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capslocked · 5 months

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HONNE, TATAMAE & THE OTHER ONE

male reader x shin yuna

9k words

Yuna shuffles into your office with the same sneaky smile, the same easy slouch, and she settles into one of the chairs across the table. There is, apparently, more to talk about.

It's a matter of image, of perception, is what she knows.

You know every good lie starts with the truth.

So you swallow. You pause. Some other part of you understands Yuna can't ignore who she really is, and you’re not sure you can either.

Look - Shin Yuna is the kind of woman that turns heads, even with the best of intentions. A long, lithe silhouette; an easy, rosy sort of youthfulness clinging to the swell of her cheekbones, the curve of her waist. Take a dress that's cut to show a little thigh, or a hairstyle pushed back on one side - earrings, or heels, or just the subtle swipe of red over her lip - it doesn't take much for men (or anyone else) to figure that out. A girl who, more times than not, really ought to have a boy's hand planted on her ass, in possession.

So the opportunity to capture such a form perfected - all toned and graceful and flush for curves, her legs never seeming to end, the slithering fit of the dresses - these were the things they wanted. Package it, put a logo on it - better yet, a ribbon or a bow - and ship it straight to the consumer.

Somebody everyone wants, somebody no one can ever have.

“So,” Yuna asks from the other side of your desk, lips slanting halfway coy. “Are you going to treat me like an adult?"

Her fingers play idly with the hem of her skirt, and she lets a long, slender leg slowly slide out from beneath her.

“In what way,” you answer, half paying attention.

"The photos." She doesn't have the slightest qualms about lifting it higher. The soft creak of leather, and a deepening smile. "Am I not allowed to be a little racy?"

"That's certainly... one way of looking at it."

You glance away from where her stockings wrap around the soft curve of her thighs to flip back through the photos in your lap, one after the other, each a little different from the last. The beach, the sun, a flimsy white slip of a bikini top that hides exactly nothing, her muscles wet and glistening and perfect. Beyond suggestive, it's considerably inappropriate.

But then to a lot of people, Yuna is a lot of things.

She’s more clever than anyone gives her credit for. And she’s fucking gorgeous, sure. That’s definitely not up for debate, but god is she young - she's barely twenty. And here’s some rather uninteresting food for thought: you couldn't even technically take her for a drink without faking an ID or breaking some law or another, like a real one. So go ahead, chew that down. Girls her age are typically studying, or working a retail job and getting wasted on the weekends. And they aren't typically making six, seven figures turning their head to the camera and asking how much more skin?

You have some thoughts.

Prudently, you’re her publicist, and it’s your job to make sure that the public gets a good look at her and sees exactly what you want them to see. It's unfair. She wields sex like a weapon. She's got the face, the body; it's an easy sell, commodified and commercialized down to the finest detail, the softest curve, the slightest arch of her brow. The idea's to not let anyone look too long, should they catch something you haven't approved yet, or the fact that she's quite possibly a real person with a real life and real feelings, which could easily fuck up her brand, so unfortunately, that's a bit of a no-go.

Sign of the times maybe, no ethical consumption under another something, yadda yadda - it's a shitty business, really, and the whole thing usually leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

(And just to be upfront, as an important disclosure: you are fucking her brains out on the side, which is a different kind of ethical dilemma, with a different kind of flavor to it.

You’re supposed to be something of a role model - and she’s gone and fucked up bad by falling for you. From her perspective, it probably makes sense. Girl gets boy, bespoke song, credits roll and it's fine. No sin to atone, no 'after'.

It was supposed to be a one time thing. It’s metastasizing into something you’re not even going to attempt to put into words. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen, you know that. And you know the girl has daddy issues, but then you've never had a problem whatsoever playing into it. The possessiveness, the control - she gets off on it. You're pretty sure that she'd do just about anything if you asked her, and you'll admit that the thought alone makes your stomach stir, your mouth run dry.)

Yuna taps her knuckles on the wood of your desk. “What’s the verdict?”

"Well, professionally," you say, caveat in hand, and you give the photos one last flip through. "I'd say they're fine.”

"Oh?" Yuna cocks her head to the side. Her long, blonde hair curtains over her shoulder, and the smile that shadows in at the corner of her mouth is almost wicked. She leans forward, chin propped on a palm, and you see that her expression is bright, glittering with interest. "And unprofessionally?"

Sure. It's a fair question.

Though she's wearing her stage face, the one that looks all big eyes and doe lashes, a hint of a pout on her plush bottom lip, and she's staring at you expectantly, the way she might look at a man she's just asked for the time.

You've seen her look a million other ways. You've seen her with her knees spread, her cheeks flushed, on all fours, straddling your lap, face pressed into the sliding glass door of your shower, her eyes screwed shut as she chokes out your name. And god, doesn’t she look good in all of them.

Your fingers tap against the photos.

“Unprofessionally," you tell her, and the smile on your face is tight - unknowable. "I think they’re a little… gaudy."

Yuna frowns, and it's just a flash before her expression is carefully blank again, the stage face back in full swing. She's been doing this since she was a teenager, so the mask is impeccable, but you know her, and you know that she's thinking: about the photo shoot, the way the photographer was looking at her, and the way you had looked at her later, too.

She knows what you've seen. She's wondering if that's why.

"Really," she asks, a note of disappointment in her voice.

"Really," you confirm with a small sigh, though you're still smiling. It's a small, private sort of smile, like you're remembering a joke. You don't miss the way she glances down at your mouth either. "Let me be clear, you have a shot at real success. I mean, you have a chance at a career. A real, sustainable career.”

She's sitting there with her legs crossed, her foot tapping restlessly, and when she's silent for a moment too long, the way her eyes narrow just a smidge, her head tipped slightly, you realize how it sounds. Patronizing.

"Look," you amend. You're not the best at apologies, but you try. "I just mean - I think that you could be doing something that you actually enjoy."

"Who says I don't enjoy this," she says, and there's a bite in her tone, a challenge. She's leaning back in her seat now, arms crossed.

"What, taking your clothes off for the camera?" You laugh, a quick bark. Isn’t that a cruel question, and you can see it in the way her eyes flash. "You could do a lot more than that, I'm just saying."

"Right," she says, and she doesn't blink, doesn't even move. Her gaze is fixed, unwavering. "Because I'm not pretty enough."

You open your mouth. Close it.

It's not a question. It's a statement.

"That's not what I'm saying-"

"Do you know what makes me different from the IT-girl-of-the-month? The Jang Wonyoungs, the Bae Irenes, the Kim Jisoos of the world?" Yuna cuts in.

"Yuna, this isn't-"

"You should know. " She laughs. "It's your job, knowing things, isn't it?"

The silence stretches thin between you. She's not wrong. There’s the quintessential beauty, the timeless classic, the fantasy-wrapped-up-as-a-daydream - oh, it's all sexual, but the product there is palatable (read: marketable). An idea the general public wants to take home to their mother, not take to bed. A beauty so docile and innocent, you feel guilty harboring those untoward thoughts it makes you have.

Yuna is somewhere possibly, someway probably the opposite. You’ve sold her as such, as fantasy in sheep's clothing. She's neither afraid to put the images to words, nor speak her desires aloud. It's her own brand of sensuality, and it's what the public wants - has always truly wanted, since the dawn of man and of popstars fucking their publicists - what the public wants but turns itself in knots just to pretend they don't. The only way it’ll end up in anyones’ parents' home is under the guise that it will be smuggled upstairs and held down into the springs of a mattress. Hand over her mouth, or maybe around her throat, just so she'll shut up.

She's not a nice girl, or the girl-next-door, a bride-in-a-box, but you'd known that before. The line between fact and fiction is fine indeed.

"You're different," you tell her, finally.

"When I first came in here, you had no qualms, no issue to raise, and now all of a sudden, everything is too much," she says, and she's not smiling, her tone flat. "If it was a problem from the jump, you would've said so."

“I just think a little subtlety would be a nice change of pace. It could go a long way, I mean, I could show you the data- "

"So you're going soft on me, is that it?"

You blink, and the realization hits.

"Just where was this noble version of you when we first started out? You had no problem then, remember? Put a sixteen-year-old in front of a camera, in this industry, and all of a sudden-"

"Don't."

“And suddenly it's all 'oh no, that's a little too much, we need to dial it back'." She sighs, a single sharp burst. "Why is that? Is it because you think that now you own me? I fuck you, swallow your cum and call you daddy, and now these are your decisions? Is that it?"

She’s standing now, her chair shoved back so fast it nearly clatters to the floor. There's a storm on her face, almost a rage. This now become a familiar story. The one where the girl's too pretty for her own good. Too much, too soon.

"I'm not a child," she tells you, her tone measured, a sharp contrast to the fire in her eyes. "I know what I want. I know how to get it. You're not telling me anything I don't already know. I'm different. You're right."

She's different, but the girl's clever, too. And she's stubborn. It's a dangerous combination.

You breathe slow. "Then why don’t you act like it."

“If they’re going to call me a slut,” she hisses, and she's walking forward. Her palms land on your desk, hard, and you glance down at her clenched fists, at her neatly kept nails, "you know, after we leak them all those steamy photos online-"

Your mind clicks. You reach to slam the cover of the photo book shut. She's caught your hand, though, in hers, holding it firmly to the desk.

Yuna glances at the photos over again, at the tight fit of the swimwear, or how the ties slip in an invisible breeze. And she's biting her lip, trying not to smile, you can tell. "You know it might be worth it for once," she says, slipping a finger between the buttons of her shirt.

There's a long, tense moment, and before you can register it, Yuna has rounded your desk; she’s closing the distance, fast.

And she’s lowering her eyes. Putting her lips on yours.

It knocks the wind from your sail, for just the instant. You're speechless.

Because her fingers. Her mouth. Her hair. Yuna's everywhere, and she's warm. It's utterly selfish, you understand: you want her to be yours. You want her to be yours and no one else's.

She’s realizing she might be.

You feel her grabbing for more of you. Wanting. She tilts her head, her breath hot, and you kiss her back, her mouth slick against your own, and the kiss is a fast, deliberate kind of messy. Your teeth catch her bottom lip, and her tongue slips past yours, licking into your mouth, her hands clutching at the collar of your shirt. It's not like it is when you're fucking, which is slow and hot, and she's on her back, legs around your waist, her nails biting into your skin, or when she's bent over the arm of the sofa, her ass in the air and her back arched, her breathless moans a chorus of yes, yes, please. This kiss is more battle, more heat, less gentle and less finesse. It's the kind of kiss that's just short of an argument.

"You're an asshole," she breathes into your mouth, and it's not a compliment.

You smile against her.

"So are you," you murmur, and her lips are parted, her eyelids fluttering shut, her breath coming quick and hot.

"Then maybe you should just fuck me," she says. She's not asking. “Yeah.” You press your words right into her neck, her collarbone. “Maybe I should.”

Your hands are on her hips faster than you can realize what it is they’re doing, palms pressing into her, and then you're walking her backwards, shuffling a few steps until the small of her back collides with the edge of your desk, and you're lifting her up onto the surface, the photographs falling to the floor, scattering.

"I thought we weren't supposed to do this here," she murmurs, pulling away for just a moment, her mouth swollen and wet, her eyes dark. She knows exactly what it does to you: the goading, the taunting - the looks of faux-innocence later over a bare shoulder, her ass in the air. How it can get you to fuck her within an inch of her life. What it’ll get her, the return on investment.

"And I thought we agreed to longer skirts."

Her thighs are smooth, silky, and they part, the lace of her underwear stark against her skin. You slide a hand beneath the elastic band, sinking down, and down, until she inhales sharply.

"The fuck do you end up doing going up the stairs?" you add, and your fingers are tracing the swell of her hip, and you can feel the goosebumps on her skin.

She bites her lip. You sink down to press a kiss to her thigh, and then the other.

"Nothing," she tells you, and her eyes are wide. "I guess it all just hangs out."

She simply smirks right back into you, throws her arms over your shoulders. You’re snared, caught - she’ll always be able to fuck what she wants right out of you.

"Jesus, Yuna." Your hand curls around her wrist, thumb pressed to her pulse, and her shoulders roll back.

You push her down, and she's sprawled across the desk, legs stretching wide, her head tilted back and her chest heaving. “God, you’re so fucking wet, and I've barely touched you. That turns you on? Being a brat?"

She sucks air past her teeth, and you can measure each rise and fall of her chest. The lace under her hips is soaked, her pussy swollen and pink. Like if she doesn’t get your hot, open mouth on her clit this instant, you’re both going to have a problem.

You slip two fingers into her instead, and Yuna keens.

"I know it does," you say, and your voice comes out lower, drier than you expect. She's hot, so wet around you, her pussy fluttering. "It fucking turns me on, too."

"Please," and “god,” is what all you receive back in half whispers, while her legs are spread, her heels now really dug into the square of your back, and she's got a fistful of your hair like she owns it. Her voice is high, her eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t be such a fucking tease."

You're not going to make it easy. She's not going to make this quick.

"What, and you aren’t?"

You curl your fingers inside her, and the noise that leaves her is positively obscene. She's grinding against your palm, her hips bucking, and her lips are parted, her eyelashes dark and thick, fanning her cheeks. She's panting, her thighs trembling.

"No," she breathes. If she’s shaking her head, you can’t tell. "I'm exactly what you tell them I am."

Your hand stills, and it takes a moment for her to realize that the pressure inside her is gone. Her eyes snap open, her mouth twisted.

"Fuck you," she spits. "Put them back."

You're already sinking down to your knees, and you've got her skirt shoved up, the lace panties pulled aside, her hips canted, her pussy glistening. The stockings can stay, fuck, the heels, too. She's so fucking hot, her legs spread apart and her lips red. Her palm shoved into her brow, and her breath just barely more than a ragged huff of air. You can feel her body wound tight and ready, her eyes on the ceiling.

You put your tongue against her, flat and slow. Inaccurate, indiscriminate, licking up her wet cunt. And her whole body arches off the desk, a cry leaving her mouth with her head thrown back. Her thighs are shaking, and her heel presses into your shoulder, and god, she tastes incredible.

"Please." It comes like music, really, a song of desperation. You can hear it. She's singing it for you now. "Oh god, please, fuck-"

So you do her one better. You put your whole mouth over her, and she fucking shivers. You don’t even try to ease into it - you're devouring, ravishing her, working your lips and tongue all over her pussy, lapping the length of her in broad, hot strokes, and she's almost shrieking, her body going taut. You suck on her lips, pressing your tongue into her clit, and when you pull off her, your hand takes over the place where your tongue can't quite reach, her wetness slick around your fingers. Yuna's close - you can see that she is, you can hear that she is, and it's her gasp that lets you know.

"I'm -" she says, her voice reaching higher, her nails digging into the flesh of your shoulders, the wood of your desk. The sound she makes is wretched and beautiful. "God, I'm cumming, I'm cumming - fuck!"

The licking, the lapping, the fucking fingering. You can feel her slicked cunt pulse and throb in a satisfied, anticipatory kind of way. Even if she wasn’t audibly wet around your knuckles, you’d read Yuna like a map.

Your thumb taps across her clit, once - twice, thrice, and it’s just that.

She arches off your desk, thighs trembling as your tongue works her over, This hard, hungry kiss, and she tastes as sweet as she looks - as filthy as she acts, too. Her pussy is slick, her hips rolling, her body trembling, and she's making soft, little ah, ah, ah, sounds into the wet seal of your mouth. She's trying to keep it quiet, because she knows as well as you, everyone in the damn office does, probably - it's one thing to play at being a slut. A complete other to really fuck like one.

Your finger slips in and out of her pussy, and then another. They fill her up. The knuckles bending and pushing deeper. Yuna's fucking ruined - your desk is ruined.

But then there you are, complicit, and perhaps a little evil: licking and licking and licking right into her, making her grip twist in your hair and her thighs clench around your face. You can feel it in how her breathing is coming fast, faster, her whole body growing taut, and it was never going to take long, you figure, the way her hips were rolling the moment you got your hands on her. You can tell. She's close, and she's so pretty, all flushed and writhing, her skirt hiked up, her ass perched on the edge of your desk, and when her mouth falls open and her breath catches in her throat, you pull yourself up to watch her, the heel of your hand pressed against her clit, and she's shaking.

"Look at me,” you tell her, a kiss trailing unsatisfyingly into the crease of her thigh, your voice running coarse.

She does, her gaze glassy, and the sound that leaves her mouth is a sob. That’s all it really takes.

“Show me. What face you make when you cum on my fingers sweetheart, show me what a slut you actually are-"

You can watch it all in real time, the panting, the heaving. The sculpted lines of her pretty face screw up, real tight, and she lets out another moan, breathier this time, her mouth hanging open. She does it again when you press down. And Yuna fucking shakes, her hands balled, white-knuckling, and the desk rattling beneath her.

It's all a matter of slight degradation, you’ve learned, the barest humiliation. Like the paradoxical freedom she knows she can find in a hand clenched tight around her throat or her hair pulled and twisted into a fist or the sharp sting of a smack across her ass. Her pretty face. She likes a little something that burns. Something sinewy, visceral, raw: you call her a whore, a filthy fucking cumslut and it makes her body curl like she has hot metal pressing into her skin. Makes her breathless, like she wants you to own her.

Sometimes it's better than being fucked.

(Sometimes.)

Because just look at her: she’s in the middle of coming apart, mouth fallen slack, brow furrowed - and she gets real quiet when she cums, the absolute opposite of the journey she’d taken to get there, all those loud little, uh-uh-ah, fucking please god, her moans, her whimpers - her orgasm ripping right through the middle of her, the hourglass of her entire body stiffening on borrowed time as it washes across her features.

You let out a loud sigh, something she can moor herself to that isn’t your fingers, the desk, or your hair at the roots. Yuna can be every bit as uncomplicated as she can be complex, but god, you love her most like this: an unrehearsed, beautiful mess.

"Baby," you tell her, because it's easier to just call her that, and because you don't know how else to end the statement, because you know if you ask, she'll let you - hell, she'll beg for more, and that’s got your brain feeling rather mushily incoherent at present.

"Daddy," she responds - because of course she fucking does; she’s gasping, and her cheeks are still so pink, her body sated, and your heart leaps into your throat.

It's a problem; you've been trying to work it out for a good few months now, and by this, you mean the little moment you have right after you're done, where your eyes meet, and you smile at her. A problem, too, her lips. A problem, because she kisses you, soft, and slow, and easy. A problem, because her heart's probably already yours.

If anyone were to ask, you would have said there's no greater pleasure than knowing a girl that's almost died to take your cock, but maybe that's the point: it's just supposed to feel a bit better if you're a little head over heels, a little stupid about it too.

"I'm going to use this perfect pussy now," you warn her - just simple formality - because you're already rolling her down onto her back, your cock hard and aching against your trousers.

You've got your hands on her stockings, tugging them down to her ankles, the lace of her panties around her thighs, the neat garter of her garter belt wrapped around her hips, her cunt bare beneath it. You unzip, too slow. You tug yourself out.

“I’ll be good,” she says to you, a promise.

“Yeah,” you return to her, “I know.”

And you slip your cock into her cunt, just barely - maybe an inch, maybe more - and you hear a little noise leave her throat, low. Broken.

“Fuck,” she murmurs, and god, you just can't help it, it's easy; you sink deeper, nice, slow, everything smooth inside her, until another broken sort of gasp spills off her lips.

And then another: "oh my fucking god."

You snap your hips back in, bottoming out this time in the wet heat of her perfect cunt, and she just fucking collapses. Yuna looks like an absolute dream in this state of half-dress, half-distress: black suede around the ankles, stilettos, with just the perfect heel. There are worse things, you can imagine, and she looks perfect sprawled out against your notes and portfolios, all this hot, aching want. As gorgeous as she is fucked. You tear into her stockings, a little. You’ll tear more.

You already know you're going to hell. Or at least that’s where you should already be, but you hips crash into hers again, fucking her legs wider apart, spreading her open across your desk for you, getting her slick all over the photos, her career - it’s all so perfectly unfair.

"You have no idea, the things I want to do to you right now," you breathe, your tone hushed, and you're talking again, like you often do. There goes your mouth - but your hips drag back, and then again, her pussy clenching, vice tight and impossibly wet.

It's a long, torturous, lazy sort of a pull, that draws these pretty thin moans from the very center of her.

And the way that feels, your cock buried deep in her cunt: better than good - heaven, if you care enough about labels for it, or the names of things. You haven’t any real way to tell; the gates haven't opened or anything, so all you're working from here is an educated guess. From the fact that Yuna’s eyes have slid closed, her lips parted, and her whole body starting now to tremble gently with it.

"Jesus, this perfect, tight pussy grips me so good, god - such a good girl, always so fucking wet for me," and your mouth is pressed to the arch of her ear, whispering every last thing you know will make her cum again, like a dream.

And she is, she does.

She's twisting up to grip at your hips, her head falling to one side. When you drag your cock through her cunt, slowly, you watch her lips purse and the way the flush moves all the way down the column of her neck, past her collarbone, her shirt half undone and her tits heaving against the white, sheer fabric. You fuck her for a little, and then you roll your hips slow, so slow.

Until your pace is fucking punishing, deep, and so hard. You can’t help it.

Because it's unbelievable - she's so perfect, so tight around you. Fit snug like a glove, like she was made to take your cock, to whimper and mewl at your mercy. Her lips part further and she keens, her brows twisting in similar disbelief as you pound your length into her. The heat pooled in your belly, the way she looks under your desk: fuck, she's so beautiful like this, properly fucked.

You'd let her ruin you for life - it's that simple.

"Yuna, you - fuck," you barely say, and you sound more than slightly stunned, so she’s filling in the gaps, elaborating in the spaces you cannot - that she loves it, that you’re so good for her, and so is that, and that, and that - the way it hits, right there, keep fucking her just like that, because right there, right there, right there, right there - the way she props herself up on her elbows to tell you, "you're fucking me so deep, oh my god - yes, oh my god, fuck."

By the time Yuna shudders through another orgasm, a silent ghost of a wail leaving her pretty frozen mouth, her lashes are batting against her cheeks, and she's biting her lip, so hard you're certain she's going to break the skin, her back strung like a bow. It's the look on her face, that soft sort of reverence, and how her lips are swollen and spit-slick, the pretty hollow of her throat. Your thrusts become faster, shorter - your own moan thick in your throat, your jaw hanging slack.

“Here,” you say, and she’s just putty between your fingers, on your cock.

You’re flipping her around, onto a different angle. You know she likes it, the way her tits are pressed against your desk, and it's hot the way her ass tilts right into your hips, arched. Proffering. "Be good for me, and spread yourself open."

She's already so meek when she complies. "Anything, sir. Stretch me out; I want you to make me yours."

God, she's practically purring when she talks like this. She knows exactly what that fucking does to you. Knows that when her eyes draw back, big and watery and full, you're a goner - if your cock wasn't deep in her pussy, fucking her open and raw, the view would nearly be enough. And all of this, the pretense, the pantomime, she knows how to bend the line of your body to her own, because when she turns, and presses her red mouth to the crest of her shoulder, you are hers.

You could probably cum, right now, deep down into the molten hot of her cunt: if your hips keep up their ruthless pace, if her ass was sticking up the slightest bit more - the sound that would come from her.

"Take that perfect cock - and fuck my pussy up," Yuna mewls, her voice saccharine and slurring, a touch whiny. She rolls her hips. Your cock grinds, still, though it stutters now - shallow and quick.

"All this pussy, for daddy's cock," and you're sure that the entire office can hear her now, the moans that escape from her mouth - but you can't even find it in you to care. You're caught, all of her a net you've willingly been ensnared by, and here you figure that's the slightest bit appropriate; you're so fucked, and it's funny, too. Funny enough to laugh about, later. "Nobody fucks this tight little pussy the way you do, sir."

It's a smile she hears in your voice when you say, "is that right? Go on then, let’s hear all the things you'd have me do to your slutty little cunt."

The line's crossed again, in some indecipherable direction. Where, again, exactly, does it matter? There are lines and lines, and none of them quite mark the beginning, the end, the periphery. This time you don't pull back; you dig deep, and it makes Yuna cry out like you’re killing her. Which, in a way - you already have.

So your hips stutter forward again, once more, and you lean into the slant, so fucking deep it's practically impaled. There’s nothing quite like holding this girl’s hips and pounding her from behind. Her pussy alone is fucking incredible. And the sound her ass makes against the flat of your stomach, the crease of your thighs - it's unimaginable, the way Yuna makes these little squeaks of a noise, like half-broken moans, when you fuck deep, deep, deeper into her. The way her arms splay wide and search frantic across your desk. And as you grab her slim, dainty wrist, pin it back and pull her tight - fixing her upright until you have her head lolling back against your chest - you simply fucking pound away.

Fucking all these little curses and sounds of appreciation out of her throat. Your cock forcing out each syllable, "yes," and "fuck," and "god, oh my fucking god - I cannot believe," now on repeat, how her tone grows tighter. How she moans - a lot, like something's being worked loose.

"Uh-uh," and you're holding her steady now, with one broad, strong hand at the back of her neck. "Keep telling me, and maybe I'll let you cum."

Your free hand finds purchase in her hair. Yuna's groan coming out pathetic and wanting, her mouth half open. You wrap her silky golden locks around your fist, her hair thread neatly through your fingers, and then give the slightest of yanks.

Christ, her pussy just fucking soaks onto you. Greedy. Needy.

"Shit," and Yuna gasps when she can, where she's allowed to.

"Oh, is my little girl into getting her hair pulled?" and you can see the signs of affirmation: the muscles inside her flexing, grasping you as you roll in, a small, soft nod, and the way she sighs your name, like a prayer on her lips.

Listen, she can barely speak, the way you're fucking her apart. Yuna's body is wound like a bow, like string and taught wire. Bent into the side of the desk and open for you, her pussy pulsing tight around you with every stroke.

"Sir, I'll do - whatever you need, just - just - let me have your cum, please -" and there, she's begging now, and her voice is tinny, breaking, breathless and airless.

Then it’s her fucking hair. You pull so much on it harder this time, with another measured thrust inside her, your body flush against her ass. Fingerprints searing down onto where her hips flare and taper, impossibly narrow.

You’re probably hurting her. You’re probably ruining her for anyone else - nothing will ever satiate her more than the way she sobs as your fingers twist tighter through her hair. Around her fucking miracle of a waist. It's an obscene sound that echoes down to your cock, as deep, hot and fucking filthy as her cries when she cums for the third, fourth?

"Just," Yuna barely makes, her eyelids heavy, her gaze flitting somewhere behind her. "Just look at you, fucking me so hard, filling up my tight little pussy, making me take everything your cock has to give. God, you love wrecking my perfect little hole, don't you?"

No, or yes, or probably. You’ll figure out the details later.

"God, I love it when you get real messy, when I get you like this-" your words run seamlessly into the searing heat between your bodies, like punctuation, like the end of days -

"Use me." She doesn't just say it. "Take me, and cum in me, wherever you want. Daddy, you can have my mouth, or, or, you can - you can finish inside me."

And god, you could, you really could: just the timbre of her voice does things to you, the way that it curls around the words daddy, and sir, and you're fucking me so goddamn good. She's saying them now, her whimpers breaking into outright moans and all: shit, please, please - you're gonna make me cum - oh - oh fuck! And when she's wound that tight, a quivering, sopping mess of a girl, you put your fingers against her clit, circling and pressing in tempo to the thrust of your cock.

The cruel metronome that makes. Hell, it fucking sends her.

She’s begging you to finish inside her. It's fucked up - and she knows it. She wraps her heels around the square of your back, and the tension rises, and rises, the coiled spring tight and waiting - just a push away, so you slam into her once, then twice more, the push of a hand splayed between her tits and your fingers digging into the muscle of her thigh. She wants you to cum in her pussy, fill her right up; she tells you that, again, that she wants it, and her voice is raspy, high. That she wants you now, as if she didn't before, and how does this compare, because she needs it now.

You hold out for just a little. You’re holding your breath. Just a little, just until Yuna’s eyelashes flutter open over her shoulder and she says your name, so sweetly, and says, "please, just, inside."

You shouldn't.

You can't.

So here, barely able to think at all, you end up doing the unthinkable - thinking all the while of pumping her right to the finish and draining your balls straight into the deepest reach of her cunt, how fucking tempting it may be - you muster an ounce of good judgment still adrift in a sea of lust. Your throbbing cock draws out of that wet, inviting heat and into your fist, and watch how that makes her begin to unspool: the way she tries to press her knees shut. She's sobbing for it, pleading, her lashes dark with tears. "No, no, fuck me, please, I'm begging you. Please, I'm going to be so good - god, please -"

You tug her back, look her in the eye, and let out a loud, shaky exhale. "Knees, princess."

She's too wracked with need to do anything other than comply. Her jaw drops. “But-”

"Mouth," you cut in, sharp enough that her gaze lifts, and you're right there - on the precipice, so close, watching her tongue dart out of her mouth to run across the swell of her bottom lip.

Watching her knees fold into the carpet, her stockings down loose around her thighs, her underwear hanging off an ankle. The rise and fall of her chest like rolling waves, and you can see her hands fisting on her knees, and her face: you watch the emotion flash over, like water on glass, and a moment is all it takes. She leans her face forward to your hand, as you wind her hair into your fist, her lips parted and her gaze lowered. She's obedient, taking the weight of your cock with her pretty pink mouth like the fucked-up-little-fantasy that she is, opening so nice and wide.

Her eyes flit up to yours, her mascara-ringed lashes fanned against the pink of her cheeks.

"My face," she tells you, or something close to it, "fuck my face. Go ahead, use it - cum all over me."

Your cock slides halfway home, her cheeks hollowing, and when it presses to the back of her throat, she gags. You curse and tip your head back, the wood of your desk digging into the flesh of your palm.

"What did you say," you half groan out. "Baby," you add, just for good measure, just to play along, "c'mon."

The tip of Yuna's tongue sweeps and swirls just beneath your cockhead, and she moans her answer around your length, lapping at a leak of precum. "I said," she's repeating now, her cheek brushing across your shaft, and you shudder. "Fuck, what I said was I want you to cum all over my face.

Jesus.

You bury your cock into her mouth once, twice. Let it sit there. Let her really struggle for it, the angle just a tad awkward from above. Let her lips stretch wide, and her shoulders shake a little - tears start to gather, pricking her eyes, her lipstick a mess, the way your cock fits, plugging up her throat so full. You hold her like that for just a second, a little less - until Yuna's moaning, the vibration low in her mouth, and her eyes flutter open, closed.

"Fuck," you spit out, and "perfect," and your voice is shot, your whole face warm, and you're going to cum on her - everywhere on her. Yuna, who’s been staring up at you in wide-eyed submission, gives you a little nod, like she means it.

Like she’s earned it.

And maybe she has: it only takes one last look to seal it - her hand curled around your cock, her cheek matted with her own spit and lipstick, the bright smudge of her own cum from the point of her chin to the cleft of her cupid's bow, and her eyes are locked on yours, eager and hot. Maybe she hasn't - and maybe you should make her beg, fuck her mouth some more - it's almost cruel, how she looks. A perfectly pretty picture, poised and pliant and waiting, and she's right there, beneath you, and fuck - this is so wrong, and you'll ruin her, you'll mark her up like this. She'll be painted like a work of art.

Your pulse thickens. Stands right up in your veins.

Then, your control, snapping: her pretty lashes flutter, her mouth gone slack, her jaw still tilted up like she expects a gift, an offering, her palm wrapped so nice and snug around the base of your cock, her expression dazed, and so easy, and perfect, so eager. You tilt your hips just a fraction further, and she fucking swallows, her tongue tracing the underside where you throb harder, heavier - her body lilting up as you press in so deep.

“God,” you breathe in, out. It hits hard. It hits fast. “Yuna-”

A tensing of your stomach coils up through like smoke, and your grip tightens on the edge of your desk, the other in her hair, a helpless, desperate thrusting, and there - it's a wonderful, brilliant sort of explosion, like light, the white-hot burn of a fever breaking. You cum all over her face and into her hair, spilling out streaks of hot, filthy white onto her sculpted features and the sweet line of her throat, and god, there's so much, she's taking it so easily, all her breathing hot and heavy and loud.

Her skin alabaster and porcelain; cotton and canvas; she lets you fucking paint her, all messy and ruined.

In fact she’s even smiling like she’s holding in a laugh, all gooey-soft with satisfaction, and you're jerking your cock slow through her slender fingers, even after there's nothing else left to give and every inch of her face is marked - the way she wears your cum like new skin. You feel the shockwave tear your nerves open, and then the calm, right on its heels, spreading out from your core to your fingertips, out through the roots of your hair.

"Ah," you exhale, a tight gasp. Yuna takes the entirety of you into her mouth, sucking down your length - harder - as she swallows back a final, sticky load, her own hair sweat-slick to her face.

Just look at the damage: that’s a story not even you’d be able to spin. There's cum on her nose, dribbling past her cheek. On her jaw and on her cheek. Filthy white streaked all over her parted lips, her neck. Down her shoulder blades, and soiling her hair, and leaking down past her collarbones.

(Christ, was this better or worse? You can't even tell. Every version of her that's been served on a plate for you has seen fit to make you sweat.)

When the dust begins to settle, you’re left panting and spent. Yuna, the collateral on this fine, whiny, disaster of a deal. A collection of photos, and some thoughts and ideas, that now sit disheveled on the ground. There's a scathing voice inside your head that's demanding to be heard, reminding you all-too-casually that this is not any way to manage a client. She could snap her fingers, call out to that sycophant at the top floor, and your career would be over - she could do anything she should ever desire.

You know, on a baser level, this, and worse: the duality of the thought. Her tight cunt on your desk, you on your knees; the sharp gasp you can steal from the top of her throat, perhaps when she feels the gentle pressure of teeth around one rosy nipple. The pinch of your thumb and index finger around the other. Her nails down your back in ten angry lines, and the throb in her throat, while you slide the whole width of a hand, rough, over the flesh of her ass.

Maybe the desk, like everything else, can just join the pile on the floor.

"Yuna," you say, the vowels pitching like a sigh.

Her palms find the sharp crease in your pants and slide upward. She's gazing up at you, bright, her face sticky with you.

"You can't send me out like this," she tells you, matter-of-factly, letting a smile cross the lines of her lips - or a smirk. A wordless extension of the previous sentence - of a few.

You pull out and away from her: a white and gray dotted tie hanging loose, unknotted; a button still fastened somewhere mid-center, your trousers pulled off and loose down just below your knees, the fly gaping open. She's in a similar state, the cups of her bra slipping loose, her mouth flushed, lips swollen and red, the outline of how she’d let you use her in a smeary, runny stain across her cheek.

"Maybe let your manager know," you tell her, pulling your belt in place, and you think you catch her eye rolling. "That you're going to be late."

Yuna doesn't hesitate.

"Tell her yourself," she responds, "I'm sure she'll be relieved to hear I'm not actually dead - just having gotten fucked stupid on my PR person's cock."

"I might forget to include a couple details."

"You shouldn’t." Her eyebrows jump. And she's chewing, lazily, on the full curve of her lower lip, her teeth glinting like razors. "Here, before you throw all this to the sharks -"

So, so very dramatic, and with this: her thumbnail pressed beneath your chin. It draws your gaze up - up, and down: from the splay of her legs and the gleam of wetness between them, a brief rest along the arcs of her chest - the room's a total fucking wreck. Your necktie, her skirt, her blouse, her pantyhose. The papers and books all spread, bent, broken, the stack knocked clean onto its side. The skirt's probably still pulled too far up her hips for decency, her breasts shoved up to her neck and the collarbone, and then there's her face - her chin streaked with cum. Yuna smiles then, the corner of her mouth pulled upward.

She might kiss her if you'd let her.

Cum on her lips be damned, she's beautiful like that, like she isn't even trying. And in fact, she never really had to - this girl, she'd do it alone. The idea that someone could be as universally loved as she, is enough, a marvel even, but here she is in front of you, every atom and curve a siren, a study in perfection and composition. Like she’s not just all your mistakes laid out to bear.

"Take a second to take a proper look, hm? Get all the memories in, while they're fresh."

"Because?"

"You can remember I'm only the person you say I am, for you."

"You can remember I'm only who you say I am, for you."

"Oh, of course," and the laugh that leaves your throat sounds dry, cracked open. The band of her skirt stretches, snaps back, so neatly that it leaves a pale line on her flesh. And now there are your hands, fitting around her hipbones, a sigh: a short, sudden motion, tugging her up. Yuna gasps: something surprised, delighted. She's all grins and teeth, all clean, bright incisors.

"Mine," you're breathing, the flat of her stomach underneath the fingers you've placed upon it. "This is mine - you. Yours - you're all mine."

It’s possessive, but, you’re not all incorrect.

"Yeah," she more than agrees.

There's a ribbon-taut quality in the way it leaves her mouth, the tension in her body coiled up through to the bones. She makes it sound like the beginning of a promise, the beginning of something much larger.

And by the way." She’s still buttoning her shirt. Putting herself together. You’ve seen the triage, the damage control. This is the Yuna you get.

So, she needs the second - a respite to lick a stray stripe of slick and cum off her wrist - blotting her cheeks with a ball of wet tissue, until all that's left is the smeared lipstick, her stockings splayed around the floor. The pattern you've worn, where your fingerprints would've shown, gets covered up under her skirt and her coat, wrapped up in a scarf.

The smug satisfaction in her tone pulls your focus, just in time, her hair's falling in waves down her shoulders - perfect, but not flawless: there's a creased line, a hint of her throat, just beneath the collar. There's a slight wisp out of place. The buttons aren't arranged all the way from her collar to her sternum.

"I'm going to go with that photoset, with the white top, in the sand - gonna post 'em online and generate some buzz. You even said it yourself: they're fine. " She pauses, pushing away a strand of hair. "Professionally, of course."

"Professionalism." You smile. "Of course."

She walks out carrying the stilettos: pumps in either hand.

"Always. Catch you soon," she promises, and you do catch a last flash of her expression, lips parted, the lower curving into a satisfied smile, right as she flicks the lock on the door open and your office goes back to quiet.

For a split second, it's unbearable: the silence.

And you think again.

She can have anything, get any boy, girl, whoever, any designer, photographer, make-up artist in the world; there's something so unmistakably intoxicating about the fact that the thing she's decided she wants, is you.

#yuna smut #itzy smut #itzy yuna smut #male reader smut #kpop fanfic

2K notes · View notes

bluetimeombre · 5 months

Text

: ̗̀➛ Call it what you want to

You're an up-coming star, staring in some hit movies like Hunger games Ballad of songbirds and snakes and now Wonka, along the Timothee Chalamet.

[i'm obsessed with my man and just need to ignore the fact he's dating someone that isn't me. anyway, you're an up-coming actress who stared in the new hunger games movie and now you're also staring in wonka, the people love you and maybe, so does a co-star of yours] not proof read. this was very fun to write so maybe i'll do more, if anyone likes it. or just for me

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

liked by... tayrussell, joshandresrivera, tomblyth, sadiesink_, tchalamet & others

yourusername: wonka press tour starts now!

809k likes. 304k comments

user: wait, you're in wonka?!

user: I LOVE YOU!!

user: mother giving us content, as always

tchalamet: now you've posted can you come up and help me

yourusername: no

tchalamet: pls!!!

user: omg she really said no to timothee chalamet, who does she thin she is?

user: slayyyy

user: isn't wonka supposed to suck

tomblyth: from one press tour to another, i see

yourusername: girls got to earn a living

tomblyth: she doesn't let the grass grow

user: say hi to timothee for me!!!!

user: omg how is she getting all the hottest guys in hollywood rn? gurl leave some for us

wonkamovie: 😍😍

balladofsongbirdsandsnakes: 😍😍😍

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you were flicking through comments by your friends when your phone started to ring, the familiar picture of your co-star flicking up on your phone. quickly, you dimissed yourself from your assistant and took the call. 'yes?'

'I need your help.'

'Timothee, you're old enough to zip up your own jacket,' you tease, leaning on the wall.

'I don't know what jumper to wear, what are you wearing? we'll coordinate.'

you'd opted for something of your own style. a jumper with pinks and blues and a white flowering skirt with a ring almost on every finger. this was only your second big press tour and sitting next to timothee chalamet every day for it was enough to make you nervous. so nervous you woke every morning wondering if you'd throw up. it didn't help you were also surrounded by others you'd looked up to, like olivia coleman and hugh grant. how were you supposed to keep your cool for months. even if now you were considered just as big a star.

'don't you have a stylist for this?' you ask, looking at the crew around, ready to go but waiting for him.

'there's three options and i don't know which one to go for. can't you just come up.'

you could, sure. go to timothee's hotel room and see him probably shirtless. once you'd have dreamt of it, but things were different, now you just didn't have a silly celebrity crush. now he was your co-star and very off limits.

'option two now come on, please.' quickly, you end the call and pick up your coffee, heading to the room where you'd be sat for the next eight hours answering questions with timothee.

you were there first, shaking hands with the interviewer and introducing yourself to her. you took your seat, making little chatter before timothee chalamet walked in, calm, cool and collected. completely different to your flushed and smiling expression.

you watched as he quickly said hello to everyone in the room and greeted the lady who'd be conducting the interview.

timothee turned to you, arms out wide and waiting. laughing, you put your coffee down and stood up, giving him a hug. you shared small pleasantries before he took his seat next to you, shuffling around and settling in. only then did you realise how much your jumpers looked the same, both smudges of similar colours. you blushed more as timothee watched, silently wondering what could make you so red. as if he had no idea what he did to you just by sitting down next to him.

'I have had scrub scrub stuck in my head since seeing the movie,' she- charline, said as you and timothee laugh. 'do you guys have a favourite song you got to perform?'

'I mean, pure imagination was quite a surreal experience. you know, getting to sing something that was so ... iconic, it was-it was a lot of fun. and a lot of pressure, but, in a good way,' said timothee.

'you killed it,' you assure, casually.

'thank you,' he smiled.

'i really enjoyed you've never had chocolate like this number. that was just so fun, the dancing and all,' you say, timothee nodding and agreeing.

'for a moment was fun to, i guess,' added timothee. 'we got to dance.'

you grin at the memory. 'we did.' you remembered the a million takes, timothee singing practically to you while prancing around. it was your favourite scene to shoot because it was such an easy and happy scene. you didn't have to think about it, just held timmy's hand as he twirled you around the place.

'and i know we're here to talk about wonka but i just have to say-' she gestured to you, 'congratulations on hunger games, biggest movie in the world.'

you wave her off, thanking her as timmy claps for you. 'thank you, thank you.'

'i was wondering what was your favourite song to film there on that set and how does it compare to singing on this one.'

ranting about yourself or your achievements was always hard for you. your stardom and come so quickly with hunger games and wonka, so much so you felt like you didn't deserve half of it.

'i mean, for hunger games it was all live. i sang them there and then so that's daunting in itself, um. i loved filming pure as the driven snow, just because i got to- essentially- sing it to tom. it was just him and me and the crew, like for those shots there was no extra's so that was great fun. a special moment. and singing it to him made it a whole lot easier. whereas on this movie, luckily it was all like pre-recorded so, not so daunting. didn't have to sing in front of timothee chalamet,' you say.

he listened carefully to you, seeing your smile at mentioning tom blyth, your co-star from the hunger games. he'd never met the guy, he was probably lovely- from the amount you talked about him. 'you've got a great singing voice.'

'thanks man.'

'this cast is just so insane and obviously you two got close during filming,' says charline, gesturing to the two of you.

timothee nudged you with his head, like he'd done a thousand times before knowing how much you secretly loved it. just like a horse, as had been quoted.

'who's more british, olivia or hugh?'

'hugh, easily,' you say. you loved all of hugh's movies, but you'd never say that to his face.

'you know, i'm gonna go and say you,' says timothee, turning to you.

you drop you jaw, pointing to yourself. yes, you were british, but more so than than the hugh grant seemed impossible. 'me?'

'yea, i mean, hugh grant is like a walking union jack- and i mean that in the best way possible, but you seem so much more like british. you know, wicked sense of humor and the charm and- you love london,' he pointed out.

'i do love london,' you agreed.

'did you have fun filming in england, timothee?' she asked.

they want on and on to talk about filming the movie, answering questions in depth and it was sure the two of you had great answers, listening intently together and everyone could tell. your chemistry was there, your smiles and answers together were almost so perfect it was like it was practiced and the fans ate it up!

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liked by... zendaya, mtv, kyliejenner, yourusername, wbpictures & others

tchamalmet: WONKA!!! coming soon

tagged: yourusername

1.1m likes, 609k comments

user: he posted! he posted!

user: we are getting FED

user: i just know this is all yourusername influence

user: not kylie liking...

user: statistics! statistics!

liked by yourusername

yourusername: bring back little timmy tim!

yourusername: out of all the pictures you chose that one

user: anyone else think her and timmy are getting too close

user: like fr she stealin my man

user: i love them!!!

user: i swear something is going on with her and tom blyth

user: she's just like us!

user: LOVE!!!!!

user: her and timmy >>> him and kylie

user: plssss, i love kylie

user: is wonka a musical

user: TIMMY I WANT TO HAVE YOUR CHILDREN!!!

user: fave bob dylan song?

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

liked by... tomblyth, rachelzeglar, tchalamet, hunterschafer, zendaya & others

yourusername: ballad of song birds and snakes is number one movie? more like i'm the number one most grateful person out there for this chance and being trusted with my girl lucy-grey!!! thank you, thank you, thank you!!

tagged: tomblyth

1m likes 477k comments

tomblyth: lots of love my dear !

user: pls the second picture was so unncesary she just wanted to post it

user: MOTHER

user: parents are parenting

user: I LOVED THIS FILM

user: tom blyth is honestly so hot like wtf

rachelzeglar: my luv <3

yourusername: omg my gf everybody!!!!

joshandresrivera: funny how you don't post a picture of me

yourusername: it's funny because i don't like you

joshandresrivera: tomblyth you gonna let her talk to me like that??

tomblyth: she's the boss

user: how is she so amazing in everything

user: wonder how she got this job? she's literally as plain as a plank

user: hi!

user: the film was insane, i'm obsessed

user: i need this film injected into my veins

user: she's so good at singing, get her on broadway!!!

tchalamet: very proud

yourusername liked tchalamet's comment

user: why would you post the second pic unless they're clearly dating

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user: pls why do i ship them so hard!!

user: lol it looks like he's just refusing to answer questions without her

user: is nobody gonna talk about how they were basically wearing the same jumpers?

user: no because i thought the exact same thing

user: someone pointed it out in an interview and timothee said it was 100% planned, they're so cute

user: doesn't he have a girlfriend?

user: isn't she with tom blyth? they look like they're together?

user: they haven't confirmed it

user: they don't need to did you see her post on instagram?! it was all just him

user: no but the way she's just constantly blushing around him

user: so would you if you were sat next to the timothee chalamet

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #timothée chalamet #tom blyth #i need him biblically #timothee x you #wonka 2023 #timothee chalamet x reader #timmy #tom blyth x reader #the hunger games #wonka #actress #social media

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nezuscribe · 2 years

Text

𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: it's not hatred that looms between you and eddie, but it sure feels like it. maybe a charged summer night may be able to clear a few things up.

fic warnings (mdni 18+): reader is over 18, enemies to lovers, cunnilingus, cum eating, blow jobs, heavy making out, fingering, teasing, mentions of weed, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, soft eddie for the win

There are about forty billion planets in the milky way galaxy that could support life. Planets far beyond what human understanding could reach, and hold the capability of supporting life far better than earth could. Yet, somehow, with your luck, the planet you seemed to be stuck on just so happened to be the same one with Eddie Munson.

Eddie Munson and his rings resemble every single thing you hated about him; his flare, his over-the-top persona, his all-around charismatic nature. He never seemed to brush his hair, his tattoos were already bleeding into his skin, and his shirt was always halfway tucked into his ripped jeans. He always drove his van recklessly into the school parking lot, his music on blast as you muttered angrily to yourself that this was a public place.

“Keep it down, Munson. Can practically feel my ears bleeding.” You’d tell him every time, your words are hidden behind a fake sneer as you grasp onto the straps of your bag, your lips curling upwards as he jumps out from the driver’s side, his hair in its usual hectic nature as he tilts his head to the side.

“Then how’d you know I was coming?” He’d answer back, the door slamming shut as he walked away, your brows furrowing into a seething glow, your nose wrinkling as you walked away, his own angry mumbling reaching your ears as the two of you go at acting like it was only hatred that caused these interactions to occur.

It was years of this constant back and forth bickering that everybody seemed to pick up on, the bantering between you and the supposed “Devil of Hawkins” that never stopped and had no means of ending. And for many, it was confusing how you, the top girl of your class, graduating as number one, could even busy yourself with clashing with the club leader of the Hellfire Club, but even you nor Eddie had an answer to how this all started. The only thing the two of you could mutually agree on was the fact that one day he ticked you off and he never stopped doing things to push your buttons.

“Off to castrate another devil worshiper? Who’s it this time? Wheeler?” He’d ask, watching as you’d roll your eyes, walking past him in the near-empty hallway, finding your locker as you slammed it open. He heard a huff of annoyance escape your lips, and he grinned knowing that he could perhaps be the only one who could break your picture-perfect attitude.

“You’re next on my list, Munson.” You’d say through gritted teeth, biting back a smile as you shove your notebooks back into your bag, ignoring the curious gazes of the on-lookers as they observe your interaction with the spawn of satan just as they always seemed to do.

But, in all honesty, Eddie Munson wasn’t even that bad.

Sure, you hated how he always walked like he knew he was better than everyone. You really just despised how his cologne smells much too good for the likes of him but had it not been for his obnoxiously loud music that played right next to where you were parked and how he barely showed up to group projects, Eddie wasn’t the worst person to have graced Hawkins.

In fact, you kind of liked his tattoos. You could see some peeking out from the confines of his white hellfire shirt, and some of you yearned to see them to their fullest. And though his hair was a crazy mess on top of his head, his curls seemed perfectly tamed, just enough so they never tangled. His hands seemed gentle, and his smile was soft.

And the only times you saw him were at school, so it’s not as though you ever had to put up this facade for that much once you went home. You could argue as much as you wanted in the parking lot, in the halls, in class, whatever reached the limits of Hawkin’s High, but the two of you seemed to have an unspoken agreement that whatever thing it was that was happening between the two of you if should stick to the confines of the infamous building.

So that’s why when you saw him at Chrissy’s party you suddenly felt particularly queasy.

Leaning against the wall, his arm crossed over his chest as he was deep in conversation with one of his friends. You were shocked to see both of them here when half the school insisted that they were not to be meddled with. And you could see how people strayed away, a little circle collecting around them, backs turned as the students tried their best to ignore them. But fuck, you could feel your heart pounding just a bit quicker at the sight of his smudged eyeliner, the rings that littered his fingers, and the jacket he wore over his shoulders. He was simply gorgeous, unrightfully so, and it didn’t take much in you to admit that.

“What?” Your friend felt your hands squeeze hers more roughly, “Yeah, I know it smells like that beer you hate but…” She trailed off when her eyes found what you were looking at, her lips pressing into a thin line as she noted your uneasy expression.

“Why’s he even here?” You muttered, your friend having to lean down to catch your words as a childish sulk made its way onto your face.

“You do know that Chrissy buys her shit from him, right?”

In the way your eyes widened in obvious shock, she guessed that you didn’t know.

“Damn, you seem to know every little thing about him, don’t know how you missed this one.” She says, trying to lighten the darkened mood as you roll your eyes, pulling away from her as you move around the kitchen island, grabbing a bottle of water for yourself as you begin to chug it down.

“I don’t know everything about him.” You try to argue lamely as the water trickles down your chin. The both of you knew that was a lie, but she just shrugs, looking back into the crowd as her smile widens when she spots somebody.

“Holy shit, Buckley’s here…” She looked back at you, a sort of pleading and desperation look overtaking her features as she began to pout, already telling you enough as the water bottle crinkles in your hand.

“Shoot your shot,” You murmur with fake dejection, not able to control your little grin as you watch her face light up as she beams, “Meet me at the door at ten, though. Swear to god, don’t leave me here, okay?”

“I’ll be back! Promise!” She exclaims almost instantly, giving you a quick hug as she squeezed your back, shooting you a big, goofy smile as she quickly disappears into the thick of the crowd as you lean against the counter, picking at the wrapping of your bottle as you sink into yourself.

When it came to preferences, you preferred your home or even a movie. The mall was out of the question, seeing that it burned down, but even that was better than the congested state of whatever these parties were. The smell of sweat and cigars was thick enough to choke on, and most of the time you found yourself nauseous at the end of them.

“Looks like you’re about to puke yourself.”

Your hands gripped at the bottle just a little bit tighter at the drawl of the familiar voice, your pose growing rigid as your eyes darted to the side, widening just a bit as you saw him standing there, leaning his hips against the island opposite to you.

“‘Cause you walked in, Munson.” You say with a bite, bringing up the bottle back up to your lips as you take a hefty sip, suddenly becoming incredibly parched under the onslaught of his heavy gaze.

He snorts, fiddling with the rings that littered his skin as he watched you under his hooded eyes.

“Thought you never came to these things. Shouldn’t you be at home, studying? Don’t you have like, what, five scholarships lined up?” He cracks open his own bottle, and you try your best to look away as you watch his adam's apple bob up and down as he drinks.

“Try ten, Munson,” You correct, a small grin on your lips as he huffs out a tiny laugh, “And I don’t have any exams left. So…” You open your arms up, motioning to the party surrounding you, “Here I am.”

“What joy.” He said to himself, under his breath as you rolled your eyes at his statement.

“Why are you here though? You never struck me as the - well, the type, really. With the, y’know, whole spiel of not conforming to modern practices.” You ask, leaning your back on the wall as you make sure not to bump into any of the picture frames behind you.

He smirked, tucking a strand of his unruly hair behind his ear as he looked at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Yeah, well,” He nudged a stray beer cap with the tip of his boot, “Wanted one last hurrah before I leave this…hellhole. And who am I to pass off at a party thrown by our very own queen of Hawkins High?”

“Careful there. Say hellhole again and people’ll think you’re gonna start doing some human sacrifices.”

Eddie chuckles, his eyes crinkling around the edges as he nods, a boyish grin making its way onto his face.

“If I do, you’re next on my list.”

You smile, lips tugging upwards as he mimics your words from a couple of weeks back. You find it both terribly annoying that you still managed to remember, and that he never seemed to forget the little things the two of you would say to each other.

“If you’re wondering, yes, these are new tattoos. Thanks for wondering.” Eddie quips, his voice laced with mockery as your stare jumps back to his face, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

“Huh…those are tattoos?” You say, picking at your nail as you taunt, “Thought you gave one of your hellfire friends a sharpie and told ‘em to go crazy.”

His smile drops back into a scowl, and you grin triumphantly once again as he grumbles to himself. Your hands drop to your sides, the bottle bouncing off of your thigh as you look back into the crowd, in search of your friend though you find her to your dismay. You guess she’s probably off in the congested space talking Robin’s ear off.

“Oh, come on Munson, don’t look so defeated. A couple of weeks from now and you’ll be free of me.”

And though your words were meant to offer him some peace of mind, they only cloud yours more. You should be happy. You should be pumping your fist in the air, glad to be away from him and the countless hours spent disputing with him. So why did it feel so longingly sad? As though you were losing a small piece of yourself? You knew that leaving Hawkin’s behind for college was going to hurt, but that’s because you had friends, family, and places you were going to miss.

Who was Eddie Munson to you for you to feel this way?

Eddie pursed his lips, staring at you as you quirked a brow, a small, pitiful smile on your lips as you tried to hold them back from wobbling. It was all too much, the sudden and impending realization that there was nobody like Eddie Munson that could make your heart churn and yearn at the same time.

“I know…don’t remind me.” He means it sarcastically, but even he can’t stop the grimace that makes its way onto his face when he admits it out loud.

You’d been reminding him all year. He doesn’t need tonight, his night of supposed relaxation, to be tainted with the oncoming actuality that you were going to leave and were probably never going to come back.

You hated him, you would tell yourself, but you didn't hate him because of his behavior, his loud music, or his constant parade of bleak vitriols. You hated how above everybody else, he was the only person who could make you forget who you were when you were with him, acting like a damn fool in love as you tried to hide it all behind a pathetic excuse of a facade.

“Why the long face? Worried I’ll somehow track you down even from Massachusetts?”

“Not likely,” He chuckles, rubbing at his jaw, looking as though he was deep in thought, debating on whether or not he should say what was on his mind. He gave a lifeless laugh as he shook his head, “Y’know… I’m actually kinda worried that you’ll find another Eddie Munson while you’re away.”

The bottle in your hand almost fell as your eyes widened at his words, your body going slack as you watched him pick at his jacket, a habit you had picked up on whenever he felt anxious, or nervous.

“Another Eddie Munson?”

“Yeah,” He says through a curt laugh, tilting his chin up so that he could look at you more clearly, “What if there’s somebody in that snotty school that’s more tatted than I am…sets you off like I do?”

“It’s not the tattoos that set me off, Munson, it’s you.”

He raises a brow at that, his lips threatening to pull into a smile as he rests his shoulder on the wall, turning sideways as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Me?” He laughs, not quite believing your confession as his tongue prods at his cheek, “Pray tell, just what about me does it for you? The hair, the eyes…my witty charm?” He’s testing, teasing you just as he always does. He wants to see you break, so you move out of the tight mold you’ve put yourself in for the entirety of your life. But you know what he’s trying to do, you can always read him like an open book, so you decide to indulge him.

“Now, Munson, I’m sure you don’t want me ruining your ego on the night of your…last hurrah.” You say through a smirk and watch him as he shrugs, looking unbothered by it as he motions for you to continue.

“I can take a hit.”

You snort, sighing deeply as you shake your head in a way that screams you did warn him as you set your bottle down, mimicking his movements as you cross your arms, tapping your foot on the ground as you squint.

“Your music, for one. It’s obnoxiously noisy, and you never turn it down,” You pause, waiting to see if he was going to argue but he was just waiting for you to continue, so you obliged, “You always showed up late to our group project for O'Connell's class, a-and even when you came you always managed to distract everybody there. Three, the hellfire club room used to be our room-”

“Decathlon had six members, it was never going to last.” He interrupted you as he heard you give an exasperated sigh, rubbing your forehead as you shake your head in annoyance.

“Hellfire has seven!” You exclaim and he pauses, looking somewhere as he counted all of your club members on one hand and then yours on the other. You watched as he then gave you a sheepish and apologetic grin.

You shake your head, clearing all of your tights as you take a step closer, no longer trying to sugar coat your words.

“You’re loud - I could never focus when I was trying to eat my lunch in peace. You always parked your car just close enough to my spot so that I could barely get into it. You’ve almost run me over ten, no…twelve times, of which you have never apologized for. You always smoke near me even though I’ve told you the smell makes my head hurt-”

“W-whoa, hold on,” He said with a forced laugh, his arms widening tighter together as his brows crease, “You’ve never told me that.”

You pause, mouth half open as you try to look back into all the times you’ve talked to him.

“I didn’t?”

“Wouldn’t have done it if you told me, sweetheart.” There he goes with that damn name, the same that made your legs weak and heart churn. You hated that a simple nickname could have such an effect on you, so strong that it almost made you forget what you were talking about.

“Oh, um, well, thanks…I guess,” You murmur, looking embarrassed as he raises his eyebrows at you. You look away, your body flushing under his gaze as you bite on your cheek, continuing with your rambling, “That’s - that’s not the point. Listen, Munson, what I’m trying to say is even if I miraculously - with my infinite amount of luck - found a six-foot, dungeons and dragons playing weed seller in college, none of them could match up to your…splendor.”

“My splendor?” He repeats with a chuckle, teasing you as you groan, trying to hide your winching face away from view.

“Yes…splendor. Splendor can mean surprising - surprising in a bad way - and you, Munson,” Your finger points at his chest, “Never fail to surprise me with what you do. You buzzed off your hair the night before the talent show. You can speak fluent French even though you haven’t turned up to a single lesson. You apparently deal with Chrissy….” You slightly pout, your voice quieter as you move a piece of trash with your shoe, “...do you?”

“Customer confidentiality.” He said smugly as you groan, mumbling nonsense underneath your breath as you wave your finger at him.

“You weren’t being very confidential when you told me that you dealt with that guy from the basketball team.” You try to argue and he can only look away, pick at his nails as he lets out a deep breath through his nose. He heaved a sigh, his curls falling into his face as he looked back up at you, his eyes round, warm, the exact thing that first made you fall for him.

“Is that all?”

You stutter, clearly not expecting this reaction as you slowly nod.

“W-well, yes. But I’m sure more will come to me later.”

He grins, nodding in agreement as he digs through the pocket of his jacket, pulling out something as he closes his fist around it.

“You let me know if anything pops up, yeah?” He dangles his car keys in front of you, “Next time, though. This party’s beginning to get too crowded, and I think somebody just said they think I’m gonna start performing a seance so…” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, “I’ll take it as my cue to leave.”

There’s a sinking feeling in your chest as he says that, a part of you wanting to reach out and tell him to stay because even though you just listed off everything a normal person would hate to hear about themselves, you knew he had a list double the length about you. You knew you had hours of things you could tell him about, things that you’ve wanted to for months, years, but were too fucking scared to admit out loud.

But almost as though he could read your mind, (you guessed he could after knowing you for so long), he spoke, stopping you in your train of thoughts.

“D’you need a ride home?” It was a casual question, simple enough to get a simple answer, but it was enough to send your heart into another spiel of mindless thinking, thoughts flooding your head as you cluelessly sputtered.

“I…” You look into the crowd, narrowing your eyes as you try to look for the familiar mop of red hair only to find her talking with Robin, a gleeful smile on their faces as they conversed about something you couldn’t hear, “Yeah…actually,” You sighed as your shoulder sank, a sign of you giving up, “I’ll be back.”

You weave past him with that as you plunge into the thickness of the students, bumping past elbows and bodies as you let out a flood of hurried apologies, reaching her familiar back as you tap her shoulder. You don’t have time to prepare yourself as she whips around, searching for who it was until they settle upon you.

‘H-hey!” She says, trying to speak over the loud volume of the people screaming around the two of you, “This is Robin!” She points to her even though you’ve already shared a couple of classes with her in the past. The two of you give each other an awkward smile and wave as you look back at your friend.

“I know, we had bio together last year! Hey, Jess, I’m a bit tired and I found a ride home. Thanks for inviting me…but I’m leaving!” You yell, your voice growing hoarse as her eyes widen in both shock and confusion at how in the span of half an hour you managed to get close enough to someone to drive you home.

“Who’s giving you the ride?” She exclaimed, apologizing to Robin as she gave you her full attention, the people around you giving glances at her loud outburst.

“It’s nobody that you know, don’t worry,” You say awkwardly as you give her a wave, “Have fun, bye.” You wince, trying to leave to no avail as she tightly grips your wrist, watching as her eyes rake over where she last left you, falling on Eddie as she watches him eyeing the door.

“Holy shit…now way…Munson?” She screamed, the name garnering more attention as people looked over at the two of you, heat burning at your face as you wish she could just quiet down a little bit.

“No,” You lie as she looks at you as though she was scolding you, “Alright - fine, yes. Don’t worry though - if he kills me, you’ll know he did it,” Her hand tightens at your weak joke and you can only muster up an apologetic shrug, “Just…enjoy your time, don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” You squeeze her hand as you wrangle out her grip, giving her another smile as she mirrors yours with a confused one. You push past others as they art, walking over to where Eddie was standing as you tugged on his jacket.

“Hurry up Munson,” You titter, watching him jump a little by surprise as he finds you next to him, “My feet hurt, my neck is sweaty and I feel like I’m about to throw up. ”

He can only laugh nervously, hoping that the last part was a fib as he leads you towards the front door. You can practically feel the eyes of people drilling into your back as the two of you walk through the denseness of the crowd. People almost move away from him, not realizing you were there with him as they murmur curiously with one another.

He opens the door with a creak, extending his arms out as he waits for you.

“Ladies first.” He said, grinning as you grumbled under your breath, still going first as he followed after you, shutting the door behind him as you skipped down the steps of the house, hearing his shoe clunk in the background as you scan the vast neighborhood full of cars.

“Pretty sure you know which one is mine.”

And though you hate admitting he was right, he was, because you could immediately pick it out in the sea of all the others.

Even though you don’t voice it, Eddie takes the initiative as he walks towards it, taking longer strides than you as he unlocks the door. He opens it up just as he had done seconds ago, giving you that damn smile as he waited for you to catch up.

“Don’t look scared, she works pretty well,” Eddie says as he hauls himself up, settling in his own seat as he jams his keys in, the van roaring to life as his usual music comes on, flooding your ears as you think too soon.

“My house is down-”

“Down the road, to the left, last house till the cul de sac.” He finishes, not looking over at you as he fiddles with the sound, turning down the volume as you let out a breath of relief. That is until the confusion settles in as you wait for him to explain how he knows where you live.

“What?” He’s startled by the abrupt silence, almost expecting a thank you for accommodating your bland music taste as he looks up, catching your wide-eyed stare as his mouth falls open in an embarrassed chuckle, “Oh…that. Well, you were sick for a couple of days during O’Connell’s project, remember? And I wanted to drop off some things ‘cause I knew you’d come back to drag me by my hair if nobody filled you in on what was happening.”

“Still doesn’t explain how you have my address, Munson.”

“I asked your red-head friend for it. She seemed…willing to give it,” She shrugs, shooting you another grin as heat flares across your face, “Guess she never told you, huh?”

You can only shake your head, embarrassed as he chuckles, tutting as he shakes his head, the van moving as you grip the seats. Jess only told you that she dropped it off when you called, confused about the organized packed box of papers. She didn’t explain much, sounding far too enthusiastic for somebody who supposedly just dropped off homework.

The two of you don’t say anything, letting the dim sounds of Ozzy travel through your two bodies, and circle back until it becomes the only thing you could hear; aside from the blood thumping in your ear. It was a strange calm that washed over you as you watched him tap his fingers on the wheel to the beat of the song, too focused on the road in front of him as his lashes fluttered against the soft skin of his cheek. Houses pass by you as he turns the corner, the asphalt crunching under the tires as you look out the window.

“There,” You mutter suddenly, and Eddie leans into his seat, squinting as he looks to where you were pointing and he clicks his tongue as the familiar house comes into view, looking just as it did months ago when he dropped by.

He slows the van down, his foot easing on the brakes as he pulls up to your house, the drive here was far too short, shorter than you remembered it being as he abruptly stops. You look out, staring at your house as you heave a swallow, your fingers trailing up to the handle as you struggle to find yourself to open the door.

“This one, right?” He asks, his voice almost inaudible as you nod, your fingers tracing little patterns onto the material of the door.

“Thanks…Munson.” You’re able to bite out, pulling at the handle as the door pops open, the night air hitting you in the face as you look back at him, offering him a curt smile as he gives you a little nod.

You’re about to hop out, your head screaming for you to stay, to tell him everything that’s been slowly bubbling up in you over the years. But before you’re able to get anything out, he cuts you off.

“I’m parched,” He says, “D’you have anything to drink?”

And just like that, everything dies down as you groan in annoyance, shooting him a look as you perk your brow.

“No funny business, okay, Munson?”

He crosses his heart, his palm over his chest as he holds three fingers up.

“Scouts honor.”

You roll your eyes at his corniness, opening up the door, and jump out as Eddie follows in suit. You can hear his keys jangling behind you as he locks his door, his boots crunching on the gravel as he rounds over his van, standing beside you as he waits for you to lead him up to the door.

Fishing out the keys from your pocket, you grumble as he whistles under his breath, a song you can’t quite place as you jam it into the keyhole, turning it to the right as the door opens. You’re greeted to the darkness of your house, and you wince as your hands play with the light switches, finally getting one that illuminates the living room and kitchen as you walk inside, looking behind at Eddie as he turns his head to take in the house, looking almost apprehensive to come inside.

“My parents aren’t here if that’s what you’re wondering.” You say as you drop the keys into the bowl on the coffee table, taking off your shoes as you point to him, wanting him to do the same. Even if your parents weren't home you didn't want anything muddy being tracked inside.

“Fridge is over there,” You jut your chin to the fridge as he turns his head as you shed off your jacket, “Help yourself to whatever.”

He grins, his eyes wrinkling around the corners as he gives you a thumbs up. You busy yourself with turning on the other lights, the house coming back alive as you hear him rummaging around until he gives a satisfied noise. You can see him as he takes out a bottle of water, opening it up as he drinks, never stopping until he chugged it all.

It crinkles in his hand as he looks for the trash, throwing it away as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

“You know what, I just remembered. It’s your voice,” You say, scrunching up your nose as you look up, his startled eyes finding yours as you continue, “It ticks me off.”

His brows furrowed together as he swallowed the remaining water, his lips pulling up into a little sneer as he shakes his head in disbelief. You look serious, with the way your arms are crossed, holding your stance like you couldn’t have said anything better to seal the night.

“Yeah?” He nods, pursing his lips together as he shrugs, deciding that there was no better time and place to do this. He thought that after all these years, maybe tonight the two of you could actually grow up a bit and mature, but Eddie knew you would never back down and he was never raised to be a quitter, “You know what ticks me off? It’s your attitude, sweetheart.”

Your eyes twitch a bit, an incredulous laugh falling from your lips as your teeth grind together. He takes a set forward, leaving the kitchen as he comes nearer to the living zoom, his gaze dead set on you as you refuse to back down. You knew you could never act rationally near him, Eddie Munson just brought out a different side to you.

“I despise your rings.” It’s a lie you have to bite out because you love his rings more than anything.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he instinctively goes to fidget with them, turning each one around as he takes another step closer as you confidently (fake confidence, if anything) stand your ground.

“And I loathe that dainty little necklace you wear. Looks like it could snap any fucking second.”

You swallow, your mouth running dry as the lights almost seem to dim, his cologne wafting around you so much so that it almost dries you deliriously, the scent far too much as he inches closer to your body. The seconds tick by faster yet the minutes seem to slow down as you puff out little breaths of air.

Your gaze jumps from his hands, the finger interred in jewelry as they trail back up to his face, his eyes darker than before you can practically feel yourself getting weaker the closer he gets.

“I detest the way you do your hair.” Your ability to get out is pathetic, but how could you when he’s only breathing away from you, everything in your system seemingly about to crash as your blood roars loudly in your ears. You can barely hear your heart pumping, let alone anything else that’s going to fall from his lips.

“I hate that you’re leaving in two months.”

Your heart stops as the usual smile falls from his face. You can’t breathe, can’t think as he steps a little closer, and you knew you only craved for him to only come closer.

You shake your head, eyes darting away from his deep stare as they focus on the wall, taking a long pause and an even longer minute as you look back at him.

“I hate that you’re the only Eddie Munson I’ll ever meet.”

Your words still over the two of you, your chest heaving up and down as you stare each other down, your minds working as one as eyes dart from lips to hands to everything you could possibly think of.

You can hear him let out a deep groan, his eyes shutting for a second, deep in thought. They open back up with clear hunger written all over them as he throws it all away, taking the final step forward as your feet stumble out from beneath you. And you surely would have fallen if not for his hands supporting your back as his lips quickly collide with yours. It’s fast and messily urgent how he moves against you, how sinfully wet it is as he laps up your taste, the unknown sweetness that is solely you as he slots you up against the wall. His free hand cradles your head, careful not to hurt you as he grows restless, craning his neck to the side so that he can kiss you with even more fever.

You can only whimper as his teeth nip at your lips, hips tongue coming out to taste you as you grow to mush in his hold, tilting your jaw up to the side as you search for him again, for the aftertaste of weed and mints that lay on his tongue. He was addictive, more addictive than a drug, and you knew that you would never be the same without this.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” He murmurs against your skin, lapping at your tongue, meshing with your teeth as you whine, “And…” His hand comes up to cradle your chin, moving it the way he wanted as he moves down, his lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down your heated skin as his nose nudges at your jaw, “You drive me crazy whenever I see you. All your talk of how I’m too loud and too cocky,” His brown eyes, still as gentle as they always were as his rings rub against your neck, his eyes boring into yours as his heart thumbs widely against his chest, “But…as nice as it sounds, I don’t think I could ever imagine a single fucking day where you’re not in it.”

You wince, heart throbbing as he sloppily kisses down the column of your neck, his movements longing though covered in a false sense of confidence as he nips, biting little marks all over you, anywhere his lips can reach so that tomorrow you wake up and never forget what he told you the night before.

The dull pain of your head thumping against the wall has nothing in comparison to how all your emotions are bundled into one big mess as you watch Eddie needily tug at your shirt, his hands roaming the expanse of your stomach and hips as he commits your softness to memory.

“I hate you, Eddie,” You falter, your words meaningless but it causes him to stop, his eyes growing with instant worry as he watches your lip tremble, “I hate that you’re so gorgeous I can barely think clearly around you. I hate your perfect smile and how you make me feel when you call me sweetheart, even if you do it to make me mad,” You say as your laugh is short, hurt as you try to find his hands tugging him closer to your chest as you pull him to another kiss, trying to convey a thousand emotions into it as his nose pressed against yours. You can feel his fingers grip at your waist, holding onto you as though you were his only lifeline, “A-and most of all, Eddie…I hate that I can never - never hate you, no matter how hard I fucking try.”

He huffs out a pained laugh, his hands coming up to both sides of your face as his thumbs create two parentheses around the sides of your lips as he kisses you again, his hair ticking your cheeks as you smile weakly at the tingly sensation.

“Don’t say shit like that…” He murmurs, his smile faltering for a second because he can’t believe that this is really happening, you are really here in his arms, telling him the words he had always longed to hear, “Makes guys all sappy ‘n shit.” His voice is thick, almost as though he wanted to laugh but couldn’t.

You bite back the choked sound that comes from your throat, try to control the glossiness of your eyes as you hold onto his arms, helping him as your shirt falls to the ground, the air biting at your skin as he works to unclasp your bra.

“Holy…shit,” He licks at his lips as he stares childishly at your bare chest, his cheeks flushing a dark red as he rubs at the back of his neck, gaping so much that you felt like something was wrong until he muttered, “Prettiest fucking girl I’ve ever seen.” His fingers trail down your neck and to your breasts, your eyes fluttering shut as he curiously toys with them, flicking your nipple as you grip at his wrists.

“Should have said it sooner, y’know.” Your hands fall to his shoulders, playing with his soft curls as you give him a lopsided grin. He moves his hands away from your chest, no matter how much it pains him to do so, as he rubs at your bare shoulders.

“Said what, sweetheart?” He coos, pressing a chaste kiss to the edge of your lips as he moves up, kissing your cheek with such tenderness and care that you almost melt right there. He moves up, kissing your cheekbone, your forehead, until he comes back down to you, his thumb holding your face as carefully as he could.

“That I hated your rings,” You let out a pretty giggle as he sighs, rolling his eyes as he playfully bites at your neck, his hands buying themselves somewhere on your hips as you shrug, “‘S working out pretty well in my opinion.”

“Think I’m actually gonna have to agree with you for once.”

You smile giddily as he works at your jeans, looking up to make sure you were okay with it as you gave him a quick nod, helping him as you looped each leg out. Your demeanor suddenly changes, though, when his fingers delicately loop around the material of your panties, until he suddenly stops.

“What?” You asked, worried as he looked up to you, his lips quivering for a second as he pulled at the hem.

“Lace panties? Oh look,” He flicked his finger over the front, “It even has a little bow.”

You groan, covering your face with your hands as your body heats up in embarrassment, his chuckles barely reaching your ears as he pats your thigh, a silent apology as you lightly smack his shoulder.

“Not like I’m complaining, sweetheart…‘s fucking hot.” He says cheekily, tugging them down as you quietly whine, the cold air hitting your bare pussy. You watch him as he kneels, making a soft thump on the ground as he glances up, his chin hounding at your knees as your hands move to grip his head.

“What’s wrong,” He quips with a teasing smile, noting the way your eyes were shifting as little puffs of air hit your aching cunt, the sensation surely going to drive you insane as his hand moves down to grip your ankle, “Too much f’you?”

He knew he was simply just poking more as you huffed, your hands winding tighter in his hair as you try not to smile stupidly at his words. And he doesn’t need to hear much from you as he gingerly takes a hold, moving your right leg up and onto his shoulder as he moves around a little bit more in his seat, situating his head as he slowly places delicate kisses on the inside of your thighs, each one wetter and longer than the one before as he grumbles something under his breath about how soft you were.

“Damn, Y/n, you’re so fucking messy,” He groans as he notes the wetness dripping down your thighs, “S-shit, fuck, s’wet, so fucking wet….can’t even talk straight when I’m around you,” He mutters into your skin as he grips both of your thighs, the coldness of his rings biting at your heated skin as you pant when his lips get closer to where you want him, “Where d’you want me, sweetheart,” His rests his chin on the meat of your thigh as he looks up at you, just so close to your bare mound yet you can barely talk as his fingers draw little circles onto your ankles, “Come on, use that mouth of yours.”

Your fingers tug at his curls a little tighter, a small warning as you squirm around, uneven breaths leaving your chest as you whine.

“F-fuck, Eds,” You gnaw on your lip as his nose nudges dangerously near your cunt, not aware of how your little nickname for him just goes straight down south, “Just - shit - please just touch me.”

He chuckles lowly, his hands coming up to grip and knead at the flesh of your ass as he kisses wetly near your heat, toying with you with what you wanted as his soft hair rubs against your stomach.

“Where, sweetheart? ‘M not a mind reader.”

You shot him a glare because he was, when it came to the two of you, you both knew each other better than anybody else. It was pathetic, really, how much you said you hated one another when you knew what his favorite color was, but you couldn’t and wouldn’t let your mind wander in a time like this.

“Eddie,” You’re bordering on begging as he raises a brow, still not budging as you groan, taking his head as you directed him upwards, exactly where you wanted him as your cheeks heat madly with embarrassment, twinged with euphoria as he grins knowingly against you, “Here…Eddie, please.”

“Well…” He thumbs at your clit, the sensation causing your head to loll back as it hits the wall, a keen whine escaping your lips as he digs his thumb deeper into the bundle of nerves, your eyes rolling back as he does it, “Because you asked so nicely.”

He dives in, taking little licks at your clit as your moans grow louder with each stroke, feeling your legs wobble as he laps up your taste, groaning at the back of his throat at your saccharine sweetness that coated his tongue. You tasted like fucking heaven, the nights he sent pumping his fist angrily to the thought of you couldn’t have done anything to make up for how you actually felt.

It feels so fucking amazing that you felt like you were going feral, his fingers teasing around your fluttering hole as he rubs your wetness everywhere, wanting to create an even bigger mess. He acts like a man starving as he eats you out, replacing his tongue with his thumb on your clit as he hikes your leg further onto his shoulder, his fingers slowly entering your puckering hole as you let out a quiet squeal when he slowly inches his pointer in, his eyes darkening at the way you sucked him in.

“Shit, sweetheart,” He muttered, his shoulders and entire mood tightening for a second as he feel your clench around him, “Such a pretty pussy, fuck. You-you're so fucking tight…fuck.” He gives you some time to adjust, but his impatience takes over as he begins to pump in and out, the wet noise can only be described as downright sinful as he watches your string of arousal coat his finger.

“E-Eddie!” You can barely talk as he continues to pump faster, adding another one as your body winds up, sucking him in even more as he whines how hot you feel around him, “So good! Fuck, you’re making me feel so good, mm…” Your stomach clenched as his pace grows quicker than before at your words.

“Yeah?” He chuckles but it’s broken as he falters, his eyes squeezing shut for a second as he feels you guide his wrist up and down, his rings bumping against your clit as the sensation only causes you to moan louder, “Y-you like it? God…you’re such a fuckin’ slut, huh? Never would have guessed with all the b-books you hide behind.”

You nod dimly, your lips pressed into a thin line as you awkwardly move around, everything too much as he replaced his fingers with his tongue, everything happening too fast and all at once as he gives a low, guttural growth at how you tasted.

“Fuuck…” He can barely even say that as he eats it all up, knowing he was slowly yet surely growing addicted to you as he spreads you out with the help of his fingers, “Tastes like - likes a fucking t-treat sweetheart.” And he doesn't stop the relentless attack with his thumb as white dots the outer corners of your vision, your body beginning to shut down as Eddie only picks up his pace.

“Eddie! Please…don’t, don’t stop. Feels so fucking good Eds,” You’re a blubbering mess as he heeds your words, your mouth falling into a silent scream as his thumb goes just a little bit faster, his tongue pumping in and out of you with such fervor that you’re just growing wetter and wetter by the second, “Y-yes, yes, yes! Eddie, you feel so good!”

Your hands tighten on his scalp as your legs wobble, and if it weren’t for the wall and his tight support on you you surely would have fallen. You can feel it coming, and you can only keen loudly as you climax, your orgasm washing over you as your toes curl, gushing around his tongue as he quickly laps it all up, hungrily tasting your release as the two of you moan out loudly in tandem.

He slowly removes his hand from your clit, the little nub is swollen as he gingerly pats your knee, removing it from his shoulder as he slowly rises, his lips pink and slightly pouted as his chest heaves up and down with labored breaths, pupils blown wide open as he reflects your stare. You can feel your pussy still fluttering around nothing, your puffy lips aching for more as you tightly grip at his shirt for some leverage.

“That was so fucking hot,” You can see yourself glistening on his chin, the sight too much to believe as he pulls you back into another kiss, your teeth clashing, tongues swirling as he ravages you as best he can, “Don’t know why…why it took us so long to do this.”

You whine a little, the sound muffled by his hungry lips as you taste yourself on him, the tangy sweetness mixed with spit and sweat was so addictive that you pulled him by the collar of his jacket, wanting more of it as he chuckled against your plush skin.

“Don’t know…don’t know why either.” You're able to get out as he moves away, giving you some time to catch your breath as he stares at your wet lips, glistening under the dim light as your hands trace little patterns onto his palm. You tug at his fingers as he traced your features, losing yourselves in the moment as his thumb traces the corners of your jaw, moving up to your cheek and then to the bottom of your lip. The padding of his fingertips was soft, softer than what you expected from somebody who played the guitar day and night, but nonetheless, you craved it more than anything you’ve come to know.

Your hands eagerly roam around his body, tugging at the fabric on his chest, doing a quick job of shedding him of his jacket as you paw at the hem of his shirt, your eyes wide and needy as chokes out a muffled groan when your hands dip under, your nails tracing along his bare skin and happy trail as his stomach clenches under the cold sensation of your fingers.

“Not fair, Eds,” You whine into his neck, licking up at the column as he shudders when you drag your nails up his torso, “I’m only the naked one here. Doesn’t m-make sense.” You whimper when he holds you tightly by the waist, nodding in agreement as bliss fogs his eyes as they gloss over.

“Y-you’re right, I’m a fucking idiot.” He gets out as you help him take his shirt off, his hair bouncing off of his shoulders as you smile against the corner of his lips, your chest pressing against his bare one as he shucks in a breath at the feeling of your nipples rubbing against him.

“Biggest idiot I’ve ever met.”

He chuckles, his cheeks and eyes brightening up for a second as a blip of your usual back and forth bleeds even into something like this, wondering why it took him so long to actually do this when he was so clearly enamored by you.

But even that can’t stop your wandering eyes and hands as they tug at his belt, a quiet umph leaving his lips as you play with it.

“You’re such a perv, Eds, getting off on shit like this.” Your words are so sweet, such a far cry from how they were minutes ago as Eddie quickly nods against your lips, helplessly whining as you palm his growing bulge against his jeans. You flick at the zipper, his lips quickly opening as your thumb presses deeper into his aching cock.

“Y-yeah, well,” He tries to hold back another choked moan as you tug at his belt, undoing it in such a swift manner that he almost raises a brow at it, “Can’t exactly be gods strong soldier when you’re in front of me…looking like that.”

“Looking like what, Munson?”

There’s a bite to your voice, but it’s only because you like to coquet, as you always have because you like to see his reaction as his eyes slightly widen, kissing your collarbone as he kneads and rods at your ass, whimpering even more as you unzip his jeans.

“You’re a fucking tease, sweetheart,” He says, his smile wavering as you tug his pants down, lifting his legs as he kicks them off, somewhere to the side as he wraps his hands around your neck, laying with that damn necklace as he shrugs, “I’ll tell you later when you’re not…fuck, about to s-suck me off.”

You pout at his words, seeing the satisfied look on his face at your let-down expression. But you knew that sooner or later that smug smile would be wiped off his face, so duck your head down as you try to busy yourself with the more important matters at hand.

Your thumb finds his tip, easy to find as his precum is staining his boxers, the translucent liquid now on your fingers as you drag your hand up and down, the fabric creating more friction around him as his head falls back onto the wall.

“You’re messy too Eddie,” You tell him softly as your thumb presses deeper into his leaking head, his breathing becoming uneven and choppy as you stop, going down to your knees as you hook your fingers around the elastic as you tug down, his cock slapping you across the cheek as it pops out from its’ tight confines, “Calling me messy when you’re leaking right here.” You mumble to yourself, the sound too innocent and adorable for the situation you were in as Eddie finds his hands unconsciously going to the back of your head, just as you had done with him as he tries to give you some time to get used to him.

He almost cums on the spot when your nails trace up and down his cock, memorizing all his veins and crooks to heart as you delicately wrap your hands around him, your eyes widening at the sheer size of him as you dryly swallow.

“Too big?” He asks, trying to be cheeky, to lighten the mood, but you can only dimly nod, your hand slowly coming up and down from his base to the tip, cupping his balls as you whine at his precum trickling onto your body.

“You’re - you’re too cocky for your own good.” You respond weakly, not intending the lame pun as you lean your head forehead, slow as you take a tentative lick at his bulbous tip, moaning as his salty taste floods your senses. He stops breathing for a second as he feels your hot tongue benign to quicken its pace, licking more and more as his hand grows weaker at the back of your head.

Slowly you being to envelop your mouth over him, suctioning as you hollow out your cheeks, taking him in little by little, your hands making up for whatever you can’t fit into your mouth as you pump back and forth, your throat gagging a bit as he hits the back, but you continue because more than anything you love the burn and the loud moans he’s letting out as you suck him off.

“Mph, god, fuuck…” He’s controlling your head, bobbing you up and down on his dick as your spit mixes with his pre, rubbing off on your chin and cheeks as he tries to wring his eyes open to stare at you, to see your wide eyes staring back at him as you take him whole, “So fucking good, sweetheart, you’re so fucking good. Can’t - fuck - can’t believe you’re such a good fucking girl. N-not, mfph,” He chokes as your tongue swirls around, his tip getting angrier and redder as you don’t let up, “Not when you acted like such a fucking pain this entire time. But you’re just a slut, huh?” He shudders, his chest moving up and down as your hands move down, one on his cock and one massaging his balls as he practically just dies, “You’re a slut f’me, yeah?”

And you can only nod, tears escaping your eyes as they mix with everything else on your cheeks, your cries and whines causing blissful vibrations around his throbbing cock as he moans out louder.

“O-oh, shit, you feel so fucking amazing, so fucking good….shit, Y/n, you’re so fucking good - god I fuckin’ love this.” His hands make you go faster, choking you more on his dick as your nose rubs against the little curls at his base, your gags only going straight to his head as it spurs him on even more.

“Holy shit, sweetheart, y-yeah, hmm, fuck just like that,” He’s becoming a stuttering mess only able to get out more, more, more, as he begs for you to go faster, his thumb wiping away at your tears as he whines, keening loudly as he feels his release quickly about to come, “Y-yes, fuck! Shit, you’re doing amazing. God, I’m gonna cum. You’re gonna make me cum sweetheart…is it okay if I - fuck - if I cum? Please, fuck, y-you okay with that?”

And you're bobbing your head, trying to nod as you sniffle, your humming as you try to say yes, but it only sends him over the edge, hot, white spurts of his cum trickle down your throat, thick as you gag, pulling off of him as little bits fall onto your chest, splattering over your collarbone and tits as he tries to catch his breath.

You swallow anything remaining on your tongue, showing it to him as he groans again, patting your cheek as he loops his arms around yours, helping you stand up as you wince a little bit at the biting sting at your knees.

“Fuck, Y/n, are you,” His eyes roam your face, gently cradling your jaw as if he hadn’t fucked your throat seconds ago, “You okay sweetheart?”

You smile, nodding as you press a small kiss to his lips, your spit, his cum, and your tears mixing with one as he groans at the taste, whining as you pull away.

“M’fine, Munson.” You kiss the tip of his nose as he lets out a sigh of relief, his hands running up and down your back comfortingly as he lets his breathing get back to normal before hooking one of your legs around his waist.

The two of you don’t care about much as you follow his movements, letting him turn around so that you resting against the wall, your heart pounding wildly in your head as he kisses wetly against your neck, stroking his dick as he kneads at your breasts, acting like he was going crazy as he brought his lips back u to yours.

“Sweetheart, think I’m about to go crazy if I don’t fuck you,” His thumb follows the bone of your brows, settling on your cheeks as you stare u into those big, brown eyes of his, the ones that made you fall for him the moment you saw them as he kisses your jaw, “P-please let me - let me fuck you…?”

You don’t know how he can ask when you’d go crazy too if he didn’t.

“Please, Eddie,” You shudder out a shaky breath as his thumb falls lower and lower, inching closer to your swollen clit, “Please…w-want it more than anything.”

And so he takes the initiative, linen himself up with your dripping cunt, hoping that he stretched you out enough as he teases your entrance with his tip, his head falling into the crook of your neck as he feels you sucking him in, moaning at how wet you felt around him, your pussy clenching as he carefully and slowly pushing a little bit more in.

“Oh, fuck,” He can barely speak as you wrap your leg around him tighter, allowing him to reach deeper into you as his veins drag up your bare cunt, the sensation maddening as you whine at the feeling, “S’good, so fucking good…damn, you’re fucking amazing Y/n.” And you don’t know if it’s the way his voice grows tender at the way he speaks your name or if it’s everything in the atmosphere combined, but a part of you grows warmer with the way he gently tries to situate himself inside of you, not wanting to hurt you as he stops. He gives you time to adjust to his size, noting the little tears that lined your eyes as you clench your teeth at how big he was inside of you.

“You’re so big Eddie, so… b-big.” You cry at the sting, wanting more as he limply nods, muttering out apologies as he rubs your clit, his motions quickening in pace as he openly kisses you on the mouth, the kiss needy as the two of you reach for each other.

“I know, I know sweetheart, but…” He pulls out a little bit, his cock dragging against you again as your walls flutter against them, “I’ll go slow, okay? You tell me if you want to stop, yeah?” You can only nod, maintaining eye contact as he gives you one last kiss, pulling out completely before he pushes himself in with one go, a loud cry escaping your lips as your jaw slacks.

“E-Eddie!” You scream, your nails digging into his back as he picks up his pace by just a little, biting into your shoulder so that he can muffle his own moans, “You feel so good…fuck!” You can barely think straight as he fucks you dumb on his cock, your wetness coating his dick in a sheer slick, a white rim collecting around his base as he stares hungrily at your essence.

“You feel amazing, …don’t think I’m ever gonna be the same, fuck, without you.”

You can only nod with him because you know that his words ring true for you, too.

He tugs at your chin, tilting your head up as he motions for you to open your mouth with his free thumb. When you follow his instruction he brings himself closer, letting a wad of spit fall from his lips and onto your tongue as he taps your jaw again, silently asking you to close it as you whine at his taste. It’s so much, everything happening all around you, that you don’t even question yourself as you swallow, watching as Eddie bites little marks all over you as if you weren’t already his.

“Ahh, look at me, fuck, Y/n, p-please,” He begs to cup your jaw as you will yourself to look u, your swollen lips shining with sweat as your eyes almost dro from the feeling of his balls slapping against your ass, the sound of squelching and wetness of the two of you so loud that you almost didn’t hear him when he mutters; “So fucking pretty, don’t think…don’t think I’ll ever be able to let go.”

You whine, your hands wrapping tightly around his neck as you grind yourself down on him, joining his fingers on your clit as you swirl around, your head lolling to the side at the extra sensation.

“L-love it, Eds, you feel so fucking good!”

He stops, his heart churning as he kisses your neck, your body shining in the light with a layer of sweat coating you, the image graining itself into his head as he moves your hips up and down on himself.

“Sweetheart,” He bites down onto your shoulder, “Gonna be honest with you, yeah? I don’t think I ever actually hated you. F-fucking hell, looked forward to seeing you every day. ‘S why I always turned my music up, knew you…fuck, knew you hated it...just wanted to hear your voice,” You can slowly feel your release coming, your toes curling, back arching into him as your chest presses tightly against his, “Never hated you because…shit, think - think I’ve been in love with you this entire time.”

Your eyes widen, your arms growing tighter around his neck as he winces, wishing he never let his emotions get the best of him, especially now. But as he’s about to apologize, to blame it on the hormones, you press your cheek to his chest, never letting go of his waist as you can hear the faint thumping of his heart against your skin. It’s calming, it’s peaceful, and it’s Eddie.

“Damn you, Munson,” Your able to croak out, not even able to muster up a smile as a moan falls from your lips, “You always gotta b-beat me to it everything…fuck!” You trail off, your mouth falling open to a silent scream as your fingers stop attacking your bundle of nerves, everything crashing over you as your legs shake, screaming out his name as you come undone, gushing all around him as you slump against his body.

Eddie can’t say anything as he follows after you, the feeling of you clenching down on him enough to throw him over, forgetting everything as he comes inside, his hot cum painting your fluttering walls white as he groans into your neck, biting down on it to stop himself from saying anything more stupid.

You pant, your hot breath hitting his chest as you slowly peel yourself off on him, your mind running faster than ever before as you quickly try to regain your senses, anything that could possibly explain to you what just happened.

He’s quiet as he ducks his head down, avoiding your gaze as he quickly mutters out hurried apologies, searching the floor for your clothing as he piles them all up, his cheeks flushed a dark red as he tries to hide, not wanting to ruin anything else before it’s too late. He stops at your panties, pressing his lips to a thin line as he rubs at his eyes, massaging his forehead as you awkwardly tilt from foot to foot.

“I, um, I didn’t hate it, you know…”

He whips his head around, blushing again as he comes into view with your naked self as he averts his gaze, handing you your clothes back as you offer him a small smile at his obvious confusion.

“Your music, I didn’t hate it. I think Ozzy’s great ‘n all. Ultimate Sin’s my favorite yet…well, except for Blizzard of Ozz, but you woke me up enough to not go to school like a zombie. So thanks…for that.”

He huffs out a laugh of disbelief, his nervousness melting away in a split second almost as if he can’t believe his ears. You don’t act like it’s much though as if you hadn’t calmed his racing nerves with a single statement as you tug your shorts back on, his cum seeping through the delicate material as he almost goes feral at the sight of you keeping himself inside of you. He watches as you opt to forget your bra as you pull your shirt over your shoulder, looking more gorgeous than ever before in the afterglow of being fucked.

“You know Ozzy?”

Your head pops up, your lips pulled into a cute frown as your brows furrow together at his question.

“Of course I know Ozzy. Went to his concert a couple of years ago.” You rub at your nose, heating up as you feel some of his cum still on your cheek.

Eddie rushes over, giving you another apology as he fishes out his shirt, wiping your face clean, not missing the bubbly smile you give him as he looks down. It’s a tender moment, a far cry from your heated ones that would ever lead to such a scenario. But you guess that there was a fine line between love and hate and you guess the two of you had just strolled right past it.

“What?” He asks, stopping for a second. You nudge at his palm with your cheek, wanting him to continue as you go to fix his hair for him, detangling some of it with your fingers as you move it out of his face, beaming when you can see his eyes once again.

“I don’t hate you either, Munson…” You grip at his wrist, pressing a delicate kiss to the inside of it as he almost melts, “Kinda like you too.”

His face falls for a second, wondering if this was your sort of cruel rejection as you giggled at his obvious reaction, pulling him in by the chain of his necklace as you run your hands freely through his hair.

“But I think I’d be able to love you if you do something for me.”

The shirt drops from his hands as he comes up to hold your face, a hopeful smile on his face as he nods, playful nudging at your nose with his as you laugh at the feeling of his hair tickling the skin of your neck.

“Anything sweetheart, name it and I’ll do it.”

And even if you asked him to balance the world on his shoulder he’d attempt to. If you told him to buzz off all his hair he’d do it, just for you. He’d get your name tattooed wherever you wanted. He’d stop smoking if you wanted, though he knew it’d take time and a lot of patience, he’d do it, he’d do anything if you asked him to.

But you smile, your hands scrawled out on his bare chest as you cheekily grin.

“I want you to take me out on a date. It’s our last summer together Munson, and I don’t think it’s very gentleman-y of you to fuck a girl and not take her out on a date, hm?”

He chuckles, rolling his eyes as he kisses your lips, the gesture gentle and sweet as he holds you like you’re the universe, the stars that light up galaxies to come because you are, you’re the light of his life and the thing that keeps him wondering if soulmates really do exist.

“You’re right sweetheart,” He pulls at your necklace, a little bit surprised that it didn’t break as he cocked his head to the side, “So…where do you want to go?”

You squeak, eyes widening in surprise at how willing he was as you shrugged, glancing at the door as you asked, “Now?”

He nodded, pulling on his boxers and pants as he looked at you from over his shoulder.

“Well… like you said, it’s our last summer. What do you want, ice cream or bowling?”

You grin shyly, shrugging your shoulder as you hold up his shirt to him as he kisses your forehead in appreciation.

“Eddie,” You murmur, “I literally have your cum leaking out of me…I can barely stand and...” You trial off, knowing that it wasn’t much of an excuse for him as he gives you a playful grin. He kisses your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin, wanting to savor this moment forever because he never truly thought it happen.

“Ice cream it is, sweetheart."

11K notes · View notes

sinsandsweetness · 10 months

Note

Wellllllll…… I just read one Rec from someone and holy. Stepdad Rick isn’t my thing but still hot. I was thinking what if it was Shane instead. Or Daryl. Sneaking around behind Rick’s back. But ugh, Rick is so hot tho. Decisions decisions. More like Dad’s best friend maybe?

now that’s hot as hell. Idk who Dad would be but best friend trope could work for any combination possible I would think… (all of them!? 🙈 short of a orgy, I can’t see either Dixon putting up with Shane even for something like that but hey)

been thinking about this every hour since it appeared in my inbox… (Shane is my guilty pleasure fr. would let him do disgusting things to me)

I think I’m seeing your vision… lemme know what you think💗

PICK YOUR POISON

(Rick & Shane & Daryl x fem!reader)

warnings- 18+, smut, alcohol consumption, smoking, references of sex, multiple partners, the boys are kinda pervs but it’s ok cause ur legal and this is fiction <3 2.1k word count

You open the door to the garage and make your way down the stairs. Not even bothering to slip any shoes on. Your mom keeps the epoxy floors absolutely pristine, so there’s really no reason. Plus, your toenail polish is still a little tacky. Bright, bubble gum pink polish and a silver toe ring adorning your foot. The smell of liquor and smoke has filled the garage. Accompanied by the deep, rugged voices and dry laughs coming from your fathers closest friends.

“You know mom hates it when you smoke in the house.” You say all matter of fact, leaning up against the bar-tops, marble counter. You can feel your tank top strap slipping down your shoulder. But the animalistic looks coming from your dads three closest friends, force you to let it drop. To let them see.

Your father puts his cigarette out in the ash tray on the bar. Rolling his eyes at you. “Well good thing we’re in the garage then.”

You ignore his attitude.

“Mom needs you.”

“For what?”

“To drop her off at Cindy’s.”

He seems irritated. But all five of you can hear the rain. There’s no way any half decent husband should let his wife walk to her monthly book club meeting in this weather.

“Just- keep your mouth shut about the smokes. And grab everyone another drink. Make sure they don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.” You father jokes, ruffling up Daryl’s hair on his way to the door, grabbing his jacket and keys.

You wave an innocent goodbye as you watch him through the garage door windows, backing out of the driveway. Your mother in the passenger seat, smiling sweetly at you.

“Well… whatcha drinkin’?” You ask Rick, who’s sat in the middle. Glass empty, with a lone, melting ice cube clinking around in the bottom.

“Rum and coke.” He answers, licking his lips.

“Spiced?” You ask. A flirty smile playing on your face as you bite your bottom lip.

They’re all staring. Jaws clenched and breathing slowly.

You know what you’re doing. You can tell by the way they’re all looking at you. You can practically see the wheels turning in their brains.

They shouldn’t be thinking this way about their friends daughter. About their best friends little girl. Well… not so little anymore. You’d just turned 21. Hell, they were at the party. Giving you the exact same looks they’re giving you right now.

The ones they definitely shouldn’t be.

But they are.

They’re thinking about your thin, frilly, pyjama shorts, and how they can see the purple g string pulled up over your hips. How they can see your belly ring through the fabric of your tank top, and imagining what it would feel like against their lips as they kiss their way down your stomach. And you know they’re thinking about bending you over the bar counter and taking turns at fucking you until they hear the sound of your dads diesel pulling into the driveway. How you’d have to play pretend for your father, ignoring the fact that your panties are soaking through with three different men’s cum, and maybe even a mix of your own. The salty liquids threatening to drip down your inner thigh as you politely excuse yourself from the garage. Coming up with any bullshit excuse to go lay on your bed and rub your clit until you’re seeing stars. Imagining each of their faces in between your legs, spreading you open and eating you up.

You know they’re thinking it, because you are too. It’s the only thing you can think about in this moment, while pouring Rick a double spiced rum and coke. Taking a sip and then handing it him. Making sure your fingers touch.

When you turn to ask Shane what he wants, he gets up. Insisting that you won’t know how to make an old fashioned. You only just turned 21 after all. You probably haven’t even had one before.

But he’s wrong. They’re your dads favourite and you’d been making them for him since you were 16. But you didn’t tell Shane that. Instead you let him walk around the bar, come up behind you and press himself against your back. Letting a tiny gasp escape at the feeling of his, very hard, cock pressing into your bum. Pushing you even further against the counter. His chest is warm against you. And his hands are big and calloused as he guides your own, pouring the perfect amount of bitters, simple syrup and bourbon over a huge, king sized ice cube that he’d retrieved from the freezer.

Finally, taking a slice of orange, meticulously cut up and organized in little containers on the bar top. It was something your mother was always very fond of; organizing the liquors and the garnishes, ensuring that your father could host a proper poker night or barbecue. Or whatever the fuck they stayed up all night doing in their little man cave. Not knowing that you were upstairs, awake and playing with your favourite vibrator, listening to their rock music through your bedroom floor.

“And then you twist it, like this…” Shane’s lips are actually brushing your ear. And you don’t mean to, but your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. His free hand moves to your waist as he tosses the orange peel in the drink, lifting it up and bringing the cold glass to your lips.

“Try it.” He says. And though you can’t see him because he’s still behind you, you can hear the smirk in his voice.

You take a sip. A small one. Immediately scrunching your face at the two men still sitting across you. Their lips curl into an amused smile as they watch you swallow the amber liquid.

“Not my favourite.” You whisper as Shane leans back. Only for a second before he’s turned you around and trapped you once more, back to the bar this time.

“Well we did forget one thing,” He says, reaching over to a jar on the counter. Maraschino cherries. Your favourite.

“And I know how much you like these.” He teases, referring to all the cherries he caught you adding to your piña coladas at a neighbors pool party only a couple weeks ago.

He dips a single cherry in the drink. Taking it by the stem and lifting it to your mouth. You don’t hesitate in wrapping your lips around it. The bitter taste of the bourbon on the fruit doesn’t last long. A sweet, sugary syrup bleeds over your tastebuds as you bite into the cherry. And a moan manages to escape your throat. It’s quiet. You think maybe it was subtle enough to go unnoticed. But the smile on Shane’s lips and the dry laugh coming from behind you, tell you that it didn’t.

Shane is still pushed up against you, cock strained in his jeans and pressed right against your stomach. His hand gripping your hip and forcing you to stay against the counter. And the way he’s looking down at you. Fuck, the way they’re all looking at you. Watching you start to squirm under their gaze.

“It’s good.” You swallow. Trying to maintain a confident, big girl attitude. But truthfully, you just want them to peel your clothes off, and let you melt into their arms as you cum all over their cocks.

“Daryl’s drink is still empty, sweetheart.” Rick’s gravelly voice pulls you back.

“Right.”

Shane gives your hip one last squeeze before he walks back to his barstool. Next to Rick. They cheers quietly and sip on their drinks. Watching intently as you try to compose yourself.

“What’s your poison?” You turn to the last man, lighting what was probably his second or third cigarette of the night. Glancing up at you and taking a draw. Slowly inhaling and exhaling. And though your mother was not a fan, you fucking loved it. You wanted to crawl onto his lap and have him blow the smoke right between your lips as you rode his cock, letting the other two men watch and touch themselves to the sight of you getting off on another guy.

But you didn’t.

“Just a beer, sunshine.” He pushes his empty glass forward for you. You grab it and put it in the dishwasher. Grabbing a brand new, frosted mug from the freezer.

“Which one?”

“Bud’s fine.”

You grab a bottle and skillfully pour it into the mug, coming around the bar this time to hand it to him. Intentionally placing yourself between him and Rick, reaching over and setting the glass in front of him.

To no one’s surprise, you feel a warm hand on the small of your back. Rick’s fingers tracing dangerously close to the thin band of your panties.

“Those are really bad for you, y’know.”

You get bold again. Stepping onto the foot rest of Rick’s barstool, and taking a seat right on his lap. The hand on your back only helping guide you on to him. Quickly finding its way around your waist as you make yourself comfortable.

Daryl only grunts. Hiding a smile at your silly comment. He’d seen you smoke. Hell, he’d snuck out of multiple dinner parties to have one with you.

“You gonna share?” You ask.

Hesitantly he hands it over, and you take it with two fingers. Taking a long drag in and then turning to face Rick again, before you slowly exhale. Trying to focus the smoke onto his lips more than anything.

“What the hell would your father think if he could see you right now?” Shane asks, leaning back in his chair and palming the hard on, still evident in his jeans.

“Think he’d probably try and beat you’re asses.” You say. And while you’re answering Shane, your focus is solely on Rick. The scruff on his face. His bright blue eyes, taunting you and begging you to lean in. Just an inch closer so that he can catch your lips.

“Think he’d win?” Rick asks, glancing down at your own lips.

“Not a chance.” You smile.

He closes the space between you, and you taste rum on the tongue that traces yours. Rick’s hand going to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as you blindly try to put the cigarette out on the ashtray. You start to move. Trying to maneuver your position so that you’d have a leg on either side of him, straddling his very apparent bulge. But right as you start to moan against his mouth, you hear the truck pull up and park. Practically jumping off of Rick and standing in between him and Daryl’s barstools. Fixing your hair as the heat rises to your cheeks. The men chuckle at your flustered appearance. Waiting for their friend to enter through the side door of the garage.

“Hi dad.” You say, smiling politely and pulling your tank top down to cover the strip of skin visible where it had previously rode up.

“Hey, hun. Glad to see they weren’t too much trouble for ya.” You father aproaches and slaps a hand on Shane’s back. Sitting down next to him and grabbing the pack of smokes from his jacket pocket.

“Y’wannanother drink, daddy?” You ask. Daryl clears his throat. And you see Ricks eyes go wide as Shane tries to hide his smile.

“Please. Old fashioned, darling. Y’want some of that pink stuff we found last week? Bubbly… something or other. It’s in the fridge.”

You watch Shane the whole time that you make the old fashioned. Clearly showing him that you knew exactly how your dad liked it. Carefully placing the cocktail on the counter in front of them.

“Thanks doll.” Your dad says, continuing to smoke his cigarette. Reaching over the counter and handing one to Rick who lights it. Watching you the whole time. Tendrils of smoke, floating up to the ceiling of the garage. You turn around. Bending over and being sure to stay searching for the bottle of rosé about thirty seconds longer than you really needed to. You pour a glass as the men discuss what the next move was. What they should do for the night. Considering it’s still a work night, and they all have a supply run pretty early in the morning.

“You wanna play some cards, sweetie?” Your dad asks. You scrunch your nose at him, taking a nice long sip of your sparkling wine.

“What? You got somewhere better to be?” Shane teases.

You huff a semi-annoyed breath, looking around for a spare stool. Even though you already knew there were only 4. Ricks eyes glimmer as he pats his left thigh, inviting you back on.

To your surprise, your dad pays you no mind, already starting to shuffle the deck of cards as you hesitantly take your seat back on top of Rick. Loving the way his hand curls around your thighs and tugs you even further on top of him. And the the way that Shane looks a little jealous that he hadn’t offered first. And you’re especially loving the way Daryl shifts on his stool just the tiniest bit closer, so that his leg grazes yours every now and then.

“All right, here’s the rules…” You hear your dad starts to explain, already dealing you each some cards. But you don’t hear him. You don’t even look in his direction. You’re way too focused on the taste of Rick that lingers on your lips, and the way your clit is actually fucking pulsing. Begging for attention. And truthfully, your mind can’t help but wander, thinking about what might have happened if your dad had taken any longer to get back home.

part 2

(I’m picturing readers dad as Tobin in Alexandria. Someone like that at least. With a Carol-esque mother. But picture whoever you’d like! Just thought I’d share what I was kinda thinking…)

taglist - @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @murder-jacket @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @grimesthinker

#rick grimes #rick grimes smut #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x y/n #shane walsh x you #shane walsh x reader #shane walsh smut #shane walsh fanfiction #smut #rickyl smut #rickyl x reader #dbf!rick #dbf!daryl #dbf!shane #dads best friend trope #pick your poison

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muniimyg · 5 months

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8.5: exiled 》 series m.list

note: hi.... bye..... lol

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “c2u” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @ellesalazar

fic taglist: @mint--yoongs @bloopkook @suciedad-divina @xelenavazquezx @kyjjk @parkinglot-nights @skzthinker @thisisaburnphone @rrjkive @hyuneyeon @chemicalclub @bbtsficrecs @ronyiboniyy @italiekim @02shifts @insomniaroses @jayjahni @jeonsh1ne @greybears123 @eunthv @petalsofink @aerikook

“Get off of her!”

All eyes are on you as you shove a drunk guy off Mina. He's probably twice your size, but it doesn't matter. Her eyes widen as you take her by the arm and hide her behind you like a child. She almost trips over her own feet, but finds balance as Yuna catches her. Yuna stands behind Mina, keeping her in the middle. Automatically, Mina feels safe.

The man puts his hands up and feels all eyes shift to him.

Poorly, he tries to take a step towards you. Glaring at him, you don’t back away. Yuna tugs your arm to do so, but you ignore her. Instead, you stay as you are. Why would you back down? Why should you be scared? The man chuckles, unable to process what’s happening. He slurs his words, “I was just trying to talk to her.”

You find his ignorance ridiculous. Coyly, you call him out. “Since when did 'trying to talk to her' involve your hands on her ass?”

His crooked smile drops at your words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Without much thought, you take a step towards him. Angrier than ever, you want to yell at his face, slap him, and tell him he’s a sad excuse of a man. You hate him. He boils your blood and you love the idea of swinging at him. It takes every ounce of strength for you not to.

It's not such a bad idea, right?

The moment you move your feet and raise your hand, Yuna calls for Taehyung.

It's a little annoying how in moments like these, it’s difficult to deny that they just might be a match made in heaven. Like magic, Taehyung makes his way through the crowd and places himself in between you and the drunk man.

Taehyung eyes the guy, steadily with an intimidating gaze. His tone is cold and irritated. He has never been the one to entertain drama—especially the kind that involves his friends.

“You bothering my friends?” He asks. "I'd suggest you don't."

The man huffs at him before deciding this isn't worth it. He backs off, not bothering to look back or utter another word. The crowd parts for him as his friends help him out of the house. By the time he disappears, Taehyung yells: “Ayo, what the fuck is everyone on? Since when did we let creeps in? Since when do we let each other be treated like that?”

“Taehyung—”

“No, Yuna," Taehyung pauses only to raise his voice. "That was so fucking weird! Since when do we stand around and let them do stupid shit—“

“Tae,” Yuna grabs his arm, and she attempts to calm him. “Everyone is drunk. No one is going to listen to your speech. It’s okay. Nothing escalated and you came right on time.”

He has a difficult time accepting her words.

“Just because it’s okay this time doesn’t mean it’s okay next time,” he huffs. Yuna hushes him and pulls him in a hug. Taehyung rests his chin on top of her head and murmurs, “You’re okay, right? Did he touch you?”

Yuna shakes her head and proceeds to tell Taehyung to relax. She explains that it wasn’t even her that needed the rescue—it was Mina. Though it was a concerning matter, Taehyung doesn’t care. He takes any and every opportunity to protect Yuna. To him, only Yuna mattered. He pouts, feeling sulky at the fact that she was almost caught in an uncomfortable situation.

The two drift into their own world, leaving you and Mina.

Turning to her, you ask, "Are you okay?"

Mina nods, taking a breath in. She can't believe all of that happened within 5 minutes. It was all so fast. Hastly, she answers you. "Y-yeah, I am. Thanks for that..."

Simply, you offer a small smile and nod. Just as you're about to take off and find Yuna, Mina reaches for your hand. You hesitate, not knowing what to do. Although that doesn’t matter, The alcohol in her system gives her confidence as she takes your hand and tugs you in for a hug. By now, it’s clear that her state is well past tipsy.

Mumbling, she reveals, “My friends would’ve just stood there. The last time something like this happened, Jungkook swooped in to save me—”

“Why do your friends just stand there?” you ask rather angrily. That's annoying. Shouldn't girls stick together? Shouldn't friends do more than let bad things happen? Mina's words make you upset and lead you to a protective point of view. You pull away and look at her sternly. “You need new friends.”

She laughs, trying to play it cool. “They’re just shy…”

“That’s no excuse,” you tell her. “If that shit happens again, text me. Yuna and I will come to your rescue. I literally hate it when guys are—”

“You’re nice,” she says softly. Mina says it like it's the newest discovery the world needs to know of. She says it like it's mindblowing. You can't help but crack a smile at her as she continues. “L-like, I knew you were nice… But this is your first time being nice to me.”

You pause for a second.

Were you intentionally mean to her? You never meant to be (aside from the blowjob thing). Seeing her alone and in distress makes you feel like the most horrible person in the entire world. You want to say sorry. You want to beg for forgiveness and hope for a reset with her.

Let's be real.

Rebuilding or restoring—whatever the fuck you need to do to fix things between you and Mina—can't happen overnight. No flowery words or protective action can make up for the strain in your potential friendship with her.

You opt for the most rational path.

Baby steps.

“I guess I just never had the opportunity to be your friend,” you almost stutter.

Your words catch her off guard.

Mina blinks at you. “I thought you didn’t like me. Why would you be my friend?”

You chuckle, a little taken back by her honesty. “Who said I didn’t like you? Jungkook?”

She shakes her head profusely. “N-no… No one really.. I just assumed. And, speaking of which…. Let’s go this way.”

By now, the crowd had already forgotten and moved on from what had happened 5 minutes ago. Everyone takes their place, occupying the house, and leaving you and Mina no choice but to move out of the way. Even though she’s drunk and stumbling through the crowd, she remembers where she last saw Jungkook.

As she leads you to the backyard, she pauses at the sliding door. Outside, you can see Jungkook sitting on the grass with a drink in his hand. Yuna and Taehyung are sitting on the patio deck, talking to each other and watching over Jungkook.

“I don’t not like you,” you admit to her. Your wording is confusing, especially to a drunk girl trying to comprehend your attempt at warmth. “Not liking you… versus not liking the fact that you like Jungkook are two different things… I think I was insecure. I was immature about it. I didn’t mean to be mean. I’m sorry I was selfish. I’m sorry if it ruined what you and Jungkook had.”

“You’re sorry about ruining my one-sided romance with him?” Mina frets, holding back tears.

With no words to give her, you stay quiet.

Breaking the silence, she asks with a sad smile: “What if I still like Jungkook?”

It would be a lie to say that her words didn’t frustrate you. Truth be told, the entire idea of her still being into him makes you feel uneasy. Given that your fight with Jungkook blew up at the mention of her name—it’s not easy to move past.

But you figure… Maybe you should. Maybe pushing through all the insecurity, ache, and pettiness is what needs to be done. There are so many good things in life and friendship is one of those things. She doesn't need to be your best friend or anything—but maybe she could be a good friend. At least, someone you could wave at as you cross paths.

Playfully, you nudge her. She reacts just as playfully and helps you unlock the patio door.

“Then I guess you’re right,” you laugh, trying to sound as lighthearted as possible. “I don’t like you at all.”

For the first time, Mina throws her head back and laughs for real.

You join her and laugh a little harder. Her reaction makes you feel a sense of relief and in that, for a split second, it felt comfortable and easy between you two. Like you had been friends all along. Like there was no bad start. No bad blood. When your laughter dies down, Mina takes a deep breath and makes a final confession.

“I really wanted to be your friend,” her teary eyes give in. She lets a tear roll down her cheek as she continues. Sniffing, she admits, “I really wanted you to like me… You’re so pretty and you and Yuna have this nonchalant bestie behaviour that I'm honestly jealous of—“

“You’re so pretty too,” you say in awe. You can't help but feel flattered at her words but also a little bad that her luck seems to be quite the opposite of yours. “Let's put a pin on your friends for now... You’re really drunk, babes.”

“I know!” she cries with a smile. Mina throws her hands in the air like an overdramatic child. You've always known her to be cute, but this was the cherry on top.

She's cute! You don't want to rip her head off too! Progress.

Sighing, you ask, “How are you gonna get home?”

Mina shrugs. “Dunno. Friends ditched me.”

You frown.

“I’ll get Yuna and Taehyung to take you home… Is that okay? I'd do it myself but I think Jungkook needs my attention right now. Also, I don’t really trust the people at this party around you.”

For the second time tonight, your words touch Mina.

Oddly enough, your concern for her only makes her even more sad. It only makes her even more angry at the universe. In a sick way, she wishes you were mean. If you were mean, maybe it would be easier hating you. Instead, your honesty with your words pushes her into a dilemma. Should she hate you out of spite? Should she like you just because of this one good moment? Does she give it all up and let her growing resentment go?

You look at her fondly and her mind is made up.

You were forgiven.

“I get it,” she sniffs, as she makes the connections in her mind. You tilt your head at her, eyebrows knit together.

“Get what?”

“I get why Jungkook wants to be loved by you so bad."

Mina doesn't continue her sentence. Puzzled, you aren't sure if there was more to it. You aren't sure if she was just that drunk. You aren't sure what it even means... Regardless, you're thankful.

One thing about Jungkook is that he’s good at drinking.

In every beer pong game, every drinking game, and ice challenge—he has never had an issue getting drunk. He always had fun too! Drinking was easy for him. At least, it was easy until you.

Drinking and having feelings for you all at once is not his favourite mix.

God, he hates this so much.

It feels like no drink is enough. No amount of shots or refills in his red cup will ease how he feels. Every shot he takes, as he shuts his eyes and throws his head back, he dedicates to you. How could he not? You’re the reason he’s drinking so fucking much anyway.

He can’t think straight anymore. There isn’t a single thought in his head that makes sense and even counting is difficult now. Jungkook doesn’t know how many drinks he’s had. He lost count of the amount of shots he took by himself and with others. At one point, he thought his alcohol was water and chugged it.

Then, when he realized it wasn’t water… He threw up on Taehyung.

But that was minutes ago. For a good 10 minutes, he was left alone outside in the dark. Oddly enough, it was the first time in two weeks that he didn’t feel alone. His usual emptiness wasn’t consuming him.

There’s a stillness under the night sky that simply gives him peace. It lasts for a good 10 seconds before he thinks of you again… Not that he hasn’t been thinking of you every second of every day for the past two weeks—right now, he’s really thinking of you.

He’s thinking of how you laugh a beat after the punchline is said. He’s thinking of how you always hesitate to hold his hand. He’s thinking about the way you always take Yuna’s side even when she’s clearly wrong. He’s thinking about how much he wished he could’ve been that stupid fucking perilla leaf because it meant being close to your lips.

Then, he lets himself laugh.

It’s silly, isn’t it? Aside from being jealous of Eunwoo, he was also jealous of the perilla leaf itself.

How fucking hilarious.

Then, it gets worse.

As he continues to think about you, he swears he can see you making your way to him. Your figure comes closer and closer. Jungkook rubs his eyes, not wanting this to be a dream. Could it be true? Is it really you? Why… How the fuck did you get here? When?

With Eunwoo?

Oh my god.

He feels like he might cry.

“Jungkook,” you rush over to him and take the red cup out of his hand. Without hesitation, you pour out the alcohol and then toss the cup aside. He isn’t sure how, but you have a water bottle. It appears like magic and you open it. You don’t bother exchanging words with him as you bring the water to his mouth and tilt it.

He takes three big gulps before turning his face away.

“You need to drink more water,” you say softly, moving in closer to him. He looks at you weirdly, still not processing that you’re actually beside him.

It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him.

It feels like a fever dream.

“___? A-are you really here?”

His voice cracks. He sounds unsure and almost afraid. As much as it breaks your heart, you force yourself to put on a brave face.

Nodding, you offer him a smile. “Yeah, it’s me,” you attempt to give him water again. He rejects. “Come on, Jungkook. You need to drink more water—”

He shakes his head, rejecting you.

“Pookie—”

“Yah, ___!” Jungkook pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “Don’t call me that. Fuck, ___. You should know when to stop.”

You blink at him. His harshness is difficult to be upset over. You can't blame him for feeling whatever he's feeling. It's valid. You've been an absolute idiot. Yet, your face can’t hide the disappointment you feel from being treated like that.

Jungkook’s stern face suddenly drops. You’ve never seen such emotion. His lips twitch, as he tries to hold in his sobs. He hasn’t cried over you yet. In the span of the two weeks apart—he has just been avoiding his feelings. Avoiding you.

Now, here you are.

In front of him in all your heartbreaking glory and he can’t find it in himself to walk away. He can’t think of a single thing to say or do. Truth be told, he just wanted to look at you because holy shit.

He missed you so much.

“Seriously,” you press, “please… Just drink a little more water—”

Jungkook hits the water bottle out of your hand. It practically flies to the other side of the yard. You stand still, trying to keep yourself calm. It’s not like you were afraid of him or his temper—you’re afraid of what’s going to happen now.

His words.

“Do you honestly think I give a shit about water right now?” Jungkook growls. “Fucking think about it, ___.”

You take a breath in.

“What are you doing, Jungkook?”

Silence.

You continue, “Why are you drinking so much?”

He stares at you with a blank expression.

Fine.

You can’t help yourself by saying something that you know will bring out a reaction from him. “Jungkook, why’d you ask for a break?”

The most that happens is that he squints at you. He remains silent.

Sighing, you make one last attempt. “I’m not good at this, okay? Tell me what to do and I’ll—”

“Say sorry.”

Immediately, you do so. You apologize. “I’m sorry.”

“Tell me you have feelings for me too.”

That’s when you notice his fists are all curled up and his chest rises dramatically from taking deep breaths. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He lowers his gaze, searching for your eyes. Then, Jungkook snaps. He can’t hold it in any longer. There are too many questions flooding his mind and at this point—ruining his life.

“Tell me you hate me then,” he insists. “___, tell me it’s my fault. Please. I’m begging you. Tell me I’ve been delusional about everything going on between us and that I had no right to act like a wuss over a fucking perilla leaf because I don’t mean shit to you. Tell me, ___, w-why don’t you wa-want m-me?”

His voice betrays him. It cracks as his words spill his sadness. A small sob, followed by a real one, escapes his lips. He buries his face into his hands as his shoulders shake from his cries.

Jungkook is a mess.

He is mindlessly drunk and completely heartbroken. You reach out for him, but he shakes you off. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay? When you’re not crying or this drunk—please, Jungkook. I’m begging you.”

“No! It’s no use.” Jungkook begins to sob even harder. He clenches the left side of his shirt, where his heart is, and hits it once, twice, and then a third time. It’s breaking and in no time, his heart will turn into stardust. He knows it. Even so, he cries like his words are his dying wish. “I like you so much my chest hurts. My words lose meaning because there is no way for me to explain that the answer doesn’t change—it’s always the same fucking answer to the stupidest goddamn question—oh my god, ___! I can’t keep pretending anymore—it hurts so bad. Being with you hurts so bad… Being without you is death. I felt like I was dying."

“Breathe,” you plead, as you search for his eyes. “Jungkook, take a minute.”

It’s devastating.

Jungkook is in complete agony and you don’t know what to say or do to ease his pain. If you say what he wants to hear—will that fix everything? Will he stop crying? Will he accuse you of lying? You don’t know. All you know is that it feels like the sky is falling.

“I think I’ve had feelings for you since the first time I’ve ever made you laugh… And I miss that, ___. I miss making you laugh.” In a sad attempt to compose himself, he reaches for your hand. You let him take it. What else can you do when the guy you’re falling for is falling apart in front of you? You let him take your fucking hand. You hold his hand tight and bite your tongue from letting your stupid words ruin this moment.

“I remember it, y-you know?” he sniffs, trying to catch his breath. “B-but I don’t remember the joke I told you. In all honesty, I was too busy looking at you. Like, when I made you laugh, your eyes smiled before your lips did… A-and I remember my heart skipping a beat b-because it never did that before.”

His confession moves you.

Although, your heart feels conflicted. You don't even remember the first time he's made you laugh. He always makes you laugh. It’s flattering to find out how deeply he felt for you, but it is also extremely heartbreaking watching him go through this. It hurts you much deeper than you’re expressing. You feel frozen and it’s not by choice.

All you manage to say is; “slow down.”

He does.

This was harder than he thought it would be. Not that ever thought confessing his feelings to you would be easy—he just never thought it would be like this. Drunk. Crying. Already brokenhearted before his actual confession.

He wanted it to happen better than this. He wanted it to happen lovingly, not desperately. If he had it his way, it should’ve happened at the party.

He should’ve taken your hand as you walked down the stairs together. He should have asked you out as you two got dressed. Jungkook regrets it so much. If he had more time—if Eunwoo had never shown up… Maybe you two would have been together tonight. Maybe he would’ve been happy.

Instead, he was downing shot glasses of tears and drunk in love.

Jungkook turns away from you and tries to focus on his breathing. As he catches his breath, you gather your thoughts. You don’t want to lose him. You don’t want him to think that you’re okay with everything that’s going on—you’re not. You have feelings for him, sure, but you aren’t sure if they’re as deep as his… At least, that’s what you think. Then, that’s when it hits you.

They are, aren’t they?

If they weren’t, you wouldn’t be here right now. You wouldn’t be holding his hand like a fucking bitch.

Your feelings are just as deep as his. That’s why you’re here, holding his hand, and wanting to talk things through sober. You want it to mean more than a drunken confession. You want him to mean more than what you’ve been downplaying him to be. As you process these thoughts, he lets go of your hands. He takes a few steps away from you and paces back and forth. As much as he hates to do this, Jungkook draws the boundary.

“Do you even think about me?” He asks with a slightly irritated tone. “Because it feels like you don’t. You never texted me once—”

“You asked for the break.” Unintentionally, you say it like a smartass.

He huffs at you. “Still. You should have texted—”

“Are you actually mad at me, Jungkook? Or are you upset that—”

“I miss you. Every day that passed, I missed you so much. You didn’t even text. You didn’t even hold your gaze when I caught you staring at me… And I had to play it cool, ___. I had to act like I wasn’t fucking dying inside. I’ve been so miserable—and you knew it. You must have known it because the happiest I’ve ever been has only been with you.” Jungkook’s mind spins faster and faster. He has to get all these words out. They’ve clogged up his mind and he’s so sick of it.

He’s tired of this. How much longer could he live like this? How much longer does he have to wait for your heart to choose him?

“I waited for your text,” he whimpers. “I have waited for you every day. Over and over again. Day after day—and I c-can’t—” Jungkook pauses to compose his final words. “I did it all alone. I caught feelings by myself. I waited all by myself.”

“Jungkook—”

“I got ahead of myself.”

You can't believe how foolish he sounds. How the only he got ahead of were your words. Honestly, you can't blame him. All you can really do is let him cry. Then, without warning, he begins to storm away.

You run after him.

Before he knows it, you wrap your arms around his torso. Hugging him from the back, you hold him tight. Jungkook is startled and completely moved. He wants to turn around and melt in your embrace... But for some reason, he can't do it. He can't give in this time. He can't stay and wait for you to fucking get it together. That's why, he does it. It's like he takes hold of the knife stabbed into your heart and pulls it out.

Then, you're left there bleeding as he tears away from your grasp.

For the first time, you watch him walk away. As he enters the house and you're left all alone, you try to rationalize everything in your head... But you can't.

You've been exiled.

#bts fanfic #bts fic rec #jk angst #jungkook angst #jungkook smau #jungkook fic

600 notes · View notes

tragedy-of-commons · 2 months

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no pickles

stellaron hunters & gn!reader | wc: ~750

In which they get your order wrong. Kafka, dear friend that she is, decides to make it known.

tags/warnings: crack, reader is not described, vague canon-typical violence, comedy, found family, everything is platonic

notes: oops updated formatting

When you first joined the Stellaron Hunters upon Elio’s suggestion (death threat), you never would have imagined the scene unfolding in front of you now.

Silver Wolf is double-dipping a greasy french fry into a dollop of ketchup. Kafka is dabbing her mouth with a napkin after her only sip of whatever soda she decided to humor, and Blade is standing guard by your table like some kind of intimidating fast-food sentry.

You, squished between all of them, lament your existence. Sam got to stay behind to “keep watch”, but you know the truth. His robot suit would terrify any children within a fifty mile radius, and this CosmiBurger is teeming with them.

“Silver Wolf,” you mutter.

“I’m not sharing,” she answers immediately.

“That’s not what I–! Ugh, whatever. I was gonna ask why you chose this place for lunch. Don’t you think it’s a little below our pay grade?” “We don’t get paid, newbie. Elio doesn’t cover us eating out, so we have to be cheap.”

“You’re just saying that because you blew our budget on Roblox Premium,” you deadpan.

Kafka interjects. “Look on the bright side, hm? The novelty here is something we rarely get to experience - and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bladie this happy.”

You spare a glance at your colleague. His scowl speaks for him.

Ignoring the fact that apparently Kafka’s got jokes now, you heave a sigh and poke at the lump of foil in front of you - a tangible warning of an impending stomach ache. The burger inside will have to serve as sustenance if you don’t want to wait twelve more system hours to eat.

Since Silver Wolf is now preoccupied with one of her handheld consoles, you don’t delay with your squabbling any longer. When you unwrap it and take your first bite, you’re blindsided by the overwhelming sour note of what can only be The Condiment That Shall Not Be Named. You can’t obscure the subsequent (ugly) scrunch of your brow and lips.

“Cyanide?” asks The Gamer That You Will Strangle One Day.

You glare at her and deposit your now even-more-unappetizing sandwich on the table. “You wish. They, uh, just got my order a bit wrong.” There’s a contemplative hum from your side that makes your heart skip a beat. Kafka stops playing with a strand of Blade’s hair to give you a coy smile. “Is that so?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” you complain. “It’s not a big deal, I’m just not a fan of pickles.”

“You should ask for a replacement. After all, you did mention that in your order,” she drawls.

You bristle. “I doubt the employees get paid enough to put up with that.”

Blade speaks for the first time today in that gruff tone of his. “You draw the line there? You’ll slaughter on command but stop at inconveniencing the working class?”

“Everyone’s picking on me! Smear campaign!” you accuse, pointing at the brooding man.

You don’t expect a reply from him, which he honors by staring at your outstretched finger with what could be described as murderous intent. Kafka chuckles.

“It’s the principle of the thing, darling. I’ll handle it.”

“Wai–”

You don’t get another word out before she confidently rises from her seat and saunters over to the register, leaving you with your jaw on the floor.

Silver Wolf is back to blowing bubblegum and spawn-killing some poor sap, but she makes the time to snicker at your plight. “That’s weak, newbie.”

All you can do is become an idle passenger in your own body as the scene unfolds in front of you. Maybe you try to stop her, but Blade’s lanky arm blocks your path.

Sometimes you wish she’d just have a little more fear. Kafka converses with the cashier with her innate allure as you resign yourself to your fate of public humiliation.

The words audible over the ringing in your ears sound through the air in Kafka’s dulcet voice. “They asked for no pickles.”

When she returns from the counter two minutes later with your presumably correct order, you’ve already decided that today has been the most harrowing twenty-four system hours of your long-life. Your stupor is cut short as the new pickleless burger is dropped into your hands like a gift from the Aeons.

“See?” Kafka teases. “It was no trouble at all.”

“..Thanks,” you cough into your hand awkwardly.

Lunch resumes its usual flow, but you’re still stewing in regret that boils down to a simple, bitter thought: You should’ve just ordered the chicken nuggets instead.

#✧ my works #—stellaronhvnters.#honkai star rail #platonic honkai star rail #platonic honkai star rail x reader #platonic kafka x reader #platonic silver wolf x reader #platonic blade x reader #hsr x reader #hsr kafka #hsr blade #hsr silver wolf #blade x reader #kafka x reader #silver wolf x reader

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justauthoring · 5 months

Text

the bait.

zoro only wishes he'd gotten there earlier.

a/n: okay, so... listen, three things; i meant to write something for opla when it came out but of course, as usual, i'm late to everything :) (fashionably late???) second, i can't help it. i love protective!zoro :) and third, yes i will post the third part to naturally soon!

ALSO! i've never seen one piece (probably won't ever tbh) so this is strictly based off of the live action. if things aren't canon accurate to the anime, it's because it's not meant to be!

word count: 3,757

warnings: attempted sexual assault, creepy guy, also rushed ending

want to support your local writer? send me a coffee!

“Absolutely not.”

At least, that’s what he said.

No one had really bothered to listen to him regardless of the fact.

“Zoro,” you sigh, frowning at the nasty glare set on his face, harsh eyes set specifically on Nami as he faces her fully, arms crossed over his chest, seconds away from practically lunging at her (at least, it sure seemed that way – you knew, or hoped, he wouldn’t actually).

He doesn’t acknowledge you. Not at first. It takes you grabbing him by the crook of his elbow and tugging him to face you for his eyes to finally fall on you. Almost instantly, his gaze softens as you shake your head up at him.

“There’s no way I’m letting her use you as bait like that–”

“It wasn’t Nami’s idea, Zoro,” you huff, “it was mine.”

His lips part, hands falling to his side in disbelief. “What.”

“We need that treasure, yeah?” You ask, trying to appeal to his logical side. The rest of the crew is watching as well, and you know he’d rather not make a scene in front of all of them if he can help it. He’s not thinking all that rationally, though and you know that as well. The second the plan had left Nami’s lips, he’d cut her off with a harsh no that everyone had chosen to ignore at first. The second time he’d said the words, he’d been firmer, harsher, a cruel tone bleeding into his tone as he cut Nami off.

You needed him to understand that this wasn’t her idea and this certainly wasn’t her fault.

“Yeah,” he nods, shrugging, “but we can easily steal it another way–”

“Not unless you want all of the Marines after us in seconds–”

“We can handle them,” Zoro cuts Nami off, turning to her once again with a glare. “I can.”

Nami rolls her eyes; “the whole of the Marine’s?”

And his answer is blunt; “yeah.”

She scoffs.

Stepping in before the two of them actually fight, you opt for physically stepping in front of Zoro this time. “Listen, this was my plan, okay?” You try to placate, setting your hand on Zoro’s chest to hold him back. “Mine alone. I’m volunteering. When we scoped things out, he wouldn’t take his eyes off of me, right?” Zoro frowns at the recollection, and you’re quick to continue. “I'll distract him just while Nami quickly slips in. In and out, she grabs the treasure and the second she gives me the okay, I leave, right?”

You turn to Nami, smiling at her.

“Yup,” she nods, leaning against the table where her map lays of the restaurant the heist would be taking place in. “In, out. I’m quick. I wouldn’t do this if I thought Y/N was in any danger.”

Turning back to Zoro, you nod; “see?”

“Besides,” Sanji speaks up, shrugging his shoulders. “The rest of us will be keeping an eye just in case.”

“Yeah!” Luffy calls out, grinning widely at Zoro who stares back at him unimpressed. “We won’t let anything happen to Y/N! I promise.”

Zoro doesn’t say anything at first. His eyes drift from Luffy, across the crew, Nami and then finally you. He can tell that no matter how much he argues, none of them are going to budge–and Nami had a point. He knew that the crew would never intentionally ever put you in any danger.

Not to mention you… he could tell this was important to you. Helping the crew like this.

“Fine,” he huffs, ignoring the tightness in his chest as he meets your gaze. “But the second something goes wrong, mission or not, I’m–”

“Stepping in,” Nami finishes for him, sending a smirk Zoro’s way as she rolls her eyes. “I’d expect nothing less.”

And that settles that. A moment later and Nami is finishing the plan, you lean in to listen intently to her words as Zoro watches from behind you, eyes drifting across you. It wasn’t that he didn’t have faith in your abilities, but it was the premise of the entire idea. Zoro didn’t need to know the man they were trying to steal from to know he was a sleazebag–the guy practically oozed it and a single glance at him at Zoro feeling disgusted.

To know that you’d have to be batting your eyes at a man like that?

It made him feel sick.

It didn’t help that you were exceptionally skilled at it, though.

Sanji’s kept a very close eye on him since the entire operation began, never drifting too far in fear that Zoro might lunge forward at any given second. If the cook was being honest, he wasn’t all that comfortable with what was happening either (a gentleman like himself, of course) but he also knew how crucial this mission was and he didn’t want to put Nami in any unnecessary danger either.

So, he stuck to the plan and tried to make sure Zoro did too.

God, why’d he always have to get stuck with the mosshead?

“I must say, you look rather… fetching tonight, my dear.”

Forcing a smile on your lips, you turn your head towards the man, batting your eyelashes prettily as you brush a strand of ruly hair behind your ear. You play the part of bashful well, even though you feel sick to the stomach at the man’s rather… gross flirts.

“Why, thank you Mr. Becker,” you smile back at him, letting your weight fall against the side of the counter of the bar. When the mission had started, you’d come here first, remembering that Nami had told you that your target often spent his free time at the bar, drinking himself to a stupor and preying on whatever poor girl had caught his eye that night. Of course, tonight you were his prey and you had every intention of making sure that by the end of the night, this man would prey.

It was the main reason why you’d been so okay with offering yourself up as bait. Never in a million years would you allow your body to be used like this, but this man was notorious for trapping young rich women, lying to them with pretty words and hopeful promises, until he forced himself on them and stole every pretty penny off of them. The Strawhat’s goal was to get the treasure for yourselves, but your main goal was to teach this man a lesson.

You could see why so many women fell for his tricks. Despite being older, he was handsome–though the admission felt sour on your tongue–and he was exceptionally charming. Or, rather, he would be if you didn’t know the truth. An hour of his charms and flirts and you’re already feeling exhausted from his games, knowing that this is just what he does… makes a woman feel special and beautiful, only to use them for sex and steal every bit of their money right off of them. He had a big enough name that no one believed these women, but you? You did.

“Please,” he admonishes, “call me Rinano.”

You beam, “thank you, Rinano,” you correct, making sure to say his sultry tone, shifting your body so that you’re facing him. The dress Nami had found for you certainly was beautiful, you only wished you’d gotten to wear it on better terms. A floor length, black, silk dress that hugged you in all the right places, with a rather tempting slit that ran quite high on your leg and a neckline that dipped low enough to have anyone’s eyes glancing at it.

You know the second the words leave your lips, the words go straight to the man’s penis. His eyes bulge faintly, and this dazed look washes over his eyes as his eyes dip lower, just briefly, taking in the view of your chest.

You ignore the shiver that threatens to run up your spine.

“Please, Y/N, I think it’s time we moved this somewhere else, no?” He offers, eyes finally falling back on your own as he extends a hand out towards you. “Somewhere… a little more private?”

You mull on the decision briefly. It wasn’t part of your plan to go anywhere private with the man, knowing that this is how he lures women into his trap… but Nami still wasn’t done. Or, at least, she hadn’t given the signal. And you didn’t want to risk her or the mission…

Letting a smile curl on your lips, you set your hand in his.

“I’d love to.”

He grins, shifting to lead you through the crowd. You chance a glance back towards where you know Zoro is, but it’d gotten a lot busier since you’d come in and you can’t make him out in the crowd. Your chest tightens with worry, but you try to shake it off. You know Zoro would never let his eyes off of you, and you know the rest of your crewmates wouldn’t ever let you be in any danger either. You’re sure, even if you can't see him, that Zoro knows where you are.

“Hey man, you got a light?”

A frown curls onto Zoro’s lips when suddenly there’s a group of men standing around him, effectively blocking off his view of you. His body tenses as he glances at the three men, noticing for the first time just how busy it's gotten in the restaurant–Zoro and the rest of them had already had to make sure there was enough distance between you and them so as not to blow your cover. Zoro, though he argued against it, was forced to stand near the entrance of the restaurant, a good distance away from the bar and where you were, but it had been fine because Zoro had still been able to see you.

Now though? Especially with these idiots standing in front of him? He couldn’t see you at all.

A quick glance to the left and Zoro realizes he’s been separated from Sanji somehow as well.

Shit.

“Excuse me,” one of the men cuts in, taking a step towards Zoro. “We asked you a question.”

“No,” Zoro answers bluntly, glaring at the men as he tries to shove his way through.

“Are you sure?” Another one asks, the one holding a cigarette in his hands, a frown on his lips but as Zoro’s eyes flicker to him, he notices a glint in the man's eyes. “I forgot one at home and I’ve just been dying for a smoke–”

“I don’t have one,” Zoro grounds out, “get out of my way.”

The third one steps in front of him, hands held by his sides as he laughs; “hey, man… we’re just talking here. No reason to get mad.”

Zoro glares at him.

“I mean…” the one holding the cigar speaks up, “it’s not like you’re looking for someone, is it?”

Panic sets in then. By the smirks on their faces, Zoro comes to the startling realization that these men aren’t just annoying but that they must be Rinano’s men and they’re fully aware of who Zoro is and what he’s here for. And if they knew, then…

Zoro doesn’t hesitate, his right hand falls on his swords before striking his leg out towards the man to his left, knocking him up the chin and effectively knocking him on his ass. Instantly, a chaos of panic ensues as Zoro fights the other two, screams from other people in the restaurant but Zoro pays no mind to them. Rinano’s men are exceptionally weak that it barely takes Zoro anything to knock them down, and his eyes instantly shoot towards the bar the second he can, only for his heart to fall the pit of his stomach when he realizes you’re no longer there.

“Zoro!”

It’s Sanji who’s calling out for him, racing towards him through the panicked crowd and he’s slightly out of breath when he reaches him. Sanji’s eyes fall on the three men on their backs around Zoro and sighs; “so, they know.”

“Y/N’s not at the bar.”

Sanji’s eyes widen, head snapping towards the bar before he curses. “They knew who I was, tried to corner me like you. We should find Luffy and Usopp–”

“There’s no time.” Zoro cuts in, shaking his head. “You go. I’m finding Y/N.”

Zoro is pushing his way through the crowd before Sanji can say otherwise, leaving the cook to let out a huff.

The door slams behind you the second you step through, causing you to jolt slightly in reaction. When you turn your head over to glance, Rinano is simply smiling in your direction, stepping past you and further into what you assume is his ensuite above the restaurant. You hadn’t really known where you expected Rinano to lead you, but you figured it made sense he’d have a room above the restaurant he owned–it was, after all, easily accessible for the women he’d lead from the bar.

You’re quiet, scoping the room as Rinano pulls out two wine glasses at the bar located on the far end of the room. His back is turned to you as he prepares the glasses, and you shrug, using the time to see if you can find anything; Nami had snuck into the vault you knew was in the basement but you figured there might be something worth taking in here.

“For you.”

Blinking, you turn back to Rinano, smiling faintly as you accept the glass from him and take a seat right by the bar. Rinano takes a seat across from you, swirling the wine around in his cup, eyes on you as you take a slow sip of the wine. You weren’t a big drinker and you’d been careful to monitor your intake throughout the night, not wanting to be tipsy while with a man like Rinano–but one drink wouldn’t hurt. Plus, you needed the courage to steal your nerves.

It was a whole new ballgame being alone with him like this.

Honestly, you still weren’t really sure what you were doing. You just hadn’t wanted to put Nami in any danger and tip him off at all…

“You know,” Rinano says, and your eyes fall on him, head tilting in curiosity. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Letting out a light laugh, you shrug; “well, the food here was delicious.”

“Ah, yes, I know.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes–smug asshole. “But, if I remember correctly, you hadn’t come alone last time, right?”

Body tensing, you take another sip of your wine. “Ah, no,” you nod, setting the wine glass down as you fix the strap of your dress. “No, I came with two friends before.”

“Yes, a boy with an odd straw hat and a man with green-hair and three swords.” Rinano recalls, and your eyes squint–what was he getting at? “If I remember correctly, the green-haired man made quite a fuss about being allowed to keep his… weapons on him.”

You blink. You… hadn’t known Rinano had been watching all of that.

“Yes, well, he’s very protective of them,” you explain, leaning against the back of the seat when you feel your vision blur for a moment, head spinning momentarily.

“It’s also odd, you see,” Rinano continues, leaning forward, arms resting on his knees as he stares back at you, gaze intensely on your own. He’s waiting, you realize–watching you, more like it. Why, you’re not sure. “I could’ve sworn I saw a similar looking man watching us from the entrance all night. He seemed particularly keen on keeping his eyes on you.”

You feel your breath quicken, and somehow, you can’t explain it, your hands are shaking. Your whole body feels like it’s shaking, actually.

“The two of you seemed close that first night you came in,” Rinano continued. “I’d tried to catch your attention that entire night, but you hadn’t seemed to care when he was next to you. And him on the other hand… he’d glared at me the entire night for even looking at you. I wonder why, then… you were at my bar tonight, batting your eyelashes at me with your tits out on display?”

You stare back at him, noticing the anger and glint in his eyes as he stares back at you. Something uncomfortable twists in your chest and you’re moving to stand before you even realize. “I… I think it’s time I–” but your words get cut off as you feel your world spin. You’d stood up, you know that, but you find yourself on your back, staring up at the ceiling and your body won’t respond to you despite how hard you try to make it.

Then, Rinano is in front of you, leering over you.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” he smiles down at you, “you enjoyed the wine more than I expected.”

Your eyes widen, blinking as you feel your body slipping.

“You–you asshole!” you cry, forcing the words out but they’re more slurred than anything. Rinano just laughs, and then his hands are on you, grabbing you by the waist as he moves to pick you up. You use every last bit of strength in your body to push him off, forcing your legs to work as you move to stand but you make it one step before you’re crashing to the ground, hitting it with a hard thud that has your breath leaving you for a moment.

In a flash, you’re flipped around, Rinano over top of you.

“I imagine you thought you’d come in here, get your money’s worth and rob me blind, yes?” Rinano grins down at you, and your body refuses to move even as his hand moves to the strap of your dress, pulling it down. “But you see, Y/N, that’s not how this works. Women are simple creatures and all it takes is a pretty smile and they’ll bend over backwards for men like me. Usually, I like to pick women who have something more than just their bodies to offer me, but… well, you really did catch my eye that night.”

The strap of your dress is yanked off, while his free hand hikes the skirt of your dress up, revealing your panties and bra. Your mind screams at you to do something, but your body refuses to listen. You can feel your heart pounding madly against your chest, but nothing happens.

“St–stop!” you cry, tears welling in your eyes as you feel his hands lift you, moving to the zipper of your dress. “Get off me! Stop!” but your words are slurred as your lips begin to fail you as well. The sob that wretches past your lips is piercing as you hear the familiar sound of a zipper, feeling a cold brush against your back before the carpet of the floor scratches against your bare skin.

Rinano leers above you, eyes dazed as he moves to pull your dress off.

“You really are magnificent,” he whispers, “maybe I’ll just keep you around… you’ll be my own personal treasure.”

Your head lolls to the left, feeling his hands drift across your bare stomach as tears stream down your cheeks.

Where… where was Zoro?

You wanted Zoro.

But in the back of your mind, you knew that if Rinano had known about you, he’d known about the rest of them as well.

You feel Rinano’s fingers slip under the band of your panties when the door slams open. You can’t turn to see who it is, but the sight of it is enough to have Rinano’s eyes widening, panic flooding his vision before suddenly his weight is knocked off of you and you see a familiar flash of green blur past you before a cry echoes across the room. There’s the distinct sound of someone choking, gasping for breath, but you can’t turn and see and you’re left there, exposed and vulnerable, sobs wracking your body, until a shadow falls over you.

Zoro is suddenly there. His wide eyes are on you, panic flooding his gaze as he pulls you into his arms, pulling your dress up and back on as he zips the back of it for you. You’re limp in his grasp and you want to say something, force your mouth to move, but you can’t. All you can do is stare back at him as he pulls you into his arms.

“It’s okay,” he whispers and it’s the softest you’ve ever heard him sound. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

Nami had profusely apologized but you’d only brushed her off.

It seemed Rinano’s one mistake was he hadn’t known about Nami so everything on her end had been successful. For that, you were grateful. It wasn’t all for nothing.

The rest of the boys had come to check up on you as well the next day, clearly each worried but you’d brushed all their concerns off. It wasn’t any of their faults. It was yours… and you wouldn’t let them take the blame.

It takes a whole day before Zoro finally checks up on you.

He’s eerily quiet as he steps into the room. It’s late at night but Nami wasn’t here yet… by the look on Zoro’s face, you figure he’d asked her to hang back a minute, give you two some privacy.

You watch him, a frown on his lips as he takes a seat next to your small cot.

Then, after a minute, you speak up; “I'm sorry.”

And his eyes widen, head snapping to you in disbelief.

You just shake your head, a sob breaking past your lips as you curl into yourself. “I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. It was my idea and you could’ve gotten hurt because of me–”

Zoro cuts you off by setting his hand on your own, squeezing. Your eyes fall on him, lips left parted, sniffling. “This isn’t your fault,” he mumbles. “I came in here with every intention of telling you to never do that again… to never use you as bait but… but that wouldn’t be fair of me. And I’m not here to make you feel worse.”

Your lip trembles. “I… I didn’t think that’d happen,” you whisper, staring down at your entwined hands. “I… I was so scared.”

Shaking his head, Zoro leans forward, “I wouldn’t ever let anything like that happen to you. I’m just… sorry it got that far.”

You squeeze his hand back, “it’s okay. You came. That’s all that matters to me.”

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece live action #opla #opla x reader #zoro roronoa #zoro roronoa x reader #opla!zoro x reader #opla!zoro #opla!zoro roronoa

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immediatebreakfast · 7 days

Text

I found that my landlord had got a letter from the Count, directing him to secure the best place on the coach for me; but on making inquiries as to details he seemed somewhat reticent, and pretended that he could not understand my German.

The reaction, and following actions of the old romanian couple after learning that the Count placed the responsability of securing Jonathan's travel to the castle on them is a true testament on the horror limbo that these people have been living for god knows how long.

An inmortal, and monstruos man lives inside the countryside in luxury untouched by time itself orders you to secure transportation for this young man, barely an adult in what matters who has traveled so far, to meet what you know will be his death. A being that should be a myth is forcing your hand to guide the son of another mother to an early grave, an end that is waiting for him outside of the walls of your inn.

He and his wife, the old lady who had received me, looked at each other in a frightened sort of way... When I asked him if he knew Count Dracula, and could tell me anything of his castle, both he and his wife crossed themselves, and, saying that they knew nothing at all, simply refused to speak further.

How many times has this happened? How many young people have dissapeared one day without leaving a single trace while everyone has to force ignorance within their brains less the terror makes them unable to keep going. Worse, even if the young english man, all bright eyed and full of life, says That Name out loud you can't chastice him for such mistake because he simply doesn't know what he is calling, and the only thing that you can do is close your eyes to pray for his soul.

However, sometimes the horror is so overwhelming that another answer comes out, a last ray of hope that could change the course of what seems to be written in stone. A simple hand extending in frightened kindness for a fellow human being.

"Must you go? Oh! young Herr, must you go?"

This old woman, this old lady who has and still lives under the terror of the Count decides to try. She tries, and tries to convince Jonathan to not go, to not leave to walk to the jaws of the beast, or to at least wait for a day or two because everything is pointing to what seems to be the inevitable. Moreover, when her pleads are futile at the end, she still dares to gift Jonathan a rosary, a small protection against that cursed being who laughs at the face of everything that makes her human.

She saw, I suppose, the doubt in my face, for she put the rosary round my neck, and said, "For your mother's sake," and went out of the room.

This old lady not only sees Jonathan the young man who is just starting his life, she sees a mother waiting for any news of her son coming home. She sees a poor woman trying to find anything that could tell her an answer of whenever her son is alive or dead, while being unable to both live and grieve.

The old lady doesn't know if Jonathan will survive his duty. In fact I could pressume how her guilt of knowing that the rosary on itself is still not enough to ward off the Count made her leave the room, but she still tried to hold on the hope that this time, maybe this time, there won't be another young soul buried in the soil.

#Two (remarked) old innkeepers with no grown children around to help are forced to lead a young lamb to the slaughter #The poor grandma has a mental breakdown that gets worse the more Jonathan tries to both comfort her and explain his duty #I have to think how many times this happened before Jonathan ever knew that Bistritz existed #dracula daily #dracula #jonathan harker

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personasintro · 7 months

Text

Mutual Help | #20

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭: @kithtaehyung

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢

The fire keeps everyone warm and creates a calm atmosphere around you. It's sad, this is your last night here and you wish you could stay longer. Your camping trip is slowly coming to an end, and all you can do is fully enjoy it while it lasts. And you do, by sipping beer and talking to Jimin who's sitting beside you. From the corner of your eyes, there's Jungkook rummaging through containers full of snacks as he contemplates which one to choose. And he's not alone, there's Kiko standing beside him and laughing at something he says when a bunny grin appears on his face.

"You don't mind?" Jimin speaks up, snapping you out of your thoughts and observation. You realize you weren't listening to him and got distracted, that's why an apologetic smile appears on your face before your brows frown in confusion.

"Mind what?" you ask, seeing Jimin's eyes shifting somewhere over your shoulder and you know what he's looking at the moment, he looks back at you.

"Them talking." he answers carefully, looking at you with the same pitiful look Hoseok gave you during your hike.

"Why would I? Just because she's his ex, it doesn't mean he can't talk to her. He's a free human, I'm in no place to tell him whom he can talk to or can't." you shrug carelessly, reaching for the beer can as you take another sip.

"Yeah, I know that... I guess, I'm just surprised. You're right here and he's there talking to her, staring at her and—" he stops himself before he can say something else, his eyes leaving your face as he looks at the mentioned couple. "Never mind." he gives you a smile, a weak one that you pretend to ignore.

In times like these, you wish you could tell him the truth. To tell him that he doesn't have to worry about your feelings, or the fact Jungkook is there staring at her with heart eyes and having the time of his life, because it's not real. Your relationship is not real and it's all pretended. But you can't, you promised that to Jungkook and even though, sometimes you get the urge of wanting to tell someone close, you don't. Maybe it's that little knowing feeling that you'd feel embarrassed. Although Jimin isn't a judging person, you can imagine his reaction perfectly. He'd probably scream something like 'Are you guys stupid?!'

No matter what goes through Jimin's mind, he decides not to say it out loud and puts his arms over your shoulders, hugging you and pulling you closer to him.

"I've no idea who bought this beer, but it tastes like piss." he whispers into your ear, causing you to erupt in laughter while he joins you.

From the corner of your eyes, you notice Jungkook and Kiko walking away without saying a single word. Everyone seems to be too busy noticing that, but you do.

"Let's play UNO!" Hoseok says, already pulling out cards from one of his bags while Taehyung's groan resounds.

"I never understand the rules." he whines, but still straightens himself to prepare for the game.

While everyone starts to play the card game, Jungkook and Kiko are out of everyone's sight, slowly walking around the lake.

"How's your ankle? Does it still hurt?" Jungkook asks, not hiding his worry while it makes her smile. She's not subtle, Jungkook notices it and his heart starts to do little jumps at that.

"No, it's fine. Thank you for taking care of me." She thanks him.

"Always," he whispers, but too audibly to her ears and he quickly coughs. "I barely did anything, I just carried you."

"That's a lot and I appreciate it," she tells him, "I'm sorry if me coming here is weird or uncomfortable." she blurts out, causing Jungkook to stop as he stares at her with widened eyes.

"What are you talking about?" he frowns in confusion.

Kiko sighs, stopping as well as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "You and Y/N are dating right now, and here you are, taking care of me. I don't want to cause any trouble, Kookie."

That freaking nickname makes his heart jump again and he's so close to hugging her. Oh fuck, what would he do to hug her again.

"You're not causing any trouble," he says quickly, shaking his head. "We are both fine with you being here. I'm glad you're here."

"You are?" she raises her brows in shock.

"Of course," he nods, "You know... I don't hate you. I could never hate you, no matter how our relationship ended." he says, although the mention of their relationship makes his stomach clench uncomfortably.

This can't be the end. No, he can't lose her. But he still forces those words out of his mouth, silently waiting and watching closely her reaction. She sucks in a breath, looking away almost shamelessly and it sparks interest in Jungkook, not the good kind though. It's because he knows there's something more to her reaction and the whole situation.

"You probably should." she mutters, letting out a chuckle that's nothing but fake and forced. It pains him to see her this way, so broken and guilty.

"What? Hate you? Impossible." Jungkook scoffs, staring into her eyes to let her know that he means it.

Despite her saddened gaze, Kiko forces herself to smile. "That's good to know." she chuckles, nibbling on her bottom lip nervously.

"Kik," he mutters, her eyes snapping from her dirty sneakers to his.

He can see how much that nickname affects her. It's not the same when Hoseok or any of her friends call her that. When she hears Jungkook say it, it's like nobody calls her that and it's the most important and beautiful word at the same time. And yet, it's just a simple nickname.

"I know you said you needed some time for yourself, but I don't believe that."

"Kookie—"

"No, let me finish please," he sighs, pleading with her with his doe eyes that makes her shut up and listen to him. "I know it's not the real reason why you broke up with me."

"It is!" she exclaims, growing nervous and unnecessarily defensive which Jungkook recognizes immediately.

"Hoseok told me, Kiko." he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He told me."

"What?" she breathes out, her face paling in the brightest shade of white and even he can notice it in such darkness. She feels like she's about to faint any second.

"Well, he didn't tell me the reason. Actually, he didn't even tell me himself, I kind of figured there's something more to this. All he said is that it's not his place to tell me anything and I respect that. He's a great friend, but I deserve to know the truth. Don't you think?"

She stands frozen, barely blinking before she slowly nods. "You do, but you'll hate me." she whispers, her eyes filling with tears while Jungkook's ones widen and he swears he can feel his heart crack.

"I told you, I could never hate you," he tells her, assuring her but still, it doesn't assure her and she scoffs under her breath as she sniffles. "I'm sure it's something we can fix."

Her face looks even more broken after he says it and he almost whines at the helplessness he feels.

"Unfortunately, it's not. And you'll hate me once you find out." she sniffles, holding back her tears.

Jungkook doesn't hesitate, he moves fast and before Kiko can realize, he's hugging her tightly. Her arms wrap around his frame after a moment of realization, burying her face into his chest as she takes a sniff of his scent. His cheek is pressed against the top of her head, closing his eyes when his heart feels whole again. He missed this so fucking much.

He wants to enjoy this feeling, and he really does, until his head starts to prevail over his heart and all those predictions come back to life. But even then, he's not opening his mouth nor moving away from her.

Just a little longer, he thinks before they both part at the same time but still stay in close proximity.

She recognizes that look, the saddened one as he's about to say something that might break his or her heart but she can't stop him. She's been practically lying to him, because she didn't add another reason why she broke up with him when Jungkook asked. Although, she really needed some time for herself. To learn how to live with that guilt she's been carrying for a couple of months.

"Have you cheated on me?" he asks, watching her mouth open in shock before she quickly gets a grip of herself.

She's silent, avoiding his eyes as she stares at the darkened lake instead. He sees the wheels running in her mind and decides to encourage her to tell him the truth, even if it's going to break his heart all over again.

"You can tell me, I'm not going to hate you." he reminds her.

How could she think he could ever hate her?

Sighing, she closes her eyes for a brief moment before she looks at Jungkook. "Yes." she whispers, causing him to freeze in place.

It was just a wild guess, something that's been bothering his mind for a couple of weeks. But her saying it, admitting that, just breaks him all over again and he literally freezes at her words. With worried eyes, she calls out his name but all he can hear is the one and simple word she said. She just confirmed something he feared of, he didn't think it could be true. You said she wouldn't do it.

"Jung—"

"Who?" he asks in a low tone, embracing herself to look into her teary eyes.

"Jung—"

"Who?" he asks, much broken this time and she sobs, shaking her head. "Was it Hoseok?"

Her eyes widen and she starts to shake her head abruptly, holding onto Jungkook for her dear life. "Jungkook, please!"

She's begging him to stop, he doesn't need to know more. It'll only hurt him even more.

"Just tell me." he says deeply, voice shaking while he remains to keep his face neutral.

"No, of course not! Hoseok is my best friend!" she exclaims, shaking her head as if the idea is completely ridiculous. "I'm so sorry, Jungkook." she sniffles again, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Who was it then?" he still presses, hurting himself even more and Kiko sees that. But she also knows he won't stop bringing it up until she answers him.

So with a deep sigh, she looks on the ground not willing to look into Jungkook's eyes as her velvety but shaky voice resounds.

"You don't know him." she mumbles, shutting her eyes like she's the one who got so hurt. Like she's the one who just found out the love of her life cheated.

"What have I done? Was I not good enough of a boyfriend?"

It's unbelievable how much control Jungkook has over his features and attitude, because he barely reacts. It's like he's numb to everything right now.

"You were perfect."

"Then why would you ever cheat on me?" he whispers, clenching his jaw to prevent himself from crying.

"I-it was a mistake, I'd never do it again. I regret it and I'll have to live with it for the rest of my life. You've to believe me, Jungkook." she begs, but she's met with silence and numb Jungkook.

"T-that's why I broke up with you. I couldn't just look you in the eyes and pretend everything's okay." Her voice shivers as she gulps down the huge lump in her throat.

"You should've told me, maybe we could work it out," he says pathetically.

"What? Would you still want to be with me after I told you that? Jungkook, listen to yourself. It'd be torture for you." she scoffs, although it's completely sad.

"Maybe, but that's how much I love you." he says, not saying anything further because he wants to spill his heart out. He wants to tell her that maybe, just maybe, he would look past that and try to pretend like nothing happened. That's how much he loves her, he's willing to act like she hasn't broken his heart — as long as he gets to have her by his side.

She seems to be taken back for a moment, replaying his words in her mind and wondering if it was just a slit up.

"I'm sorry I broke you, that was never my intention. But I see that you're better without me," he scoffs and she shakes her head, "No, you are. You don't need me, you don't need my love,"

Oh, how wrong she is.

"You've Y/N now. She's a wonderful woman and she's the only one who can love you like I do."

He scoffs, almost bitterly laughing at her words. This is so wrong. She thinks you two are really dating, when in reality it's all an act and his way of winning her heart back. His mind is all over the place and he's not sure what he wants anymore. He needs to sit down and think it through without anyone by his side.

"If I was fine with," he gulps, "If I was fine with... what happened,"

He can't bring himself to actually say those words out loud and it pains Kiko, because she's the one who messed him up. However, she keeps her head low and listens to him.

"Would you still be with me?"

She opens her mouth, snapping her eyes towards him as she stares at him. Is he insane? Would he really be fine with it?

"I—"

"Just answer honestly. Do you love me?"

"I don't think it's appropriate to express my feelings when you've a girlfriend, Jungkook. Don't break any heart like I did, you're so much better than I am." she pleads with him, but he only raises a brow at her.

All he cares about now is for her to answer his question. He needs it, he needs it so he can think it through and decide what's best for him.

"Do you love me?" he asks her slowly, keeping his tone low and eyes focused on hers.

Her pupils shake with nervousness, while her bottom lip shivers almost as if she was scared to answer honestly. Jungkook's doe eyes plead her, showing that there's nothing to be scared about.

"I do," she whispers, "I love you, but you deserve someone better."

"That's up to me," he tells her, turning around before he lets out a huge sigh. "Let's go back, I need some time to think." he mutters, not bothering to look back if she's following him but the quiet rustling of grass behind him tells him that she is.

"...so tell me, what's this boring person's job?" Namjoon asks, sipping on the beer as he adjusts the buckle hat covering his soft blond hair.

The fire still keeps you warm, although the little amount of beer flowing inside your system helps too. You've managed to make yourself relax, bonding with everyone much more until some more heated theme appeared to be the center of attention. Something, that you and Namjoon weren't part of so naturally, he sat down next to you and started to get to know you more.

The topics of your conversations haven't been that serious, it's actually very nice and light talk with someone you're getting to know. Namjoon is an interesting person with great opinions close to yours, even he can make you speechless with the choice of his words and how artistic he seems to be without even trying. And, that he's really clumsy and managed to knock Jimin's beer and Taehyung's soju, plus he tore off one of Hoseok's cards. That's when everyone decided it's time to finish the game, Taehyung's whining about how he doesn't understand the rules definitely helped.

You don't know why, but in a way Namjoon appears to you as mysterious but he's been nothing but very honest and open. He owns a book store where he holds reading sessions every Sunday where customers can recommend their favorite books and hold a conversation with everyone that decides to visit and be a part of their session. There is always a special guest, usually a writer, who openly converses with readers and customers. The writers can take this chance as a self-promotion but as Namjoon said, most of them are just passionate about writing and want to share their journey and story with everyone. Plus, he admitted that he's writing his own book but he's not sure if it'll ever get published. He didn't give you any more details, insisting on keeping it to himself for now and you respect that.

One fact you weren't surprised to hear, is that Namjoon has a girlfriend. She was supposed to be here, but according to Namjoon's words she's visiting her parents over the weekend. You're sure she's just as lovely as he is.

"I'm working in a modeling agency." you answer, chuckling when you see his big eyes.

"You're a model?"

"God, no. I'm, as you could say, a person for everything. Over the few months I worked there, I think I'm doing at least three positions I shouldn't be. My job is to set up dates of photoshoots, making sure everything would go as planned and as smoothly as possible. Oh, once I even had to try on some clothes because the model who was supposed to wear it, couldn't come to fittings. That's the closest I'd ever get to modeling," you snort, "But I don't mind it, it's good and it pays well."

Namjoon stares at you with a mere bewilderment, silently praising you for working so much. Not many people could handle this kind of job and responsibility. Sure, he has his own shop but to him, it feels like you're overworking yourself.

"Well, the fact that you can fit into clothes for models says a lot. Doesn't that make you a model?" he teases you, causing you to snort in response.

"Sometimes I barely fit into those tiny clothes. But no one else wants to do it." you shrug, explaining how it really is.

Your measurements are definitely not model-like. Even nowadays the industry tries to bring more curvy models, it's still not perfect and needs a lot of work, so women with different types of bodies can feel beautiful and normal. Not being judged by their weight or body type.

"That just shows how good of a person you are." he says with a smile, your lips stretching to a similar one.

Maybe he's just joking or saying it lightly, not putting that much thought into his words but still, it makes you happy and emotional at the same time. It's nice to hear such a thing, especially in today's world.

"Ah, stop it!" you giggle, nudging his shoulders as he laughs with you, exclaiming 'It's true!'

You're completely unaware of someone else's presence but that's until your laughter dies down and Namjoon's eyes trail somewhere in the distance. He coughs, almost awkwardly before he slightly pushes himself away from you, although he never invaded your personal space or anything close to it. You follow his vision, seeing Jungkook staring at the both of you before he looks away. Even that brief moment of the weird expression on his face makes you panic.

Something's wrong.

"Excuse me," you mutter, your eyes still locked onto Jungkook who casually reaches towards a beer fan as gulps down almost all of it. "I just need to talk to Jungkook." you smile, glancing at Namjoon who just nods and doesn't question the sudden change in the air.

For sure, he noticed your mood shifting and attention focused on your best friend, but he doesn't question it. Namjoon's smart, he's probably thinking something but he's keeping it to himself. Giving him one of your weak smiles, you make your way over to Jungkook who stands a few meters away from everyone as he holds the beer can in his hand. The other one is hidden in the pocket of his sweatpants while he keeps staring ahead of him with a clenched jaw.

"Hey," you call out, but he barely reacts. You know he must've seen you coming towards him from the corner of his eyes, but damn, it still shocks you that he ignores you. "Are you okay, Kook?" you ask him carefully, eyeing his slumped figure.

"Why don't you go back to giggling with Namjoon, would you?" he barks, your brows shooting to your hairline as you stare at him before you let out a weak chuckle.

"Ouch, who hurt you?" you joke, but apparently your best friend doesn't find it funny and he explodes.

"I'm not in the mood, Y/N." he speaks dryly, obviously not in the mood for talking to you.

Y/N, okay he is pissed off.

"I can see that," you snort, "But I'm here if you need to talk. Whatever happened—"

"For fucks sake, just leave me alone. Go back to Namjoon." he spits and you gape at him with narrowed eyes.

"Why are you so pissed off? Why are you even bringing Namjoon into this?" you ask in disbelief, but all you can see is his clenching his jaw even more. "Don't tell me you're jealous." you scoff, joking but he doesn't seem to take it as a joke when he glares at you.

Your heart jumps at the look he's giving you. He has never looked so angry at you. This is not your Jungkook.

"I'm not," he decides to clarify with an attitude in his tone, "But you're supposed to be my girlfriend and here you are giggling with some other guy. How does that make me look? How does that make us look?"

And you laugh. You actually laugh at him before you shake your head. "Is that what's bothering you? I don't know about you, but you're the one who sneaked out with his ex-girlfriend to God knows where. So, how does that make me look, huh?" you snap, seeing his eyes widen for a quick second before he's back to glaring at you.

"I didn't sneak out for fucks sake," he mutters, although doesn't protest further. "I just need some time alone."

He's pushing you away, you realize. And you're not the problem here. Something happened between him and Kiko, and he's obviously not ready to tell you and you're not going to force him to open up to you. He knows very well that you're here for him, but you're not going to remind him when he's acting this way. Underneath that layer of anger, you see his true and hidden emotion. He's hurt.

You're trying to look for Kiko, wondering if she's in the similar state like Jungkook is. You're met with a sight of Hoseok hugging her closely, almost hidden behind one of the tents. It's too dark to tell what they're doing, but from what you can see it seems like Hoseok is comforting Kiko.

Everyone's too busy to notice the atmosphere that flies in the air, nor Jungkook's and Kiko's state. They're too drunk and preoccupied with screaming drunken nonsense. The only one who seems to notice this is Namjoon but he respects everyone's privacy and preoccupies himself with staring into his phone.

"Okay," you whisper, shoulders dropping in defeat. "Whenever you want to talk, I'm here." you tell him and give him the space he so desperately wants. You're not sure whether he needs it, though.

If this was him during their breakup, possibly even worse, you've no idea what Taehyung and Jimin did to make him feel better.

That night, you're sleeping in the tent while slightly shivering from the cold, despite the fact that you're wearing at least three layers of clothing and that you're completely nestled in your sleep bag. Also, that night Jungkook doesn't pull you closer nor warms you up.

#networkbangtan #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #bts angst #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts au #jungkook fic #personasintro

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bellanoche-oxo · 4 months

Note

I'm sorry this isn't a commission, but I just have a question about your art. Feel free to ignore this, of course. I was really amazed by your Miku drawing from December 16th. Seeing such a high-level piece, I wanted to achieve something similar, but no matter how much I try, I can't replicate your shading and highlights. I was so genuinely curious that I couldn't sleep. Could you possibly give me any hints or advice?

Hey, sorry for making you wait so much for this answer, i've been finishing some projects and i barely had free time. Anyways i'll try to do my best on explaing my coloring and lighting methos and you also asked me to explain how i create the folings of the clothes. Please take in consideration that 1 i am not native in english so it's a bit difficult for me to explain myself sometimes in this language and i may have some misspelings, sorry about that, and also 2 i am not great at explaing my drawing process bc i kind of turn off my brain when i draw lol, but i can explain the fundamentals that i know and help me create! Last thing i want to let you know is that i've started glazing my art, this is a metho to protect the images for AI images generators and it leaves a kind of pattern /effect on the image that i did not put there during the drawing process.

with all of this said let me start explaining things!

Learn the basics:

This may come as a cliche i guess, but yes my first ever advise to anyone is learn the basic theory on lighting and colors (on anything related to art tbh). You don't really need to spend a lot of money on books and such as there are lots of resources online like videos and documents you can read for free. It's not necesary to be an expert and even the smallest mount of knoledge is enought to inpruve your art a lot! , i find it very interesting to learn the way things work too so don't think you'll get bored of it!

To be frank, i am actually not very good at lighting lol. My lights and shadows are not very correct, but since i do have a lot o control over my colors and i know very well how to used them it kind of compensates and creates a very recognisable (i think) style.

just u know basic shitty advise that everyone is going to give you but it works! if you have free time try watching some videos or reading some documents about color theory shadow and lighting!

Your working space:

So this is something that works FOR ME not everyone likes it, you can try it see if you like it and if you do, cool! if you don't … that's cool too! When drawing on digital i prefer it when my base layer is grey instead of white. It helps with my headaches too but it's more about the fact that starting in a middle tone when coloring (in my opinion) makes the process of briging out both shadows and lights easier, let me give you an example:

Drawing from complete light (white) to compplete darkness (black) may condicion you to actually lose control in the contrast betwen these areas, i prefer staring in a middle place (grey) and that way is i want to show darkness i'll use a darkr color and if i want to show light i'll use a lighter color, but if i start on white i can't use anything lighter. I think i did a HORRIBLE job explaing myself there, but yeah it just helps me control my color valius a bit more lol.

this is the color that i used:

Another inportant thing about your woking space is you brushes, in my case i prefer using textured brushes that mix well, and i prefer using very thick strokes, if it's too think i'll just color pick the transparent color and ease it! I work in CSP i don't know what you use, but just in case i'll give you the setiings of the brushes i use the most with their codes so you can find them

Sculpting with lights and shadows

As i said before, i am not very good with light yet, so this is something that i do to help me with the process. When you think about it, lighting is used in art to give volume to the piece, not in every case bc rules in art are not there to be followed but to asist us when we need to take a creative decision. The way that we can start with our Sculpting is by creating a very easy first guide othe the shadows and lights and to do it with very big block, so that we get the general shape first,we don't neet to get lost in the detailds yet

The actual coloring

When drawing my process is divided in three stages. I first create the doodle/lineart, that doesn't neet to be super neat as i will fix it during the rendering. The basic colors, and the rendering.

During the preparation for the rendering when doing the base colors i recomend that you give special atention to the focal points of your illustration, in this case for example that's her face and the top of the hair, that's why i gave so much more atention for this part in comparation to the shirt, that it's literally not shadowed yet. Then another step that i use normally before rendering and that i can NOT RECOMEND ENOUGHT!!!! GO WILD WITH THE COLOR CURVES!!!! OMG!!!! THAT STUPID LITTLE TOOL IS SO FUCKING COOL!!!!!!!!! like for real, it gives effects that i have not been able to achive in any other way and omggggggg use the fucking color curves pleaaaaaaseeeeee

ok i'm notmal again , lets continue.

For the rendering i usually convine all the layers of the drawing on one layer, then use a textured brush that has low opacity of mixes very well fot the actual work. Tbh here is very i can't really help you a lot, bc i have no idea what i'm doing when i render i just don't know, the only thing i recognise is that i try to esare or clean the lines from the doodle/lineart, and i focus a lot on creating volume in the places that are more important.

Skins

An specific thing that i do a lot when it comes to coloring skin is using an undertone in red (literally) I will put the basi color, use the brush to mark where i want shadows to be in a very vibrant red and then use a blue / green / pruple (depends on the skin) to finish the shadowing. Thios metho is nice for lots of occasions, but take in consideration that it doesnt work for example for very dark scenarios where the character is suppoused to be in the shadows, as that red tone works as a outline for the light. It just depends on the situation.

Clothes foldings:

Ok so here the only thing i can give you an advise with is to remember that the way that clothes fold dependes on gravity and that gravity works in curves most of the time that have two (or more) attachment points that are going to determinate theit trajectory. Example:

And remeber that this creates (again) a volume, that there is an inside part, that it's probably going to be draker, and an outside part, that it's going to be lightter. With this info you can start practicing with images of clothes.

this is as much information as i am able to recolect on my coloring process bc i am horrible explaining , spacially on text and in english, and i am also not very much aware when i draw, i kind of disconect. I still hope this is enough to help you a bit on your learning journy.

I may try doing a video at some point if i ever have the time so i can explain my coloring while i actually do it bc if not in that situation i'm not sure i'll be able to remeber what it is that i did.

My last piece of advise is to watch speedpaints and livestreams of artists you like during their drawing process and maybe even tray to imitate them while they are drawing to see what it is that they do exccly.

hope you have a good day and lot of lucks ! be proud of being able to create and be proud of being an artist!

#my art #art advice #color and light #aaa i'm reading and i have lots of missplesings sorry about that aaaa

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deathshallbethelastenemy · 9 months

Text

you know i adore you (3)

TEEN!gojo x FEM!reader (soulmate AU)

TW⚠️: gojo's being a little manipulative, angst, mentions of death and blood, mostly fluff tho

1: what you see, i see

2: where you go, i go

A/N: gojo is so 1989 coded

Her phone had buzzed for the tenth time during her student council meeting, and for the tenth time, she ignored it. She didn't have to look at the caller ID to know who it was.

Who knew Gojo Satoru would be so clingy? And here she thought she would be the one hanging on his coat tails. Not that they were dating because they weren't. They were friends with emphasis on friends - she had decided that after the high of finally seeing each other face to face.

The morning after was very clarifying for her. She tried to remember her dream the night, only to realize that Satoru had not slept the entire night - he had been watching her sleep the entire night. It was especially clarifying when her mom knocked on her door, and she processed that not only did she have a strange boy in her room, but that he was also soaked in blood. A hectic morning of her hiding her soulmate in the bathroom. It didn't help that he was complaining the entire time - it was a miracle her mother didn't hear him.

Fact of the matter is it would be irresponsible for her to start seeing him romantically without actually getting to know him first and she was a responsible person. So responsible that for the time being, she had to put student council duties first over her friendship with him, especially with the festival coming up.

She would call him after the meeting was over, "Now, do we have everything prepared for the festival tomorrow?"

Everyone nodded as they checked classrooms, and fixed decoration, and they put up the banner outside of the school that would be welcoming everyone in. After this task was done, she would leave.

From atop a ladder, she tied the elastic ribbons into a bow and smoothed the banner over with her hand, "Everything alright on that side?"

Her peer smiled at her from the other ladder directly on the other side of the banner, "Yeah!"

She climbed down the ladder and looked at their handiwork. It was perfect. All that was left was to go get her things.

One of her classmates giggled besides her, "Your boyfriend's here again."

"Who's boyfriend?" She asked.

The girl pointed at the entrance of the school, "Yours." She smiled cheerfully at him, "Hi, Gojo!"

And there he was, walking over to them - pouting.

This was her fault she should've known he would show up if didn't at least answer one of his calls or texts.

"We've been over this." She said, "He is not my boyfriend."

"Does he know that?" The girl said.

Another classmate chimed in, "Why not? he's super cute."

She hoped Satoru hadn't heard that. His ego was big enough as it was.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist as he nuzzled his head in her neck, he said, "Yeah, I am super cute. Why not?"

Of course, he heard them. He looked at her expectantly over his glasses. He really was adorable when he wanted to be, enough that all of her classmates (boys and girls alike) practically swoon for him when he does anything.

She ignored him, "Meetings over. Everyone, go home."

Satoru huffed in annoyance but didn't let go of her, "Why don't you answer your phone?" He tilted his head so she could see more of his vibrant blue eyes despite his glasses, "A text would've been enough."

She fought the urge to run her hands through his hair, "I told you I had a student council meeting today." She twisted in his arms to face him, "and I told you that I wasn't going to be able to call or text until after."

He buried his face in her neck again and groaned, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, you did."

This was a little more than friendly, she knew that, but she also learned at the beginning of their friendship that he also didn't know what personal space was. Besides, she would stop him before he got too far, but she would admit, she liked it when he daringly pressed his lips on her neck to test just how far he can push the boundaries she had set for them. But today, she would enforce them.

She tugged his head back from her neck, "I have to go get my school bag, Satoru."

She stilled as he leaned in and kissed her in the corner of her mouth. Another thing he did to see how far he could go.

She pursed her lips, "That's more than friendly."

He raised an eyebrow, "You mind today?" And let out a dramatic sigh, "it's cause people are watching, isn't it?" He shifted all of his weight on her, "I'm a dirty little secret!"

She finally hugged him back. Not to actually hug him but keep them from toppling over.

She heard footsteps and giggles as her classmates walked past her and Satoru, "Yeah, he's totally not your boyfriend."

She saw a glimpse of Satoru's cheeky smile before he stuck his lower lip out and rubbed his cheek against hers.

And like clockwork, "Aw~"

She glared at her peers, "Do not encourage his behaviour."

They all snickered as they left.

She rolled her eyes at them and grabbed Satoru's cheeks with one hand forcing his lips to pucker as they looked at each other, "Stop." She pushed him off of her and finally, went to go get her belongings.

She sighed when Satoru slipped his hand in hers. If she pulled away he would whine for the rest of the day, so she let their fingers intertwine.

His eyes wandered away from her from time to time. She closed her eyes for a second. Little spectres were staring at them, peeking their heads from their hiding spots, and whenever, Satoru directed his gaze at them they'd duck back into their hiding spots in fear.

Oh.

She opened her eyes and quickened her steps. Her soulmate kept up with her new pace with ease. She opened the door and quickly picked up her school bag, but Satoru took it from her hand before she could sling it around her shoulder and swung it over his instead.

"Those curses shouldn't scare you. You know, they're too scared to come out and hurt anyone," he said, "They're too weak."

She grabbed her phone from the table, "You know I can't see them the way you can."

He pressed a kiss on her temple, "I can handle them, no problem."

She rested her head on his arm. He was right if any curse dared to rear out their ugly heads against them he would excorcise it easily. She was safe. They were safe.

She flipped her phone open as they walked out of the school.

47 MISSED CALLS from Gojo Satoru

He was not serious.

83 TEXT MESSAGES from Gojo Satoru

Oh God.

2 TEXT MESSAGES from Geto Suguru

Geto.S: He's being insufferable

Geto.S: Answer so he'll stop whining to me and Shoko

She shoved her phone in his face, "For real?!"

"You weren't answering!"

She shook her head as she went through the text messages.

Gojo.S: Wanna go check out the new boba place <3

Gojo.S: Whatcha ya doing? :3

Gojo.S: Oh right student council

Gojo.S: How long is it gonna to take?

Gojo.S: it's been 30 minutes :(

Gojo.S: Pls answer the phone </3

Gojo.S: meeting boring

Gojo.S: Ditch :D

She skimmed the rest of texts until she got near the end.

Gojo.S: The decorations look great!! :b

Gojo.S: r ya seriously going to check every classroom?

Gojo.S: For real?????

Gojo.S: ______ <3

Gojo.S: Suguru punched me :(

Gojo.S: kiss it better pls

Gojo.S: How much longer?????

Gojo.S: A ladder for what???

Gojo.S: :'(((((((((

Gojo.S: <////////////3

Gojo.S: I'm heading over there

She flipped her phone close, "You are such a stalker, Satoru."

He gasped offendedly, "I am not."

"Yes, you are."

"Am not!"

"Really?" She said, "What about the time you were literally watching me sleep for hours?"

"I wasn't myself that day." He quickly added, "and you were sad all day! What kind of soulmate would I be if I didn't let you know I was okay?"

"How'd you know where I live?" She retorted.

"It's a cute little bakery!" He smiled, "how is anyone supposed to miss that."

"Uh huh," she hummed, "suuureee~"

She was right, Satoru had somewhat stalked her that day and with how empowered he felt - he tracked down the very little cursed energy she did have with his six eyes.

"You stalk me too!" He pushed back.

"Hardly."

She was lying, but there was a difference between his stalking and her stalking. She only wanted to make sure he was safe. After what happened a few months ago, she couldn't help it and she only stalked him when he goes on missions not for everyday things like he does.

"Liar," Satoru said, "I can tell. I have really good eyes and senses."

She blushed, "It is not the same." Stupid six eyes, "You stalk me for no reason."

"It's not for 'no reason' - I miss you." He readjusted the straps of her school bag on his shoulder, "Besides, you don't have to worry about me like that anymore. No one can get the jump on me like that again."

She knew what he meant: I'm stronger now. Don't worry, I'm not dying anytime soon, and he was right. Nothing could touch him anymore unless he wanted it to, even her. Still, he didn't know what it felt like to have him gone from her soul. It wasn't a fading feeling of him slipping away - No, it was violent and soul wrenching - he was viscerally ripped from her. She was left cold and alone with her heart being the only one left beating. She was with him the whole time when he was desperately trying to learn and understand reverse curse technique to heal his bloody and dying body. All Satoru knew was that she cried.

Soft lips pressed against her cheek and then to the other. It was so sweet, so wonderful she hadn't realized she was crying.

"Is that why we aren't dating yet?" He continued to kiss her tears away, "you scared?"

She hadn't cared for him then and she fell apart. Imagine the damage it would do to her if she was in love with him? Her lip quivered at the thought. With a shaky breath, she buried herself in his chest in a hug, and nodded.

Satoru soothingly ran his long, slender fingers through her hair, "My girl's a bit of a little cry baby, ain't she?"

Her heart fluttered, my girl.

"I have every right to cry," she mumbled stubbornly in his chest.

He kissed the top of her head, "Yeah, you do." He tilted her chin up so she would look at him, "Boyfriends give more kisses you know."

She smiled as she wiped her tears, "No fair, I'm emotionally vulnerable right now."

Satoru's lips pressed ever so softly on hers. It was barely even a kiss, but she melted in his arms all the same. It would be so easy to fall into him and he would catch her every time. Yet, he pulled away and rested his forehead against hers.

She was right. He shouldn't take advantage.

He sighed... if time was what she needed then he could wait a little longer.

Part 4: i'm crazier for you

Gojo: y'all be scared to double text? Not me! Ding ding ding it's me again bitch!

Part 5: baby, you're the life of the party

Part 6: something's made your eyes go cold

Let me know if you wanna be tagged!

@phoenix666stuff @96jnie @mr-underhills-things @whatamidoing89

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factual-fantasy · 6 months

Text

24 asks!! :0000🌟🎭🌟

I HAVE!!! :DDDD

Kinger and Caine are my favorite characters! I've seen a lot of theories and fanart and I've already started making my own AU and angst and everything but I cant DRAW any of that yet because I'm REALLY BUSY with an OVERDUE PROJECT AAAAA

(In recent development, Asgore is unable to heal Spamton because he is a darkener :((( )

I think it might have been addressed at one point yeah :0 Maybe something was wrong with Seam and Asgore reached out to help. In which Seam was terrified and Jevil jumped in to protect him. Asgore could see the trauma and tension in the both of them so he carefully backed off.

Later he could hear from Seam about their pasts and why they were afraid of him. Asgore would then try to take steps to.. not..? Be scary to them?? <:D

Spade king could have talked in a very gravely and booming voice. So Asgore is sure to always talk softly and clearly. He is careful to not make any sudden movements around Seam and Jevil. If he's reaching for something near Seam/Jevil he will gently announce what he's doing and make sure they understand before he does it.

Asgore with his hands in his lap: "Seam, I want to grab that bag.."

Seam: *turns "huh?"

Asgore, hands still in his lap: "That bag beside you, I'd like to grab it."

Seam: "oh, okay,"

Asgore then gently reaches for the bag, making sure that Seam can see his hand coming.

Little things like that would really ease Seam and Jevils nerves. And its what made Asgore so trustworthy to them. The fact that he cared so much about their comfort and went above and beyond to make sure they felt safe around him.

Not really a parental figure. He sees Seam as his equal in every way. So like.. he sees him as his brother of the same age.?

@beryl-shade

Oh he didn't lock Seam up in a cell. He just put shackles around his wrists and neck :00

The thing about Jevil is that the bigger the group got, the worse his habits became. And the harder it became to break those habits.. Jevil was the one who collected these people, so they are his responsibility. Giving up his food not just for Seam, but for everyone. Staying awake to keep the fire large and roaring to keep the group warm.

The others try to help him.. but they would have a hard time getting Jevil to listen to them. Telling him he needs to eat, sleep or just relax. He probably wouldn't listen because he's a bit stubborn and is probably riddled with anxiety 24/7.

Although when Asgore came around things got a lot easier.

Asgore is very powerful and has proved his trustworthiness multiple times to Seam and Jevil. So although the royal vibe is off putting.. Jevil trusts him to watch the fire at night and protect the group. Seam has been able to reason with Jevil about the food part a little too.

Jevil: "You need this food more than me. You gotta keep your strength up until we can find someone to break these chains!"

Seam: "Jevil, you consume energy to make those mirrors to other worlds. How are you supposed to keep looking for someone to break my chains, if you're collapsed on the ground, too weak to make another mirror?"

Jevil: "......."

Jevil: *takes ONE bite out of sandwich

I was thinking around 10 years or so..? Maybe more? Haven't really decided :0 And he was able to escape by making a mirror and stepping through it. That mirror basically poked a hole in the walls of the AU and he was able to step out of the AU. Effectively stepping out of his cell and breaking free :}

Also thank you!! :DD

@gracebeth3604

I've completely ignored comments like this recently because I don't wanna deal with all the drama that will surly follow. But you were really polite and very thorough with your evidence.. sooo I guess I might as well answer it now,

I am aware that people use they/them for Seam. But -> my version <- of Seam goes by he/him.

I don't reeallly have a Splatoon AU..? And I haven't played Splatoon in a while- although I do still like it and have made some Splatoon ocs!

These drawings are pretty old. I've been meaning to come back and re-draw them haha <XD

Yeah its okay to tag like that. Like "seam and jevil" or "mario and luigi". That's just tagging them as being in the same post, no big deal 👍

Also no, no art of any kind. If you truly wanna show that you appreciate my work then leave comments. Maybe reblog once in a while or send me an ask. The comments don't have to be anything complex. You could leave a "Looks great!" comment on 50 posts of mine in a row and I will see what you're doing and appreciate it endlessly.

@genericcereal-wastaken

(I most likely will lol XD) Also thank you! I'm glad you love it! :DD

@elegysonnet

Honestly I can see Seam wanting nothing wrapped around/touching his wrists for a while.. even though they need it. But he could accept cold rags being dabbed on the wounds to ease the stinging.

As for what he'd eat? Dude- anything XDD Probably a burger to start. He'd just take a big fat bite and cry about how good it tastes 😭

And yeah! Now that he has his full range of movement he has his cat like flexibility back :}}

When it comes to Seam using his magic? Its hard for a while...

He hasn't used it consistently in so long.. he would be rusty, and probably anxious to use it again. It would take a lot of sparing and gentle guidance from Jevil and probably Asgore to get his grove back.

It would also take time for him to physically heal. Having his body's energy constantly drained has really effected his ability to control his magic. He would need a few weeks of good sleep and hearty meals before he could get his groove back. But he'll get there. With the group/Jevils support, he would eventually be back to the way he was. Equally matched with Jevil. :}

@clevermakercupcake

Thank you!! :}}} 🌻🌻

I don't remember that, did he do that?? Kwazii whyyy that's nasty XDDD

@cupcake-kingdom

Seam is frightened and confused but appreciates the message! XD

Joy. There's just joy and relief everywhere.

There has been a constant anxiety over this group- not just Jevil, that Seam would suddenly collapse and die. Finally succumbing to the chains draining properties.

Now that the chains are off? Seam will heal. He will eat and stay full. He will absorb those calories and turn it into energy. And he will keep that energy. When he sleeps he will wake up feeling rested. He will heal, he will live.

For Seam, it was almost too good to be true. It just, it blew his mind. He was free. He was really free. No more pain, no more aches. No more hunger. His freedom truly starts here. The relief he felt can't be described. He cried, hard. But he also laughed, and for the first time in years, he smiled.

And Jevil? He couldn't speak. He just cried and cried and cried.. He couldn't let go of Seam. He couldn't stop looking at his wrists. Exanimating them over and over again. As if he couldn't truly believe it. All the anxiety, all the worry, all the sleepless nights. They were all over. Seam was gonna live, he didn't have to worry anymore. He couldn't let go of Seam, he couldn't stop shaking, he couldn't stop crying. He couldn't stop smiling.

They will likely leave some kind of permanent scar on Seam yes.. but his floofy orange fur hides the scars around his neck. And the scars on his wrists will be somewhat covered up by his fur. So thankfully they wont really be noticeable. <:)

@nunyabusiness459

Heck yeah. After they cry their souls out together they go and crash for like 6 hours or something XDD

(Also funny username, made me laugh! XD)

WAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! And heck yeah!! Feel free to send me your AU stuff when you're done/ready! I'd love to see it! :}}

@ocinstituterep I imagine he's just reeeeally quiet about sneaking out. My Kwazii doesn't sneak out though he knows better XD

Thank you so much! Also Spongebob has angst??? :00000

Things are mostly better!

Little Red got her knees fixed, Escorts broken down a few times but he's currently in working order! Suburban is stiillll a work in progress... undrivable at the moment- :x

Greenie now takes all 4 limbs to start, Brown is out of the garage and U.M is out of the trailer! Pretty good stuff :}}

(If any of that made sense to you I applaud you for your dedication to my Transformer ocs <XDD)

@skywillow28022

She does exist, although I didn't have any real plans for her.. maybe she was just a gal that the bros knew in passing back on Earth.?

@beryl-shade

I feel like none of them would willing visit that old stage.. expect for maybe Foxy. I feel like Foxy would be a very emotional and tender hearted character. I can see him not wanting to "leave them behind" in a way. He would come back now and then and talk to the stage as if they were standing on it and could hear him. The staff think that Foxy's programming just hasn't properly registered that Chica and Freddy are gone. And in a way.. they're right..

Foxy cant let go of their memory. And despite how much it would ache seeing that empty stage, I can see him coming back to it anyway..

This also means that part of the reason why Bonnie and Foxy clash so much now is that Bonnie is trying to snuff out any memories and feelings of the past. Meanwhile Foxy is wallowing in those memories and refuses to let go.

If any of the four of them had to preform on that stage once again? Oh man. That would hurt. It would kill Foxy to stand in the place of his late friends. He would feel guilty, ashamed.. Monty and Roxy also couldn't handle it. They would be crushed. Monty would likely get emotional and angry. Roxy would want to run and hide her face. Maybe the three of them would find a way to fake a malfunction so they could just get off the stage..

But Bonnie? Man. Maybe he's so overwhelmed that he just goes on autopilot and finishes the performance. Only to have a complete mental breakdown in his room later.. being so close to the memory of Chica and Freddy.. its crippling to him.

@skatermusic

Daww, thank you :}}}

#my response #undertale #deltarune #fnaf security breach #my ocs #splatoon ocs #the amazing digital circus

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atlafan · 10 months

Text

You fucked up again. Just when Harry thinks you've learned from your mistakes, you go and do something ten times as devious. Which is why he's giving you that same glazed over look, the one where he's concocting severe punishments. It's not anger, it's almost exhaustion. It's giving, "how many times do we have to teach you this lesson, old man" from Spongebob. But unlike last time when you accidentally pushed him too far, this was purposeful.

Harry has a grueling job. He works a lot of long hours, he has to deal with idiots all day long, and he cannot stand the other partners at his firm. You were his saving grace. You, who was working as a para-legal just to support yourself while you ran your online jewelry store, started assisting Harry. You'd pull the files he needed. You could type more than 100 words a minute. And you had been so innocent. Not naiive, not a prude, but you were blissfully ignorant, and Harry found that to be very cute. So, when you inevitably started hooking up after one too many long nights together, he opened your eyes to a whole new world of kinky sex. He was so serious about it, explaining that he needed someone to be rough and mean with, but also craving to take care of someone and spoil them with affection. And because he had made you come so hard you cried, you were hooked on him, so you went with it.

You've been together a year now, you live together, and you're thinking of maybe getting a dog soon. You don't report directly to Harry anymore, though. You assist another person in another department. It was the only way you two could date without it being a big deal for the firm.

Tonight is a big night. They're announcing the new junior partners, and since Harry is a senior partner, he gets to pin the two people he's been mentoring. He's actually pretty excited about it, or he was until he saw you step out of the bathroom and back into your shared walk-in closet. He's standing there, half dressed, frozen with fury as he watches you pick out which rings and bracelets you're planning to wear. You double take after seeing the look on his face.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You asked innocently.

"I told you not to wear that dress." He responded lowly.

"You asked me not to wear it, and I never agreed or disagreed. You can't tell me what I can and can't put on my body, Harry."

"You're making me sound controlling, that's not what this is about. You know you look stunning and sexy in that goddamn red dress, and you know it drives me insane because I know for a fact that you're not wearing anything underneath it. That's why I asked you not to wear it. I saw you eyeing it the other day, I should have known."

"I can't wear underwear with this, the fabric is too clingy and I hate having panty lines. It's just a dress. Show some self control."

And that's when the look changed. You swallowed hard and tried not to falter under his gaze. He slowly stalks toward you, still half naked, his abs and other chiseled features fully on display.

"I have plenty of self control." He said as he hooked his arm around your waist, pulling you into him. "And you know better than anyone else that I love showing you off and letting everyone around us know that you're mine and mine alone and that they'll never know you or have you the way that I do." He brings his fingers up to squish the sides of your cheeks. "You have plenty of other dresses. I'd like you to go put a different one, and save this one for my eyes only."

"No." You say through your puckered lips.

"No?"

"No."

"That's final answer?"

"It took me forty-five minutes to get ready, I'm not starting over. The hair and the makeup go with the dress. I'm not changing."

He looked you up and down, smirked, then let you go. You watched him carefully as he pulled his shirt and suit jacket on. You weren't sure what he was going to do, but you're standing your ground on this.

"Babe?" He calls to you from the bedroom, so you leave the closet with your ruby clutch in hand and meet him by his dresser.

"Do you need help with your tie, sweetheart?" You ask ignorantly.

"No, I'm not wearing a tie tonight. I'm doing the open button thing, but thank you for offering. Pull up the skirt of your dress for me."

You furrow your brows but does as he says. He gets down on one knee and starts kissing up your leg. He pulls something out of his jacket pocket and your stomach drops. He hears you gasp, and he looks up at you wickedly.

"I'm going to put this inside you."

"Harry, please, this is a work event, I can't have my come dripping down my legs."

"It won't be come because you won't be coming. I'm going to do as I please with this tonight." He turns the little egg-shaped vibrator on and holds his phone up next to it to pair to the Bluetooth. "Perfect. Alright, spread 'em." He looks up at you, his features turning softer. "Do you need your safe word? It's okay if you'd rather wait until we get home to be punished. I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"No." You smile softly down at him, gently caressing his cheek. "I'm okay, daddy, go ahead."

He kisses the inside of your knee as he works the toy inside of you. He stands back up and taps one of the settings in the app to give you a test vibration to make sure it's working properly.

You're in for a long night.

What puzzled you most was that Harry hadn't done anything to you yet. He didn't turn the toy on in the car. And you've been at the party for an hour already, and he still hasn't done anything. The anticipation has been killing you. Maybe that was his plan all along. You see your boss and roll your eyes as he stuffs his face with shrimp from the raw bar. You hate him. Part of you wanted to wear your red dress tonight because you wanted to show that sweaty hog that he could look all he wanted, but he'd never be able to touch you.

It's when you're taking a sip of your martini while talking to some of the other paras that you feel the toy kick on. It's starts off with little pulsations, then moves along to steady vibrations. You pinch your thighs together as discretely as you can. You're starting to sweat, and you're starting to let little noises out. You're covering them with coughs and whatnot, but after ten minutes of this, you're starting to get uncomfortably wet. It's all so torturous because as good as it feels, you're not getting any external stimulation, which you need in order to come, so this is all just edging. And you love being edged, so even though it's torture, it's also the absolute best.

Harry knows this. He can see it on your face. You two lock eyes, and you pout at him, pleading. He can't resist you for long, not while you're wearing that dress. Before he can get to you, your boss approaches you, which makes Harry stop short. You had mentioned how he had been such a douchebag lately. He wants to watch the exchange.

"You look incredible." Your boss grinned.

"I know." You snap.

"What are you doing wearing a tight thing like that for? It leaves little to the imagination."

In your head, you don't see how that's true. It's a mermaid style halter with an open back, and the front is separated so you can just see the outline of of the inner parts of your breasts. But because it's a gown, there's an air of class to it. Your hair is up, plenty of pieces out in the front to frame your face. You look stunning. There are plenty of women at this party dressed similarly.

"Don't look at me too much, then." You respond after taking a careful sip of champagne. You're sweating while having that stupid toy inside you. You have to grit your teeth and pinch your nails into your palms to stay composed.

"I'm afraid that's impossible. I think you wore this to get my attention, not that you need help in that department."

"You're being inappropriate. I wore this for myself. I like the way I look in it. It's also one of Harry's favorites, so-"

"I can't believe you're still with that guy. He's like a lump on a log. He's only charismatic with his clients, you know?"

"We live together, so I'd like to think I know him pretty well."

"You deserve to be with someone that can make it so you never have to work another day in your life."

"I like working."

"No one likes working."

"I just said I like working."

"You like making jewelry. Wouldn't you rather do that full time?"

"I-" Your breath hitches when you feel the pulsations start to work in tandem with the vibrations. You're going to kill him.

"Are you feeling alright?" Your boss takes one of your hands, but before he can do anything else, Harry comes up and puts his arm around your waist.

"Bill, she really doesn't like it when you touch her. Look at her, she looks like she's going to be sick, so instead of continuing to make her more uncomfortable, why don't you just walk away. You get away with too many things here, but not for much longer."

"Is that a threat?"

"If you want to take it as one, be my guest." His grip on your hip tightens and you can't help but whimper. "Excuse us." Harry's hand moves to the small of your back to lead you out to the coat check room. He gets you in and locks the door behind you. "Are you alright?" He cups her jaw and looks you over."

"Yeah, th-thank you for getting me - shit - away from h-him." You grit your teeth and pinch your eyes closed, bracing your hands flat against Harry's chest. "Please, I can't...I can't take much more of this, it's been almost two hours."

"I know, and you've done so well for me. I'll turn it off and take it out if you tell me why you wore this even after I asked you not to. I know you can put whatever you want on your body. I just like it when you save certain things for me, for us."

"I hate my boss." You say, still bracing yourself against him. "He makes passes at me all the time. I just wanted to torture him a little, to let him know he'll never know what's underneath all this fabric."

"Sweet girl." He tilts your chin up so you'll look at him. "If Joe was being that big of a prick, why didn't you say something to me?"

"I don't want to run to you to fight all my battles for me. I need to be able to lean on myself."

"If he's sexually harassing you, then you should come to me so I can go with you to HR. You know they don't listen unless someone of higher rank complains. It's fucked up, but that's just how it is. I want the culture to change, but it's slow going."

"I know." You cry, almost feeling ready to drool from how worked up you are. "You're not one of the cogs in the machine, and that's one of the many things I love about you, Harry. I'm sorry I upset you by wearing this because I know you're only upset because you just want to rip it off with your teeth"

"That's right." He backs you up against the closest wall, not caring about any of the coats hanging up being knocked to the floor. He kisses you hard and hot, bending at the knee a bit to get a hand under your dress. He moans into your mouth as he slides his fingers through your folds. "You're soaked, beyond soaked."

"Please, daddy, please." You say breathlessly as he plays with you.

"You sound so good when you're begging. Keep going." He nips at your earlobe before licking and sucking at your neck.

"Please, take it out, daddy. Then you can fuck me in here and I'll do whatever you say."

"You'll need to be quiet. I'll have to stuff the toy into your mouth." He brushes your bottom lip with his thumb and you nod. "Need your safe word?"

"No, god no."

He smirks and pulls the toy out of you, pressing down on the button to turn it off. He whimpers when he feels so much of your slick drip out. He puts the toy inside his own mouth first, moaning at the taste of you, then he puts it into your mouth. He hikes your dress up and immediately gets his middle and ring fingers inside of you. You whine around the toy and clutch at the lapels of his jacket as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, beating into your g-spot. The heel of his palm works to ground down against your clit, making your head roll back. He sponges kisses to your throat as you tug at the hair on the back of his head. Your eyes burst open when you feel yourself start to get close. You're going to explode, and you're all of a sudden worried about ruining the jackets in this closet.

"Don't you dare hold back on me. Fuck the jackets, baby, make a mess." He growls, pounding into your harder.

You're moaning uncontrollably around the toy. You start gushing with his fingers still inside of you, and he doesn't let up. You're coming hard and it feels like it's going to be never ending. This is why you like being edged. You'll take a solid sixty-second orgasm over a ton of little quick ones. Harry slows down his pace, weaning you off of him, before taking his fingers all the way out. He sucks them into his mouth as he fixes your dress. He takes the toy out of your mouth and stuffs it into his jacket pocket while you take his fingers to lick and suck on.

"My good girl." He coos, caressing her cheek. "My good, fucking girl." He catches a glimpse of his watch and sucks his teeth. "Shit, we need to go back to the main room. The pinning is going to start soon."

"Okay, just, let me catch my breath." She says. "Daddy, is my makeup all fucked?"

"Only a little." He wipes under your eyes for you. "Still gorgeous as ever."

"Thank you." You wrap your arms around his neck and hug him tight. He holds you close, giving you gentle kisses and whispering sweet words into your ear. "Thank you." You whisper. "Can we go home after the pinning?" You ask as he opens the door and you walk out of the coat check room.

"Eager for daddy's cock?" He grins.

"Always."

#harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #mine #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #blurb #harry styles blurb

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jahayla-parker · 3 months

Note

Hi!! I love your work SO much! I wanted to ask for a Jeremiah Fisher x Fem!Reader (established relationship) lengthy imagine. I want the skinny dipping scene from start to finish with the clothes stealing and stuff. I want the reader to call Jeremiah shaking, sniffling, with tears in her eyes. Then the brothers come and the girls get changed, Taylor and Belly go with Conrad and when they leave Reader has a pain attack and Jeremiah comforts her. Sorry if this is a lot to ask. Love ur writing! Ty!

Rescue Me : Jeremiah Fisher x Reader

Descr: 6.3k wc, y/n is with Belly and Taylor when the other Deb girls steal their clothes while everyone was skinny dipping, leaving her to rely on her boyfriend Jeremiah Fisher to come to her rescue. Hurt comfort, slight angst to fluff

Warnings: Skinny dipping, stealing clothes, fake/mean people, crying, anxiety, betrayal, mentions of being naked (no smut or spicy content), relationship components and such, & cursing. Let me know if I missed anything!

“Put a finger down if you've ever made out with two people within 24 hours of each other,” Taylor said, glancing around at the group of girls.

Gigi, Nicole, and Taylor all lowered a finger as instructed. The girls were circled around the deck of a large boat, hanging out and getting to know each other. It was fairly late but the warm summer weather kept the evening air at Hopper’s Cove still comfortable for now.

After she finished laughing, one of Belly’s debutante friends spoke up. “Okay, put a finger down if you've ever used a stuffed animal to...” she trailed off. “… you know,” the girl concluded boldly.

“His name was Harry Bear Styles,” Taylor defended, putting another finger down.

The girls all laughed as they debated if Taylor having had a name for the bear was normal.

Y/n leaned back against the side of the boat as she took in the way the moonlight reflected on the water beside them. It was a peaceful scene.

“Okay, put a finger down if you've ever had sex.”

“If you've ever been to third?”

“Put a finger down if you've ever gone to second.”

The questions came one after another, hardly enough time for anyone to even comply with the instructions for the first one before the next came. Y/n noticed the way they all seemed directed at Belly, each deb’s eyes staring at her to see if she was putting any down. It wasn’t a surprise to see the debutantes were more interested in Belly’s answers than each other’s; most of them knew each other thoroughly already, but Belly was new to the deb scene. It also came as no surprise that they didn’t seem to care about y/n or Taylor’s answers to their interrogation-like questions; they weren’t debs after all. As far as the girls saw it, Taylor and y/n weren’t even “true” Cousin’s Beach girls since they’d been invited rather than having grown up here.

Y/n and Taylor shared an empathetic expression as the questions weighed in the air. It was clear the debutantes were judging Belly for not having put a finger down to any of the questions. It wasn’t anything Belly should be concerned or ashamed about, much less made to feel that way over. Y/n tried to send the girls a silent look that would make it clear they needed to back off a bit. But, as expected, the debutantes were ignoring y/n completely.

When y/n turned back to look at Taylor, she noticed the look in her eyes. Y/n watched as Taylor silently mouthed “You and Jere?”. She instantly knew what she was getting at. The debutantes were known for having a thing for the Fisher boys; understandably. They also didn’t know y/n well and hadn’t been around her or her and Jeremiah much since they started dating. In fact, it was Belly’s suggestion that y/n get to know these girls better, ideally becoming friend with them, that brought y/n here. Outside of Taylor, the Fishers, and the Conklins, y/n didn’t know anyone in Cousin’s.

The awkward shuffling of Nicole’s feet against the deck of the boat helped y/n refocus on Taylor’s unspoken question. It would be a good change of topic, and Belly clearly could benefit from that. She nodded at Taylor, earning a smile in response.

Taylor smirked as she looked around the boat before side eyeing y/n teasingly. “Put a finger down if you've ever made out with Jeremiah Fisher,” she purred.

When y/n’s ring finger hit the base of her palm, the girls all gasped.

“Wait you two got together?” Dara, one of the debutantes asked, her eyes wide. She leaned forward, arms resting on her legs, visibly intrigued.

The plan had a worked.

“They have been together! Jeremiah has been in love with her for like forever,” Taylor commented happily. As a friend of y/n’s, she’d always been supportive of her healthy relationship with Jeremiah. She shifted her focus across the board and chuckled, “sorry Gigi”.

“No, it’s fine,” Gigi said. Yet, it was clear she was not pleased. She had a newly-present scowl of jealousy on her contoured face. It was no secret she’d long harbored unrequited feelings for the younger Fisher brother.

“I was wondering why he seemed so preoccupied this summer,” Marissa commented, a small smile on her lips.

“And it explains why he’s always staring off at the y/job/station,” Gigi acknowledged, forcing a kind expression to take over her face.

Y/n bashfully bit her lip as she gazed down at her lap. Y/job/station was where y/n had been working for the summer since she needed some extra income and everyone seemed to have some obligation to attend to. She knew her working there was the main reason her boyfriend Jeremiah had decided to actually work this summer instead of just relaxing. He’d said so himself when teasing her about how she wasn’t letting him skate by on his father’s finances anymore. But, had he really been staring over at her while she was working? There was no reason for Gigi to lie about it. And her jealousy about Jeremiah allegedly staring at y/n was blatantly obvious. So, it must be true.

The girls laughed loudly at y/n’s bashful reaction. “You’ve made out with him and this is what flusters you?” Marissa joked lightly, her polite smile showing that she was teasing. The question made y/n even more bashful, only igniting the innocent giggles further.

“So, you’re with Jeremiah?” Nicole asked, redirecting the conversation.

Y/n nodded with a proud smile. “Yeah, we’ve been together for awhile,” she answered softly.

Nicole hummed. She tilted her head as her eyes focused on y/n. “So, you’re probably pretty close to Conrad too then, yeah?” She inquired.

“We’ve all been friends for years,” Belly spoke up as y/n questioningly looked over at Taylor.

Nicole smiled sympathetically at Belly. “Right, but you can’t seem to get a solid answer out of him for me,” she pointed out, not knowing how badly it stung the newest debutante. Nicole shifted her attention back to y/n.

“I’m sorry?” Y/n asked, not caring for how drastically the tone had changed. Or the way Nicole’s interview of her prompted all the debutantes to silence as they visibly waited in anticipation for her answer. She felt Taylor shift closer to her, making her look her way briefly before facing Nicole again.

“Do you think he’s, Conrad, is actually into me,… or?” Nicole asked directly. Her face displayed her embarrassment over having to ask such a thing, especially to someone she barely knew. But, the hopeful look in her eyes simultaneously showed why she wanted to ask.

Y/n swallowed thickly as she mentally reminded herself not to look over at Belly instinctively. “Oh, uh.. I don’t..” she rambled. She slowly glanced at each of the girls and their eager eyes. “I’m sorry… “ she began in a soft shy tone. “I don’t really know those details of Conrad’s life,” y/n said, praying it was enough to stop further questioning.

“Conrad’s a closed book,” Taylor stated with a forced airy laugh.

Nicole signed but nodded.

“Enough about the Fisher boys,” Taylor decided. Her last topic change hadn’t gone the way she wanted. It was time to try again. “Put a finger down if you’ve ever been skinny dipping,” she instructed, lowering a finger as she met Nicole’s stare.

Y/n let out a tiny sigh of relief as the topic successfully changed, Nicole putting a finger down.

“Put a finger down if you've ever gone skinny-dipping at Hopper's Cove,” Nicole amended, holding eye contact with Taylor.

“Is that a dare?” Taylor laughed.

“Absolutely,” Nicole smirked playfully. She turned to see the water outside their boat. “Let’s go,” she hummed, rising from her seat.

“Oh, my God, I knew my boy'd rally!” Steven screamed when Jeremiah showed up to the party.

Jeremiah had been at home upset that y/n had chosen to go out with the girls instead of spending the night with him tonight. But, after thinking it through, and Susannah lovingly scolding him, he got over himself. And what better way to kill time than a party?!

Jeremiah cheered as he dried the dribble of alcohol on his lips. “It's an ice luge! Come try it! Steven, come on!”

“I was so worried it would be freezing,” y/n admitted. She tilted her head back to let the water soak her hair again. “But, it’s not that bad!” She laughed.

Nicole nodded and smiled at y/n. “I know, right?!” She agreed excitedly. “It feels nice actually,” the deb stated confidently.

Taylor stated her agreement and Belly simply nodded before splashing around. The girls’ laughter rang out through the moonlight atmosphere as they continued to enjoy their night.

Gigi jogged down the dock. She began removing her shirt as she laughed at Nicole’s shock of being hit by an unexpected splash from Taylor. “Hey, watch out for jellyfish,” Gigi commented, setting her top next to the other girls’ clothing a foot from the edge of the dock. “I do not want to have to pee on any of you guys.”

Belly laughed loudly. “Ewww,” she gushed, shaking her head.

“The other two girls missed out,” Taylor attested. Y/n nodded silently as she closed her eyes. She focused on the feeling of the water gently caressing her fully-exposed skin as it glided across her. She extended her neck and rested the back of her head against the top of the waves. Since she was nude under the water, she didn’t bring her body up to fully float on the surface. But, she let her legs and hips become slack, allowing the water to raise them slightly beneath the modesty of the water’s surface.

“I know,” Nicole scoffed. She looked over at Gigi as the girl began to remove her pants, wondering what was taking so long. “I figured Dara wouldn't, but Marissa?” She asked rhetorically.

“Yeah,” Taylor agreed. “That's what I thought,” she explained. She had tried to get a feel and understanding of each of Belly’s new friends. Her analysis lead her to the same expectation that Nicole stated having had.

“Nicole!” Gigi called out. She bent down to see the phone screen better after having heard it beep.

“Yeah?” Nicole replied, starting to swim over to her friend.

“Conrad's texting you,” Gigi informed Nicole after seeing his contact name on the screen.

“Okay, coming!” Nicole smiled. She quickened her strokes as she rushed over to see what the message said.

Y/n opened her eyes to look at Belly to see how she was doing over Conrad texting Nicole this late at night.

“This is so nice,” Belly said absentmindedly as she spun around in the water.

“Have to admit Belly, l like your new friends,” Taylor confessed, looking over at y/n for her feedback.

Y/n smiled softly towards Taylor. She wasn’t sure about the girls just yet. She didn’t care for the way Nicole and Belly were in love with the same guy. Not that it was either of their faults, or anyone’s fault per se. But, it felt pretty clear that if things went down, the girls would instantly side with Nicole over Belly. And y/n worried about that for Belly’s sake. But, she was at least happy Belly was still enjoying her night despite Conrad’s interruptive text.

“I knew you would,” Belly smirked smugly.

“They all seem to have moved on about pestering you about things with you and Conrad,” Taylor stated, having looked at the situation with Nicole much differently than y/n had.

Belly hummed carelessly as she spun back to Taylor and y/n. “Because there’s nothing to move on from, right?” She argued, trying to remind herself to resist getting feelings for Conrad again.

“Right,” Taylor nodded happily.

“They seemed supportive of you and Jeremiah too,” Belly stated, smiling at y/n hopefully. It was clear she wanted y/n to like her new friends the way Taylor did. And she hoped this act of support would encourage that.

“Even Gigi,” Taylor murmured quietly, knowing the girl was not too far behind them. “Whose veins just about exploded when she heard,” she added comically.

Y/n giggled and nodded, having seen Gigi’s comical reaction as well. She glanced over towards the dock to see where said girl was, only to not see anyone there. “Uh, guys…-,” y/n began quietly. However, she was cut off when the headlights from Nicole’s car flashed across the water the three of them were still in. She squinted and saw Nicole was driving and Gigi was in the passenger seat. The car had been started and before y/n could even find the words to communicate her observations, the car began to back out.

“I knew they were bitches!” Taylor huffed. She spun sharply, sending waves outwards from her body. She quickly began swimming to the dock.

“What's happening?” Belly asked cluelessly. Her head whipped between y/n and Taylor.

“No, no…. No,” Y/n mumbled, getting nervous.

“Taylor, what's going on?” Belly asked again.

“They took everything,” Taylor explained as she leaned her arm on the dock. “Except for your phone,” she noticed. She picked up the device and realized why Nicole and Gigi had abandoned them. “Which has a really incriminating text from Conrad.”

“Wait, what does it say?” Belly questioned, voice dripping with intrigue.

Y/n hurriedly swam over to the dock. Her wide eyes scanned around them to try to find something they could use to wear home. The girls may have taken all of their clothes and y/n’s phone, but that didn’t mean it was time to give up. There surely had to be a way out of this with some dignity still in tact.

"My mom did ask me to ask you to the ball, but that's not why I did it,” Taylor read aloud. The mocking tone of her voice expressed her sentiments over the text from Conrad. “I did it because I wanted to,” she finished, rolling her eyes.

“Oh my God,” Belly grinned, resting her forearms on the edge of the wooden dock.

“Belly, concentrate,” Taylor scolded. After having seen the look on y/n’s face from her position behind Belly, Taylor frowned. “Y/n, you good?” She asked worriedly.

“Mmmhm,” y/n hummed falsely. “Just thinking about how screwed we are,” she concluded with a loud sigh.

Belly distractedly giggled gleefully as she stared off into the dark sky.

Taylor huffed in annoyance and smacked Belly’s arm.

“What? What? Okay, okay okay, w-well wha-what do we do?” Belly asked after seeing Taylor’s scolding glare.

“I mean, we cannot walk home naked,” y/n pointed out. They were stuck. She couldn’t call anyone without her phone. And they couldn’t walk anywhere without even the tiniest scrap of clothing to wear.

“It could be worse,” Taylor argued hesitantly.

“Taylor,” Belly groaned as she and y/n stared at Taylor in disagreement.

“We’re going,” Taylor determined. She removed herself from the edge of the dock as she prepared to turn and swim to shore.

“What could be worse than this?” Belly rhetorically asked with a loud huff.

“Wait!” Y/n gasped, her eyes landing on a thin layer of material beside the boat they’d been on earlier. It wasn’t ideal, but the large fabric that had been used as a boat cover would make do. “W-what about that?” She asked, pointing over at the dirt covered material beside the abandoned boat.

“Noo,” Taylor whined in a high-pitched voice.

Belly shook her head. “It’s better than being naked,” she said in agreement with y/n. “Let’s do it”.

Y/n bit her lip anxiously when another loud dog began to bark as she, Belly, and Taylor wandered down the dimly lit street. At this point she’d lost count of how many dogs they’d encountered. Yet, each sudden noise had y/n’s nerves soaring.

The trio was huddled together under the dingy and slightly stinky boat cover. Thanks to Nicole and Gigi, they had to walk barefoot down the roughly paved road. The breeze from the late night air had managed to snake its way under and/or through their makeshift coverage so they had curled in on themselves along the way.

“This is so bad. This is bad,” Y/n mumured. She continued to scan the area in order to keep an eye out whatever might be happening around them in the dark.

“I knew those girls were shit,” Taylor complained.

“Okay enough,” Belly sighed. “Okay I get it, you were right”.

Taylor suddenly stopped walking, making y/n and Belly turn to face her. “Why can’t we just call Conrad?” She proposed. “He’s the one who got us into this mess,” Taylor commented.

“I agree,” Y/n said, absentmindedly picking at her cuticles. “We are seriously going to be like murdered or kidnapped or something at this rate,” she panicked.

“No,” Belly groaned dramatically. “Calling Conrad would be too much drama,” she argued.

“I can’t walk two more miles,” Taylor whined, trying to cover her shoulders more with the thin fabric.

“Taylor’s right, let me see your phone Belly,” y/n instructed, extending her hand beneath the curtain of material around her. “I’ll call,” she offered.

“No, you’re both going to have to suck it up,” Belly stated firmly.

“Oh my God!” Taylor whined. She shared an exasperated expression with y/n but trudged on.

Y/n’s frame began to shake. She knew it was a mix between her anxiety and the air hitting her wet skin. The other girls had been going on and on about Conrad being a disaster for playing with Belly and Nicole’s feelings. But y/n was focused solely on trying to keep her breathing and heart rate steady. It was getting to be an increasingly harder job as the sound of some angry man could be heard in background of the street they were.

“Belly,” Y/n pleaded. Her voice crackled, and she had to stifle a sob. When Taylor and Belly quickly looked her way, she sniffled. “Please let me call Jeremiah,” she requested. The desire to attempt to stop her oncoming anxiety attack helped her realize that while she didn’t have her own phone she could use Belly’s since she too had Jeremiah’s number saved.

Belly nodded silently and hurriedly passed y/n the phone.

Y/n walked a few steps to the side, unable to truly distance herself from the girls given they had to share the protection of the boat cover. She scrolled through Belly’s contacts until she found his entry and quickly pressed call. As she placed the phone to her ear to wait, her vision began to blur from the tears in them. This was a disaster.

“Wait, weren’t you out with y/n?” Jeremiah dared to ask the pissed-off-looking Nicole. He was tempted to let her just take his brother aside to talk like she commanded, but he had to know why she wasn’t with y/n and the others anymore.

“I was, she’s still with the girls,” Nicole answered simply. She signaled for Conrad to hurry up. “I just needed to talk to Conrad,” she explained.

Jeremiah sighed in relief now that he knew y/n was still fine and enjoying her night with the girls. He leaned back against the step behind him on the staircase. He tried not to smirk as he watched Conrad reluctantly follow Nicole like a kicked puppy. He loved his brother, but also knew from how much turmoil his brother had been causing Nicole and Belly lately; he had this talk coming.

Conrad and Nicole had just stepped out of the doorway when Jeremiah heard his phone ring as it began to vibrate against his thigh. He lazily reached into his pocket and checked the caller ID. Why was Belly calling? He clicked accept and answered, “hello?”

“J-J… Jere,” y/n whimpered.

Jeremiah’s chest tightened as he heard y/n’s sniffles through the phone. “Woah, babe! Babe, baby, what…” he rambled. He forced himself to take a breath so he could speak coherently. “W-what’s going on? Are you okay?” Jeremiah questioned worriedly.

“N-no,” y/n cried.

“What’s going on Y/n/n? Where are you?” Jeremiah inquired as he jumped up from the stairs and rushed to the door. As he worked his way through the crowd he thought over how much he had to drink. Fortunately had not consumed too much, not enough to keep him from driving safely without having to wait for Conrad -who was the official DD-.

“I…,” y/n choked up, sniffling loudly as she tried to wipe the free-flowing tears from her face. “Jere,” she whimpered, not having heard his voice in a few seconds and her mind too frantic to realize he’d asked her a question.

“I’m here baby,” Jeremiah soothed. “Talk to me, please,” he requested softly.

“I … I need you Jeremiah,” y/n begged. Her hand held the phone painfully tight as her chest shook.

“I’m already on my way to you, babe,” Jeremiah promised lovingly as he started his car. “Just tell me where you are,” he instructed tenderly as he began to back out of his parking spot.

“I… I don’t…,” y/n groaned faintly. “I don’t know,” she confessed shyly.

“O-okay, that’s uhhh.., that’s fine,” Jeremiah reassured as y/n sniffled. “Can you see anything recognizable around you, sweetheart?” He guided.

“N-no,” y/n answered, pointlessly shaking her head. “It… it’s dark,” she explained, her fear ringing out in her words.

“I know,” Jeremiah said as he frowned. The time of day had only added to his worry upon hearing y/n cry as soon he answered the phone. “Tell you what, can you turn location sharing on for Bell’s phone?”

Y/n paused for a moment as a weight in her chest sunk heavily. “Oh, okay, I will, thanks,” she mumbled.

Jeremiah sensed that y/n was planning on hanging up to do as he instructed. He sighed to himself. She clearly wasn’t thinking thoroughly. “Babe, stay on the phone with me, okay?” He advised quickly before she could hang up. “Just put me on speaker while you adjust the settings, yeah?”

“Oh… right,” y/n sniffled. “Duh,” she remarked harshly towards herself as she placed the call on speakerphone.

“Shh, you’re fine y/n/n,” Jeremiah cooed. “You’re doing great.” He gripped the steering wheel tightly as he kept himself from nervously tapping it as he waited. Y/n didn’t need him being in a panicked state as well. She was already struggling. But that was precisely what had Jeremiah so tense and on-edge. He needed to get to his girl.

Y/n could feel that Belly and Taylor had intentionally sat close to her on either side of her as they sat on the curb. No one said anything. After all, what was there to say? After she’d gotten off the phone with Jeremiah, Belly apologized. Y/n struggled to try to reassure her that it wasn’t Belly’s fault. Thankfully, Taylor caught on to y/n’s intentions and conveyed the message before suggesting they all sit as they waited for Jeremiah to arrive.

Y/n stared at the shrubbery and trees across the road from them. It was barely even visible at this hour. But she found their stillness was slightly calming. Plus, it gave her something to focus on rather than ruminating over the multitude of fears that were screaming inside her mind.

As Jeremiah turned onto the street that Belly’s GPS location showed the girls at, he searched the area that was now lit up by his headlights; in search of y/n. He choked on a gasp as his eyes found her. She was draped in a soiled boat cover, her soaked hair dripping down the front of it, her eyes distant and full of tears, and she was visibly trembling. Whether that was from the cold, her emotions, or something else, Jeremiah wasn’t certain. What he was certain of however was that he should’ve gotten here earlier. Sure y/n had Belly and Taylor with her still. But, she was the only one in tears, the only one shaking. They all looked defeated and embarrassed. Y/n was in far worse shape than they were though.

Jeremiah forced out a choppy exhale as he flung his car door open. He only spared Conrad a minimal glance when his car pulled up beside him. But then his eyes were back on his girl. His far too polite, sometimes overly-trusting, lovingly protective, and all around sweet girl. She didn’t deserve this.

“Shit,” Belly cursed under her breath as she and the other girls looked over to the two sets of headlights. “They’re both here?” She asked Y/n accusatorially.

Y/n shrugged and sniffled. She tried to compose herself enough to state her innocence in this change of events. “I…I only talked to Jere,” she defended weakly.

“Belly,” Taylor scolded sharply, elbowing the girl in the side. “Stop,” she sighed. She offered y/n an apologetic expression on behalf of Belly.

“Oh my God!” Jeremiah exclaimed as he sprinted over. “Y/n, sweetheart, are you okay?” He asked. He shook his head, realizing his mistake. Of course she wasn’t okay. “I.. I mean, of course…,” he sighed.

As Taylor and Belly helped y/n stand up with them, he smiled faintly in appreciation. Jeremiah wanted nothing more than to simply hold y/n. To protect her from any further embarrassment, hurt, worry, from anything. But the predicament with their clothing complicated things. The fact the three girls were all sharing a musty old boat cover prevented that from being a viable option right now. Jeremiah used the minimal light of his headlights to scan y/n as much as he could in the dark. He stepped closer and cupped her cheek, tenderly drying a few tears with his thumb.

“What are you doing here?” Taylor sassed. She squinted at Conrad as he approached with a bag of clothes in his right hand.

“Nicole…. Uhhh…” Conrad began cautiously. He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.

Jeremiah moved his hands to y/n’s shoulders. He respectfully made sure his hands didn’t touch any of her exposed skin and instead remained on the loosely wrapped boat cover excess that pooled there. He searched her eyes worriedly as he watched her turn her gaze to Conrad, seemingly wanting to know his answer as well. Jeremiah hummed softly as he craned his neck to look over at his brother.

Conrad glanced around at everyone as they stared at him expectantly. “She told me about ummm…and…,” he mumbled as he waved his hand around towards the girls.

Jeremiah narrowed his eyes at Conrad in question. He still hadn’t heard why the girls were stranded. All y/n said when asking him to come was that she needed him. Even after vying a bit for more information on his drive here, she’d only mentioned their group went skinny dipping and the three of them lost their clothes. He didn’t know where the other girls were, if they’d had their clothes taken too, or what Conrad had to do with all of this. But, the fact Nicole had been so pissed when showing up at the party and the fact Conrad had a bag of what seemed to be the girls’ clothes was damning evidence of a plausible explanation. But Jeremiah couldn’t focus on that right now. He certainly would later. Whoever all was behind making y/n this distraught would certainly be in for it soon. But for now, he needed to simply be there for her.

Jeremiah frowned, his brows furrowed. Y/n’s eyes weren’t on Conrad anymore, but her gaze was distant again. Her shoulders shook under the boat cover beneath his hands. “Sweetheart,” he whispered, moving one hand to her cheek. “Can you look at me?” Not getting anything in response, he tried again. “Y/n, just focus on me okay? I need you to talk to me, please”.

Taylor sighed softly. “It’s been a long night, Jeremiah,” she informed him, not caring to jokingly mispronounce his name the way she normally would. “Can you both just…?” She asked, looking between the boys.

Jeremiah nodded in understanding. He accepted the corner of the cover that Belly passed his way. He nodded his head at Conrad to signal for him to do the same with the other corner. He tried to steady his breathing and calm his anger so that when y/n was done, he could be there for her. He heard the girls stumbling around behind him and Conrad as they tried to dress.

Conrad glanced nervously over at his brother with a shy remorseful expression. He nearly winced when he was met with a hesitant but sharp glare as Jeremiah shook his head.

“You’re so not going with Conrad, right?” Taylor quietly asked Belly, her tone coated in a manner that showed she was instructing Belly rather than asking.

“Taylor,” Belly whispered. When Taylor looked her way, she nodded her head towards y/n as the girl stumbled while she worked to dress herself with shaking hands and presumably cloudy vision from her tear-filled eyes.

Taylor frowned; she felt horrible for y/n. She knew how bad her anxiety had been tonight. She nodded. “Fine, Conrad it is,” Taylor agreed.

“Wh-what?” Y/n asked, feeling eyes on her.

“Nothing,” Taylor smiled softly. “Just saying we’re going with Conrad,” she answered, helping hold y/n steady as she tried putting her shoes on. “You just let your boy take care of you, yeah?” She encouraged.

“Th-tha-thank-,” y/n began, sniffling as she tried to paste on a small smile for her friend.

“‘Course, girl,” Taylor hummed as she squeezed y/n’s clothed shoulder supportively. Seeing that they were all dressed now, she smiled at the girls and nodded for them to turn around. “Okay,” she said, no longer whispering between the girls, this time intending for the boys to hear her so they knew they could lower the cover and face them again.

Jeremiah quickly dropped his side of the fabric and spun around. Once he was facing the girls, he brought his hands up and cupped y/n’s face tenderly. His thumbs delicately swiped away her falling tears as he listened closely to her breathing pattern. “You’re okay, you’re safe sweetheart,” he promised.

Taylor smiled softly. “Take good care of my girl, Fisher,” she encouraged as she and Belly walked towards Conrad’s car.

“C’mere baby girl,” Jeremiah cooed, lowering his hands and opening his arms up for y/n. He squinted when she didn’t move to enter his embrace. “Y/n/n?” He asked.

“Are you mad at me?” Y/n whimpered.

“What?” Jeremiah ask, voice ringing with the sound of his disbelief. “Why in the world would I be mad at you?”

Y/n didn’t respond. She just sniffled and stared at her feet. Her sternum bounced as she tried to keep from breaking into a crying fit.

“You know this isn’t your fault,” Jeremiah murmured, “right?”

Y/n slowly nodded. “B-but I.. I..,” she protested vaguely, her breathing becoming more erratic.

“Aye, aye, aye, breathe,” Jeremiah instructed softly, taking y/n’s shaking hands in his. “Take a breath, love”.

Y/n sniffled as she unconsciously squeezed Jeremiah’s hands as she tensed. “I.. chose to spend time with them instead of-,” she mumbled.

“Ahh,” Jeremiah whispered to himself in realization. She was worrying about how they had a small disagreement over their plans for tonight. “Nah, nah, no, shhh,” he soothed. He rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumbs. “That doesn’t matter,” Jeremiah promised warmly.

“Jere-,” y/n protested.

“No babe,” Jeremiah said as he shook his head. “You haven’t had much girl time lately, I just got jealous of sharing your time, and you,” he blushed.

Y/n smiled weakly but genuinely. “But…,” she continued, her racing thoughts having taken over her mind by now. “S-still I … I left to see them, and then had to interrupt your night, and-”.

Jeremiah curled the left corner of his mouth towards as he gazed lovingly at y/n. “You can interrupt my night any time y/n/n, you know that. I don’t mind,” he told her.

Y/n sniffled, her eyes slowly finding their way to meet Jeremiah’s gaze. “But I…, it was your day off too, and I,” she hiccuped. “I ruined your evening, and all because I was too naive to-”. .

“Shhh, no. You’re not naive, they’re just mean girls,” Jeremiah defended. He softly pulled y/n’s hands closer to him. “You got caught in Conrad’s mess. I’m so sorry for that, honey, I am,” he frowned.

“Jere, ‘s not your fault,” y/n murmured.

Jeremiah gave y/n a grateful faint smile. “I know, but still, I-” he began.

“No, Jere,” y/n argued. Her breathing picked back up. She didn’t mean to make Jeremiah feel bad over this. She sniffled as she felt her nose run. “It-it’s n-n-,” she rambled.

“Okay, okay,” Jeremiah nodded. He delicately pulled y/n’s shaking body to his chest. “Oh and by the way, Y/n,” he said, her name coated in love. “You could never ruin my evening,” he attested.

“That’s it,” Jeremiah encouraged. He stared down at y/n as she continued to cling to his shirt. “You’re doing great,” he whispered. They were still on the street that he’d driven to when trying to find her earlier. She’d slipped into a full-blown panic attack moments after the other girls were in Conrad’s car.

“N..no,” y/n argued in a hushed voice. Her grip on the fabric of Jeremiah’s shirt intensified as she tried to catch her breath. “I still c-can’t b-bre-”.

“Yes you can,” Jeremiah promised, brushing y/n’s hair back from her face. It was true. She was breathing… shallowly… but still, she was getting air into her lungs. It was the only positive thing Jeremiah was clinging onto right now. “I wouldn’t dare let you sit here with me like this if you weren’t,” he pointed out warmly.

“F-feel,” y/n whimpered. She shifted off Jeremiah’s lap, the grass under him tickling her leg as she moved. She took hold of one of his hands and lifted it up. She placed his palm over the fabric covering the left side of her upper chest.

Jeremiah frowned as he felt just how fast his girlfriend’s heart was racing. He obviously already knew it was beating faster than normal. But, feeling it himself and seeing how desperate y/n was to make him understand why she felt she couldn’t breathe was a whole other matter. He sighed sympathetically. “Oh baby,” he cooed.

“Just lean on me sweetheart,” Jeremiah instructed when y/n returned to his lap in order to hold onto him again. “I’m here,” he hummed, y/n’s head burying into the crook of his neck, “I’m here”. Jeremiah closed his arms around y/n’s back and held her to him. Maybe if he could hold her tight enough, she’d realize she was safe and secure. He needed her to know that. She didn’t need to be afraid anymore. He just wanted her to see that. To believe that.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jeremiah told y/n. He rested his chin on her shoulder, tucking her under him even more. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you baby, I promise,” he declared softly. “You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe,” Jeremiah echoed, listening to the way her breathing calmed in sync with his reassurances.

“What is it y/n/n?” Jeremiah questioned lovingly as he glanced over at her from the drivers seat. He’d felt her eyes on him and when he looked her way, he saw he’d been correct.

“Just.. Thank you,” y/n answered with a soft smile.

Jeremiah smiled and shook his head. He peaked back at the street to enter the long straight strip of road was still clear. As his eyes once again found y/n, he sighed fondly. “You don’t need to thank me”.

Y/n shrugged and chuckled quietly. She bit her lip bashfully when she saw the way her laugh brought out Jeremiah’s characteristic grin. “I’m thanking you for coming to rescue me, whether you accept it or not,” y/n stated.

Jeremiah chuckled as his eyes playfully widened before looking back at the road. “Was that a threat?” He teased and squeezed y/n’s hand.

“Mmm, if it needed to be,” y/n giggled in defense.

Jeremiah’s smile grew as he listened to y/n’s laughter. “I love you,” he vowed, looking her way as he pulled up to the last stop sign before they were home. He nibbled on his bottom lip with smug giddiness. He was pleased she was feeling much better. But he was truly proud he’d been able to turn her night around and make her smile so excitedly after everything she had been through tonight.

“I love you too, Jere,” y/n hummed, squeezing his hand tightly. “My handsome, bubbly, knight in shining armor,” she complimented, beaming proudly when he blushed. She rested her head calmly against the headrest with a tranquil sigh as Jeremiah pulled in the driveway.

“Let’s get you to bed so you can sleep, hmm?” Jeremiah suggested, putting the car into park. He quickly exited the car and rushed to the passenger side before y/n could exit. “Did you want to sleep in my room tonight?” He offered as he opened the door for her.

Y/n nodded gratefully and let Jeremiah help her out of his car. She leaned against him as he wrapped himself around her from the side to walk with her. She yawned and quickly covered her mouth with her hand. Y/n smiled up at Jeremiah when she felt him kiss the top of her head as he opened the door to the beach house. She was home and safe. Not just because they’d made it back to Susannah’s house. But because she had Jeremiah, because she was in his arms, guarded by his protective love and affection.

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