigh?”

The voice is familiar, even if she’s heard it only a few times. Her head's spinning as she looks up, the chilly air slapping her face after the stuffiness of the club. She blinks, trying to clear the blur of tears and the aftereffects of one too many drinks, squinting at the figure stepping out from under the streetlights.

Your face, more clearly now under the lamp post is kind of sobering her up a bit.

So, were you actually there in the club, or is Leigh so haunted by thoughts of you and Matt—thoughts she's tried so hard to ignore and bury—that she managed to conjure you as a way to finally confront her true feelings about the entire situation? It’s always the battles with herself she never wins.

“Hey, you alright?” you ask, lowering yourself to get a better look at her but keeping back a bit—just enough space for her to catch her breath or in case she needs to throw up again.

Leigh doesn't respond, doesn't even seem to see you're there. You rummage through your crossbody bag, pulling out some wet wipes and offering them to her. She still doesn't look up, but grabs what you’re offering with a little force.

She proceeds to wipe her mouth and then her entire face as you continue talking, words tumbling out in a nervous stream.

“I saw you back there, in the club. I wasn't sure if I should come up to you, you know, with everything that's happened... with me being... well, the person I am in all of this,” you explain softly. “And then I saw what happened, how upset you got. Sorry I followed you here, I…I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Leigh abruptly gets to her feet, and you instinctively step back, giving her more room than probably needed.

“Why?” Leigh fires at you, her tone so icy it almost makes you regret coming after her. You're taken aback, eyebrows scrunching up in confusion.

Why what?

“Why do you even care?” she clarifies, eyeing you as if you're the densest person on the planet.

You grasp for something, anything that sounds like you're not just here out of guilt. “Anyone who knows you would be worried,” you say before you can think twice about what it could mean.

Leigh's laugh is sharp, cutting. “You don't know me,” she throws back.

“Yeah, I don’t,” you mumble to yourself. You wish you did, so you could fix this.

Leigh’s anger doesn’t let up. “You know what I think? You're playing the good Samaritan to scrub off your guilt. But not knowing Matt was married? That's on you. I bet you never asked too many questions because you wanted him to be Mr. Perfect—single, ready to mingle, the dream guy.”

Opening your mouth to argue, you find yourself at a loss. Leigh’s not entirely wrong. With Matt, you were in a bubble, caught up in the thrill of meeting someone who seemed so right, so honest. You clung to his every word, wanting to believe in this image of him you'd built up.

The truth is, you never wanted to meet Leigh Shaw; you wanted to believe Matt's only fault was how he ended things with you, by disappearing.

But before you can admit to all of that, Leigh is already storming off. You think about chasing after her, but she spins around so fast at your footsteps, shooting you a threatening look and a low, “Stop following me,” that nails you to the ground.

You keep staring at the spot she disappeared from, long after she's gone, wondering why Matt felt the need to find love elsewhere.

Leigh goes home, but not to an empty house. The second she opens the door, Visitor bounds into her arms, full of wiggles and wet nose kisses. Her mom's off somewhere, doing who knows what—Leigh's stopped trying to figure out where or why. Meanwhile, her phone buzzes with a string of voicemails from Jules, but Leigh's not in the mood to dive into those just yet. She decides they can wait till morning, along with the other missed calls and unread messages from strangers, asking for more information on Visitor.

For now, she peels off her socks and pants, leaving them scattered carelessly up the stairs before passing out on her bed.

Visitor’s follow-up check-up rolls around way too quickly for comfort. The moment Leigh steps through the clinic door with the dog in tow, you can practically cut the tension with a knife. Leigh's trying to keep it together, but her attempts at civility are imbued with a coldness that can’t be ignored.

With only a small ‘good morning’ from you and a nod from Leigh, you start the consultation, knowing you’d be doing her a favor if you just get right to it.

“How's Visitor been eating?” you ask as you work your stethoscope.

“He eats fine,” Leigh drawls.

You nod, jotting down a note before moving on, “And his activity levels? Any changes there?”

Leigh’s response comes laced with sarcasm.

“Oh, he's just peachy. Running marathons every morning.”

You clear your throat, trying to rein in your mounting annoyance at her childish behavior. “I'm just trying to get a complete picture,” you say.

But Leigh's not having any of it. Her comments grow sharper, her patience thinning, and it's clear she's more interested in taking jabs at you than discussing her dog's health.

Her last sarcastic remark has you drawing the line. “Leigh, you can be upset with me all you want outside of this clinic, but I won't tolerate disrespect while I'm trying to do my job,” you say evenly. “You're welcome to find another vet if you can't keep this professional. I have every right to refuse service if this continues. It's not what I want, but I'm not about to let you treat me any less professionally.”

Leigh goes quiet, yet she keeps her eyes locked on yours, decidedly not backing down. Then, after a tense moment, she mutters a single word, “Sorry.” It's not much, but it's something, and you decide to take it and move on.

“You mentioned something about a blood sample?” Leigh says, steering the conversation back to the reason she came in, and you're all for following her lead on this.

“Yeah, we need to check if his platelets are up and his infections are down, see if the meds are doing their job,” you explain. Then, veering a bit from standard procedure, you add, “Since this is a follow-up visit, I'm going to cut the lab test price in half for you.”

The discount evidently lifts her mood. It's not a perfect truce, but it's enough to get through the examination without any more barbs.

A while later, you're back with Visitor's CBC results in hand. “The infection's gone down, but it's still borderline,” you report, showing her the numbers. “We'll need to keep him on the medication for another week. And I'm adding some multivitamins and a specific diet to his regimen.”

You scribble down the details, then note at the bottom of the pad about the discount—not just for the lab test, but for the prescriptions too.

Leigh takes the paper, scanning the details before her eyes finally meet yours. “Thank you,” she says, her voice softer than it's been.

“You’re welcome,” you reply with a smile before going back to your notebook, looking deep in thought.

Leigh feels like you're back to your usual, friendly self. Yet she thinks she prefers the more raw, unfiltered version of you. The version that called her out earlier. These days, she's starving for that kind of honesty. Because having her as your client can’t be all that pleasurable. She's aware of how challenging she's been, and the straightforwardness somehow makes her feel more understood, more seen.

She wishes people would stop seeing her as Leigh: the one with the dead husband.

Then, out of nowhere, she asks, “When did you start working here?”

It's a seemingly insignificant question, yet coming from Leigh, it prompts you to close your notebook and focus entirely on her.

“I—”

“Because a year ago, I remember meeting a different doctor,” Leigh adds, absentmindedly running her fingers through Visitor’s coarse hair as he sleeps on her lap.

“You’ve been here before?”

It’s a painful memory—one that still sometimes brings tears to her eyes whenever it crosses her mind. Back then, the clinic bore a different name, and she and Matt had come together to say goodbye to Rogue.

“I have when it was still called Palm Coast,” she says.

You nod, understanding the context now. “Yeah, that was before my time. I bought this clinic on a whim after spending a few years practicing in Dubai.”

While most would latch onto the tidbit about your intriguing career history, Leigh zeros in on something else entirely, asking directly, “When did Matt start coming here?”

You shift uncomfortably at her question, and Leigh immediately regrets pushing too hard. She’s about to backtrack when you halt her apologies. “It’s okay. I’m open to talking about it, just not here,” you suggest. “How about over coffee?”

Leigh hesitates, then says, “Okay, let me just text my boss that I won't be able to lead the yoga class this morning.”

“It doesn’t have to be now. Tomorrow works,” you say.

Realizing her assumption, Leigh’s cheeks color slightly. “What time?”

Now it's your turn to feel a bit awkward. “Would 7 work? It's the only time I have before the clinic opens.”

“In the morning?” Leigh says again, making sure she heard you right.

You nod sheepishly in reply.

“Or we could maybe—”

“No, it's okay,” Leigh interrupts quickly. She's usually up before sunrise anyway; the only change would be trimming her morning run a bit. And for a one-time chat to get the answers she's after, she figures she can make such a small sacrifice.

–

“Are you sure you want to return Visitor to his real family?”

True to form, it's Jules who breaks the two-day-long sibling spat. It's usually her who tries to smooth things over with an apology, even on days when Leigh isn't exactly the easiest person to deal with. Her therapist keeps telling her not to always be the one to buckle, especially when she's the one who's been hurt, that Leigh should be the one to step up and make things right for a change.

But here she is, reaching out first, just like always—because waiting for Leigh to make the first move feels like waiting for snow in July.

“Oh, so you’re talking to me again?” Leigh says as if she's gearing up for another round of conflict rather than welcoming peace.

Jules ignores her and continues, “Have you actually tried to find Visitor's owners, or have you just kinda... kept him because it feels good to have him around?”

“So what if it feels good to have a dog who loves you and is loyal to you?”

Jules shakes her head in a condescending manner, which only serves to irritate Leigh further. As soon as her popcorn is done, she heads out of the kitchen, flops onto the couch, flips on the TV, and kicks her feet up on the coffee table. Jules follows her, opting to stand next to the TV, poised to yank the plug out if necessary.

“Leigh, you do understand that taking care of a dog isn't something to take lightly, right?” Jules starts, but she breaks off when the dog in question trots over, tail wagging, trying to coax Jules into picking him up.

Leigh acts like she hasn't heard a word, her eyes glued to the TV screen.

“I thought you'd learned something from what happened with Rogue—”

That hits a nerve. Leigh's quick to fire back, “Oh, and jumping into a serious relationship is super responsible, right? Especially when staying sober is part of the deal.”

Right after the words leave her mouth, Leigh regrets them deeply. She's painfully aware of Jules' long battle with alcoholism, a struggle that began in college and required more than a couple of tries before Jules could claim any sort of victory over her addiction. Leigh knows it's still a sore subject for Jules, still fighting her demons, making her comment unfairly harsh.

Though the retaliation didn’t come out of nowhere. Leigh caught Jules at the club, discreetly sipping a drink she swore off, and chose to keep quiet then to avoid causing a scene in front of Tommy. She had plans to bring it up later, but then her own slip-up with drinking, bailing on her date, and the fallout with Jules spiraled into one of their nastiest rows in a long while.

“Jules, I’m sorr—”

“Just save it, Leigh.”

Jules heads for the door, her hand clenched tight, barely hanging onto her emotions. Leigh feels the situation slipping further downhill, and she can't just stand back and watch things crumble even more. She's about to chase after Jules when the doorbell rings, stopping both of them cold.

But Jules doesn’t even bother with the door; instead, she veers off, storming upstairs with that telltale slam of her bedroom door echoing down. Leigh sighs, stuck in the aftermath, while Visitor starts barking at the door. Dragging her feet, Leigh heads over to open it, half-expecting another problem but hoping for a distraction.

Leigh definitely wasn't expecting Danny, and seeing him there, she gets the sinking feeling that this storm swirling around her isn’t going to blow over just yet.

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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majaloveschris · 2 months

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Why nothing makes sense part 9.

Vanity Fair edition

What a weekend we had, right? We started with the Oscar pre-party thing, then ended it with Vanity Fair.

First of all, isn't it weird that they waited up until this point to make their red carpet debut? Why not on the Ghosted premiere or on the Golden Globes? Why did they wait until the biggest event's afterparty? She was there at the Ghosted premiere, they were there at the GG after party, why now?

Looking at those VF Fair videos and photos, I still have the same opinion and feeling about them as a couple. They don't look natural at all, and it always seems like they are doing everything for the camera. As if they are always playing a role. And I know, I know, that the most famous couple use their relationship for PR reasons too, which is totally fine. But where is the love? Why does everything seem so forced? I mean, we are supposedly talking about two people who are in love, married, and happier than ever.

They look really awkward in this video. They don't really know what to do. It got better when they started talking to someone, but when they are alone, it seems so unnatural, as if two acquaintances are standing next to each other. The kiss was awkward too, similar to the LA restaurant one. A little kiss on the mouth, and that's it. His face after the kiss was interesting too. He seemed happier before it happened. You can clearly see that when Chris realizes they are being recorded, he starts talking to her, while up until that point he was rather talking to someone else and not even looking at her. They always make sure somebody is watching them when they are about to show how much they "love" each other.

And I'd also like to talk about this gif (thanks to the person who sent it to me via DM), where you can clearly see he didn't want to pose with her but had to since she made him stay. They posed separately, and then he wanted to go, but she had a different idea.

People say they looked in love, but I don't see it. This was probably his best attempt to sell it, but I wouldn't say it was convincing. Of course he is not going to wipe his mouth; of course he will try harder. This is the VF party, not some kind of pap walk. This is the afterparty of the biggest event in Hollywood. More people will see these contents; more people will see them together. It's also to his benefit not to act like a jerk. But body language doesn't lie. Vibes don't lie. And theirs are always off when they are around each other. It's always hard to pinpoint the exact meaning of this, but the best way to describe it is as being awkward, uncomfortable, and strange. Or as if they always had a fight before they were being photographed and tried to play it off. And two people who are supposedly in love shouldn't give off these vibes or be acting like this.

All in all, it didn't change my mind. However, it showed me that there is still something so weird about them. I guess he could've at least been more convincing in the past years if he tried (I don't think he could've sold this relationship, because again, his body language doesn't lie, but he could've made it better). One thing is for sure: they are awkward together, and everything they do seems so ungenuine.

#majaloveschris #chris and alba pr #chris and alba relationship #chris and alba vanity fair #cevans-love #why nothing makes sense posts

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archie-sunshine · 4 months

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Okay okay now that I’ve seen rut/heat Drift I have to know who else is the softest/the worst on the lost light when in rut/heat also are they nesting? I need to know all the good little details ~

THIS IS A GREAT ASK THANK YOU!

First of all, I LOVE the idea of nesting for them. Since there arent typically many soft things on cybertron, i feel like its pretty rare to nest with blankets, so I think rather than nest, I think cybertronians would more likely retreat to a safe territory, hiding under berths or in somewhere safe and dark, like a cave or dimmed hab suite to hide.

as for softest/the worst---

Okay so, i can't give my takes on all of them, but i can give you my hcs for best and worst!!

BEST: FIRST AID!

I mean, he's a doctor right? He understands self care is important, he understands that his work can't stop for most things, but he also recognizes that nobody is immune to their instincts when they crop up, so he'd be VERY responsible with his heats. I think he'd be the most likely to have a heat tracker of all of the crew, probably would get the first warnings, book time off, and go into his quarters to handle himself until it rides out.

BEST: NAUTICA

I think nautica's heats would make her less feral and more sleepy. I feel like she would be sort of stumbling around, lightheaded, a little loopy, and one of the like thousand amicas/partners she has would notice and bring her home to take care of her. I think in the polar opposite way to first aid, Nautica's strength is in her support system, people willing to notice for her if she's too absorbed in work to notice her own heat drives kick on. I also think she'd be very cuddly during heats, so enter her hab at your own risk if you don't want to be dragged into the cuddle puddle.

WORST: TAILGATE & WHIRL

I'm lumping these two together because in my head they are in a polycue with each other, I think that cyclonus has surrounded himself with a perfect storm of absolute sex pests when they go in heat.

For Tailgate- I'm going to give you the facts here. 2 weeks of existance. and then. 6 million years in and out of a coma. THATS. 6 MILLION YEARS. OF POTENTIAL FUCKENERGY TRAPPED IN THE SMALLEST GUY EVER. Add on the fact he is SUPERNATURALLY STRONG. There is no way to contain Tailgate in a rutt, you have to pray he nests himself because if he gets even a little bit loopy from the heat and decides to go looking for his boyfriends, you cANNOT STOP HIM. I also think tailgate is absolutely fucking hung for a minibot, but thats neither here nor there.

For Whirl- a similar boat to Tailgate, to a lesser degree. I think whirl can absolutely get it, and has gotten it, but on the lost light, its a bit harder of a sell. and for a guy who's already a bit crazy and has no hands to jerk himself off? Whirl definitely goes more feral than Tailgate does, I think he'd also be the type to hunt down one of his partners, though he wouldn't feel even a bit of shame about it.

Sometimes, i fear, their heat/rutt cycles overlap. and. well.

sorry cyclonus, youre in for a long night.

THANK YOU FOR ENABLING MY RAMBLINGS!!! heres a taster of all my takes :D

[Feeling nosy? send me an ask in my inbox!!]

#archie answers #transformers #my requests #my art #mtmte #valveplug #/nsfw #/nsft #tailgate #whirl #first aid #nautica #velocity #lemon #tf headcanons #mtmte headcanons

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nocasdatsgay · 12 days

Text

Sold

Pairing: Technically Lucien/Reader | Word Count: 1739| Rating M

Summary: Beron buys you for his sons. Specifically, Lucien

Warnings: Family sells reader off to the forest house, Dubious Consent, Loss of Virginity, mildly descriptive sex. Brief physical abuse.

A/N: This is the first in a series where consorts are kept by Beron to keep his sons entertained. You are responsible for what you consume. Also IDK if anyone wants to be tagged so let me know. I am so scared of tagging people on iffy stuff that might be triggering.

Harlots of Autumn Master List | Read on AO3 |Part 1 of Harlots of Autumn

The day you were presented to the court during a ball as an eligible female, was the day that sealed your fate. You were meant to secure a husband and elevate your family’s status just like your cousins. It was harder for you, not being of the Autumn Court. That didn’t mean you couldn’t try. You had begged your aunt and uncle to take you to the next ball and begrudgingly they did. You regretted it when you were watched like an Autumn Hawk by five of the seven Vanserra heirs.

The youngest- he was your age or possibly a little older. He seemed the least intimidating of them all. He didn’t pay you much mind, thankfully. Only chatted with you for a brief moment. You thought that was why his brothers were staring. But you still felt eyes on you as you worked the room, talking up males closer to your station than an Heir of the High Lord. You felt confident in your mingling by the end of the night. Until you went to leave and instead of immediately traveling home, you were pulled into a room by your uncle.

“The High Lord has made an offer for you.” He did not look you in the eyes.

“For me?” You frowned. Your aunt looked solemn and not meeting your gaze either. “What kind of offer?”

“You have to understand, dear. You’re getting older and with the new babe to raise- You’ll be well taken care of.” She said softly.

“I don’t understand.” You mind flashed to the way the heirs' eyes raked over you. How they sneered and watched you all night. “Am I, am I to be betrothed?”

“No. No, you won’t be married.”

You were more confused. “What did he offer you? What does he want with me?” You became more frightened the longer his silence went.

“Being an orphan and from another court, this was honestly the best choice.” Your aunt seemed to speak to herself instead of you.

“What did you do?” Your heart was racing, tears welling in your eyes.

Your uncle finally looked at you. His sadness was palpable.

“He gave us more land- more money than we know what to do with, in exchange for you. For his sons.”

“Sons?” Your were going to be sick. More tears clouded your vision. You knew exactly what that meant. “You gave me up to be a harlot? For some extra land and money?”

“You’ll be taken care of. You’ll be paid handsomely, and have your own money. You’ll be part of the court. It’s a life better than what a male of our station could ever-”

“But I will be a whore!” You cried out.

“You will be a mistress,” your uncle hissed. “This is not a brothel, you’ll be under the protection of the High Lord. You’ll still be able to see us-“

“As I would want to see you after this,” you hissed in return.

He back-handed you for it. You stumbled and cradled your cheek.

“He wants you for his youngest first,” your uncle continued, glaring at you. “You’re lucky he doesn’t want you for himself. If you’re smart you just might become the youngest son’s wife.”

“A whore never becomes a wife,” you whispered.

“This is not a debate. We will go home and pack your things. They want you back here by tomorrow afternoon.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You wondered if you could die of shame.

Walking into the Forest House the next day, your aunt made you hold your head high despite your fate. You were ushered down the halls to the infirmary to meet with the healer. Thankfully the healer was female. You were in good health. You held your breath as the female went under your skirts and checked you. You had declined male advances your whole life, waiting like a good female for a husband.

Obviously that got you far.

That evening you were led to a room and bathed by servants. The pine green dress they gave you to put on was worth more than months wages in the village, judging by the fabric. They styled your hair and you avoided looking at yourself in the mirror. More servants brought you food and then finally you were left alone. You couldn’t eat, nausea from nerves rolling your stomach. You wanted to rage; to cry. You knew your aunt and uncle didn’t love you- not when you were the cause of your mother’s death during childbirth. But you never thought they would sell you.

The door opened, jolting you from your thoughts. The kind male you spoke with briefly last night came in. He was just as lovely as the night before; dressed down in a white tunic and brown trousers. He smiled, though it didn’t reach his kind eyes. You stood and curtsied.

“Lord Lucien,” she stared at the floor.

You introduced yourself and stumbled over the title of lady. You didn’t know if you could call yourself a lady now.

“I remember,” he replied softly.

You dared to look up, your eyes meeting his sad russet ones.

“Shall we get this over with?” You glanced at the bed in the room, twisting your hands together.

Lucien scoffed. “We don’t have to do this.”

You frowned, fear flipped your stomach. “They will check me.”

“There are ways around that,” Lucien replied flippantly.

You started to panic.

“Lord Lucien, if you are as kind of a male as you seem, please allow me this comfort.” You pleaded. “I- you seem like you’d be more gentle than your brothers.” You were met with silence. “Please? I don’t want to force you but I also don’t-“ you couldn’t say it.

If he didn’t take your maidenhood, one of the other males would. You doubted they cared whether or not they hurt you badly. Lucien sighed heavily; you wonder if he was realizing the same thing.

“Promise me you will tell me if I hurt you.” You nodded. “Can I undress you?”

“Yes.” Your face heated against your will.

“Turn around. I’ll only take off your dress, then you can get on the bed.”

You inhaled deeply to calm your nerves and turned to face away from him. You heard his footsteps; he stopped behind you and gently brushed back your hair. Goosebumps cascaded down your arms, and he slowly dragged his fingers down your neck to where your dress ties started on your back.

“Oh you’re a devil,” you laughed, unable to stop yourself.

He chuckled behind you. “I want to make it good for you, is that not what you asked for?”

“I suppose I did.”

He undid the ties to your dress, the front of it falling forward. You held the fabric close to your chest instead of letting it fall out of instinct. Lucien ran a warm finger up your spine. He leaned in close and you tense your shoulders.

“Drop the dress and get on the bed.” His warm breath fanned along your ear and neck.

Reluctantly, you obliged. The bed was soft, better than the one in the place you once called home. The duvet was a forest green with white sheets underneath. You shuddered at how those sheets would be stained by the end of this. You covered your chest with your arms and sat at the head of the bed.

“Don’t be so shy,” he grinned wickedly at you as he tugged off his shirt.

Your eyes went to his chest, then downward to his trousers before quickly you looked back to his eyes. It felt like your whole face was flushed. He crawled up the bed to you and you could smell his scent sweeten with arousal. He looked like it would eat you alive, the way he grinned at you.

“Lay back, let me see you.” He groaned when you moved your arms, revealing your breasts. “You are a pretty one.”

He pushed you back and crawled over you. You were correct about his gentleness. He was so careful with you, asking you constantly if it was okay to touch you or if it hurt. Lucien coaxed you into relaxing by kissing you gently and then moving down to take your breast in his mouth. He had you squirming under him, your hips rolling against his and his hard cock in his trousers. Lucien moved down further and made you come on his tongue and fingers before he took you with his cock. Then he made you come again with him.

Good was an understatement of how you felt. You didn’t come to your senses until he moved off of you. Then you felt too naked, cold from his lack of body heat over you. You moved to get out of the bed, to grab the dress from earlier, if only to cover yourself before the healers came. You looked back at the sheets and gasped. Lucien was lying on the other side of the bed, arm over his eyes to block out the light. He lifted his arm to look at you.

“Are you all right?”

“The sheets,” you grabbed the dress off the floor to cover yourself. “They’re clean.”

”I don’t know about that. I know I broke a sweat getting that second one out of you.” Lucien grinned at you. “You were pretty wet for me too when I finally fucked you. I’m sure that’s on the sheets as well.”

“There’s no blood, Lucien,” you scowled, cheeks flushing at his blatant crudeness.

He laughed. “Females only bleed when a male doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

”But the healer-“

”Edith won’t care, I promise.” He sat up and looked over the bed for his own clothes. “Let me go get her, I’m sure she’s ready to be done with this as we are.”

Regrettably, that was the first and only time you went to bed with Lucien. You had assumed before that night that you were sent to take his own first time but Lucien was far too experienced for that to be the case. You later found out the real reason you were given to him was because of his dalliance with lesser fae. As crudely put by one of the brothers, they “assumed a high fae cunt would change his mind.”

It didn’t; and a few years later a poor female paid the price for it. You wouldn’t see Lucien again after that for another century.

#What am I doing with my life #I may have over did the warnings #I don’t think it’s that bad but I would rather be safe than sorry #Harlots of Autumn #SOLD #lucien vanserra #lucien x reader #is this a #dark fic #who knows #either way #acotar

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