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sadhours · 2 months

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steve with a degradation kink 👀 jokingly calling him a pervert and he gets so flushed and embarrassed

heheh no I love this

steve harrington x f!reader

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, steve and reader are childhood best friends, one use of y/n, perv!steve, degradation kink, oral (f receiving), hand stuff

💖💖💖💖

you noticed your best friend reacted strangely to criticism. depending on the person. when his dad criticized him, his face went stoic and he replied to Mr. Harrington with one word answers. same kind of thing when his boss did it at work, though he wore his annoyance on his face then. when robin did it, he rolled his eyes. but when pretty girls who weren’t lesbians, at least to his knowledge, did it, his face got all flushed and his pupils would about double in size. and you found that intriguing. you’d done it plenty within the long years of your friendship but you’d never actually looked at how he responded. until one day.

a winter day. it was too cold to chill by the pool and the harrington’s were home. so you were confined to his horridly designed bedroom. god awful lamp lighting the room dimly as the sun was beginning to set. steve was propped up on the floor, back against his mattress as he tossed a baseball up and caught it. over and over. he looked as bored as you felt.

you got up from the floor and decided to go digging through his bedroom. not entirely sure what you were looking for but there had to be something entertaining in here. you start with his desk, opening drawers and scoping out the insides.

“yeah, just go through my stuff,” steve says with a shrug, voice dripping in sarcasm, “that’s totally cool.”

“oh, wah,” you mock him, “i’m bored. there’s gotta be something interesting tucked away in here.”

steve throws you an annoyed look, “yeah and that’s why i’m playing catch with myself.”

you ignore him, continuing to file through his belongings. you manage through his desk, then his dresser drawers and nightstand. it’s when you drop to the floor and peek under his bed that you find something. a box. you pull it out and steve scrambles to slam his hand on top of it.

“alright, ha ha ha, you had your fun! stop going through my stuff,” he says, eyes wide and worried.

you scoff, lips curling up with the exhale, “oh, no, that reaction tells me i just found the jackpot. what’s in the box, steven?”

“none of your business,” he says sternly, moving to slide it back under the bed but you stop it, fingers hooking into the lid and steve lunges forward, almost crushing the box with his body as he looks up at you panicked. “i mean it, y/n.”

“now i really gotta see what’s in here,” you go to tug it away and steve bear hugs the box. “c’mon, steve, i know every single one of your secrets. this can’t be that bad.”

“it’s personal, something’s you don’t need to know,” he insists, lips dropping into a frown.

you pull again, resulting in the pair of you wrestling for the box. the motions knock it over, spilling the contents out on the rug. to no one’s shock, it’s porn. magazines and two tapes. but kind of surprisingly, there’s panties and uh, Polaroids of Nancy. Not explicit by any means. Just photos of her smiling.

“oh, Steve,” you grab one of the photos and hold it up to inspect, “Nancy made it in the spank bank? Ya know, these aren’t even dirty, you don’t have to like, hide them.”

“Please, for the love of God,” his face is as red as a fire truck, it’s kind of… cute, seeing Steve so embarrassed. He’s usually so calm and collected. The coolest dude you know. “Stop looking.”

“Why?” you giggle, “This is by far the most interesting thing in this room.”

Then you tilt your head as you see it. Oh. That’s why. There’s Polaroid of you. In a bikini. In the backyard, lounged by the pool. Steve scrambles for it but you’re able to snatch it first.

“Oh, my god,” you gasp, examining the photo carefully. You remember the day it was taken. Just this past summer. You’d gotten a new bikini, you were excited to wear it. Red. “Like Phoebe Cates,” Steve had said and you uh, surprisingly didn’t pick up on it. That Steve looked at you like that. Looking back, it makes sense, the way he ran in to get his camera. The fact he compared you to a celebrity he’d been Gaga over.

He’s completely silent as he watches you connect the dots. Steve is attracted to you. Steve jacks off to you. You’ve made it in the spank bank. This information is intoxicating. It’s a mutual attraction. Hell, you can’t even count the amount of times you’ve laid back and flicked the bean with your best friend, Steve Harrington, in mind. The day he sprouted chest hair and his body got a little more muscular, you’d been bombarded with an overwhelming attraction to the guy. You swallow hard, then your eyes drop as Steve’s hand moves to grab a pair of underwear that was also in the box. You drop the photo and grab his wrist, eyes meeting his and the absolute panic in his eyes is… weirdly arousing to you. Then you see the pair, eyes scanning over the white cotton and faded print of cherries decorating them.

“Are those my underwear, Steve?” you ask, glancing back up at him.

“No,” he lies, won’t meet your eyes as he stares down at them in his hand.

“Did you steal my underwear, Steve?”

“Why would I do that?” he replies, looking up at you finally, trying to look nonchalant.

You swallow hard, you should be furious but you’re… you’re not. You’re turned on. This absolute creep behavior, but coming from Steve, it’s so… sweet and vulnerable. Makes you look into those big brown eyes and want to kiss his face all over. But Steve seems to like the humiliation. And it’s making your body erupt in desire.

“Because you’re a pervert,” you tell him, watching as his pupils double in size and he inhales sharply. He swallows and you see his Adam’s apple bob with the motion.

“No, I’m not,” he says, voice quiet and breathy.

“Yes, you are,” you tug the underwear from his hands and look down at them, trying to remember the last time you’d worn them. You and Steve has countless sleepovers, your parents trusted him beyond belief and his parents were rather distant. There were so many opportunities to fool around but it never happened. Which now you think is a little surprising, considering there was that attraction and you’d shared beds as hormonal teens. Can’t believe you’re discovering it now as “adults”. But maybe that’s why you feel bold enough to push him on his back, crawling over to straddle his waist and you can feel his erection hidden underneath his jeans. You hold up the panties, “You smell these while you jerk off to me?”

It’s almost as if you’re not yourself, watching this unfold from a outside perspective. You haven’t even been this confident with boyfriends before but you know Steve, and you’ve been wanting more than a friendship for quite some time. Steve jerks off to you, it’s new information that makes this almost impossible not to act on. It inflates your ego, makes your heart swell twice in size. Because the implication, he knows you better than anyone else, clearly the attraction has to be more than purely physical.

He doesn’t reply, swallows hard again and just stares up at you. His big brown eyes look hazy, aroused and you can feel that he is where your ass is sat against his crotch. He can’t deny he’s turned on. And you wiggle against him, to silently tell him you are too. Fuck, he’s your best friend. How long as he felt this way? Because you’re sure you’ve been in love with him for years. And to find out this way? Not to mention that he seems to be reacting to you calling him a pervert.

You shove the panties up against his nose, “You totally do. You sniff these and stare at the picture while you jerk off! You’re such a perv, Steve!”

He writhes against you, moaning pathetically against the cotton.

“That’s disgusting,” you laugh, playing the part and he whines this time, closes his eyes and sniffs the panties. it’s so hot, and embarrassing at the same time. You’re almost at a loss for words but he seems to like when you make fun of him. “You’re so pathetic, oh my god.”

He opens his eyes, begging you silently. You inhale sharply before continuing. “Bet they don’t even smell like me anymore. I’ve been missing these for months,” you comment, shoving them against his nose once more before standing up. Steve watches you intently, frozen on the ground. You slide the pair of panties you’re currently wearing down your thighs, kicking them off and picking them up before you straddle Steve again. You can feel how soaked they are in your palm. So you shove them against his nose, giggling as you ask, “They used to smell like this?”

Steve’s eyes widen before they roll back as he inhales your scent, no doubt feeling how wet they are.

“You like that?” you laugh cruelly, “god, steve. i didn’t know you were such a sad, pathetic pervert.”

“fuck,” he moans, rolling his hips up at you and the rough denim catches against your clit, pulls a noise from you that has your eyes widening and your dominant demeanor faltering as you grind back down on him. Steve’s eyes meet yours and Christ, he looks pretty and desperate.

“You like me telling you what a perv you are, huh?” you ask.

“yeah,” he breathes out, hands closing into fists by his sides as he rolls his hips up again.

you gasp, trying to maintain composure as his jeans run against your clit again. you wonder if steve can feel how wet you are, if you’re soaking through his denim.

“such a pathetic loser,” you mutter, rubbing your soiled panties against his face, “so desperate for your best friend. wanna taste? go ahead, pervert, taste them.”

with your permission, steve opens his mouth and licks against your underwear. you shove them against him harder and he closes his lips around a bit of them, sucking your juices from the fabric. Moans when he does it, which makes you grind down harder against him.

“bet you’ve been dreaming about the real thing,” you breathe out, “huh, Stevie? you stroke your cock and imagine licking my pussy?”

“mhm,” he replies, still sucking on the cotton. his eyes are so wide and pretty as he stares up at you.

“such a loser,” you pout, tilting your head as you watch him. “think you deserve it?”

“please,” he begs, rolls his hips again.

“desperate for my pussy, aren’t you?” you ask but it’s funny, because you’re desperate for him.

Steve keens, jerks his hips up as his hands venture towards your hips before he drops them back at his sides. Like he’s nervous to touch you. You lean down, tossing your underwear aside as you hover your lips over his. Then you whisper, “Do you wanna eat me out, Steve?”

“Please don’t be fucking with me,” he replies, all soft and wrecked.

“That a yes?” you retort, licking your lips.

He nods, the motion makes his lips graze slightly against yours and it’s difficult not to kiss him. But your core is aching, just the idea of his gorgeous mouth on your heat has you a little feral and you rut down against him before inching up.

“Can I sit on your face, Stevie?” you ask, voice coming out more wrecked than you’d intended. Sounds weird on your ears. Didn’t know you could sound so sultry.

“Please,” he begs, writhing underneath you. “Fuck, please, pretty please sit on my face.”

You’re languid with the motion, pulling your skirt up as you climb up him and into position. He’s staring at your cunt, lips parted and pupils as wide as saucers. Licks his lips and you giggle, peering down at him as you begin to speak, “Look so desperate…”

He replies by wrapping his hands around your thighs and pulling you down on him. His mouth is warm and wet and determined. Steve elicits a moan as soon as he makes contact and it sends vibrations through your whole body. You gasp, holding your skirt up with your left hand while you push his hair off his forehead with the other. Steve is working his mouth on your cunt like he’s making out with it, tongue lashing and lips sucking all while he stares up at you and keeps moaning against your folds. You’ve had other men eat you out before but never like this. Never so determined, never seemed to be enjoying it so much.

There were rumors about Steve, you’d heard girls talk about this. You’d always feigned disgust. He was your best friend, you didn’t wanna hear about his bedroom skills. But deep down, you’d always wondered what he did differently. You haven’t ever had the urge to brag about the men you’d been with. They’d all been pretty mediocre.

The difference is Steve loves this. He’s hungry for it. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, keeping you firmly against his mouth and he’s… he’s moving his head with the motions. Groaning into you.

Your lips fall open, brows knitting together as your fingers tug at the roots of his hair. Staring down at your gorgeous best friend as he devours you. Then his hands move up, snaking under the hem of your shirt and he unclasps your bra in quick time, impressing you briefly before his hands move knead and grope at your breasts. With the grip on your thighs gone, you’re able to move your hips and they grind down on his face on their own volition. Fuck, you’re trying to keep quiet but it’s hard. His tongue flicks against your clit, flat and repetitive as his fingers swirl around your pebbled nipples. You whine, riding his face as you chase your high. The deep, tight coil in your stomach is threatening to snap at any second. You don’t think you’ve ever cum so fast in your life.

“God, you fucking pervert,” you whine, writhing against his mouth, “Feels so fucking good.”

Steve moans his appreciation, eyes rolling back slightly. He pinches your nipple and you’re a goner. Eyes squeezing shut as bright stars of light dance around behind your lids. Steve’s taking it well, sucking and licking up all that you give him. Doesn’t stop until you’re pulling off of him and rolling onto your back beside him. You’re breathing heavily and it quickly turns into pleasure fueled giggles. Then Steve’s reaching for your hand and lacing your fingers, squeezing.

“So, uh, now you know my biggest secret,” he breathes out, and you turn to see the sweetest smile on his face.

You smirk, “That you’re a sick pervert? I did know that already.”

He flushes, turning and shoving his face against your neck. You roll over to wrap your hand around his middle and squeeze him. Your mouth against his ear as you whisper, “I uh, also touch myself to you. Just like thoughts though, not uh, not pictures.”

“I get it,” he mumbles, “I’m a giant perv.”

“You are,” you giggle, “But I like it. Should’ve known it when I wore that bikini and you said it reminded you of phoebe cates.”

Steve laughs at that, “Yeah, you’re kind of oblivious.”

“Shut up, perv,” you reply, moving your hand lower and palming against his cock strained by his jeans, “Or I won’t help you get rid of this.”

“Oh, you wanna help?” Steve asks, the humor wavering as he rocks his hips up at your hand.

“Uh-huh,” you pull back just slightly, so you can look at his face while you unbutton his jeans. He helps you get them down his thighs, briefs following suit. You lick your palm before wrapping your fingers around his cock, glancing down and gasping. Fuck, he’s huge. Your eyes dart back up to his face and he’s smiling, all cocky. He knows it’s big. You’re sure he’s been told so a hundred times so you don’t say anything. You squeeze him while gazing into his beautiful brown eyes, you’d always loved how they sloped just slightly down. And they were so big and wide, so expressive. They are right now as you start to slowly stroke him. He blinks rapidly, licking his lips.

“Can’t believe you look at a photo of me while you jack off,” you mumble, “Seriously, Steve. It’s pretty pathetic.”

There go those expressive eyes, full of arousal— desperation. You don’t avert yours as you squeeze his base, slow and deliberate as you stroke up and swipe your thumb against his weeping tip. You raise an eyebrow, “You get this wet when you’re jerking off to me?”

He whines, bites his lip as his eyebrows furrow. Looks so sweet and needy. It’s the prettiest Steve’s ever looked.

“It’s pathetic because Stevie, you could’ve had me this whole time,” you mumble against his lips, fingers spreading his precum down his shaft and he’s really so wet, you can hear it as you stroke him up and down. Making sure to squeeze where it counts, base and head. Repeatedly. He whines against you. Bucks his hips because you’re going too slow. So you pull your hand away, “Ah-ah, you need to be a good boy for me, Steve.”

He whimpers, music to your ears, “I’ll be good, I’ll be good. Don’t stop, baby.”

The pet name warms you all over. Can’t help but grip his cock again, stroking him more deliberately this time. He whines, all high pitched and pretty against your lips. You give up the teasing, determined to get your best friend off. Curving your palm on every upstroke, whispering against his lips, “Cum for me, baby. Show me what a sick, little pervert you are.”

Steve groans, moves his hand up to cup your jaw as he bucks his hips again. But you let him. Let him fuck your fist. His mouth falls open in a silent moan as he coats your hand in his release, eyes squeezing shut. It’s so hot, you feel your own slick coating your thighs from it.

You let go of him, he rolls on his back and smiles as he sighs, eyes still closed. You clean his mess up with your skirt, a problem to deal with at another time. And for the first time in your friendship, you and Steve are absolutely speechless. Laying side by side. But he’s the one to break the silence.

“Should we like, make out now?” he asks, propping himself on his elbow as he looks down at you, “Ya know, so it’s not weird.”

“Yeah, cus that’s what would make this not weird,” you tell him but you hook a leg over his waist and straddle him, grabbing onto his face and kissing him stupid anyways.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x female reader smut

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hoshieeyewrinkles · 3 months

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S t r a w b e r r y p r i n t e d

(nct dream x reader)

Tw warning: non-con, drugs uses, intoxication, humiliation, degradation, perv! Dreamies, angst ig. Minors dni

A/n: Y'all I wrote this when I was sleepy and tired af, didn't like how it went

Haechan, who sits next to you in class and becomes so casually friends with you that you never would have known he is a huge pervert, as are his friends who dared him to do so so they could all make crude remarks about you while he discreetly takes up skirt pictures of yours.

He would say as they jerked off together, "I told you she has the cutest cunt."

Haechan who buys you popsicles and candies watching you suck on them while he pretends to take your cute pictures. All while he is sending it in his group chat.

"y'all seeing this whore suck that popsicle like a dick?"

"Jaemin was right, he always has an eye for total sluts"

When you complain that you have no friends but him, Haechan offers to introduce you to his friends. You gladly agree because Haechan's friends are most likely as civil and fun as him.

You were surprised to be brought to a lavish mansion finding his friends smoking in, a cloud of smoke hung in the air, thick enough to almost be tangible. Their eyes, red nd glassy, seemed to pierce through you, each one a predator sizing up its prey. And then, you saw them. All incredibly handsome, impossibly so, their gazes fixed on you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Feeling like a deer caught in headlights, you stumbled towards the couch, collapsing beside Haechan. A ripple of laughter followed.

"Wanna try, sweetheart?" Jaemin's voice, smooth as honey, offered his joint. You shook your head, feeling his intense gaze like a physical weight on your skin. Nervousness gnawed at you, making your fingers flutter like trapped butterflies.

"Chill, Jaem," Mark chuckled, casually dropping into the space beside you and draping an arm across your shoulder. "You're scaring the poor thing."

Ignoring his touch, you kept your eyes glued to your lap, desperately avoiding their scrutiny.

"You know Haechan never shuts up about you," Jeno drawled, winking at the boy beside you. Haechan reached out and placed a reassuring hand on your plush thigh smirking at you. "His words got us all hooked, sweetheart," Chenle, the one with the designer clothes, purred, his dark eyes gazing through you "We just had to meet the girl who stole his attention."

Haechan tried to persuade you by putting his joint forward and saying, "Just one puff, baby." Not wanting to be a joy-killer, you took a puff after noticing their anticipatory stares and discovered that it was addictive after just one. It was impossible not to take another drag. It seemed as if the time passed by so quickly as you sat on Mark's lap and caressed his chest in a completely high state, the boys laughed at your eagerness, and Jisung pulled out his phone to record you. Marks stares back at you puffing out smoke on your face before pulling you in for a sloppy kiss while fondling your ass under your skirt.

"Oh my fucking god!" Jeno laughed in disbelief after seeing your strawberry printed panties. "I mean it kinda turns me on..." Chenle joined in the laughter. You continued to make out with Mark without a care in world, completely out of your senses.

Everything felt like a dream: you being stripped naked and left in your strawberry printed panties in a doggy position, Jeno rapidly fingering your ass, Jaemin and Mark latching onto your tits, your hands occupied with Chenle and Haechan's cocks and Jisung filming you guys.

Darkness took your senses, yet a tiny thought flickered, why did you find pleasure in this mess, this dirt and shame? Were you really this - someone begging for humiliation? To be assaulted by these boys and haechan- haechan was someone you trusted. You felt sick, your whole being screaming against this awful scene. Maybe, you thought, this was always you, the hidden truth. Shame and wanting fought inside you, a messy, painful struggle. Even as you hated yourself, waves of pleasures flowed through you.

"fuck man... She is dripping" Mark let out a hoarse moan at the sight of your dripping cunt.

Hours passed, and you were passed out on the couch, hickeys covering your entire chest and neck, sore from every corner, handprints left on your thighs and throat. You were mumbling incoherent sentences, lost in the high. All the boys had collapsed, but Haechan was still lapping on your tits as if they were his last meal.

"This motherfucker has lost it..." Jaemin grumbled in a groggy state, lightly kicking Haechan, who chose to ignore him while the other boys laughed weakly.

"Can we keep her?" Jisung inquired timidly; for a brief moment, a wave of guilt washed over him, but he brushed it off knowing you clearly enjoyed it. You were begging for more, it doesn't matter if you weren't in your senses. Your body gave all the reactions they needed, right?

"We brought this whore here for a reason, of course we are gonna keep Ms.strawberries around for a while well if she wishes to..." Chenle replied narrowing his eyes.

"clearly..." Jeno let out a mocking laugh, as they nudged each other waiting for you to come into senses. A potent potion of exhilaration intoxicated their minds, blurring the lines between right and wrong. Guilt held no sway over them, nor did regret's sting pierce their hearts. You, with your dignity and vulnerability laid bare, were like a beacon to their darkness.

#nct dream #nct smut #tw noncon #nct dream smut #kpop smut #nct hard hours #nct hard thoughts #jaemin smut #nct jeno #nct jeno smut #jeno smut #mark x reader #nct mark smut #nct jaemin #nct jaemin smur #nct chenle smut #nct jisung smut #jeno x reader #jaemin x reader

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bangtaninborderland · 5 months

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JIKOOK X READER - TAKE TWO

Summary: You disobey both of your doms, your boyfriends on their only day off, earning a difficult punishment only it goes wrong, leaving all three of you struggling.

Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, misheard safe word, oral, degrading names, mean doms jikook, spanking, hair pulling, choking, face slapping, humiliation, pet play, collars, d/s dynamic, threesome ish??

A/N: I’d had this in my drafts and decided to finish it, what do ya think? Also I’m sorry this was supposed to be all smut but I can’t help giving them angst, there is a happy ending.

BTS Masterlist

You knew when you got home you would be in trouble, both Jimin and Jungkook had firmly told you that you couldn’t go out tonight, that they both wanted you home so you could enjoy some free time together.

You didn’t listen.

In hindsight, the idea of disobeying both of your boyfriends, your doms, seemed great in the moment but as the taxi edged closer to home you felt both excitement and guilt pool in your stomach.

Realistically you knew that you’d wasted a day of their only free time, both of them having vastly different schedules now due to the solo work meant that it was a rarity for the three of you got to spend time together other than to sleep but you felt neglected, even if you wouldn’t voice it out loud you needed them to pay attention to you and if that meant a little disobedience to push them into punishing you then so be it.

You hadn’t gotten drunk, in fact, you’d chosen an empty corner of the club and sat there all night. Ignoring looks and offers alike.

The taxi pulled up outside the apartment complex and you were sure that the journey went a little faster today. You paid the fare, selfishly dragging out the time it took you to find the exact change.

You opted to take the stairs rather than the elevator, something you slightly regret as you climb to the tenth floor, forehead a little sweaty as you push open the front door.

You knew they were both home, the shoes stacked up at the door informed you of that. You slipped your own off, along with your coat and hung them on their designated hooks. Jimin had punished you more than once for throwing the items on the floor in your excitement to join them with whatever they were doing.

You lightly tread through the apartment, ready to exit up the stairs towards the bedroom when a hand grips your shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going.”

“Kook.” You breathed out, stomach in knots as you spun on your heel to look at him. “I-I was just going to freshen up.”

“Is that what you really want to call me right now?” Jungkook's voice was low. “In the playroom, you know how we expect you.”

“But-“ you started, cut off by a firm grip on your throat.

“I will bend you over right here and make your ass the darkest fucking shade of red.” Jungkook cursed. “Don’t push me right now.”

You nod in response, the second he releases his grip you make your way to the spare room jimin had converted into a playroom. You still felt a in awe every time your foot crossed the threshold, the carpeting that had once covered the floor had been ripped out and replaced with wooden flooring, and washable rugs placed around the room.

The queen-sized bed was against the wall directly in the middle of the room. Draws lined the right wall, they had been filled with a variety of things ranging from toys to collars, to condoms and lube, even a closet in the corner filled with the most delicate outfit, all of which were hand-picked by your dominants. The entire room was a display of just how much they cared for you and loved you.

You stripped down to your panties, folding your clothes and placing them atop the small bedside table. You shifted to your knees, your body faced away from the door, your head down.

The one thing the room lacked was a clock, you hated that more than anything. You had no way to tell just how long they kept you waiting, kept you on the edge, mind overcome by anticipation.

The door was pushed open and you could hear footsteps behind you unfortunately whatever one of your boyfriends it was didn’t speak. You couldn’t ask who it was, not if you didn’t want to face adding to your punishment so you sat there staring at your hands.

A light touch to your neck had you even more puzzled, Jungkook's nails were shorter than Jimin's, and Jimin's fingers were softer than Jungkook's but you couldn’t figure it out. Not until your hair was being tugged pulling your head back giving you a clear view of the perpetrator.

Jimin.

He grinned. “What is my name.”

“Sir,” you answered.

“See.” Jimin clicked his tongue. “Jungkookie thinks you have forgotten how to address us. Is that true?”

“She has Hyung.” You strain against Jimin's grip to search for Jungkook but it’s to no avail. Wherever he is, you can’t see him. “Called me Kook earlier even though the little slut knew she was in trouble.”

“Now Jungkook, let’s not be hasty hm? Let’s give baby a chance to explain herself.” Jimin looked back at you, his eyes holding a familiar darkness.

Regardless of what you say you know he’s going to make your punishment hurt. You opt for silence, eyes focused on his lips.

In his dominance Jimin was powerful. His height, his build, and his physical strength had absolutely nothing to do with it. No, see, Jimin didn’t need to be muscly to be powerful. One look from him had you ready to drop to your knees and beg for forgiveness for whatever transgression you’ve committed. He was harsher than Jungkook, he was a sadist of sorts. He would never hurt you enough to make permanent marks but he revelled in the way he could turn your skin shades of red and purple.

Jungkook was entirely the opposite, he knew the strength he possessed because of his muscles. His form loomed over yours like a predator ready to attack its prey but still, he didn’t need to use his strength, he knew how to punish and play in other ways. He would ask you a question only to slap you whenever you opened your mouth, he would whisper sweet nothings all whilst choking the oxygen out of your lungs.

And you fucking loved it. You loved the way they both knew how to mould your body to their will, how to play off one another to keep you excited, and on the edge.

The only downfall was that they had picked up traits from one another, so much so that at certain times jimin would act more like Jungkook than Jungkook himself did, still, it only fuelled your fun.

“Sir asked you a question.” Jungkook reminded as he came out from behind Jimin.

“I-“ you began to answer before stopping yourself instead of opting to shake your head.

“That’s not much of an answer is it?” Jimin feigned a pout. “Is that a “no I don’t remember.” Or is it more of a “no I haven’t forgotten?”

You looked between Jimin and Jungkook before Jimin released his painful grip on your head, taking a step back as jungkook half crouched to meet your ear. “Did either of us permit you to look at us? You act disobedient and think you have the right to look at us whenever you want. Look at the floor, I don’t want to see you so much as move your head”

You bit back a whine as you focused your eyes on a spot on the floor between your legs.

“Now back to my question.” Jimin was further away now, you couldn’t see where though. “Have you forgotten how to address us?”

You shook your head again, not wanting to risk extending your punishment any further by speaking without permission.

“Speak puppy.” You could hear the smile in Jungkook's voice as he spoke the pet name. “You can talk.”

“I haven’t forgotten Sir.” You respond, still looking at the floor.

“Who am I, baby?” Jungkook asked, his voice low. “What do you call me hm?”

“Master.” You can’t stop the flush of red that graces your face as you mumble the title.

Jimin laughs, his stare is cold. “You say that but your actions prove otherwise, I can’t help but think you’re lying. Kookie, baby, what do I always say about liars?”

“They should be reminded of their place.”

“That’s right, I think we should show her exactly where she belongs and who she belongs to so for the next 24 hours you aren’t going to do anything without either of us permitting you to do so. If you need a break to use the restroom then tap one of us twice, if you’re restrained or we are out of reach then you have permission to tell us verbally but other than that I don’t want to hear you unless you’re told to speak, I want to see you on your knees unless we say otherwise.” Jimin takes a few steps closer, voice softening as he caresses your hair. “If you want to safe word out you can at any moment you can, if you don’t want to go ahead with this tell me now and we can choose alternative punishment.”

“I’m good Sir.” You whisper, leaning into his touch. “Thank you.”

“Have you eaten?” Jimin asks, crouching down so his face is in view.

You had, but not since lunchtime. “I had lunch, nothing else, Sir.”

He hums, thumb brushing over your lips. “Have you drank?”

You shook your head, you really hadn’t. Getting drunk hadn’t been the aim of your disobedience.

“Words darling.” Jungkook reminds.

You so badly want to look at them. “No Sir.”

“Okay, I’ll heat up some food, your master will keep you company.” He presses a quick kiss to your cheek before standing up. “Be good.”

And with that he is gone, leaving you alone with the younger of the pair. “Why did you disobey us?” Jungkook wonders, you hear his footsteps as he walks closer to the bed.

You debate ignoring the question but your doms hated that just as much as they hated lying. “I wanted attention, Master.”

“Little embarrassing, don’t you think? We were so excited to spend the day with you, even had it all planned out, only for you to choose some sleazy club over us.” One thing you learned about Jungkook as a dominant was that his words hurt just as much as his spankings, he never let you shy away from the reality of your words and actions. “You’re lucky we have another free day tomorrow.”

You perk up at that, unable to stop yourself jerking your head up to look at him. “Really?”

He stares at you, as though anticipating your every move. His mouth went from a forced smile to a blank canvas. “No, but now you know how hopeful we felt at the idea of coming home to you only to find the apartment empty. Head down, if I have to tell you again I’ll tie you up here and leave you all alone.”

You looked down immediately, heart heavy and stomach-churning despite the empty threat. You knew neither of them would breach one of your limits and being restrained and alone was one of them.

You hear the sheets shifting as he sits on the bed. “Crawl to Me.”

You don’t hesitate to move, the floor rough against your bare knees.

“You’re going to keep my cock warm until your food is ready.” He explains, unzipping his hands and laying back.

You spring into action, giving his cock tiny kitten licks eventually lifting his shaft to wrap your lips around his balls.

When you’d first become their submissive they had both given you a month of ‘training’, each of them showing you just how to please them. At the end of the month, they decided they would do the same, the four weeks had been spent in a state of overstimulation as they tried out every little thing they could, eventually focusing on what made you most desperate.

Jungkook groans, his hands falling onto the bed. “Fuck puppy.”

The sound only encourages you more, you take the head of his cock into your mouth before letting its length fill your throat. Within a few seconds your nose was brushing against his skin, he gave you a few seconds to adjust before bringing his hand to the back of your head and guiding your movements. You wince a little as his grip tightens when you moan around his cock.

Somehow you get carried away with time, jungkook alternating between having you cock warm him and slowly sliding his length in and out of your mouth. Your lack of a gag reflex came in handy for whenever he wanted to use you like this.

You don’t hear the door open so the sound of Jimin’s voice has you jumping in surprise, reflexes making you pull away from his dick. Jungkook is quick to stop you, hand gripping your neck before you can move away completely. “Relax.”

You go limp on his touch, letting him guide you back down. “It’s a shame you can’t be this good all the time.” He brushes a few strands of hair out of your face, thrusting a few more times before cumming down your throat.

You swallow it as it comes, choking only once as it hits the back of your throat. He pulls you off as soon as he is finished, Jimin already beside you with wipes. “Here.”

You turn your face to him, gaze still on the floor where he has set your dinner tray. It was rare food was ever brought into the playroom, both Jimin and Jungkook being meticulous about the mess it could cause. You let Jimin wipe you clean, you yearned for both praise and reassurance but considering this was a punishment you were sure you’d get none.

When he was done with your face he began putting your hair up, his hands gentle as he brushed out the knots, you let your eyes close for a few seconds before opening them again to watch as the steam flew away from your food. “You can eat now.”

You can’t deny the food looks good, they were both amazing cooks but the lack of utensils has you frowning. You want to ask but the earlier warning speaks to you in your mind, you take another breath before reaching a hand out to pick up a piece of meat only to have your hand smacked down.

“Did I tell you to use your hands?” Jiminn asks, Jungkook still in his previous spot on the bed. “You’re so silly, you can’t even figure this out without help. You’re going to eat like a good puppy, okay?”

You put your hands back on your thighs before bending to lap at the food, you can’t help but want to die from the sheer humiliation of it. You had expected a punishment, you’d expected to be spanked and probably denied a few orgasms but you hadn’t meant to get a punishment this serious, you only wanted their attention.

You lost your appetite fairly quickly but you knew how much pride Jimin took in taking care of those around him so you continued to force bites down, the bitterness of your actions weighing on you heavily, if you had just listened and stayed home this wouldn’t have been happening.

Jungkook's voice pulls you from your thoughts as you force down another mouthful. “You can finish that and then I will shower you, you’ll sleep in the guest room tonight. You didn’t want to be around us all day so I figured one extra night wouldn’t hurt.”

You wanted to argue back, to tell them that wasn’t why but instead you stayed quiet, it hadn’t been a question and you hadn’t been asked to speak. The next 24, now 23 hours were looking very long.

You ate as much as you could before pushing the plate away, being practically naked was never an issue but eating your food practically naked was a humiliating feat and you were sure your doms knew of that, they knew what they were doing.

“We will be back soon, don’t move.” Jungkook picks up your plate, Jimin trailing behind him.

The door closes with a soft click, the silence is deafening. You couldn’t help but wonder what they were talking about, you always wondered what kinds of discussions they had in moments like these, you were sure they had them ‘dom discussions’ you had begun calling them but you’d never been privy to one and probably never would be.

Once again the lack of a clock in the room becomes apparent, not even the simple ticking of a clock to keep you company.

You missed them, you missed them so much that all you could feel was anger towards yourself for your actions, your stupid actions.

You were left alone with your thoughts for a little too long and by the time the duo returned, washed and dressed, you were on the brink of tears.

“Shower time.” Jimin declared, he helped you stand before detracting himself completely, they walked in front of you as always. “Be good.” He warns before walking off to the main bedroom, the one you all shared.

Jungkook had already had the water running, the temperate a little colder than usual but still relaxing. The dominant washed your hair, the whole shower passing rather fast as he wasted no time getting you clean.

“How do you feel?” He asks, tone still firm.

“Okay Master.” You mumble back, enjoying the few light touches you got as he washed the soap out of your locks. It wasn’t a complete truth but punishments weren’t supposed to feel good, you weren’t going to complain any more when you had brought this on yourself.

He grunted in response. The water turned off when he deemed you finished. “Out.”

He wraps you in a towel before walking you to the guest bedroom. “You won’t need clothes tonight. Don’t come out of the room until one of us gets you.”

You nod, it was simple instructions really. He caresses your cheek for a second before turning around and walking away, you want to call out for a hug or a kiss but you can’t. “Goodnight.” He mumbles, closing the door behind him.

You stare at the door for a second before looking around the room, it is empty, no one other than Hoseok stayed here one night the previous year, you could hear Jimin and Jungkook laughing with each other and it created a ball of bitterness in your chest.

You turned the light off and climbed into the bed, the sheets cold and scentless. The annoyance you felt at yourself had multiplied, tripled and then tripled again, you know realistically you could safe word but that wouldn’t be right, you deserved whatever punishment they see fit.

It was safe to say you had never slept as badly as you did last night, you spent the majority of the night tossing and turning in between crying fits. Despite the fact that the loves of your life were just a few feet away you’d never felt more alone.

Jimin and Jungkook had to have been awake for at least two hours by the time they remembered you, the door opening slowly enough for you to drop into a suitable position on your knees.

“Good morning,” Jimin mumbled, pulling back the curtains. The lack of pet names hurt but you ignored it.

You tried to sound happier. “Good morning Sir.”

“Did you sleep okay?” He asked, rummaging and dropping a nightgown into your lap. “Put that on.”

“Yes Sir.” You answered to both questions, you could suck it up for another day.

He waits until you have the fabric over your head before giving you your next instruction. “Go downstairs, your food is ready in the kitchen. You can walk down the stairs but I don’t want to see you standing the rest of the way.” He gives you a little nudge when you hesitate.

You get to the kitchen as fast as your body will allow, still lacking an appetite but eager to please you delve into the pancakes on the dinner tray. Jungkook isn’t in the room but you’re sure he’s in the apartment and you haven’t heard the front door open or close.

“Good morning pet,” Jungkook spoke loudly, making you jump a little before you compose yourself mid-bite.

You swallow your food before responding. “Good morning Master.”

“Sleep well?” He asks, you hear the tap running. “I know I did, Hyung was very warm all night.”

You don’t take another bite after that, you settle for staring at the plate. “Yes, Master.”

“Hm, I think I’ll take your Sir for a morning bath, you can clean up from breakfast.” And with that, he leaves the room and you are alone with it.

You fall back on your ass, the coldness of the floor not bothering you. You wait until you hear the water running to cry, you tried to hold back, it was a punishment, one you earned, but it hurt.

All you wanted was time with them.

You gave yourself another minute of crying before brushing the tears away, splashing some cold water on your face and beginning the dishes. There weren’t many but you took your time, this was something you could do perfectly.

You finished within 20 minutes, not sure what to do you chose the safest option and sat back on the floor, head hanging low as you mapped out the design on the tiles. You’re thankful for the little clock that tells you that you have been waiting for an hour and 25 minutes when the two return hand in hand. The smell of their body wash is strong, and comforting.

“Oh look, you can do something right.” Jimin praised backhandedly but still, you took it. “Come, I want you to ride my cock, put a show on for your Master.”

You were led to the living room, a rare occurrence in scenes although not so much punishments. Jimin was already half hard and you were sure it was because they had probably been fooling around in the shower, without you.

Jungkook sat opposite you, Jimin bunching up your nightgown as he pulled you into his lap, rubbing his clothed member against your ass. “Doesn’t she look pretty like this?”

“Useful more like.” Jungkook scoffs, arms resting atop the back of the couch. “She looks best when she’s sitting on one of our ducks, where she is made to be.”

You groan a little at that, the words both sting and turn you on.

“No one wants to hear you, shut up.” Jimin complains, shoving you to stand up as he pushes his shorts down. “I want you to sit here and be quiet, you’re nothing more than a pretty little flashlight for me to enjoy. Toys don’t make noise.”

You bite your cheek, and the feeling of his hardening member inside of you makes you want to rock back but you know better, you take what’s given to you as the pair continue their conversation as though you’re invisible.

“You wanna watch a movie?” Jungkook asks, toying with the control.

“Yeah, not an action though, maybe a romance?” Jimin adds, slapping your thigh as you gasp when he moves his hips. “Actually an action is probably better, to drown out the unwanted noise.”

Jungkook smirks and you bite down the sadness that swims in your chest.

The movie starts and Jimin stays still other than shifting every few minutes, you can’t help the way you get wet.

You drown out their conversation, counting the amount of black spots you can see on the rug only to be pulled back by a slap to your cheek. “You’re sitting here doing nothing yet you still can’t fucking listen?”

“S-sorry.” You stutter out.

“Fucking pathetic,” Jungkook mumbles as he takes his seat again.

The words run heavy in your mind, pathetic, stupid, useless and suddenly you’re silently crying with Jimin still inside you. You’re thankful the movie really does block out unwanted noise.

Maybe you were unwanted in general.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, make as much noise as you want.” Jimin growls in your ear, hands groping your tits as he fucks into you. His movements are fast, a sign he has been holding back for a while. You let out soft gasps and moans, his cock filling you up with more than you can handle but despite that you know, you just know you aren’t enjoying it.

“Yellow.” You whisper, you expect everything to stop but it doesn’t, nothing stops, in fact, jimin speeds up hips stuttering as he chases his release. “N-no” you speak a little louder.

You look at Jungkook, his head snapping to yours and Jimin thrusts inside you one last time and cums, as though just processing everything jungkooks eyes widen. “Hyung pull out now.”

“What?” Jimin asks, confused. “Wh-

You can no longer hold back your sobs, the second they tear free jimin is carefully pushing you off him and cradling you in his arms. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Baby, are you hurt?”

You can't muster a response, you just let yourself cry spewing endless apologies. “Sorry I’m-I’m sorry.”

“I think she safeworded.” Jungkook explains, running in with the box of things you’d compiled together for incidents just like this. “Here, water.”

You feel a bottle being pressed to your lips. “Baby, can you drink for me?”

“No S-sir.” You shake your head.

“Not sir baby, just min okay?” Jimin rubs a hand through your hair, Jungkook holding your hand and drawing circles to help you calm down.

“Such a good girl, you did so well, I’m so so proud of you.” The younger of the pair spoke, still holding the open bottle of water. “Please try and drink some for me sweetheart.”

You move your head out of Jimin’s chest with great reluctance, taking a few sips of water before denying it anymore.

“Thank you,” Jimin whispers in your ear. “Are you ready to talk about what happened?”

“Can we- bedroom?” You ask, too drained to explain it all.

“Of course,” Jungkook answers, taking you out of Jimin’s arms and carrying you up the stairs to the main bedroom.

Only when all three of you were settled into the bed, you in the middle with one of them on either side, did they prompt you to start talking.” Take your time darling.”

You don’t exactly know how to explain it to them. “I guess.. it didn’t feel good? I know punishments aren’t supposed to, but this hurt emotionally.”

“Okay.” Jungkook squeezes your hand, his fingers interlaced with Jimin’s behind you. “Thank you for sharing that baby, can you explain when it started to feel like that?”

“Yesterday when I…” you trailed off.

“Sucked me off?” Jungkook supplied and you nodded.

“I just thought I was being too emotional but you didn’t comfort me at all and I had no reassurance. Neither of you touched me more than you physically had to and then being secluded in the second bedroom just made me feel shut out and unwanted.” You feel embarrassed at how silly it sounds, you did wrong and were punished, of course, it would have been difficult for you.

They both take a moment to process it, Jungkook looking a little more sullen. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“Anything else you want to add?” Jimin asks softly. “Take your time.”

“I didn’t…I didn’t act against you because I wanted attention in that sense, I miss you both. Lately, neither of you has been home and I just…I feel so lonely. You get to see each other most days at work but I don’t even have that luxury. It seemed like a good idea at the time but I feel awful, I wanted your only free day and you think I’m just ungrateful and pathetic.” You knew you’d broken one of your own rules, to never take something said in a scene as how they see you or view you outside of it but for some reason, today, it was harder. The mean words and cold shoulders were all you could think about.

“We don’t think you’re ungrateful or pathetic, we misjudged the situation and that is our fault. As your dominants, we have a responsibility to make sure you’re safe and happy and both today and yesterday we failed at it massively. Apologies will only do so much but I promise I will make it up to you every single day, I’m so sorry I haven’t been here for you.” You chance a glance at Jimin as he finishes talking, only to have your heart broken when you see him wipe a stray tear away. You don’t even chance to look at Jungkook, sure he is fairing the same way if not worse.

“It’s not your fault, work is important but I just- I don’t know.” You huff, words and emotions just too much. You let your head drop against Jungkook's chest, his heart beating faster than usual. “I’m sorry we failed you today as doms and boyfriends.”

You shook your head. “You didn’t fail me, I should have been an adult and talked to you about how I felt instead of ignoring what you both said.”

“No baby we did fail you, talking as just your dom, we failed you. We should have been more consistent with our check-ins and should have discussed your actions more before punishing you. I think between myself and Kook we both thought the other was being affectionate so we held back a little so as to not overly indulge you but that was a stupid assumption that will never be made again.” Jimin argues, his hand tracing circles on your stomach.

“I’ve never had a problem with the way you chose to punish me. I like it but this time it just hurt more emotionally.” You explained, not wanting them to change because regardless of how you felt about the punishment you loved them as doms and people.

“And that is our fault,” Jungkook says, not as a question. “And I will never let something like this happen again.”

“I think from now on we will be more comforting even through punishments, even if that particular day you don’t feel it’s necessary I think we.” He gestures to himself and Jungkook. “Would feel better knowing you are okay. I also want you to be honest next time, the second it doesn’t feel right, even if you’re unsure of why, you call yellow okay?”

“But I did…” you mumble, although you hadn’t done it straight away you’d done it when you desperately needed it and for a second it had been ignored. “On the couch I did.”

“I know.” Jimin mumbles. “I didn’t hear you, that’s no excuse but I truly didn’t and the second we realised it all stopped. I won’t say “I’m sorry” for that because no apology would be good enough. Doll if you want to leave the arrangement, you have every single right to. If you feel as though you can trust us then do not force yourself to be our submissive because that’s something based on trust and a mutual agreement. Nothing will change within our relationship if you choose to let go of that aspect.”

“Really?” You eye them both. “You’d stay even if I didn’t want to be your submissive?”

“Baby we aren’t with you because you’re an amazing submissive, we are with you because you’re an amazing human being. You take care of us, you remember the smallest details like when we mention something we want on our diet you turn up with it the second we can eat freely, you brighten up the room just by being there, you’re so hard working and always do your best. You have the most beautiful thoughts in life, you’re strong and honest. You have so many amazing qualities that I couldn’t list them all even if I tried but I am in love with you.” Jungkook stared at you, his eyes conveying everything his words couldn’t. “So am I” Jimin adds.

“I don’t want that, I don’t want to change anything. I love you both and this was an accident, we both did things wrong and next time it will go better. Things won’t be perfect and when they don’t go well we will discuss it and come out of the other end better and stronger. I trust you with my life.” You look at both of them, all three of you smiling stupidly through tears. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” They spoke in unison, both placing kisses on your head. “How about we order food and spend a day taking care of the baby?”

You know the question isn’t directed to you, it always makes you feel small whenever they talk about you as though you aren’t there, small and cared for.

“Yeah I think that sounds good, I’ll go make us some tea. Maybe sit on the couch? I’ll grab some blankets.”

“Couch sounds good. Baby?” Jimin nudges you, drawing your attention back. “Couch?”

You nod. “I thought you had work?”

“Oh no baby, I know I told you that we had only been given one day off but we have the whole week.” Jungkook looks horrified as he explains. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have been spiteful in that way it was wrong.”

“What did you do?” Jimin frowns.

“I told her that we had another day off and when she got excited and asked if I was being serious I told her no. I didn't realise she was truly upset by it.” He explains hurriedly.

“You dumbass.” Jimin scolds, reaching out to slap the back of his head. “Why would you do that.”

“I wasn’t thinking.” He explained honestly. “I didn’t mean to be such an ass.”

“It sucked but I wasn’t that sad.” You explain, both of them clearly over analysing every little thing, yes you were sad but not sad enough to warrant them being this cautious. “I don’t want you to be worried about everything you say and do, I’m normally great at understanding the difference between what you do and say in a scene and how you feel outside of them.”

“It doesn’t mean we should say things that could disappoint you on purpose.” Jungkook retorts, running a hand through his hair as he sits on the end of the bed.

“You were being sarcastic Kook, I can tell the difference. I don’t want you to beat yourself up because a scene went wrong, it happens, this won’t be the last time but I’m okay, I’ll be okay after a week of pampering.” You tease them both.

“You’re far too good to us.” Jimin sighs, burying his head in your neck.

The day played out slowly, all three of you migrating to the couch with a heap of blankets. You’d gotten fried chicken whilst watching a movie, they had agreed to watch whatever movie you wanted, and you’d settled on a comedy that had all three of you crying with laughter.

They had been checking in with you constantly, tending to your every need, whispering reassurance and comforting words to you whenever they could. By the end of their break, the incident had been forgotten and you were already excited about whatever happened during the scene you’d all planned for their last free day.

You’d been sitting in the playroom for a while, both of them coming in and out of the room frequently, more than they usually would have.

“How are you feeling puppy?” Jimin asked, hand running through your hair. “Good?”

“Perfect Sir.” You respond with a smile.

“Let me see your pretty face.” You lifted your head as Jungkook had told you to. “Beautiful.”

Jimin took a step back, not before kissing you softly. “Is there anything you want to try in particular today puppy?”

You bit your lip, gathering the confidence to ask for what you’d wanted for the past two days. “I want.. a punishment Sir.”

They both give you a confused look. “Why?”

“Because I don’t feel good about my actions, I feel unsettled knowing I broke a rule and then safeworded out of my punishment.” You explain.

Jungkook shook his head, moving to undo the collar he had put on you, only stopping when you moved your hands up to cover the buckle. “No, I don’t- I don’t need to stop.”

“We aren’t going to do a scene if you aren’t in the right headspace darling, your safeword is there to protect you, you can use it whenever you want for whatever reason and you will never have to make up for it or feel bad for it.” Jungkook explains, caressing your hands as he pulls them away. “I need you to be absolutely sure you understand this before we play darling.”

“I do, I do Master I do I promise but I just don’t feel right, I want to be good and I don’t feel good and you telling me I’m good isn’t going to help I need to feel like I’ve done good, like I made up for disobeying.”

“Okay.” He gives in after considering for a few moments, and Jimin nods in agreement.

“I think 50 spanks will do?” Jimin asks Jungkook.

“20 with the paddle and 30 with my hand.” Jungkoom responds, a smile across his lips. “You do the paddle.”

“Oh, you really want her ass red huh?” Jimin laughs, grabbing the familiar black one from the rack.

Your heart warms seeing them play around with one another in this way. “Come over baby, lay cross my lap.” Jimin instructs, before you can move Jungkook is attaching a leash to the back of your collar, you begin crawling behind him as if programmed to do so.

Jimin watches your every move, your hips swaying as you crawl across to him and climb into his lap. “Doing so well for me.” You preen at the praise, heart thumping as you prepare yourself for the first blow.

Jimin has a way with the paddle, he wrists flexible enough to swing the paddle on every inch of flesh on your backside. You feel yourself both relaxing and tearing up as the worries in your mind quieten.

You feel yourself being moved from Jimin’s lap and you can’t help but whine, despite the light throbbing on your ass you feel comfortable, relaxed. You quieten when Jungkook taps your thigh. “Hush puppy, I’m going to do your last 30.”

“Sorry Master.” You put as he pulls you over his lap, the rough material of his jeans uncomfortably digging into your skin. “Hurts.”

“You can deal with it darling, take what I give you.” He lands a smack to your ass before you can complain further and as he does all thoughts are knocked out of you.

You’re thankful they don’t tell you to count because once again you get lost in your own thoughts, the repetition of the smacks soothing you. “Taking it so nicely.” You hear Jimin and can’t help but reach out a hand for him, relaxing again once he takes it.

“All done,” Jungkook speaks, you blink away the confusion in your head. “Baby’s out of it.”

“She needed this.” You hear jimin but don’t bother moving from the crook of Jungkook's neck, the smell of his cologne comforting. “Poor baby.”

You loved moments like this, where you were thoughtless, with no worries, no guilt, just the soft buzz of subspace and your doms, boyfriends taking care of you. “Love you. Thank you.” You mumble into his skin.

“Don’t thank me, baby, you took your punishment so well for Sirs. You can sleep okay? We will have a bubble bath when you wake up.” A bath sounded good but sleep sounded better so you let yourself be pulled into whatever dream was awaiting you.

When you woke up you felt warmth all around you. Their bodies pressed flush against yours in the large bed. “Awake sweetheart?” Jungkook whispers. “Hyungs sleeping.”

You look at the way jimin had a hand tangled in jungkoks, his other arm wrapped around your torso. The three of you entwined in one way or another. It was moments like these that made their hectic schedules worth it, you’d had countless arguments before, disagreements, struggles, and bad days but you had an abundance of amazing ones, ones that made every single hard day worth it. You loved them, you were in love with them, and you always would be. “Love you.”

“I love you too,” Jimin mumbles in his sleep making you and Jungkook laugh.

“I love you two.”

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norrisleclercf1 · 1 year

Text

Green Suits You

Pairing: Lance Stroll x Engineer!Reader

Rating: PG

Words: 2.2K

Requested: Yes/No

Request: Hi! I was wondering if you could possibly write a fic for Lance where there are rumours that he’s dating a fem engineer intern from Aston? She’s younger than him (i’m 19 so that would be the perfect age lol:)) and everyone just obsessed over them when they saw the two walk hand in hand for the first time in the paddock 💓 and everybody notices that Lance is really smitten with her (plus Lawrence approves of her cuz she s smart and nice) and then they learn that she was also the one to help design the car for the season and yeah just overload of cuteness and Lance being a proud bf

Warnings: None, pure fluff, age gap, Lawerence is a supportive dad, Proud bf Lance, Simp Lance

Being the youngest engineer at Aston Martin came with much work and no sleep. It was easy to do the work since you loved the cars and Formula One, but what made work hard was a specific driver there.

You tried your best to ignore him, but he was always there when you working on the car or talking with someone. Whenever you looked over at him, he was staring at you, not in a creepy way but more so in awe of you.

Praising you came easy for him. Lance would try to converse generally with you but made a fool of himself when he wanted to extend it. You either made an excuse or scurried off before he could get another word out. What made it easy to talk to you was when he crashed the car, and you had to figure out what exactly went wrong and how to make it better for Lance.

After the first time, you didn't question how he'd stay by your side while working on the car and talking to you. He learned that when you worked on it, you became easier to talk to and bonded. Lance asked you out once, but you refused; it wasn't because of who he was or because you worked for his father. It was the age difference. Lance wanted to laugh when you finally told him why and pulled you close by your grease-stained hand.

"Who cares? You're only 5 years younger than me. If anyone has a problem with it, they can deal with my dad." Lance just smiles while you just gap at him. He never played the dad card, but he seemed to wield a damn shield for you.

Six months of you sneaking around and stealing kisses behind the wheels. Lance wanted the relationship to be public, but you tended to keep to yourself and didn't want to lose your job over dating Lance. Of course, the rich boy said he would pull strings to keep you there and defend your honor. He was your white knight in green.

Lawerence was no fool, and the fact his son was hiding his girlfriend from him just drove him crazy. He wanted to know what motivated his boy so much that he was in the top 10 in almost every race and praised the engineers like crazy. In the past, Lance thanked the team, but it seems excessive as of late. Finding out your relationship was purely by chance. He was coming to see how you were doing, especially with all your responsibilities. When Lawerence hired you, you weren't a regular engineer. You designed and built the car yourself. Picking the best aspects of the Red Bull, Mercedes, and everyone else.

People liked to call the new car a 3rd Redbull, and while slightly right, they didn't know you turned the backmarker team into a silent killer. You studied each car and did internships with Red Bull and Mercedes. Hiding whenever the teams would walk by because they would recognize you with ease, you were a favorite on both teams, and they loved your innovative thinking and using each team's strengths against them when it came to building the car. You turned each team away due to them already winning constantly and needing a shake-up, and Aston Martin would give that.

Lance had no idea you were the one who built the car till the night Lawerence caught you both. It was stupid, and Lance distracted you with his dazzling smile when he swooped in and kissed you.

"Lance?" Lawerence's baritone voice has you shoving Lance away and dropping to the floor. It was a flight or fight reaction that Lance had only seen twice, but it still made him smile like an idiot.

"Hey, Dad." The bastard has the balls to smile at his father, glad to not hide this anymore.

"What are you doing?" He asks, wanting to play stupid just to mess with you. Lawerence knew you hated being certain of attention, so he liked messing with you when the opportunity presented itself.

"Kissing my girlfriend. What are you doing?" Lance groans when you kick him in the shin, making Lawerence laugh, shaking his head at your antics.

"Y/n, come out from under there before someone else assumes you're doing more than..kissing my boy." You groan, climb out from under the car, and face Lawerence with a nervous smile while he just smiles at you.

"Hi, sir." You dust off your pants stuck between the two Strolls and really hating it.

"Lance, stop distracting our secret weapon. They need to work and don't need your annoying ass distracting her." Lawerence pats Lance's shoulder and walks out of the garage, leaving you confused while Lance goes back to looking over the damage from a nick into the wall.

"Why did Dad call you a secret weapon?" It had been quiet for 2 hours before Lance broke the silence wanting to understand what he meant.

"Oh, I'm the one who built and designed the car, so the big guys call me a secret weapon." You didn't mean to reveal that information, but you were still thrown off from being caught.

"Every engineer works on the car somehow, babe." Lance watches you as you turn your head, giving him a side-eye.

"Yeah, but this was my design and parts; everything on this car was my idea." You shrug, too busy working on the brake lines and fixing the kink.

"Wait....you..when you've said in the past you've literally built the car, you're being completely serious?" He sits down a piece of the car, staring at you in wonder.

"Yeah, what did you think I meant?" Not hearing a reply, you slide out from under the car and sit up but come face to face with Lance.

"I love you." It was a soft confession and the first one from him or you.

Blinking up at him, that dazzling smile comes back in full force. His fingers work around your neck and angle you so you both can quickly kiss. It was a soft kiss that made your stomach flutter and caused you to blush in embarrassment from the feeling.

"You're amazing. God, how'd I get so damn lucky?" You don't answer him as he pulls away from you and hops back onto the counter as you return to work.

The more your relationship grows, the less you hide it from everyone. Lawerence told the team to not talk about it at all, but they all waited for the day Lance slipped up and kissed you in front of everyone. They had bets on who would crack first, and the money was on Lance. He was utterly smitten with you, having difficulty to not stare when you entered his field of vision.

Lance was a sucker for you. He hung on every word and ensured you got the respect you deserved after all the races. When he got P2, he said they wouldn't have won without you, and the car was great due to all your hard work and genius brain. Everyone melted after hearing the way Lance praised you to no end.

Fernando was the only one brave enough to poke fun at you, only doing it when Lance wasn't around. It wasn't mean picking on you, but more so in the annoying brother way.

"Nando, you keep asking me who is the big spoon, and I swear, I'll fuck up your telemetry system." You snip as Fernando follows you down the paddock.

"Oh, come on, tell me. I know it's you; Lance is a big baby when it comes to you." He huffs, but you stop, Fernando crashing into your back.

"Wait, why are you even asking me something like this? We aren't dating." He flinches, seeing your harsh stare.

"Nothing. Bye!" He yells, rushing away from you, but you can't help the silly smile on your lips now thinking about Lance.

"What are you smiling about?" Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

"You." Lance's eyes sparkle, bringing a new life to him. Looking around, he pecks your lips and reaches for your hand but stops.

Rolling your eyes, you grab his hand, pulling him into you. You swear Lance acts like a teenage girl falling in love for the first time when he's with you. Unknown to you that Lawerence and some of the other principals were nearby and saw the whole thing.

"Shocked you approve, Lawerence." Otmar scuffs at how you two acted like children making your way to Aston Martin garage.

"Why? They're brilliant, kindhearted, and give my boy a run for his money. They're perfect for each other." He watches his son, knowing he is going to marry you.

"The age difference isn't an issue?" Gunther asks, looking up from his phone.

"She's far more mature than him, so no, it's not an issue." A soft smile fills his face at the way you light up when Lance buys you some food without you even asking.

It was a rush of emotions and green as you stood in shock at Lance winning the Miami GP. You just stood there, wanting to cry, scream, and shoot off to the damn moon with all the emotions that rushed through you. Watching the race later would be a must since you can barely keep what has happened in the last 2 hours in your head.

"Go to the podium, Y/n!" Some yelled as they dragged you to receive the constructor's trophy.

The green, blue, and red rush moved past your eyes as you stood behind the main stage and walked out before the drivers. Charles was 2nd, and Checo was 3rd before Lance rushed out of the crowd, going crazy. A fresh set of tears stung your eyes at how happy and alive he was.

Lance turns and freezes; seeing you on the PodiumPodium with him gives this new adrenaline rush. Wanting nothing more than to kiss you, he has to wait until after the ceremony.

When your name is announced, and the trophy is in your hands, everyone goes crazy, Charles patting you on the back and saying of proud he was and how much you deserved this. Checo whistled, and Lance stood there smiling like a fool, wanting to kiss you silly.

"he's gonna kiss her!" Lawerence yelled over the crowd's roar to his wife, making her laugh at him.

It was heavy in your hand, but you couldn't admire the beauty of the trophy as the tears just started to fall, having finally achieved your dream. You are knocked back to reality with the cold, sticky spray of champagne. You scream in shock, grab your own, and spray whoever got you. Blinding by the tears, champagne, and confetti, you reach out, touching a soaking wet chest.

Wiping your eyes, you face a smiling Lance; you don't even think when you ball up his driver's suit in your hand and pull him in, kissing him. The crowd freezes for a second before going crazy.

"You owe me money!" Lawerence screams loudly enough for you and Lance to hear, bursting into laughter as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss.

"Alright, love birds off the stage!" Charles yells, pulling you apart from each other and leaving the PodiumPodium to go downstairs, the fans being forced to leave.

"You kissed me first?" Lance asks in a daze, not caring you both are sopping wet and sticky.

"Oh, shut up." You laugh, filled with adrenaline and happiness.

Lawerence and the team fill your view, and before you can protest, they swamp you both with a sea of green and more champagne. You somehow escape the chaos and step back, needing to catch your breath. Lance looks for you, sees the top of your head outside the crowd, and walks toward you.

"Baby? You okay?" He knew this was probably a lot for you, knowing you hated being the center of attention.

"Just.....I love you." You gasp, breathless from the wave of emotions moving through you.

Lance starts to laugh, glad to hear those words from you, and wraps his arm around your waist and kisses you like he did that night when he told you those 3 words.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Lance, who has media obligations." His media person says hating to break up at this moment.

"I'll take the fine," Lance replies, but you slap his chest.

"The hell you will go do your job." You chastize, making Lance groan, but he nods his head and kisses you quickly before jogging down the hallway.

"Lance, congrats on a great win. Is there anyone, in particular, you want to thank for your win today?" The reporter asks with a knowing look, and Lance blushes before laughing.

"Yeah, yeah. I want to thank our engineer, Y/n L/n, who wouldn't have the car we do today without her. But also, as her very proud boyfriend, she deserved this win more than me. Sleepless nights, working endlessly, she worked her ass off day in and day out. This team wouldn't be winning- sorry." Lance breaks off, wiping his eyes, thinking about how hard you've worked to get here and see Aston Martin winning.

"As her boyfriend, Y/n, is amazing and deserves the same amount of praise as all the male head engineers, what she has done is amazing, and I couldn't be more proud and in love with her. Love you, Y/n." Lance smiles into the camera before walking away and can't wait to share more podiums with you.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #f1 scenario #formula one #lance stroll imagine #lance stroll #lance stroll oneshot #lance stroll fluff #aston martin #f1 fanart #f1 fluff #f1 imagines #aston martin f1 #f1 2023 #f1 fanfic

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meirathinks · 9 months

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⊹ ♡₊˚๑ 𝙀𝘼𝙏 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙏 𝙊𝙐𝙏 ! ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

chef!Sukuna headcannons

okay. I know I haven't posted anything in like a year. and I know I'm a little rusty so bare with me ok😭 I'm sorry for the wait! Reader was intended to be black but I don't describe any features. lmk if I should turn this into a fic!!

Warnings: none!!

Chef!Sukuna is one of the world's biggest assholes. SURE he graduated top of his class AND SURE! The waitlist for his restaurant is so, ridiculously long. But his personality? Awful.

He’s known for his near godly knife skills. He can chop an onion in ten seconds. He’s pretty sure it’s a world record.

His own staff is so, so terrified of him. The new kid, who’s bright-eyed and fresh out of culinary school, who was beyond excited to work at a Michelin-star restaurant quits on his first day.

(he cried on his walk home)

Sukuna leans into the back of his chair, while Uruame lets out an uncharacteristically loud sigh from their spot at the door.

They step closer into the room while speaking, “You can’t keep a Junior chef for more than six hours—”

Sukuna groans, “Calm down— your job is to be my sous. Act like it.”

He puts his feet up on the peeling wood desk in front of him, deftly ignoring several receipts that were strewn on it.

Uruame nods, before leaving.

Sukuna wasn’t in the wrong you know, the junior chef should’ve known the difference between sauté and panfrying.

He groans while moving to leave his office— he had prep to do.

He’s worked hard to get where he is— to make his restaurant as good as it is. He designed the kitchen himself. He chose each appliance meticulously and placed them in the space deliberately

The delivery and food-prep and pastry sections are in specific parts of the kitchen, they cater to the menu.

Speaking of the menu. You cannot tell me that he didn’t lock himself in his apartment with pots and pans strewn everywhere.

He’d have a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, and his hair would be a little dishevelled

But, he finally figured out that what his main dish needed was an acid.

He’d have a rare, genuine smile on his face while he runs his hand through his hair. He’ll take another bite and excitedly drum his fingers on his kitchen countertop. He’s good. He knows he’s good.

Sukuna’s leaning on the host station with a pencil in hand reviewing the guest list for that night’s dinner. His eyebrows raise at your name— which is circled in red marker angrily. He shouts to Uraume, who’s at the back prepping.

“What’s the red marker for.”

“We have a food critic coming in tonight.”

Sukuna scoffs, “We always have food critics coming in.”

“This one’s different.”

Yeah right.

For the head chef, and owner of a michelin star restaurant— Sukuna is relaxed.

He’ll wear a white button up and some black slacks and the days he’s expected to work front of house. But his sleeves will be rolled high on his forearms and there’s always this dismissive look in his eyes

He doesn’t have to be some kiss ass— his food speaks for itself.

People waited months to get into his restaurant for his food, not to have a conversation with him.

The first thing Sukuna realizes is that you take a laughably short time looking at the menu. From what he can see from the host station, you’re looking at it out of graciousness than necessity.

He walks over, ready to take your order. He nearly laughs when he notices that your notepad already has writing on it.

You’re looking up at him through the low light of the restaurant. It’s tinged red. Like a night club you think. Tacky.

“Hi,” You smile, “I’m surprised I’m being served by the Sukuna.”

“Yeah— it’s a slow day.”

You hum, “And here I was, thinking that you were out here just for me.”

He laughs. It’s this loud, low and smoothe. “I can hear your heart breaking from here.”

“Let’s start with the focaccia.” Your voice is a little shaky. He likes the sound of it.

He walks to the kitchen with a familiar grin on his face.

Food critic his ass— you’re in love with him. He can tell.

Chef!Sukuna who’s never had a negative review. Ever.

GQ. The New York Times. The Washington Post. Critics become regulars— they want an excuse to chat Sukuna (even if he doesn’t entertain it)

He’s earned a name for himself in the food scene, you know. People love him whether they like it or not.

This was just the start too— he’ll open more restaurants, maybe something more formal. He thinks of himself as an immovable object or an unstoppable force or whatever is in those management books Uraume reads

So, imagine his surprise when Uruame forwards an article to him at 11:54 pm on a thursday.

Especially when he sees that you wrote the article.

And that you gave the restaurant a 3 out of 5

A three out of fucking five.

Sukuna was going to kill someone. You, preferably.

#Nah bc imagine sukuna inviting you to his place OUT OF SPITE #He'll cook with the MEANEST look on his face just to get you to like his stuff #Bc sukuna is many things but a bad cook is not one of them #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna x reader #black reader #its ok if this flops bc after my hiatus i'm thinking i deserve it😭

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gritsandbrits · 8 months

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In light of recent news over the passing of voice actress Arleen Sorkin, I wish to reflect on the impact of Harley Quinn on my life.

When I was a kid I grew with Harley. From getting fired from a tv show for giving questionable advice, as her backstory in the 2004 cartoon The Batman, to falling in mad love with her own patient as is the origin story in the 92 animated and subsequent media, Harley has such a big role in Batman lore I don't remember a single time where she wasn't involved. Sometimes I wonder what batman mythos was like before her inclusion.

The first thing that drew me to Harley was her design. Red and black the colors of danger which she was. But there was an added playfulness, that she genuinely enjoyed being herself. She was also VERY hilarious and at times out of pocket. Child Me was amazed. Did I want to be her? Not necessarily. But she did look like someone I'd hang out with.

The meta origin of Harley is just as fascinating. The creators of BTAS saw a performance of Arleen in a clown costume. From there inspiration leapt off the pages onto the big screen. Unlike most of the cast Harley didn't originate from the comics. She was created exclusively for the show, an OC if you will. OCs tend to have a mixed reputation. But Harley's concept and execution was so perfect, she almost feels like she could've been a real character in the comics.

And real she became!

Introduced as a psychiatrist, after receiving Joker as a patient, Dr. Harleen Quinzel begins to fall in love with him; and down a path to iconoclastic doom. Her love for Joker is obsessive, hilarious shallow, horrible but also downright entertaining to watch. I enjoyed every moment she was on screen: I still quote "rev up your Harley" to this day! I see her despair, her goofy outlook and morbid ruthlessness. I wanted her to get comeuppance but at the same time I can't help but feel sorry for her.

Joker abuses her, ignores her, and only complements her when she does something good for him. While the makes how awful their relationship clear, there are a good amount of fans who sees the pair as a glamorous whirlwind romance a la Sonny and Brenda or Jane and Mr Rochester. While such fantasies may seem morbid I don't blame them. No matter how horrible Harley is there is a tiny unavoidable spot that aches for her to win. Or at least see Joker for the monster he really is. While Harley is often held accountable for her actions her arc shows that no one deserves to be abused.

Arleen's performance played a major role in brining Harley to life. She nailed her weaknesses and strengths with such a sincere note that elicits pity, humor and shock at the same time. And of course that ear candy of the New Jersey accent that set the standard for future VAs. Whenever I look at a picture of Harley I hear Arleen. Not to say the other VAs aren't bad, but Arleen's performance is that iconic I can't help but think of her!

Over the years Harley grew apart from Clown Prince of Crime. She got her own spinoff comics, made appearances in other DC media. She even gotten her own tv show which sees the DC universe through her eyes. Harley has marginally healthier romances, primarily Poison Ivy (this isn't to say that pairing doesn't have it's share of toxic moments). The Harlivy ship is a fan favorite but even without shipping and the wars, Harley still shines bright as the Bat Signal.

In a way Harley's descent and eventual rise back to normalcy reminds me of my own struggles. I wasn't a happy child growing up, I've made a lot of mistakes and bad choices. To see a person like Harley work to take back control of her life, makes me feel a bit better for my own prospects. Of course I wouldn't torture a kid to near insanity or blow up a whole city but I can at least put my energy towards something constructive. Harley shows people like me thay we can be more than just screwups if we try.

Of course I can't forget Harley's design. The red&black suit is an icon by itself and inspires similar designs in and outside comics. I could talk all day about how cool her design is from a show and historical perspective but that would take me all day. While I prefer her classic palette, her recent blue and pinks aren't bad either and show just how far she's come out of Joker's shadow. It's even to the point where when, I see something black and red and white I have to point it out and say "Harley would love that outfit!"

Nowadays I complain about the oversaturation of Harley quinn (seriously what was DC thinking taking a team started by a disabled character to reclaim her agency) and overshadowing other cool DC villains. But I would be lying of I say she didn't leave an impact. And it's all thanks to Arleen Sorkin for breathing life into a character that proves you don't need to be be from "the comics" to be considered cool.

Thank you Arleen! May her memory be a blessing - Grits.

#arleen sorkin #harley quinn #essay #dc comics #btas #voice actors #batman the animated series #birds of prey #harley quinn show #characters #may her memory be a blessing

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faeriekit · 10 months

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Health and Hybrids (IV)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and whatever prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWO is here PART THREE is here and this is part four 💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Our boy is recovering from Bad Stuff in the Watchtower (involuntarily). Danny gets a bandaid for a variety of wounds that definitely are not covered by a little adhesive bandaid, but hey! Bart’s trying.

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my awful attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Batman clicks on the projector screen. Everyone in the room has access to the slides and note-taking abilities on their tablets. The assembled heroes quietly select their app of choice, sit back in their chairs, and ready themselves for the meeting.

“Good afternoon. For everyone in alternate time zones, good morning or good evening as they apply. Before I begin the approved agenda for this meeting, there are developments on the base that everyone ought to be aware of.”

Click. The slide changes to a fuzzy image of an unusually dense collection of shadows in a typical medical-wing setup. The specific location isn’t clear, but the phenomenon itself is stark against the white walls and flooring. The static on the cameras is atypical for the quality of equipment used on the base.

“There is an extraterrestrial lifeform that has made Medical Wing C their territory. Yes, we know they are there. No, they cannot be moved at this time. Please do not try to take initiative in doing so. Please do not enter the aforementioned medical wing. If you see this entity outside of the medical wing, please leave, ignore them, or otherwise make your presence known. They are generally in search of isolation and seek to remain unseen. All known attempts at self-defense by this entity have been largely non-hostile so far, but we do not know how or if that behavior will change as they heal.”

Batman…takes a breath. Not sighs. The vigilante has more control than that.

“They are severely injured. The exact nature of their injuries are still unknown, based on their—unique physiology—“

Barry squints at the screen. Nope. The cloud still looks like a cloud.

“—But the identified fluids they secrete have been recognized as at least partially composed of red blood platelets and a modified plasma. Based on their aggressive self-defense, the persistent seclusion behavior, and their general lack of responsiveness, the injuries are considered deeply severe and require rest to treat. It is imperative that non-medical staff and on-base heroes maintain as little contact with the entity as possible. We are attempting both delicate medical treatment and non-verbal communication, which have both failed thus far. We have reason to believe that the extraterrestrial is sentient and capable of communication based on—“

Click. The next slide is an image of a nearly-obliterated craft of some kind—tinted glass, wings, debris everywhere, twisted shards of metal that look like they scrape like teeth. Charred black everywhere. Barely visible is a torn–through upholstered seat ten yards away.

A hiss breaks the silence in the back of the room. That’s nasty-looking wreck.

“—This craft. It is relatively rudimentary in its design, and would not have held up to prolonged space travel, but would have required complex intelligence to start and maintain transport. Basic testing has proven that its energy readings, while not precisely contiguous with the Speed Force, show that it has been in contact with extradimensional phenomena. A non-sentient life would not have been able to pilot it successfully enough to crash it—much less to avoid the farmhouse in its path. The result is that we have an extremely wounded entity with no shared form of communication. There have been worrying observations by their medical team, however.”

Click.

This slide is blank.

“We are now pursuing the possibility that the entity has been attacked or otherwise held captive by human organizations here on Earth. There are persistent triggers of aggression brought on by medical settings, adults, and more specifically, any present medical personnel and equipment.”

Batman pauses.

“Their medical team has informed me that their persistent fear has made treatment…difficult.”

There’s a snort from somewhere in the room.

“If you discover any evidence of possible extraterrestrial captivity or torture or experimentation among your usual cast of rogues, please forward everything you are able to base for further investigation. In this time period where the Lanterns are unavailable to return to Earth, Martian Manhunter has been notified of the need of his presence on the base, and will hopefully help settle this matter. In the meantime, as a reminder: do not enter Medical Wing C, do not engage with the entity in any way. Simply make your presence known, and they will flee.

“Now. Onto our agenda. First article: whoever has been taking the toilet paper from the supply closet, stop it. The league is not here to fund your lifestyle habit of two-ply toilet paper.”

There’s more food available more often.

It just appears at the foot of his bed. Like magic. Or, like…like a really, really fast human child.

Some of the packaged foods Danny can’t eat without swallowing them whole, wrapper and all. They’re just too fiddly to get with his claws—the solution is to just swallow it and let the whole thing dissolve in whatever weird ecto-acid is churning in his stomach at the moment.

The rest is fresh from the bakery—or, well the base, anyway, however this moon base gets their fresh foods. Muffins and croissants and sausage rolls and other things he would expect to see on a coffee tray or something.

…Danny prods his stomach.

He’s been too sore to notice, but this half-state of being a somewhat-physical half-ghost is super, super weird. He can eat, but it’s not processed like food is in his living body. Everything he can digest just gets incorporated. Everything he can’t just gets…

He looks down at the slowly growing puddle in his bed.

…Maybe ‘spit out’ is too generous a phrase. Expelled? Excreted?

Ew. Okay that thought is kind of gross and he doesn’t want to think about that while he can’t move away maybe.

He knows, instinctually, that he’s wounded, but this half-and-half state stops him from feeling the specifics. Knowing how, exactly, he’s hurt. Experiencing the majority of the pain and distress.

He curls up on his bed.

Danny hates it here. Not because it’s bad (it is) but because he wants to be home. He selfishly, desperately wants to be home. He wants his rocket sheets. He wants his room with its glow in the dark stars.

…He wants his dad to heat up soup and sit with him, like when he was little and had nightmares. He wants Jazz to sit on the edge of his bed and read to him.

Danny wants Mom.

…There is some other company here, though.

Sometimes, if Danny is mostly sated and kind of sleepy, the quick human buzzes in with a few of its age-mates. The two don’t get as close as the buzzing human can, because Danny can at least read the Excited!! or Nervous!! or Booored! energy on the human, which makes him more comfortable with letting it in close. Its friends seem to respect his space, though. They don’t go past his curtain, even if it’s open. They talk, but they don’t yell.

Danny thinks he’s getting the soft little bones back in one of his ears, but he can’t fully tell. He can hear that they’re chattering and he can hear which sounds they’re making, but he can’t understand any of them.

Auuuuughhhhh. He pushes the pillow more underneath himself. Does he have brain damage?? Is he…is he missing pieces of his brain??

There won’t be a concrete way to tell until he solidifies again. Gross. He doesn’t want to do that yet.

Or soon.

…Or at all, maybe.

Mom was so mad at him. Maybe he’ll be safe and he can come home if she…if he can’t be touched…?

…No. He remembers. Mom makes things for ghosts.

??Concern?Con??cern?

Danny looks up. Oh. He made the human vibrate all nervously. Danny’s fine. Well—he’s not fine but he’s not hurting more than usual or hungry.

The human is careful not to touch him when he doesn’t want to be touched, but Danny’s feeling generous. When the human puts its hands on the bed, Danny willingly brushes his knuckles up against it.

No claws. A peace offering.

The human goes suuuuper still.

…Uh. Did he break it?

And then it zoooooooms away faster than Danny can comprehend (he jolts) and sprints back with a whole lot of stuff in its hands, and a few things thumpthumpthump ono his bed. And.

Well. None of it smells like food? When he bites it, it doesn’t taste like food either. In fact the texture is…

Danny frowns. Turns over the object so he can see it better. (It doesn’t help.) Is that plastic?

Wait. Danny twists it in half. His wrists ache but the pieces rotate.

…It’s a rubric’s cube.

…Huh.

There are other puzzles too—things that taste like plastic and one that tastes like wood, which he might have dented with his teeth by accident. Whoops. Danny puts that one farthest away, in the hopes that he doesn’t accidentally damage it a second time.

…Huh. That’s. That’s nice.

Danny surprises himself and the surprised!surprised! human with a purr.

It’s not a lot. Not even monetarily is this little offering a lot.

But it’s more than Danny’s had in a long time.

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kindledrose · 4 months

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more of these guys :] (part 1) (part 2)

classpect thoughts under cut! yippee

these absolute fools gave me SO much trouble. i changed each of their classes and/or aspects like twice while drawing this lmao.

pearle was going to be a rage player initially! i had her down as one for the chaos — yknow, ‘red’s my favorite color’ and all that. but the catch ended up being that in this au, as rage represents in-game chaos and bloodlust, it only exists while the game is in effect, and so rage players don’t have much dominion over stuff that happens after that period ends (which has all sorts of delightful implications for grienn’s character, but anyways). meanwhile pearle definitely continues playing and also grows as a character even in times of peace. i was thinking in terms of comparing her arc in double life to secret life in particular — ‘she left the tower’ and all that, yknow? she went from being terribly isolated and functioning on a completely independent scale, winning only for herself, to being a key member of a team and finding a purpose in helping them. which is pretty incredibly space-coded, in my mind! my personal qualification for space players is that they’re destined to be lonely, often physically separated in some way from others, for a while but not forever — because space is about creation, after all. and if you look at being a witch from the perspective of reinvention — what pearle manipulated or reinvented here was herself. she found her place in the story and the person she wanted to be. witches are also some of the most powerful characters in terms of specifically manipulating their aspect, i think, which is great because i’ve heard she's pretty great at pvp lol

ignore that martyn’s color palette is not particularly great it’s hard to unify the design of a character who is super rustblood-coded but also inextricably linked to the colors green and yellow of all things. i’ll redesign him later. anyways! at first i had thought there might not be any light players in this session — since light is about sort of seeing through the laws of the game and often deliberately defying them, as well as having a certain degree of control over narrative agency due to this. and because, yknow, the life series is a minecraft youtube roleplay series, realistically the ccs aren’t going to be playing any characters that go out of their way to completely ruin the game or refuse to play it by the rules altogether. but then i started thinking — and i don’t know an awful lot about martyn’s character so forgive me if i’m going a little bit off the rails here — does martyn want to understand? because if he as a character tries to understand and affect his destiny even though he’s ultimately limited by the nature of the story itself, then he could totally be a light player. so that’s where i was coming from here. think about how he won limited life in the end, for instance — not by playing into what the game itself had been leading up to, but by acting on and finishing his own story. he’s a knight because i do think knights are a certified Narrative’s Little Guy class — they persevere through so much pressure and often also have that sort of dual persona thing, both of which are particularly endearing to an audience. it’s hard work, keeping up with the narrative and fulfilling his own quest for understanding while he’s at it!! but he does it!!

renn is Such a blood player guys he is such a blood player ohhh my goodness. playing the game in terms of your relationships with others, right? basing how you go about it on allies and interactions, and being a leader above all else? i’d say that’s pretty ren the dog coded tbh. i don’t have too much to say here because i think seer of blood renn is pretty self-explanatory — he sees the entire game as a game of relationships and ties. he has a lot of knowledge about this field specifically, and shares it with his allies in the way he helps direct them and keep them alive. the reason he’s blood instead of light is because he puts his allies over knowledge, i think — he’s far too busy dealing with all that stuff to speculate for too long what the purpose of it all might be, and that would detract from his goal (of winning alongside others or dying nobly), anyway.

again questions abt them are open forever always :3

#(<TOTALLY SELF-IDENTIFIES AS A SPACE PLAYER BTW. can u tell lmao)#pearlescentmoon #inthelittlewood #rendog #trafficblr #secret life #lifestuck au #doodles #love how u can just slowly watch the quality of the character lineup drawings deteriorate because i want to get to all of them fsfjhjf #i have soooo many thoughts abt how these characters would interact in the context of the game but will save that for another post so this-#-does not become any longer than it already is #(also i know i'm probably coming across as super pretentious abt this au just know i am excited ok! i am simply having fun!)

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tteokdoroki · 1 year

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𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — pidge + keigo takami.

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — fluff + sfw, gn!reader, hawks calling reader pidge, that’s lit rally it actually, reader is hawks’ PA but they’re also married and cute, hidden relationships, office!au?

pidge - short for pigeon, the nickname tramp gives lady in the disney movie, lady and the tramp!

“g’mornin’, pidge.”

“hawks.”

“aw c’mon, don’t be like that, pidge,” the number two hero cocks his head, letting his luxurious red feathers guide him down to land on his feet beside you by the photocopier. “thought we agreed on you callin’ me keigo.”

you don’t look up from your work, copying city-damage bills, a list of scheduled public appearances and mission reports from closed cases— one of your many mundane and typical tasks as an assistant the pro hero “hawks” agency. “no hawks, you asked me to call you that and i ignored you,” sifting through your documents, you staple them together according to their category and push them lightly into the blonde’s chest before looking up at him with an accomplished hum. “it would be unprofessional of me.”

keigo visibly sags, wings dropping along with his lips— that fall into a pout. “are you always this mean, pidge?” he whines like a petulant child, chirping happily at the contact of your fingers splayed against his chest from behind the papers. “or is it only on the days when i come visit you at work?”

“isn’t that basically everyday?” comes your quick quip, raising a brow at hawks to ensure that he closes the window he came through before you both leave the photocopying room. he eagerly follows you, hot on your trail as you head to grab a snack between your tasks— ignoring the stares of your coworkers. the sight of the number two stalking you around the agency is not uncommon.

“exactly! so ya must hate me! do you ya hate me, pidge?”

the small staff kitchen is vacant aside from the two of you, and you rummage around your designated cupboard only to find it bare. your boss, however, is quick to act on his feet— pulling out a bag of his hero themed animal crackers to bribe you with. “of course i don’t, you’re the best boss ever?” your voice lowers an octave, nearly dipping into sultry tone as you pry the snacks from keigo’s grip. “who else lets me take two hour breaks instead of the legal forty-five?”

“is that the only reason you like me?”

“oh no. i just love the rocks and other shiny things you leave on my desk while i’m working, hawks. the coffee you bring me, and the doughnuts too.” your words are thoughtful and perhaps even wistful as you tear open the packet with your teeth, flicking the kettle on for some hot water— knowing a warm drink will soothe your soul this winter.

for the millionth time that morning, keigo pouts— using the puffiness of his wings to corner you in the kitchen, latching onto you. “you don’t love me?” you twitch “oh, you do love me.” just then, a member of staff barges into the room, making it impossibly smaller— instantly silencing any conversation between you both. they spare you, their coworker, and keigo— their boss, a strange look. “did you need something?”

“uh…i just came for—“ they point to the fridge, and you open it up, keigo using a fast feather of his to scoop out their drink with their name on it. “thanks.”

“uhuh.” comes your quickly response, before you push yourself off the counter and scurry away before any more suspicions can be raised. it’s one thing to be the best employee at work, the next to be favoured by your employer and the wrong impression could have you hated amongst your coworkers for getting special treatment from the number two hero.

however, before you can make it back to the safety of your cubicle— a flurry of red feathers drag you by your sleeves right into the big man’s office, making a spectacle in front of all of your coworkers as you struggle in their hold, squealing right up until the door is slammed shut.

“pidge, you never play nice at work.”

hawks’ office provides you with some kind of solace away from the prying eyes agency staff, and he’s quick to pull you into his lap at his desk once you’re hidden from their inquisitive gaze. blonde hair gently tickles at the junction between your neck and your shoulders, hands that are no longer gloved settle on your waist and thumb under your work-shirt to feel the warmth of your skin, grounding the speedy pro hero that moves way too fast for his own good. “because we’re working keigo, the whole office isn’t supposed to know that we’re—“ you begin, but your words die slowly on your lips as keigo presses small, appreciative kisses along the column of your throat— daring to nip at it just a little. testing how much he can get away with now that you’re both truly alone.

“that we’re married? that i love you, pidge? so so much.” the smooches continue when you don’t make an effort to push the winged hero off or huff in protest — instead he continues his journey down your neck, over your collar and gently lifts your hands to his soft, vanilla balm lips to press a kiss directly onto the silver wedding band that sits simply on your ring finger. “the entire office has probably figured out that there’s something goin’ on between us by now.”

keigo chirps as your heart races, tucked away by behind layers of muscle and bone and flesh. it always amazes you how heightened his senses are, how he can pick up on the way he makes you feel through his feathers as you nestle yourself into his chest to avoid the embarrassment. he likes you flustered and clingy like this.

“but i don’t want them to think i got the job as your PA because we’re fucking kei.” this time, it’s your turn to pout, resting the pudge of your cheek against his beating heart and holding your breath just so you can hear it. you’re not like him, your senses aren’t as in tune but you know it makes the blonde happy to know you’re listening out for him too.

“well it’s not just because we’re fucking birdie, you know that ‘n i know that.” hawks reasons, resting his chin atop your head. “s’cause the commission hand picked you for me themselves. you’re good at what you do, and your quirk stops anyone from gettin’ their hands on our dirty little secrets.” his wings encircle you both once again, creating a literal heaven away from the bustling world outside— where it’s just the two of you and the warmth of your love. “but not only that, you have a work ethic. i have enough money t’keep us goin’ for a lifetime. but you want to work and who am i to stop you.” he coos. “i love that about you pidge.”

when you look up at him, you can see every trace of adoration for you that resides in hawks’ being swirled into the dark abyss of his dilated pupils— nearly swallowing the gold of his eyes whole. “and i love you too, you crazy bird.” you mumble carefully, quietly so that he knows that you mean it this time around, pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek.

keigo laughs, melting like butter in a pan at your affection. “that’s not very nice, pidge.”

“yeah,” you hum, kissing him over and over to pull more timbre laughter from between his precious lips. “but you like it when ‘m mean to ya at work, don’t you?”

#hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks fluff #hawks imagine #hawks fic #hawks drabble #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami x you #keigo takami imagines #keigo takami drabble #keigo takami fluff #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚💭੭ — aali just posted

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messysketchyobeyme · 5 months

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I wish you would write a fic where asmo is just sobbing and throwing up clinging to the mc and how much he loves them and just him being obsessed w them and not wanting to physically separate from them

Selfishness

Asmodeus/Gn!Reader

Word Count: 594 words

A/N: Asmo's a freak *makes out with him*

---

Asmodeus’ nails were quite alluring: long sharp, and always sporting a dazzling array of colors. It was interesting to see what design he’d show off next, and which trends he would start.

You liked his nails a little less when they were digging into your shoulder blades.

“Ah, Asmo!” you hissed, “You're hurting me.”

Asmodeus clung to you harder, closing what little gap that was between you two. He trembled, as he buried his face into your chest, his body wracked with sobs. You leaned against your bed frame, and Asmodeus followed suit, laying down on top of you.

“You can’t–you can’t–” It was difficult to parse what he was saying through his crying. “You can’t do this to me!”

You patted him on his back, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of your moist shirt. “Do what, exactly?” You didn't have the faintest idea what he was talking about.

He didn't clarify, only screaming out, “You can’t!” over and over again until his voice was starting to sound raw.

“Asmo, come on. Look at me,” you said. You held the side of his wet face, brushing your thumb against his cheek. You intended to wipe away his tears, but your thumb became soaked, instead.

Asmodeus seized your wrist and gripped it in a manner that was harsher than necessary. You winced, sucking in a sharp inhale through your teeth. “No,” he hiccupped, “I don't want to see my face.”

You tried to shake your hand out of his hold, but he wouldn’t budge. “Then, can you at least tell me what’s wrong?” You tried to readjust yourself, but Asmodeus' grip tightened, refusing to let you move an inch.

He whimpered, seemingly mulling over what to tell you and how much. Then, he spoke, “I love you…I love you so much…” His voice sounded stilted, like he was trying not to break down into tears, again. “I never felt like this before…to love someone without wanting them just for sex or treating them like a plaything to discard once I got bored.” Asmodeus let go of your hand to allow himself to hug you so tightly that it took your breath away. “I care about you more than I care about myself, so that’s why you can’t��you can’t…”

“I can’t?”

Asmodeus wailed, “You can’t leave me for anyone else! I wouldn't be able to take it!” He screamed, his breath becoming more and more ragged with each choked sob. “Don’t you get it? I'm obsessed with you! I think about you all the time. I need to spend all of my time with you! You can't love anybody more than me! You can’t do that or else I'll! I'll!”

His words became incoherent babbles, as they became lost in his sobs. He was shaking.

You kissed the top of his head. “I love you, Asmo. You're the most important person in my life. I would never leave you for someone else.”

It took a while for Asmodeus’ tears to die down, but they did eventually. He rested his hands against the small of your back. You were grateful that he was no longer harming you, at least.

He sniffed. “Really?”

“Really.”

Asmodeus hummed, not saying anything else. He tilted his head to the side, and you got a good look at his tear-stained face. His mascara streaked down his cheeks in large clumps, his eyes were red and puffy, and his lips were pulled into a pinched expression that you couldn't quite place.

He looked awful.

You leaned down and kissed him. He kissed you back.

#obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me mc #Asmodeus x Reader #Drabble #Ask #I think I have written a couple of fics with a similar premise #haven't I?

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wannab-urs · 1 year

Text

Build Me Up, Buttercup | Professor!Joel Miller x Student!Reader

Summary: Reader confronts Dr. Miller about her grade in his class.

Warnings: Not much yet. Reader is of legal age, no less than 22 but not specified, she's about to graduate college. She’s an English major. This is grumpy x grumpy. Lots of snark, eyerolling, etc. Not-Quite-Enemies to Lovers. And no she doesn’t blow him to get a better grade! (I would, but reader is classy).

Word Count: 1.1k

Why Do You Build Me Up

(Buttercup)

Dr. Miller’s Foundations of Architecture class was supposed to be a fun elective for you. You could learn a little more about architecture, something that has always been a mild interest for you. You like pretty buildings and you think it’s a cool subject. It’s your last semester of college and you deserve to take something fun to fill in that last elective requirement.

You certainly were not supposed to fail the fucking class.

“He’s so rude, Cooper,” you tell your friend. Coop looks up at you over their laptop, red curls springing in every direction and glasses sitting on the tip of their nose. They’re feigning interest while they hammer away at some graphic design assignment.

“One time he made a guy who said he liked 432 Park Ave leave the class. Like just kicked him out for the rest of the day! I mean that building is awful, but still!” Coop heaves a sigh and shuts their laptop.

“Is this that hot professor you told me about or is it the one who always wears really weird outfits?”

“No! The weird outfits guy is my Chaucer professor,” you choose to ignore the first half of that question. “I have words for him too, actually. He keeps-”

“Focus! Why are you failing Arc?”

“His essays are insane! Like, this is not English class, my guy, why are you grading me so hard? I’m literally an English major! You’d think my writing would be more than acceptable for a freshman level class.”

He had given you a D on your paper about gothic architecture. You’d chosen to write about the Santa Maria del Fiore in Italy and he took off THREE letter grades because they finished the construction in the neo-gothic style… which you had made a whole section of your paper about. It’s perfectly valid. It’s not like he really gave you much to go on.

“Did you follow the prompt? Sometimes your brain takes you places the question didn’t exactly call for…” they give you a knowing look.

“This isn’t a fanfic writing challenge, Coop, I can follow a damn prompt. He doesn’t give us anything to go on at all for these essays! Or for anything else, really.”

He is the least verbose professor you have ever had. It’s honestly kind of refreshing for a man to not love the sound of his own voice, but you’re also paying him to teach you something.

“The essay prompt was literally ‘Gothic Architecture’ and the guidelines were ‘12 pages, double spaced, due March 19th.’" You drop your voice into its lowest register, mimicking Dr. Miller's deep baritone. "And that’s what I wrote!” Someone shushes you from behind a bookshelf. You’re getting a little over excited, borderline yelling in the library about this infuriating man.

“Have you tried going to his office hours?” God why are they always so reasonable?

“Have you tried going to his office hours… No. I have not. He’s rude, remember?”

“Just try it! What’s the worst that could happen?”

“He could drop my paper down to an F.”

“And you could report him for unfair grading practices. Go. Shoo,” Coop starts pushing your books toward your bag.

“Fiiiiiine,” you relent.

Twenty minutes later you find yourself standing in the doorway of his office. Dr. Miller is sitting behind a large wooden desk. It’s very neat, the only things on it a computer, a picture frame turned away from you, and a stack of books. Dr. Miller has one of the books open and is writing something in a notebook, brow furrowed and tongue poking out between his lips.

“Dr. Miller?” you ask hesitantly.

He doesn’t look up from his work, just lifts a hand vaguely in your direction for a second and keeps writing. You roll your eyes and look around the office. There are bookshelves lining the walls with architecture textbooks in neat rows. A few covers of Architectural Digest are framed on the wall. Is he in those?

Your eyes land back on him. He’s wearing a dark grey Fleetwood Mac shirt that looks old as hell. The collar is stretched, revealing a bit of his chest. Your eyes trace a line up the column of this throat… He has a nice neck.

You had called him your hot professor at the beginning of the semester, regardless of how you felt about him now. There’s just something about that fluffy bed head he always has, like he couldn’t be bothered to run a comb through it. And the scruffy beard laced with grey he doesn’t seem keen on trimming. And the way his mustache frames his pouty lips. And his prominent nose that looks straight out of a painting. And okay that’s enough.

“Dr. Miller, I need to talk to you.”

“M’busy,” he mumbles out, still not looking up from the textbook.

“Okay, well it’s your office hours, so technically you have to talk to me.”

“Technically, little miss, I don’t have to do anything.”

“Excuse me? Let’s not speak to grown women like they’re children, sir.” Is he fucking for real right now?

He closes his notebook and looks at you for the first time since you walked in. Probably the first time all semester. He kind of pauses when he sees you, hopefully realizing he isn’t talking to a freshman. It wouldn’t make the little nickname okay, but it would make more sense at least.

He looks you up and down and his jaw ticks, “Sit.” His eyes flick to the chair in front of his desk. You drop your bag on the floor and slide into the seat. “So. What can I help you with?”

You take a deep breath. “You gave me a D on my last paper.”

He just stares at you.

“And considering our prompt was all of 8 words, I think- I know I met the requirements and that I did a good job. It was thoroughly researched, structured well, copy and content edited, and turned in 2 days before deadline. I would like an explanation-”

“Enough,” he cuts you off. “I don’t have to justify my gradin’ decisions to you.”

You let out a frustrated puff of air. This man drives you insane. “Dr. Miller, I’m a senior. I took this class to fulfill an elective requirement and because I like architecture. I would like to understand what is so egregious about my writing that you would have me fail a class in my last semester of college.”

He considers you for a moment, meeting your eyes. He lowers his brow, screws up his mouth from side to side, like he’s thinking hard about something. “I’ll reread it.”

Not I’ll reconsider your grade, but at least it’s something. “Thank you.” You grab your bag, moving to leave, and he stops you.

“Wait!” You pause, arching an eyebrow. “What was your name again?” He doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed.

“Seriously? I’ve been in your class since January. Figure it out.”

You storm out, slamming the door behind you.

A/N: This will be my first series! I'm really excited to try some actual characterization and plot, which I've never really played around with before. Constructive criticism in my DMs is always appreciated <3

Tag List: @beskarandblasters, @cutesyscreenname, @atinylittlepain, @wednesdayday, @whoiscaroline, @goldenhxurs, @northernwindd, @djarinxore, @worhols, @amanitacowboy, @silkiers, @4ueijos, @livinxdeadxgrl, @serenaxpedro, @huffle-punk, @elvn011, @thepriceofpepper, @lexic-22, @sunshinebtrfly, @strang3lov3, @virgogaia

#joel miller #joel miller fics #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #Joel Miller AU #Professor!Joel #Professor!Joel Miller

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gucciwins · 1 year

Text

an ex brings stories and mistrust

Word count: 3440

A/N: you asked for angst for some reason so here it is. i am so happy to know you still love bel and harry as much as i do. 🤍

Warnings: angst, jealousy, ex-boyfriend

read love on tour series

“I’m going out tonight,” you tell Harry as you steal a sip of his coffee. You love the smell but can never find yourself enjoying a full cup.

“Done being a homebody,” he teases.

You roll your eyes; after being home in London for a few days, you’ve been enjoying staying in your house but also at Harry’s. It was larger than yours, yet it felt cozy because he was here.

“Haha, a few friends are in the city and want to grab dinner, maybe karaoke,” you share, “what we do after is still up in the air.”

“You can always sing one of mine,” as he takes a blueberry out of her hand.

“Mhm…too bad I already have my song.”

“It’s a classic. You sing ‘you’re so vain’ perfectly every time. Always leaves me in awe.”

You feel your face warm up at his compliments. There had been a lot of begging for him to get you to sing in front of his friends one night. It helped. Most of them were a few tequila shots in. Although it is something Mitch brings every time you see him suggesting new songs, you should try to karaoke for them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, H.”

Harry frowns, wanting to spend more time with you this morning, but he knows you have a fitting for a red carpet. You’re working with an upcoming designer Sarai told you about, a Hispanic designer with beautiful looks incorporating designs from their culture. You just had to work with them; of course, they were happy to agree.

“Send me photos, please,” he mutters against your lips.

“Promise.”

You go to pull away, but Harry holds your waist, deepening the kiss wanting to give you something that would hopefully want to make you stay home, although he knew it was a losing battle. You pull away breathless, a smile breaking out as you see Harry’s puffy pink lips.

“I love you, H.”

“Te amo, Bel.”

_____

There was no studio today, and Harry decided to use the day to catch up on reading a few books Bel had recommended he got two chapters in when he was inspired to grab his journal to write these lyrics before they escaped him. Harry wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he felt his phone ring, he dropped his pen thinking it was Bel but to his surprise saw it was Naomi, your best friend.

“Hi Naomi,” he greets.

“Hiya H, where’s our girl? She’s ignoring my calls,” Naomi asks, straight to the point.

“She had a fitting and was going out tonight.”

“Did she? Say with who?”

“Oh, friends in the city. Don’t think she gave me any names.”

Harry peeked at the time on his phone and saw it was close to six pm. The day honestly had gotten away from him. He would need to cook himself dinner.

“Heard Dylan was in the city.” Harry frowns, hearing Sarai whisper to Naomi.

“Who?”

“Dylan O'Brien,” Naomi tells him, “a good friend.”

“Who’s still in love with her,” Sarai inputs.

Harry hears Naomi shush Sarai,” sorry they’ve been drinking.”

“Why would Dylan be in love with Bel?” Harry had never been more confused. He knew you saw Dylan as a good friend; you would go as far as saying he was one of your closest friends in the industry.

Naomi sighed, knowing they messed up.

“It’s not–shit. H, you have to understand this was years ago.”

“What was?”

“Dylan and Bel dated,” she confesses.

And Harry feels his heart drop.

How did he not know this? How could you not share this information with him?

“Listen, it was after their first film together. It was never made public and is something she really doesn’t share. She broke up with Dylan because he was ready to get serious and take it to the next step, and she felt she wasn’t there. He was heartbroken after, but he was always supporting her.”

“He didn’t want to break up, did he?”

Naomi sighed, “no, he fought her on it, but she was set on her decision.”

“Did she love him?”

Silence.

“Naomi, please!”

“Of course she did. But it’s different, H. You have to believe me. She loves you. I’ve never seen her this happy or in love, and I’ve known her all her life. You make her shine. She’s one hundred percent herself when she’s with you.”

Naomi sharing this brings him a bit of comfort, but he’s left with the question of why you hadn’t told him Dylan was an ex. He was sure there were no secrets between each other, but now he wasn’t so sure. Harry shared about his past heartbreaks and his hand in breaking hearts. You had shared little, telling him that you had two serious relationships that were not worth talking about because you had all wanted something different.

“I don’t get why she wouldn’t tell me.”

“She doesn’t dwindle in the past. Think she’s lived there long enough.”

Harry sighs because he understands, in a way, he doesn’t know what it is like to be alone for years or not to have a loved one to seek out for comfort to share childhood memories with, but he has been faced with loss and knows how hard it can be. He does not understand why she’d keep her relationship with Dylan a secret. It’s as if there was something more she wasn’t telling him.

“I’m going to ask her about it,” Harry tells Naomi.

He hears her sigh, “I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”

“Bye, Naomi.”

“Harry, please be kind. I know this isn’t the easiest way to find something out, but don’t react when you’re speaking with her,”

He sighs, knowing she’s right. Harry doesn’t know what would have happened if he found out through you, but for now, he had to feel his emotions, and he’d talk about this news when you came home to him tonight.

“Of course.”

The phone drops against the cushion on his couch. There’s too much on his mind for him to rest in peace. Harry decides to meditate as the best way to work through his clouded mind. It works for some time until he feels the urge to check his phone, so he leans across where he let it fall, his eyes bugging out to see how late it had turned and you had yet to turn up. He didn’t mean to bother you when you were out, but he was concerned because, for the past few days, you’ve been coming home to him.

He sighs in relief when he hears your cheery voice after the second ring.

“Hi baby,” he breathes out. “Are you coming back here tonight?”

You sigh, coming out low. “Sorry, H. We came back to my place with some friends. You’re welcome to come,” you offer, feeling bad about making him wait for you when you could have texted him earlier in the evening.

“Hurry back. We’re going to lose,” Harry hears Dylan call for you.

Harry tenses, forgetting that you had even asked him a question. “H?”

“No, uh, early morning tomorrow,” he lies.

“Lunch tomorrow, then?” You counter. “Vinny’s?”

“I’ll be at our table,” he promises.

Harry heads to bed with a heavy heart but is thankful he will see you tomorrow.

____

He had arrived early, wanting to have your food ready for when you arrived. You always loved eating the same meal here, the ravioli with butternut squash filling. It was good, and Harry always ended up stealing a bit or two from you when you claimed he needed to try it.

As he waited for you, he was trying to decide how to approach the topic or wondered if Naomi had already sent her a warning. A few minutes later, a large commotion in front of the restaurant caught his attention. There are people gathered around, and he catches a glimpse of your face making him quick to leave his seat and go help you with the crowd. To his surprise, Dylan helped part the crowd and guided you inside with a hand on the small of your back. The group stayed outside as Harry watched you turn to hug Dylan in gratitude. You stood there speaking with him before Dylan shook his head, leaning in to give you a kiss on your cheek. Harry was confused. You showed up with him, and even more that you managed to catch the attention of a crowd.

“Hey,” you greet him with a breathless grin.

“You alright?” He checks in.

“Saw that,” you breathe out. “It was fine. Dylan was there to help.”

Harry hums in response, trying to think what he wants to say.

“Did you order?”

“Should be here in a few minutes.”

You drop the menu, flashing him a huge smile. “You’re an angel, H.”

He sits silently, letting you start to tell him about your day when he interrupts your story about Sally burning pancakes last night. “Why did you show up with Dylan?”

You frown, leaning back a bit as he surprised you with the sudden question. “He stayed the night, and I had let Emerson borrow my car for the day, and I had forgotten, and he offered.”

“You stayed with him alone!” Harry exclaims.

“No, Sally, Nina, Saoirse, Tom, and even Sarah stopped by last night for game night.”

Harry huffs, “you could have called me.”

You grimace, “he was heading this way, and you had a meeting this morning.”

“And the paparazzi just so happened to know you were headed here.”

You frown, not liking what he was insinuating. “H, what are you saying?”

He shrugs, taking a drink of his water.

“Do you think Dylan called the paparazzi?” You sound surprised he’d accuse your friend of this.

“We’ve eaten here how many times?” He reminds you, not once have you had a run-in with paparazzi. “Funny he offers you a ride, and you’re conveniently papped together.”

You sit back in your seat, not sure what he meant. He’s been papped out from time to time, sometimes with you and sometimes when he’s out with other friends. There’s this world you live in, and how easy it is to get lost in your own world behind closed doors. Forgetting that others around you will do anything to get a glimpse inside.

“Harry, come on.”

He shakes his head, “forget it.”

After that, lunch is tense, little to no conversation is had, no matter how much you try. He checks his phone more often, making you fall silent. It’s the quietest meal you’ve had, and it makes you upset not knowing what you did wrong. Harry finished his meal before you but didn’t rush you. Not feeling comfortable continuing to eat, you decide you’re finished placing your napkin on top and offering him a small smile. He asks for the check, and soon you’re off, following Harry to his car, wondering if he’s going to take you home or back to his place.

You don’t dare ask.

It’s not until he takes a left turn instead of a right do you sit back in relief, knowing he still wants you around. Even if it is only to sit in silence.

He parks the car. You sit there together in silence, not sure where you stand. You reach out to squeeze his hand to comfort you and let out a breath of relief when he lets you.

“Come on, I’ll make us some tea.”

You’re not sure what conversation awaits you inside, but it’s Harry, and you know together, you can work through anything.

______

Harry is quiet as he lets the kettle warm up. You set your bag on the couch before following after him. You can see he’s tense as he grabs two mugs from the cabinets.

“Need any help?” You offer itching to do something.

“I got it.”

You sit there waiting patiently because you know Harry will bring it up soon. He can only hold something in for so long before he pops, and you know you won’t have to wait long.

Harry pours a cup of chamomile tea into a floral mug you painted when you did a ceramics class together during the holidays. It was his favorite, which is why it resided in his home and not yours.

“I know,” he whispers, breaking the silence you were in.

You stare at him, confused, unsure of what he is referring to. He knows what?

“Sorry, H? I don't know what you mean.”

Harry pushes away his mug before turning to look at you. His eyes look lost and hurt, and you want to fix that; you’re just not sure you know how to.

His frown deepens, “I know—I know about him.”

Harry says him with so much distaste that you’re not sure what he’s referring to. “H,”

“Dylan—that you dated Dylan,” he breathes out, and your face falls in surprise. Harry takes in your reaction and knows Naomi wasn’t lying that you dated Dylan and didn’t bother to tell Harry he was an ex, only claiming he was a close friend.

“Harry,” you whisper, hoping he’ll let you explain.

“You told me he was a friend.”

“He is.”

Harry scoffs, “you can’t be friends with your ex, not when they’re still in love with you.”

You can’t believe he would say throw that in your face when he’s notorious for being friendly with his exes and having them out for shows. Instead of arguing, you allow yourself to take a deep breath and remain seated, hoping he’ll let you explain.

“Can I tell you about this past relationship, so you’re not only running on what you’ve heard?”

“Are you insinuating your friends are lying?” He bites back.

Naomi and Sarai are the only ones that know, besides a few close friends of his. You’re not upset with them. It must have been an accident. You don’t even want to know, but you want to talk this out with Harry.

“Dylan worked on my first movie with me, and I was so scared. He was nice and had a few movies and shows under his belt already. Our chemistry read had gone well, and it’s how I booked the role, but he was my friend first. Nothing happened during filming. I would have never allowed for that to happen on my first Hollywood movie.” You pause because you hadn’t thought back to that time in years when you were full of nerves and not sure how people would accept you as a lead, especially next to an already well-loved actor with a growing fan base by the day. Dylan was a friend, and it wasn’t until after filming wrapped did he ask you on a date. It was complicated, but Harry deserved the truth.

“We wrapped and went our separate ways. He called to check in, and we got to talking. He asked me on a date, and I accepted. He understood how I didn’t want this to be on every magazine when I was growing my name, and he was the star of Teen Wolf. It would have labeled me his girlfriend before I could make a name for myself.” You watch Harry. No emotions cross his face as he listens to you. “We dated close to a year when he wanted to go public and be my date to red carpets. I liked what we had; it was intimate and private, no need to give ourselves away to the public. It’s when we stopped seeing eye to eye. By the time our movie was set to release, we had broken up. Press interviews were hard, but we made it through. Dylan promised he’d be my friend, and he has been.”

Harry stares at you, and you have no idea what he’s thinking. You know you made a mistake by never sharing about Dylan or your other ex, but it’s trivial. The exes in your life didn’t define you and felt pointless to talk about when your last relationship was years before Harry.

“You broke his heart?” Is the first thing Harry asks.

You shrug, “we wanted different things. We were both so young.”

“Did anything ever happen after you broke up?” You freeze, and Harry picks up on your hesitation. “What happened?”

“He was going through a breakup, and I was in New York at the time. I reached out and offered my support. We ordered takeout and talked about how he was doing. One thing led to another,” you run a hand through your hair, feeling overwhelmed. “We agreed it meant nothing.”

Harry couldn’t believe how deep your relationship ran with him. How, even years later, you sought each other out. There’s one question that plagues his mind. “Did he know your family?”

You frown, of course he did, and the confirmation you know will hurt Harry in a way you never wanted. “He met them when I brought my grandparents to tour set on the first film.”

Harry’s face crumbles right in front of you. “He has a part of you I’ll never have,” Harry confesses.

You feel a bit of your heartbreak because you know your family would have loved Harry. Your Abuelo would have dragged him into the kitchen to help, and your Abuela would have taught him all her favorite songs until he could play them back for her.

“I know, I know. You think I don’t know that.” You don’t want to cry. You can’t. “You think I don’t think about it constantly how my family would have loved you, and I never got the chance to introduce them to you. I won’t get to introduce them to anyone important to me, and it kills me, Harry. That’s a pain I carry every day.”

There’s a crack in Harry’s anger, and you know he wants to reach out to hug you, but he stops himself. There’s so much left to say; instead, he lets his anger control him.

“You’ve called him in front of me!” He accuses thinking of the time during tour you sat and congratulated him on his recent film.

“He’s a friend. That’s all he has been for years.” You’re going in circles. It’s like Harry won’t hear a word you’re saying.

Harry scoffs, “not when you’re both single, it seems.”

You shake your head, “you don’t get to be mad about this. It was all before you!”

“Who’s to say he won’t come running when you break my heart, and you’re searching for comfort,” he throws at you knowing the words would hurt, and they do, making cracks in your heart that had never been there before.

“I don’t want to break your heart, Harry,” you soften your voice, pleading for him to listen to you. “I love you. You’re it for me.”

“Then why did you keep him a secret!” Harry screams. “If you loved me, you would have told me. I thought I knew everything about you.” He shakes his head, no longer able to look at you. “It’s clear you don’t trust me.”

“But I do,” your voice cracks as you fail to contain your tears.

“You don’t not as much as I thought you did. I told you about my exes and how I hurt them but also how they hurt me. You know how hard that conversation was for me.” Harry’s eyes are stormy. It’s a look you don’t recognize, and you know you put that dark look there. “I want to be alone.”

“H,” your voice wobbles.

“You need to leave. I want to be alone.”

Instantly you feel your walls rise. You’ve been in this situation before.

“Harry, if you tell me to leave, I won’t be coming back. We’ve had a similar conversation just like this.”

You see Harry freeze taking in your words. “I love you, Bel. I do,” his voice breaks. “I don’t want you to leave me, but I want to be alone. You hurt me, I know you didn’t mean to, but I need this time to process.”

You sigh, backing down. There’s no use in fighting. You walk out, taking out the key that rested next to your shark charm on your key set and placing it next to the empty pink vase missing the flowers you were supposed to pick together tomorrow at the farmer’s market. “Don’t think I deserve this or have your trust to keep it.”

And with that, you walk out the door, leaving your heart with him.

You hadn’t lost him, but it felt like you had.

don't worry there will be a part two...but i'll let you sit with this for now

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#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles story #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic rec #harry styles writing #harry styles angst story #angst #harry x famous reader

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★ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐔𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃. + 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. holiday season is near, whats Christmas without a little drama to stir and a new boo for the mistletoe?

─── ☆ notes. i realized that i missed 3 uploads because none of them queued i'm SICK this tumblr update is tearing me apart and y'all didn't even tell me .

─── ☆ length. 1.6K (16 mins) .

─── ☆ genre and warnings. holiday season drama, christmas theme, established relationship, angsty, age gap, asshole boyfriend Gojo, eat the rich, cheating, daddy's money!, sorry gojo girlies, not beta'd put me on the naughty list | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

You were convinced that along with old age came a sour attitude towards the holidays. Sure, Gojo was twice your age and around the same age as your own father, considering the fact that Gojo was the top-paid employee in your father's company.

When you first started to get comfortable with the fact that you were in a committed relationship with the man, you only wanted him to be your designated booty call.

just someone that you needed to warm up your bed whenever you got a little bored.

He'd slipped through the cracks of your commitment issues, crawling through the shit that you'd put him through just to finally tie you down and agree to the title of his girlfriend.

But the moment that you two started to spend more time together, it was obvious that you two were two different people going through completely different paths in life.

It was a struggle trying to include each other in the daily routines that the both of you had already settled into, one that would always be the strain that ignited the flame for the main topic for the arguments that you two had.

As the month crept to an end and it was your first holiday that you two were spending together, you were starting to notice how much of an absolute grinch your grown-ass boyfriend was.

"I don’t understand why I have to dress like we’re going to a fucking gala." Gojo complained for the fourth time, fidgeting with his dark green tie around his neck. The beep of his Mercedes was heard as he locked it.

You hadn't understood why he was complaining so much. The ivy green of his velvet suit not only fitted against his pale complexion, but it matched perfectly with the dark shade of wine red you wore to fit the Christmas theme.

"Stop being such a brat, I never knew you'd passed up the free opportunity to pass on unnecessarily expensive wine and old people talking about their slot shares and other boring shit." You hissed out into the cold air, hugging your jacket closer to your chest for warmth.

The night was young, the sky a darker purple as the moon rose just above in the sky, and down from the clouds fell small specs of white crystals laying against the ground, leaving a small blanket of white on the streets and anything else that it could mark.

You would have thought it was a scene from a movie if it hadn't been for the hot-headed being erasing all recollections of Christmas joy you had left in your soul.

"Last I checked, that boring shit is the reason you could even afford to wear that godawful set." Your outfit wasn’t awful: nothing about the dazzling diamond necklace that decorated your collarbone or the white crystals that hung from your ears was anything close to being considered ugly.

"I swear it's like you don't even try to look even close to modest." It just wasn't the dress that Gojo had laid out for you to wear.

Another reason that you two were arguing would be his completely unbearable, controlling personality, wanting to dress you up and down as if you were his personal Barbie doll.

"Last I checked, my father pays your bills, honey," you scoffed, ignoring his invitation to hold his arm and stomping forward to the door.

As with the doorman who greeted you by name, your annoyance morphed into a split second of kindness. Not missing the sly smile placed on his lips as he checked you out.

He wasn't bad looking—a tall man with a wide stature and a dark gaze—and if you hadn't had the throne by your side—aka Gojo—you might have given him another look.

It seemed like Gojo didn't miss that look of reconsideration in your eye, ignoring the man's greeting and barreling through the door with a scuff.

"So now you're going to throw a tantrum tonight, how fucking mature of you," he scoffed, grabbing you by the elbow and bringing you to a halt.

You stumbled a bit from the force but were used to Gojo's strength enough to stabilize yourself in your heels.

You didn't bother making the confrontation look anything but aggressive, you hoped that someone would get the completely wrong idea just by looking at you glaring up at him.

Fortunately for Gojo, your father seemed to appear out of thin air, as he looked as graceful and rich as ever.

A man out of a bougie magazine always seemed too dressed to impress.

You were convinced he did it just to remind the other people around him that they could never dream to even make as much money as he would spend in a day.

"Ah, there you are, sweetheart. I was waiting to see when you and Gojo would arrive."

Your father was a stony man, practically always in business mode, ready to give just about anyone that would lend him an ear a nice long ramble about how important it is to stay ahead in life, to never let your self-worth droop, and to especially never let anyone walk all over you, which you found pretty ironic given the type of guy you were dating.

Gojo's expression had changed completely, plastering on that annoying chirper smile as if he wasn't already red in the face and ready to blow up at you.

You two should have gotten Grammy awards for how quickly you could change from the appearance of completely hating each other to looking like the world's star couple as you yanked your elbow from his grasp instead of tucking your arm into his.

"Hope you found the place quite already. If I knew it was bound to snow this much, I would have moved the date back a bit." You detested small talk, even despised it.

No matter the person or situation, you could hide the way your smile twitched, your eyes already scanning for an escape. The last thing you wanted to do at a party was talk about the fucking weather.

"Yeah, it was a pretty long drive with the traffic and all, I’m gonna go find the restrooms to freshen up a bit." The excuse was enough for your father to allow you to part ways, slipping away from the conversation with a small hug before your heels directed you straight to the open bar.

Drinking was a pretty good distraction, especially when you were passed a new glass at the wave of a hand. You had almost felt shame at the side glances the bartender would give you with every shot.

"Boy trouble?" Anyone but the doorman with the alluring eyes and Chester smile was expected to be sitting next to you.

Your eyes instantly flickered to the scar that traced just over his lips. He seemed to get a lot of attention from the scar, his tongue swiping over the front of his smile to his cheek once he had noticed your eyes on his mouth.

You weren't sloppy drunk; if anything, you were a bit tipsy, as your party phase definitely raised your alcohol tolerance. "Sorry, what?" you stuttered a bit over your syllables, lashes fluttering as you genuinely tried to recognize the question he asked.

Toji didn't seem phased at all, only biting back a chuckle as he leaned against the bar counter, rotating his entire position on the stool to face you completely.

An extremely attractive gesture of interest that you had checked off on the list of things that he’s done that you found completely hot.

Another thing was the way his head nodded in the direction of Gojo, yet his eyes still stayed on you as if a split second of looking away would miss some little detail about you. "What do you think they're talking about?"

The question had brought a smile to your face, and you were giggling into your drink as you tipped back the glass. "I bet stocks and boring shit." Your thoughts returned to the earlier argument. "A bunch of stuck-up assholes parading around my dad just for a raise." You sighed.

"I don't blame them, shit might go over there myself if it meant a few months off rent." You felt his hand rest against your thigh, his palm warm to the touch despite standing outside in the snow.

You wondered how he had managed to radiate so much heat from his body, almost like a personal heater, resisting the urge to lean into his chest and nuzzle your face into his chest.

With a glance, you noticed how black seemed to be his color—dark slacks and a button-up shirt that hugged his muscles just the right amount.

Not enough to tear around the seams, but enough to show that he had definitely bought in a bigger size but had gotten shrunken as he got bigger, or maybe he just didn't know how to wash his clothes.

Either way, you weren't complaining much as he seemed to soak up all the attention you gave him. "You're pretty handsy for a guy I just met."

"And you're just pretty." He had seemed to be leaning in more and more, wanting to get as close to you as he possibly could.

Wanting to know how far he could push you before you would pull away, and maybe it was the alcohol talking or the fact that your asshole boyfriend was just a few feet away, glaring at you from across the room, but something inside of you just seemed to erupt.

“Wanna get out of here?”

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