#like please i’m just trying to get to a fucking funeral. please
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‘CAUSE GIRL, YOU EARNED IT
୨୧ featuring: zhongli, alhaitham, wriothesley, neuvillette, tartaglia x fem reader
ଘ cw: smut, gangbang, intoxication kink, spanking, edging, pet names, oral sex, nipple play, handcuffs, fingering, choking, praise kink, degradation kink, rough sex, double penetration, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, breeding kink, creampie, dumbification
୨୧ synopsis: guilty of negligence
ଘ wc: 4.4k
It was a peaceful night, rain was falling outside, lullying nature into serene sleep. And here you are, fixing your lingerie that was practically nothing more than decoration on yourself. A bit of lipstick and you were done. You took a look at yourself in the mirror, pleased with how utterly gorgeous you looked. You couldn’t wait. It had been so long since you last saw him that you were ready to devour every piece of him the moment he stepped inside your house. You counted the seconds, trying to calm your excited heart, but it was in vain. Before the sound of your doorbell could even fathom to fully reach your ears, you were running to the door, putting on your silk robe to avoid becoming a spectacle for any potential passer-by.
Five pairs of eyes were looking at you and you could only stand there and stare at them with widened, shocked eyes. They were equally if not more confused than you were. And it finally dawned on you; you had accidentally arranged to meet all of them on the same day, at the same time. Your mouth opened and closed, as you found no words to explain the situation to them. What were you supposed to say, anyway? You stepped aside, letting them come inside to the warmth of your house, feeling bad for letting them spend a few more minutes at the cold of your porch.
They settled in your living room, averting their curious gazes back at you. You felt your cheeks blushing by this predicament you had bestowed upon yourself over your own carelessness. Their intense gazes that travelled upon your body, taking in every little detail like starved men, had you wrapping your arms around yourself, suddenly being too self-aware of the few garments you were wearing.
“I-I’ll bring you some h-hot beverages to warm y-yourselves,” you suggested, making haste into the kitchen.
And as you were panicking, trying to think of ways to deal with the situation at hand, the gentlemen in your living room became acquainted with those they weren’t. Zhongli, Wangsheng Funeral Parlour’s Consultant. Alhaitham, Sumeru’s Akademiya’s Scribe. Neuvillette, Fontaine’s Chief Justice. Wriothesley, Lord of the Fortress of Meropide. Tartaglia, the Eleventh of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. They didn’t really seem to mind your stalling in the kitchen. On the contrary, the five of them started talking amongst themselves, starting with Neuvillette, who was clearly surprised to meet Tartaglia once more.
You couldn’t make up what they were talking about, but you could hear their lively chatter. Of course, none of them was mad or angered by the others’ presence. You were just good friends with all of them; good friends that occasionally fucked each other, but that’s just your way to keep your friendship interesting. They were, however, caught off guard by the rest, as were you, yet they seemed to have moved past it.
You didn’t know what to do. How were you supposed to send them home when they had cleared their schedules for the night just to meet you? I’m so stupid! You mentally cursed at yourself, as you started preparing some tea. Getting them to leave was already a nearly impossible task, let alone now that they seemed to be getting along. You dreaded the thought of going back there. You dreaded the thought of having to explain how all of them showing up at your door tonight was an accident, a careless mistake you made and failed to realise till they had all arrived.
As the tea was being prepared, you went through your cupboards, taking out various snacks to go along with the tea. You were almost moving like a robot that needed its joints to be greased. You could even hear the faint sound of screeching each move of yours made. It’s going to be alright, you attempted to calm yourself down. They’ll just have some tea and then they’ll leave… Or at least that’s what you wanted to happen. I won’t have to explain how I messed up our meeting schedule tonight… Wishful thoughts that barely managed to help you.
Soon enough, you returned to the living room, bringing them the tea and snacks. To say that you felt as awkward as one could feel at the moment was an understatement. And yet, the men in your presence paid no attention to it, as they helped themselves with a cup of tea, continuing their conversation. You were just sitting on an armchair, watching them converse as if they had been called to a tea party from the start, not that silly little you had by accident invited them all over.
“And here I was thinking that this was all just a mistake on your part,” you heard Alhaitham say a little louder in order to catch your attention.
Pulled out of your thoughts, you turned to look at him, tilting your head in confusion as to what he meant. You noticed his heavier breathing, the way he seemed as if his body was on fire. He appeared calm, but oh that boner of his told another story. A quick look around and you saw the rest of them being in a similar state. Your eyes fell on the chocolate bites among the other snacks. Fuck—
“Come here.”
You took a moment to look at Neuvillette. Even in this state of arousal, he spoke in that authoritative voice of his, the one he always uses when commanding order in the courtroom. You gulped and hesitantly walked towards him. With a swift move of his, you found yourself sitting on his lap, the Chief Justice already untying your robe.
“We all got the impression that perhaps this was just a… Misunderstanding.” He caressed your cheek, looking at you fondly, despite the serious tone of his voice. “Did you perhaps plan this in advance? Bringing us here, then giving us chocolate laced with an aphrodisiac?”
“Should I perhaps arrest you now, little kitten?” Wriothesley whispered in your ear, biting your earlobe right after.
“I suggest she receives punishment for her criminal actions.” Tartaglia was now standing in front of you, smirking, as he held a piece of chocolate to your lips.
“B-But I-I didn’t do it on purpose—”
“Negligence is still a crime, love.” Neuvillette kissed your cheek. “And even if we were to believe your claims, the evidence works against you.” His hand slipped down your open robe, rubbing your folds. “Wearing such revealing lingerie and getting wet at the mere sight of us being aroused… Tsk tsk tsk.” He shook his head. “You’re as guilty as you can be, love.”
Tartaglia slipped the chocolate into your mouth, looking at you as you munched on it and swallowed it. He smirked, caressing your chin softly, before crushing his lips on yours, kissing you impatiently, hungrily, desperately. Alhaitham and Zhongli approached you as well, ridding you of the only garments you were wearing, leaving you completely naked under their ravenous gazes. They were trying their best to keep themselves in control and not rip you apart; their eyes betrayed it.
It didn’t take long for the aphrodisiac to kick in your system nor for the carnal desire to overtake your body. You were lying on Neuvillette’s chest, squirming and moaning and meowing, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. His left hand was holding your arms behind your back, whilst his right one was tending to your clit, his fingers rubbing your sensitive bud with utmost expertise. Wriothesley was kneeling in-between your legs, holding them open with his strong arms, as he feasted upon your delectable cunt, tasting your arousal and letting out low growls.
On your left side was Zhongli and on your right was Alhaitham. They were leaving kisses all over your exposed body, massaging your breasts with one hand and pressing you down with the other. Their mouths were tending to your nipples, sucking on them as they watched you writhe in pleasure by all those men paying attention to you. Tartaglia emerged from behind the couch, caressing your cheek and averting your gaze to him. Leaning down, he buried himself in the crook of your neck, kissing and licking and biting you all over. Your body arched at their touch, your moans only urging them further.
Wriothesley let out a guttural growl, licking every drop of your arousal. He could barely keep your spasming body still, as you moaned out in pure ecstasy from your orgasm. All of them smirked, feeling you convulsing, looking like you’ve just entered heaven. Neuvillette slapped your cunt, earning a whimpering moan from you.
“Did you like it that much, love?” Neuvillette asked you.
“Of course she did, right, kitten?” Wriothesley smirked, licking over your cunt.
“Her moans confirm that, don’t they, dear?” Zhongli kissed your neck.
“Oh, poor baby, you aren’t tired yet, hm?” Alhaitham cooed in your neck, gently biting down over one of Tartaglia’s bites.
“Oh no, no! We can’t have you getting tired so early, darling.” Tartaglia kissed your lips. “The fun’s just starting.”
You were lost in your sweet haze for a moment, watching them change their positions. Neuvillette pushed himself up, sitting now on the couch, rather than lying. Alhaitham caught your hands and pulled you forward. Your bare cunt was sitting oh so perfectly on the Chief Justice’s clothed crotch, making him let out a low moan, as your arousal was drenching him. You hissed, looking down at Wriothesley who bit your tit, folding tightly the other in his fist. Alhaitham caught your chin, averting your attention back to the three men standing before you.
You watched them get undressed, their cocks springing free from the constraints of their pants, hard and desperate for attention. Tartaglia and Zhongli took your hands, placing them on their shafts, moving them along their lengths, before allowing you to continue on your own. Alhaitham stroked his cock, bringing it to your lips. He smirked as you obediently opened your mouth and took him in, your lips wrapping perfectly around his girth, a low groan leaving his lips.
“That’s it, baby,” Alhaitham moaned, his head falling back.
“So desperate,” Tartaglia mocked, watching how you eagerly moved your head up and down, taking as much of the Scribe’s cock in your mouth as you could. The Harbinger let out a moanful groan the next moment, as you stroked his cock and used your thumb to smear the tip with his cum.
“If you wished for all of us, dear, you should have said so sooner,” Zhongli breathed, catching your hair in a nice ponytail.
The three of them took turns having you please them with either your skilled hands or your warm mouth. First was Alhaitham, who let you suck him off at your own pace, relishing the cute gleam in your eyes as you looked up at him. He mumbled a couple curses under his breath, while he kept telling you how good you looked with his cock in your mouth, how good you made him feel. His whole body tensed, his grip on his waist tightened, as he let out a moan, cumming in your mouth.
“Good girl,” Alhaitham praised, kissing your lips tenderly, before standing up.
Zhongli was the one to occupy your mouth next. Even after all the times you’ve had sex with him, your mouth was still not accustomed enough with his girthy cock. You choked on his shaft, tears welling up and falling from your eyes in streams. The former Geo Archon cupped your cheek gently, wiping away your tears with his thumb. He looked at you affectionately, encouraging you to take your time. He groaned and grunted, feeling your tongue swirl over and over again over that one specific vein, having him lose his mind and coming undone.
“Perfect as always, dear,” Zhongli whispered in your ear.
And last but definitely not least, it was Tartaglia’s turn. You braced yourself, knowing him all too well to be certain that he wasn’t going to be as gentle as the two before him. He allowed you a moment to tend to him on your own, before kneading your hair in a ponytail and forcing you on him, his cock hitting the back of your throat. New tears welled up in your eyes. You looked up at him, noticing how big his smirk grew, as he continued fucking your mouth.
“You’re such a pretty little whore, darling,” Tartaglia moaned.
Your body jolted at the sudden smack that Neuvillette landed on your ass, gently caressing the spot right after. Wriothesley spanked you as well, making you moan on Tartaglia’s cock that was ruthlessly thrusting into your mouth. Neuvillette held your body in place, his grip almost bruisingly tight, whilst he grinded his hips against your drenched cunt, earning more muffled moans from you.
“Look at you being all blushed, love,” Neuvillette cooed in your ear, landing another hard smack on your reddened by now ass.
“I bet you’re feeling lonely down here.” Wriothesley smirked at you, raising his head from your titties, his hand slipping down and rubbing your folds in-between your bare cunt and Neuvillette’s clothed crotch.
“Oh fuck—” Tartaglia reached his limit, unleashing his hot seed in your mouth, as his head fell back. He kept your head in place, his cock still deeply buried in your throat, until you had swallowed everything.
Pulling out, he left you gasping for air, your chest rising and falling rapidly in your attempt to regulate your stolen breath. Tartaglia caught your chin and pulled you to your feet, crushing his lips on yours. Wriothesley came behind you, biting your nape and smirking as you moaned. He grabbed your hands and handcuffed them behind your back. He smacked your ass once more, then undressed and assumed a seat next to Neuvillette who had also discarded his clothes. You felt Alhaitham’s arms wrapping around your body from behind, him leaving marks all over your shoulder and nape.
Alhaitham caught your hair and pulled you away from Tartaglia, biting your earlobe as you whined. He turned you to face the Fontainian duo, bending you over. Neuvillette and Wrothesley slapped their hardened cocks on your cheeks, looking at you with the authority you’d expect stemming from their positions as Chief Justice and Lord of the Fortress of Meropide. You choked back a scream, feeling Alhaitham suddenly penetrating you from behind. You turned over your shoulder to look at him for just a moment, only for Wriothesley to grab your chin and avert your attention back to them.
“Get to work, kitten,” he barked, his sharp canines visible through his smirk.
“Or are you perchance planning on leaving us in this torturous state?” Neuvillette asked you, the straining of his hard cock evident on his face.
And whilst the Scribe was obliterating your cunt, Tartaglia and Zhongli were stroking themselves, looking at you getting fucked before them like the little slut you were. They landed a few slaps on your ass and grabbed your titties harshly, while you started tending to Neuvillette, licking up a few strides on his shaft. Your tongue swirled around the tip of his thick cock, sucking it in your mouth. His eyes closed for a moment, revering in the sensation of you slowly taking all of him in your mouth. You gagged, trying to accommodate him in your tight throat. But Neuvillette was already long lost in pure ecstasy, head thrown back and breathy whimpers escaping his lips.
You whined as you felt Alhaitham pull out of your cunt, your muffled sound sending vibrations on his cock. You were so close to feeling that euphoric rush course through your veins, only for him to deny it. You attempted to release Neuvillette and complain about Alhaitham’s unacceptable behaviour, only for Wriothesley to force your head down, tears falling from your eyes, as his action caused Neuvillette to sharply hit the back of your throat.
“Don’t stop now, kitten. Don’t tease him like that, not when he’s so close to cumming.” Wriothesley gently rocked your head, helping you ease up and continue your work. “You never know. He might even accuse you of disrespecting him. And oh my, it’s a serious crime to disrespect the Chief Justice. Once sentenced, you’ll be sent to the Fortress of Meropide.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you, kitten.”
“Don’t— Don’t speak nonsense, Wriothesley,” Neuvillette breathed heavily.
Alhaitham only smirked, seeing you at Wriothesley’s mercy. He slapped your dripping cunt once, licking your arousal off his fingertips, while his ears feasted on your muffled moans. Tartaglia leant over your bent form, leaving soft kisses on your shoulder, as his fingers rubbed your drenched folds, laughing devilishly at the slight trembling of your legs. He slipped his fingers inside your tight cunt, thrusting them roughly. He relished the image of your convulsing body, your cunt coating his fingers with your slick. And yet he sadistically stopped right before your impending release.
Tartaglia removed his fingers momentarily, before burying his cock in your velvet walls. He held onto your waist, slamming your hips on him, moaning in pleasure as he ripped your body in half. Neuvillette tensed in your mouth, painting every inch of your throat with his sweet cum. He caressed your hair softly, smiling lovingly at you, his eyes glued to your tear-stained face with his cock still in your mouth. Wriothesley finally let go of your head, allowing you to pull back and catch your breath.
“Are you having fun, kitten?” he asked, gently caressing your cheek.
“Mmmm…” You nodded. “T-This is… So much better than I could… Ever imagine…” You smiled. “Ah, wait— No!” you whined. “Tartaglia, please—” you cried.
So close, yet so far away. The Harbinger pulled out of your drenched folds, leaving you just as unsatisfied as Alhaitham had. Your body was burning with a carnal urge for release, yet they didn’t seem to be willing to give it to you. You watched Zhongli lean over you, massaging your breasts and kissing a tear away from your cheek.
“Zhongli… Please…” you begged him.
He refrained from replying to you. Zhongli rubbed the tip of his cock on your soaked folds, coating it in your slick, before thrusting into your cunt that immediately tightened around him, desperate to reach that sweet high. Contrary to the other two, the Geo Archon switched to a slower pace, even though his thrusts remained as rock solid hard as ever. The room was filled with your slutty moans, as well as the sounds of Zhongli forcefully smashing his hips on yours, abusing and stretching your cunt in a way that sent you over to cloud nine.
Wriothesley grabbed your chin, turning you to face him. He slipped his thumb in your mouth, watching you suck on it ever so willingly. “Stick your tongue out,” he ordered and you obeyed without a second thought, feeling too fucked out to raise any objections. He slapped his hardened cock on your tongue a few times, before sliding it all in. He grabbed your hair and guided your movements, growling in utter bliss at the magic of your tongue. He was struggling not to thrust up. You knew, because his grip on your hair only tightened. Ultimately, though, Wriothesley grew too desperate for release, pounding up straight to your throat, feeling you gag around him, before he unleashed his seed in your mouth.
You thought that this time, this time for sure, you were going to experience that blissful feeling that had your mind go blank. You had only yourself to blame for getting your hopes high, as you were disappointed by Zhongli pulling out of you when your orgasm was just around the corner. You were whining and complaining and they were all just watching you amused, barely able to keep themselves from destroying you.
Zhongli lifted you in his arms, carrying you to the armchair you were previously sitting on. He sat down with you on his lap. He kissed your lips, holding your head in place, feeling you shift on his lap. Alhaitham had come, standing behind you, holding one of your legs open, Zhongli holding the other. The Scribe’s fingers thrusted into your drenched cunt, the squelching sounds filling the room. The other three watched you intently squirm and convulse over the Geo Archon’s body, as your much awaited orgasm was here at last.
Alhaitham wrapped his hand on your neck, turning you to him, as he leant down to lazily kiss your lips. Zhongli aligned his cock with your cunt and thrusted in. You suddenly broke the kiss, whimpering, seeing Tartaglia penetrate your cunt as well, rubbing against Zhongli. You were struggling to accommodate them both in your tight cunt, whimpering and crying and writhing all over Zhongli’s body. Alhaitham kissed you again, running his fingers soothingly along your trembling body. Your mind was slowly fucked out, every single thought fading in the abyss, but from the single one focusing on the two of them pounding into you.
“Mmmm… Yes! Yes!” you moaned. “Oh, fuck!”
“What a naughty little girlie~” Tartaglia cooed, smirking.
Neuvillette and Wriothesley were standing on either side of you, stroking their cocks, massaging or slapping your titties from time to time and rubbing your clit, earning some high pitched moans and screams from you.
“Please, don’t stop!” you begged, once more on the edge of another release. “Oh Archons, please, don’t stop!”
And you were so thankful that they didn’t. Your cunt tightened around them, convulsing around their throbbing cocks, your slick coating them. They soon followed after you, cumming into your velvet walls, your mixed arousals dripping down your thighs. Mere seconds later, your body was covered in the cum of the other three men, painting over the marks they had already left all over you.
They all took a moment to just glance and be mesmerised and bewitched by your beauty. Your makeup was ruined, yet you looked just as breathtakingly pretty as ever. Your lipstick was smudged and there were lipstick stains in every part your lips had touched on their bodies. Your hair was dishevelled and drenched in sweat, just like your body. And oh fuck… The sight of your cunt clenching around Tartaglia’s and Zhongli’s cocks, stuffed to the brim with cum that slipped out and down your thighs was enough to get them all hard all over again.
Tartaglia slowly pulled out, strings of cum glistening on his cock, whilst Zhongli remained deeply sheathed in your cunt. You were resting your head on his shoulder, watching them drunk-dazed change positions. Neuvillette positioned himself in-between your legs, which were held open by Wriothesley and Alhaitham. Tartaglia was standing behind you, choking your neck and sliding two of his fingers into your mouth, as he nibbled down your earlobe. Your head pressed hard against Zhongli’s shoulder, your back arching, as Neuvillette dived into your sensitive cunt as carefully as ever.
Tartaglia was choking back your moans, your eyes glued to the man in front of you whose cock was drilling into you, ripping you in half. Neuvillette leant over you, kissing your lips, as both he and Zhongli continued fucking your slutty hole that creamed harder and harder all over them. There was not a single thought in your mind. You were a bubbling little mess, moaning and whimpering and begging “mmm, more, more!” and crying “oh fuck, it feels so good”. They were all looking at you, smirking at the little whore you were for them. And oh they adored it.
Your moans and whimpers and pleads and cries stirred something within the two men who were quite literally fucking you dumb. You screamed in pure bliss, Zhongli and Neuvillette pounding now into you as if their lives depended on it; as if the harder they thrusted, the longer their satisfaction would be prolonged. If they were honest, you just drove them mad, sending them over the edge of insanity with those sounds you made, forcing them to make haste into chasing after the euphoric feeling of cumming into those perfect, pulsating walls of yours. Your lips parted to moan thank yous, as the two of them poured their seed deep in your cunt.
This time, you were not allowed not even a second of respite. Neuvillette carefully picked you up from Zhongli’s lap. He was holding you tenderly in his arms, contrary to the desperate lust that gleamed in his eyes. Your body jolted, feeling Wriothesley’s soft lips kiss the nape of your neck. He took your handcuffs off, caressing your arms and peppering your shoulder with kisses. Neuvillette took your hands and wrapped them around his neck, his hands travelling down to your waist.
“Hold on tightly, love.”
Before you could even understand what he meant, you yelped surprised, as Neuvillette and Wriothesley lifted you in their arms. Your grip around his neck tightened, making him chuckle. You felt them both slowly penetrating your cunt, a low whimper escaping your lips, as your walls engulfed them in a tight hug.
“Even after being fucked all these times, your cunt is still greedy for more.” Wriothesley bit your neck. “What a little whore you are, my kitten.”
“Mmmm~” you meowed, unable to form a single sentence.
They ravaged your cunt, spilling out all the cum that had been stuffed in it. Their grips on your body were bruisingly tight, coming in complete contrast with the softness of their lips that burnt you fiercely wherever they touched. Wriothesley was biting all over your neck, sadistically wanting to draw out those gorgeous screams of yours that were music to his ears, making him harder and harder.
“You’re doing so well, love,” Neuvillette praised with that moaning voice of his. “Taking us both so well… Such a good girl…”
“Mmmm, yeah…” Wriothesley agreed. “Such a good slut…”
You were lost between Neuvillette’s praises and Wriothesley’s degradation. You caught a glimpse of the other three men who were watching you with utmost concentration, the three of you having captured their full attention, them jerking themselves off at the show you provided. Wriothesley choked your neck, turning you to look at Neuvillette, who crushed his lips on yours. You were tightening and pulsing around them, urging them to obliterate your greedy little cunt like never before. And you had no objection to that.
© strawchocoberry — do not copy, repost, translate or reuse my work
#୨୧｡˚₊♡꒰ strawchocoberry ꒱♡₊˚｡୨୧#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact smut#zhongli#zhongli x reader#zhongli smut#alhaitham#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham smut#neuvillette#neuvillette x reader#neuvillette smut#wriothesley#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley smut#tartaglia#tartaglia x reader#tartaglia smut
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swipe right — k. bakugo x fem! reader
✮ a/n: i remember seeing a post on here a long time ago about a character making a fake tinder profile for their gf and realizing how many people want her. (if someone knows the OG post please lmk so i can link it!) so now i present to you: bakugo falling to his knees in the middle of your apartment bedroom for the exact same reason.
✮ content/warnings: dubcon, quirkless/college! au, jealousy, possessiveness, breeding, creampie, unprotected sex, cum eating, cunnilingus, overstimulation, praise, biting, bkg gets a little rough with you, and bkg's also a fucking simp but when do I ever write him as being otherwise??
✮ summary: your boyfriend decides to make a fake tinder profile for you just to see how many matches you get. he comes to a realization just how many other people want what’s already his.
✮ word count: 4.2k (i'm so sick)
Bakugo can remember how this all started. In very vivid detail, actually. He remembers because Kaminari had pissed him off so much to the extent that it took him a very substantial amount of effort to refrain from bashing his friend’s face in.
It all started during the last monthly hangout amongst Bakugo and his friends— one day out of the month designated to make sure that they all had time to catch up with one another despite their busy schedules.
Everything was normal, with all of them getting more than enough of their fill of food and alcohol while idly playing video games and talking about random topics to fill in the silence in Kaminari’s living room.
Perfectly normal, until Denki decided to open his stupid mouth, at least.
He goes off on a tangent about a trend he saw on social media where someone makes a fake Tinder profile for their partner to see how many matches they’d get. He proceeds to tell Bakugo that he should try doing it, for “funsies,”— to which Bakugo scoffs at.
“Aren’t you curious, Kacchan?” Kaminari smiles cheekily, wrapping an arm around his blond friend’s shoulders, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Bakugo’s becoming visibly more upset with every passing moment.
“Your girlfriend is really pretty,” Mina chimes in, sticking her tongue out when Katsuki whips his head to glare at her. “I’m still surprised she’s with a grump like you.”
Kaminari butts in, “I bet there’s a whole line of guys around the block just waiting for a chance to get with her. I mean, just look at her! Hell, I’d even let her peg m—”
For a moment, Bakugo swears he wants to bash Kaminari’s face into his flatscreen. And for a moment, he lets that impulsive thought win— getting up and grabbing two fistfuls of Denki’s shirt before promptly getting cut off by Kirishima.
“Alright alright,” Kirishima forcibly pries Bakugo off of the other blond, pushing him off to the side. “That’s enough, you two. Kaminari was just messing around. I’ll admit, it wasn’t a good joke, but no need to hurt the guy, okay Bakugo?”
Kirishima knows that Kaminari wasn’t being that serious, but Kirishima can also admit that what he had to say held some ounce of truth. And Kirishima knows Bakugo well enough to see how your boyfriend tends to be rather skittish and protective with matters concerning you— which is exactly why Eijiro had to stop him before it was too late. He really didn’t feel like preparing for Denki’s funeral or helping hide Katsuki escape from a homicide charge.
And that was that…up until a few minutes ago.
Katsuki’s tried to forget that conversation. But try as he might, his mind betrays him and can’t help but wander back to what Denki said that night.
He trusts you of course, and has complete faith in your relationship. However, he’s curious to a fault, just about perhaps too curious for his own good.
How badly could this end?
As it turns out, this whole scheme seems to be playing out very poorly.
Dozens of photos of you— screenshotted from your social media accounts— fill Katsuki’s screen. He had to choose photos you uploaded yourself, because most of his photos of you were either too…suggestive or too domestic (and he wants to be the only one to see you in those moments).
He swipes through “your” profile one last time before clicking “done” to officially put you on the market. And just like that, Bakugo’s met with the faces of men who are nowhere near your level. He goes through the batch of profiles, scrutinizing each one he comes across. He’s (un)surprisingly selective with the ones he chooses to swipe right on— making sure that they’re at least somewhat conventionally attractive. To his surprise (or dread, rather), his phone pings right away with a notification from someone who swiped back. Another ping. A message.
You free tonight?
Bakugo scoffs. He looks through the guy’s profile— a picture of him at a party with his arms around some girls, another with him doing a victory pose presumably after hiking, and one with him holding a fish. He feels his mouth curl in disgust, about to give into the urge to reply and give this guy a piece of his mind, before he realizes he’s pretending to be you. He takes a deep breath, closes out of the app, and puts down his phone.
He’s starting to regret this.
Bakugo’s phone has gone off 15 times in the last hour. Bakugo has also felt the need to strangle some stranger through the phone 15 times in the last hour. Your (read: his) profile has existed for less than 60 minutes, and you already have a whole address book of nobodies trying to link with you and get a quick fuck.
He feels the familiar beginnings of a headache creeping up the back of his skull. He thinks he might need a drink. Why did he decide to do this again?
In hindsight, he probably should have known this is exactly how it was going to go down.
What was that saying? Curiosity killed the cat?
Yeah.
He was never great at self-preservation in the first place. So this, the feeling of overwhelming jealousy, frustration, possessiveness brewing up a storm threatening to pour out of every single fiber of Bakugo’s being— was no surprise.
He watches as the numbers at the bottom of his screen increase steadily, before tapping on the star icon.
‘99+ likes!’ it reads. Over 99 people who saw your profile and thought you were beautiful. Bakugo pales, and he can feel the cold sweat building on the nape of his neck. He grips his phone, knuckles turning white. Is he shaking from anger or nervousness?
Anger because all these guys think they even have the slightest chance with someone as amazing as you. Nervousness because what if you decide that they do? You wouldn’t actually leave him for one of these guys, right? Right?
None of these men would walk through hell and back for you. They don’t know how you like your coffee, the details of your skin care routine, how you like to binge watch shows and talk Katsuki’s ear off about them (not that he ever minded, of course). They don’t know you, not like he does. Katsuki looks at you like you hung the moon. In fact, he’s pretty convinced that you did. Everything good in his life— the warmth, the color, the joy,— is encompassed by you. He’d be damned if he lets some greasy little nobody take that from him. Because the moment Bakugo fell in love with you, you became a part of him— inextricably and indefinitely. Loving you has become so intrinsic to him, that even the mere thought of another person loving you or looking at you the same way he does has him going insane. Not that anyone could love you like he did, though. That thought brings him some comfort, but not for long.
One last notification he sees sends him spiraling. Bakugo swears that he can see red. That’s when he deletes the app, and throws his poor phone in some random corner of the living room, which is markedly one of the smarter choices he’s made as of late. He marches to your bedroom with a fire burning in his chest.
He stops short of the door and finds you sitting at the edge of your shared bed, fresh out of the shower. You’re applying lotion, and he watches the cream absorb into your skin wordlessly, in awe at how overwhelmingly beautiful you manage to look in the most prosaic of tasks. For a second, he almost forgets the reason he was upset in the first place.
Your hair is still damp, water droplets accumulating at the tips, and Katsuki feels his mouth run dry the minute he watches a stray bead fall and make its way down your neck and stop perfectly in the dip of your collarbone. Your very existence is forever etched into his heart, every inch of you carved into his memory, but even still he can never get tired of looking at you. At every angle, in every lighting, he needs to see you in it. You could call him obsessed, but he’d simply laugh and agree, because what’s so wrong with that? Especially if it’s you.
You’re one to be studied— to be adored, Katsuki thinks, to the greatest capacity. It’s what you deserve. And what better person for that task to fall upon than him?
He finds himself naturally gravitating towards you, his finger tracing the same exact path the water had carved just moments before, wordlessly. You try to pay no mind, but it’s difficult as you realize just how close Bakugo was and how your towel barely manages to cover up your most intimate parts. One wrong move and you’d be exposed. With how things were playing out, and the predatory glint in the blond’s eyes, you don’t think your boyfriend would be too perturbed with your current predicament.
Katsuki presses a delicate kiss to your forehead before he crouches down. Suddenly, you’re at eye level with one another, his hot breath tickling your lips. You think for a moment he’s going to kiss you so you lean forward, lips waiting. But he merely grazes them before he sucks a deep bruise into the juncture of your neck, biting slightly.
You’re barely given any time to react before he’s grabbing the hand that’s securing your towel and ripping it away, the offending garment falling off your body. Your flesh prickles with goosebumps as its exposed to the sudden chill. It’s quickly replaced by the heat of Bakugo’s body as he pushes you lightly, your back hitting the mattress. He crawls on top of you, muscular thighs on either side of your hips, your head placed conveniently between his forearms. He’s trapped you, a nonverbal challenge for you to try and escape.
You’re a work of art, he thinks, but much more valuable than any pièce de résistance framed in any museum.
Beautiful, yes, but far too blank for his liking. He wants to ruin you, make you his own personal magnum opus. And so he does.
He presses a clothed knee against your bare cunt, pressing firmly. His lips continue their assault on your neck, leaving angry purpling bruises in their wake. Rough hands find your breast, and you moan in surprise when he gives both of them a harsh squeeze as he shoves his tongue into your mouth. Katsuki kisses you like a man dying of thirst, hungry for everything you can offer him and more. It’s all too much already, the way he’s kissing you has your mind reeling, and you have to turn your head away for a moment to catch your breath. Katsuki thinks it’s a moment too long without you, so he coaxes you into locking lips with him once more. A wave of mischievousness washes over you, prompting you to take your boyfriend’s lower lip in between your teeth, biting down lightly.
You feel his breath hitch, before he lets out a low groan as he grinds his clothed dick against your bare wetness. He returns the favor, sucking on your bottom lip before letting it go with a wet pop. He pulls back with a lazy smirk, his lips pursing together to scatter messy kisses down the base of your throat and down your chest, alternating between sucking and biting at the flesh.
He gives you a good once-over, scanning every surface, committing them to memory. You feel the need to curl into yourself with how intensely those vermillion eyes are piercing into you, memorizing every single curve, scar, freckle like he’s done time and time again.
He drops down to his knees, broad shoulders bullying their way in between your legs, forcibly prying them open. He grips your hips, fingertips digging into the soft flesh, and drags you down the mattress until your legs are dangling off the bed.
“Jesus, Kats, be more gentle.”
“Shhh. I know you like it when I’m not gentle,” he chuckles. As if to prove a point, he pulls you down even further, giving a harsh bite to your inner thigh. He smiles deviously when you yelp. You try to pull at his hair but his reflexes are too quick, pinning both of your wrists down on either side of you easily. “Besides, this is the perfect height for me to eat you out, dontcha think baby?”
You want to chastise him for being so crass, so Katsuki, but the words die on the tip of your tongue the minute he gives a sweet, loving kiss to your clit, sucking lightly.
“You’re mine. I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this except for me.”
You’re not entirely sure what brought this on, but you find it hard to complain when Bakugo drags his tongue from your throbbing clit to inside your pussy, drinking everything you have to offer.
Your hands automatically try to find purchase in his blond locks, struggling against the vice grip Katsuki has on your wrists. He decides to take pity on you, loosening his hold so you can slip your hands into his hair, moaning appreciatively when he feels you tug. He rewards you by flicking his tongue on your clit over and over again, just the way you like it. He does it until your moans begin to pitch higher and higher, the same way that they do when you’re close. He doesn’t stop his ministrations even after you cum, riding out your orgasm until your thighs are shaking from overstimulation. He pulls away from you with a loud pop, taking in the sight before him.
He runs a hand up and down your thigh soothingly. “So fucked out already and we’re barely getting started, baby.”
Your mind is barely processing his words before you feel Katsuki’s erection brush against your stomach, his clothing haphazardly discarded on the floor. He taps the head of his dick against your clit to tease you, a feeling of satisfaction swelling when you cry out from under him.
He watches in fascination as strings of your arousal cling to him. He positions his length at your entrance, locking eyes with you as you hold your breath in anticipation. Katsuki likes you like this. Needy for him.
“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you know that?” He slips into you with a stuttered groan.
Katsuki’s always been big. You never get used to the initial stretch, no matter how many times you two fuck. Still, that doesn’t stop him from sliding in with ease from the slick of your last orgasm. It easily coats his cock as he gives a few experimental thrusts. He groans in rapture. How do you manage to feel so good every time? It’s enough to drive him insane. Perhaps he already is.
“So fucking perfect, no wonder why all those losers want you.” He mutters out the last part, and you’re not sure if you caught that right.
“What?” He chooses not to respond, and you aren’t given the opportunity to think any further before your legs are thrown over his shoulders, Katsuki’s weight effectively pinning you in place. The stretch knocks all the wind out of your lungs, and all you can do is cling to Katsuki, nails leaving red, angry lines on his well-defined back.
He wastes no time before he starts drilling into you, hips slotting in between your legs perfectly. The position has him pressed against your clit, and your entire body feels like it’s been set ablaze, with Katsuki holding both the power to have it burn even brighter and the ability to extinguish it. And you’re almost there, you can feel your soul slowly ascending, your room filled with hymns of pleasure, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter, threatening to unravel along with your sanity. Katsuki can feel it too— the way you’re squeezing him tighter, how your gasps and moans have climbed just a note higher, how absolutely ruined you look, how he’s responsible for your current state. Which is exactly why he wants to push it even further, he wants to see how much you’ll break for him— and only him.
Katsuki cuts you off right before you can reach your peak, pulling out but making sure just his tip is inserted. You come to and take a look at your lover and marvel at the sight. He has a crazed look in his eyes. The way he smirks is absolutely wicked.
You feel distraught— having been so close but having it ripped away from you. You give your boyfriend a petulant pout.
“Katsuki,” you whine, slapping a hand against his sweaty chest, “Why’d you stop? I was so close!”
“Because I didn’t want you to cum yet,” he says simply. “You’ll be good for me, yeah? I’ll give my baby what she deserves, as long as she’s good.”
You roll your eyes, huffing. That won’t do for him.
As much as he loves seeing you indulge, he feels a need to punish you— at least a little bit to even begin to atone for being the wicked temptress you are.
“Don’t be a fuckin’ brat,” Bakugo growls, gripping your face with one hand, squishing your cheeks, causing your lips to purse slightly. “I said be good, okay? Wanna take my time with you.”
There’s a moment of respite, until you sigh in defeat, knowing better than to argue with him lest you wanted to dig your own grave. “‘Kay, ‘ki.”
He flashes you a smile. Obedient, just how he likes you. “Good girl.”
Katsuki draws his hips back, thrusting just enough to fuck his tip into you. He’s teasing. The amount of willpower on his end it takes not to cum is nauseating.
“You’re so pretty, aren’t you?” he rasps, one hand finding their way around your neck, squeezing just enough to make your head spin. Your hands reflexively grab his wrist.
All you can manage is a fucked out moan. Katsuki has to resist the urge to coo, about how he’s managed to turn you into a cockdrunk mess in such a short matter of time. The wave of possessiveness that’s been gnawing at the depths of his soul begins to seep out, and he’s reminded of the reason why the two of you are in this position in the first place.
He gives your throat another squeeze and a rough slap to your clit. “C’mon princess, answer me. Say it.” He slowly adds more and more pressure until your ears grow hot and air feels like a precious commodity.
“I-i’m pretty,” you manage to gasp out, tears spilling from your lash line as you begin to lose yourself between the space of pleasure and pain.
Good. Always so pliant for him.
“That’s right, baby,” he concedes. “So fuckin’ beautiful.” He punctuates the last word with a deep thrust, right against that spongy spot that feels so good. You’re so sensitive that it’s enough to send you spiraling into your second orgasm, walls spasming around him uncontrollably.
Katsuki stills, staving off his own release with all the restraint he can summon. He silently thanks whatever divine forces are out there that he didn’t cum the minute he felt the first clench of your orgasm.
He grits his teeth as he wills himself to move, trying not to get lost in the wetness that envelops him. You’re babbling now, senseless moans filling Katsuki’s ears like a sweet melody.
“Kats, please, I’m too sensitive—” You’re shaking now, muscles trembling with every thrust.
“But I’m not done with you yet,” he says simply, drawing his hips back with a particularly rough thrust. You choke back whatever you were going to say with a loud cry. “What’s your color, baby?”
You take a moment to answer, brain trying to comprehend the words just uttered to you. You look at Katsuki firmly, “Green.”
“Atta girl,” he praises, the drive of his hips beginning to shallow. He’s close, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out. But for you, he tries. “You’re mine, right?”
“Yes,” you breathe out, shivering as goosebumps dance across your skin.
“Say it,” Katsuki pleads, thrusts growing sloppy by the second. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m all yours, ‘ki.”
With that, Katsuki’s fate is sealed. He’s left groaning as a flash of pleasure shakes his very soul, filling you up with so much cum that it dribbles onto the mattress even while he’s still inside you. You follow suit, an embarrassingly obscene rhythm of squelching noises fill the silence as you spasm around his dick. He collapses on top of you, but he’s still coherent enough to not dump all his weight on you.
Your labored breaths fill the room as the two of you come to. Katsuki pulls out of you with a wince, still a bit sensitive. He gives you a peck on the lips before he drags himself down, settling in between your legs much like he was earlier.
You tense up, “Kats, wait—”
Any and all protests cease the moment Bakugo works his tongue inside of you, slurping lewdly as he drags out the mixture of your cum and his, swallowing. He tries not to stimulate your puffy clit in an attempt to be merciful, but you still feel yourself steadily climbing to what would be your fourth orgasm this session. While the past three have been intense and drowning, this one comes to you in waves, dull pleasure invading your senses as Katsuki continues to eat you out to clean you up.
He pulls away when you finish, your slick and his saliva coating his chin before he wipes it off on the back of his hand. You stare at his half-hard erection with a half concerned, half quizzical look. “Do you…” you lick your lips, “need help with that? I’m a little sensitive down there but I could use my mout—”
“Nah, I’m good babe,” he says earnestly, flashing you a smile that he only ever shows around you. “I’ll be back.” With that, your boyfriend leaves the room only to come back with a bottle of water.
“Drink.” You comply, finishing half the bottle graciously before handing it to him. He downs the rest before he settles next to you on the bed, laying on his side. You mirror him, shifting your body so that you’re both facing each other.
Katsuki reaches out, finger idly tracing random shapes and lines onto the bare skin on your hip. He has a pensive look on his face, one that he usually doesn’t hold after stolen moments like this; it’s an expression he wears when he’s in deep thought.
“Baby,” you call out. His eyes snap to yours, eyebrows raised.
“Yeah?”
“Whatcha thinking about?” You watch as a hesitant look flashes across your boyfriend’s face before he shakes his head.
“S’nothin’. Just thinkin’ about us two.” He speaks lightly. It’s always been difficult for him to voice his inner thoughts and feelings, so he tends to beat around the bush. You’ve learned that if you ever want something out of him, you’d have to pry a little. Katsuki always indulges you though.
“What about us?”
“Do you- do you think you’ll ever get tired of this?” He repeats himself, clearing his throat. The question is followed by a weaker, “...of me?”
You think it’s the most ridiculous question he’s ever asked, because the answer should be obvious. “I’d never get tired of you, Katsuki. I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” he replies automatically, “but if I ever do anything that upsets you, or if I get too much for you, or if I—” he’s rambling now. Yes, it’s difficult for Katsuki to talk about his feelings, but once you manage to get him to open up, all the walls of his self-made fortress come crashing down and it’s up to you to pick up the pieces.
“Baby,” you giggle, pressing a kiss to his lips, cupping his sharp jaw with one hand. “Look at me.” And he does— ruby eyes meeting yours. “I love you because you’re you. And I choose to be with you everyday. It’s not always gonna be perfect, no relationship is. But I know that I will always wake up and choose you.”
You can see the anxiety melt away from Katsuki’s body, shoulders slumping as he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Love you too, sap,” is all he says before he’s pulling you against his chest, squeezing you into a bearhug. You two stay that way until both of you are lulled to sleep.
You’re laying in bed with Katsuki, both of you dozing off when you hear a slight buzz from your phone on the nightstand. You squint as you try to read the notification, and make out that it’s from your friend.
Denki Kaminari: So did it work?
You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing, giving a quick glance over your shoulder to check on your boyfriend— fast asleep. You turn back to your phone, your thumbs making quick work at your keyboard.
You: Just like I said it would. Thanks Denki :)
Writing belongs to @ryukatters. Please do not share my work on Tiktok.
#bakugo x you#bakugo katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#bakugo x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#bakugo x y/n#mha x reader#mha x y/n#mha x you#bnha x reader#bnha x you#kat's writing#kat's demon time#tw.dubcon#cw.dubcon#tw.overstimulation#cw.overstimulation
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miguel o'hara stars in... 'NERD!MIGUEL STARTS AN ONLYFANS! THE LIVESTREAM' 〜(＞＜)〜
a/n~ IT'S HEREEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! sorry for the delay, i was at a funeral :( nerd!miguel creds to @nymphomatique 💗💗💗💗
part 1
summary; your nerdy almost-boyfriend starts an onlyfans without you knowing. now, he's gonna be taught a little lesson.
wc; 3k+
pairings; nerd!miguel o'hara x rich!fem!reader
cw; SMUT!!! dark-ish content!, toys, restraints, blindfolds, pegging, cock rings, brat taming, edging, ball busting, mommy kink, overstimulation, m!rimming, m!anal fingering, hair pulling, humiliation kink, reader has a tongue piercing, sub!miguel, mean!dom!reader, a bit of aftercare?, fluff!, IT'S ACTUALLY PROOFREAD????
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previously on nerd! miguel starts an only fans...
you couldn’t even speak, slowly turning around to face him, his head hanging down in shame.
oh, you were gonna make sure he learnt his lesson. his fans too.
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“where’s all that confidence gone, hm? you were so comfortable flaunting your body like a whore for all these bitches online, but now you wanna act all shy?”
miguel has never felt more embarrassed and turned on than he does now. he felt like crying, his cock painfully hard beneath his shorts, wiping his sweaty hands on his thighs. “ ‘m sorry, mommy. i…i wanted- i just…” you laughed right in face. he stammered, trying to find an excuse but he couldn’t — your sweet, sweet boy was really just a desperate slut in disguise.
“just wanted some attention, isn’t it? am i not givin’ you enough?” you grip his hair tightly, tilting his head up towards you. he whimpered, both in pain and pleasure, his lips parted as he let out small pants. “i do so much for your pathetic ass and this is how you repay me? by showing off what’s mine, slutting yourself out for other bitches?” miguel didn’t like upsetting you, but he loved the outcome. you were always so much rougher with him, marking him up, overstimulating him until tears streamed down his flushed face. he couldn’t help but feel like acting little bratty today.
“what’s yours? we’re not even together, you don’t own me. you’re so big-headed, i’m surprised there’s no space in there to care about anyone other than yourself.” oh, so he wanted to get personal now? “hah? the fuck did you just say to me?” a manicured hand reached out to grab his hair, pulling it close to your face. “listen to me, you. are. mine. no one else, and i mean no one, will ever have you like i do - try and find someone who can please you better than me. ‘cause i’ll tell you now, you won’t.”
he knew he fucked up big time. his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips, pulled back in a snarl. he didn’t know what to say to you, gis heart was pounding like crazy in his chest — cock hard and tears threatening to fall. he fell to knees, gripping your thighs, calfs, ankles, every he could get a hold of. the thick rimmed glasses slipped down his nose, his head down as he whimpered pitifully. “mommy, i’m sorry! i‘m yours - i-i love you, i need you. i didn’t mean any of that, promise!”
your silence was deafening. arms crossed under your chest, pushing up your perfect tits as you bent down to look at him closely. “you begging, baby? you think that’s all it takes for me to forgive you?” he shook his head rapidly, lips trembling as he bit back his tears. “no! no, o-of course not. i’ll do anything, mommy, anything to make it up to you.”
anything…anything, he says. a million and one ideas ran through your head, the corners of your pretty lips raising to form a malicious smile. you raised your foot, trailing the tip of your heel down his chest. the contours of his toned body rubbed against your shoe, sending ripples of pleasure down your spine. “oh, you poor thing…look at you, you’re shaking!” the bulge in sweats throbbed as your foot grazed over it, a small whimper leaving his lips.
he was so cute, trying to grind his hips up onto your shoe. so you pressed down hard, grinding your prada heels on his balls. his hands reached for your ankle as he groaned loudly, it hurt like hell but felt so good. “m-mommy, fuck! more…please, i need more.” you’d let him have his fun for now. lifting your foot a little before pressing down again, his tip spurting out pre all in his boxers.
his body felt limp, mind only filled with you, you, you. he knew he wasn’t being a good boy, he knew how mad you were - but he couldn’t help but enjoy this punishment. nothing was sexier than seeing you like this, so ready to put him in his place like the mistress you were. you laughed, smearing his cum along the fabric as he whimpered and writhed — drool slipping out of the corner of his open mouth.
his hips continued to chase the friction of your shoe, the grip he had on your legs tightening just a fraction more — he was enjoying this a bit too much now. lifting your foot up once again, you push on his chest hard enough to knock his bulky frame over, leaving him breathless under you. “who said you can get off on this? ‘m not doing this for your pleasure, it’s for mine. it’s always for mine.” you placed the heel on his chest, looming over him with a dark glint in your eyes.
a small flash caught the corner or your eye, his phone buzzing away on your vanity. the idea that ran through your head was downright cruel — giving him a chance to regain his breath as you stepped over to grab his phone. opening it, you went back onto only fans. scrolling through all the recent notifications made your blood boil even further — he really didn’t understand how serious you were when you said he’s belongs to you and you alone.
“get on the bed.”
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you did the finishing touches, his phone propped up on your desk. the sheets were ruffled, his body twisting and turning as he tugged on his restraints. his eyes were covered with a thick blindfold, arms and legs tied with your expensive scarfs.
the beep of the phone signalled it had started, your body stepping into frame. you bent over, tits almost spilling out of your slip dress as you adjusted your mask, waving at the camera. “hi, everyone~” miguel let out a confused grunt, trying to lift his body to no avail. “miggy has been a bad, bad boy. lying to all you sweet people.” you were smiling under the mask, not that they could see it properly — thankfully.
“you see guys,” you walk over to where he was situated, teasingly running a hand over over his heated face. “i bet you all probably thought my baby here was your absolute fantasy, hm? a big, strong, dom who could put you in your place.” you trail a nail down his throat, fingers running over his hardend nipples. “well, you’re all wrong.”
you tug on them hard, his hips bucking up as a whiny rumble leaves his lips. “he’s nothing but a submissive little bitch. and he’s all mine.” the chat was going insane, people commenting their disbelief, some questioning who you were, some even thinking you kidnapped him, and the vast majority talking about how hot this was. “you guys surprised? good, nice the truth’s finally out ain’t it. so enjoy this while you can, cause this is gonna be last thing you see on this fuckin’ account.”
miguel’s mouth was bound, the fabric slick with his saliva. his cock was pushing out of the fabric, the teasingly pink tip spewing out constant streams of pre. his heart couldn’t beat any faster than it was now, his thighs rubbing together to alleviate the aching throb of his hardness. trying to speak was useless, all he could hear was the clanking of box, things dipping the bed by his feet.
“let’s start with this shall we?” you giggled, grabbing a black vibrator from the box. the buzzing sound was obnoxiously loud, a tell tale sign you had immediately put it on the highest setting. you ran in down his chest, running it over his nipples, trailing it down his abs, and finally reaching his erection. his muffled whines didn’t deter you. in fact, it made you want to go even harder. “be a good boy and behave for mommy, you know your punishment — so shut up and take it.”
the way you sounded so aggressive turned him on to another level. you’re so hot, so sexy when you’re mad — his head nodding mindlessly. “that’s a good bitch.” the head of the vibrator met his, the sensation sending shockwaves through his body. his eyes welled with tears beneath the mask, sweat dripping down his face as he panted heavily. “mmphf — muh —“ you moved the toy down, rubbing it along the fabric of his boxers. “what’s that? can’t understand you, i don’t speak whore.”
you dropped the vibrator between his thighs, the rounded head landing perfectly on his heavy balls. the moan he let out was borderline pornographic, head slamming back again the soft pillows. you pulled the tight boxers down, shifting the vibrator away to bring it down his thighs. “look at that cock, so fuckin’ pathetic.” you were sorta lying to yourself. the thickness was mouthwatering, his tip resting completely under his belly button.
you pulled his boxers completely off, throwing them to the side as you squeezed his tip with your manicured fingers, oozes of cum trickling out. you placed the vibrator back against his balls, revelling in the obvious shudder of his body. “see that guys? isn’t this so sad? seeing those fat balls all achy and swollen.” you put your lips against his ear, sucking the skin under it. “let’s empty those balls for you, ok?”
his breath hitched, body stilling as he feels you grip his cock tightly. you moved between his thighs, grabbing the lube from beside you. the cold liquid started to make his skin tingle, the slick sounds of your hand rubbing in the lube causing him huff out of his nose. keeping him occupied by jerking his cock slowly, you slid over the cock ring by your feet. your fingers were a bit slippery as you fiddled with the silicone. it finally found its way onto his length, depraving him of the release he craves oh so badly.
he was being so noisy, loud and slightly more clear things coming out of his delirious mouth. you ripped off his mouth gag, the fabric hanging off his neck like a tie. “m-mommy — please, fuck, it’s too m — ugh — much!” that obviously wasn’t gonna stop you. your hand reaching back into the box to pull out another gadget.
the cock ring conveniently had a vibrating mode, the rapid shaking of the silicone causing his legs to shake from the restriction of his release. miguel’s plump lips stayed parted, quick puffs of air leaving his mouth. “fhucccckkk — mommy, need…need to cum.” you just smiled, sliding off the bed as you slipped off your dress, throwing it by his boxers.
you bent over, not so subtly exposing your little surprise to the camera — pulling off the blindfold from his face. he blinks, vision blurry as he looks up at you. “here, baby.”you place his glasses on his face, standing up in front of him. miguel’s eyes widen like saucers, trailing down your naked body. his eyes catch onto the 7” cock strapped to your lower half, string of the vibrator you had nestled in your tight cunt hanging below it.
“i..oh my god.” he couldn’t tear his eyes away, he felt a weird tingling sensation in his chest — stomach tightening in anticipation. “that’s, uh, g-going in me?” you nod, drizzling the lube on the length of the silicone. “isn’t this one of your little fantasies, babe?” giggling, you turned to the camera, bending level with it. “another surprise, huh? that this hunk of a man wants to get his ass played with.”
he unconsciously spread his legs as much as he could, considering that he was still bound to the bed. you tut, walking over to untie him — rubbing his wrists gently as you gesture for bim to lay on his stomach. he turns around, cock pressed against the sheets and his back to you. “look at you, baby.” you run your hand over his ass, a palm colliding with the flesh before you spread them open — dropping a glob of spit on his hole. “such a dirty, boy. you just want me to fuck you, right? stretch out that tight hole with my fat cock?”
his body shudders, hands gripping the pillow as he buries his face in it. “god, please — i need you, mommy. i-i want you so bad.” needy slut. you shuffled back, laying against the bed as you lowered your face towards his spread cheeks. your tongue collects the remnants of your saliva, spreading it back over his taint. gripping his hips, you push your tongue in deeper — the cold ball of your tongue piercing grazing his sensitive walls. you make an effort to stretch him out considerably, inserting two of your fingertips into his ass.
you scissor them, dropping more spit to help your finger slide in deeper. his back arches deliciously, hips moving in tandem with your movements. his little, whiny gasps were muffled by the pillow, his teeth marks imprinting onto them. you knew he wasn’t gonna cum, as long as that cock ring stayed on. you knew he was ready when your fingers were sliding in and out easily. “all nice and prepped for this cock, baby.”
you lifted your hips, aligned the bulbous tip of your cock to his hole, sliding it in till his ass meets your pelvis. the vibrator inside of you turned on, the faint buzzing rubbing against your gummy walls. it was hard to fuck a man when you felt like you were about to squirt all over the bed, your thighs shaking as you pushed in and out of him. “shit…so this is how it feels, huh?” miguel looked dazed, his glasses falling off, drool coating his cheeks. he was so fucked out.
you grabbed his jaw, turning him to face the camera — your hips slammed harder against him, other hand resting on his hip. “tell them…them how much you love it when mommy fucks you.” it was hard for you to stay composed too — your stiff clit twitching with every squelching thrust. he nods dumbly, mumbling into the pillow “l-love it, i love mommy’s — nngghh — c-cock.”
“thaaat’s right, good boy. that’s what you’re good for, being a hole for mommy to use.” he whined deeply, grinding his ass with your rhythm. you can feel something building in your lower tummy, the vibrations speeding up the faster you move. with a silent whimper, you push him off of you — laying on your back, panting softly. a thin layer of swear lines your brow, rolling down your temple as you look at him.
“this cock ain’t gonna ride itself.”
the way his face lit up was quite endearing, his large frame scrambling to straddle you. he was a bit nervous cause of how much bigger he was, scared he would crush you under his weight. “a-are you sure? i don’t wanna hurt you-“ the hard slap you landed on his ass was enough for him to get a move on — hands resting on your soft tits as he aligns himself with your cock. “ah — fuck, it’s so big…”
“now you know how i feel.” you teased, pinching his hip. “now ride.” his face heated up, nodding as his body bounced on top of you. it seemed like he learnt from you, hands resting on your knees as he ground, rolled, and bounced his hips. the ring seemed to be working wonders with his cock, the steady vibration causing his tip to drool creamy liquid that dripped onto your stomach. “mommyy, fuck me h-harder! wanna cum for you — ‘m sorry i was a bad boy, please let me c-cum!”
you caressed his sides, nimble fingers flicking his nipples teasingly before gripping tightly on his hip. you drove your hips up into his, each thrust barely lifting him due to his size so he decided to move up with you — strong thighs able to endure the strain. “so dirty…riding my cock whilst all your little fans watch. you like it don’t you? you like everyone seeing what a depraved freak you are.” you grunted, gritting your teeth as your head hit the headboard.
unbeknownst to you, the live was blowing up — over 100k people watching at once. it was something no one had expected but everyone wanted. seeing a greek god of a man being ravaged by a girl much smaller than him — it was the sexiest thing to ever grace that god forsaken website. the donations were flooding in, the live was accumulating 10’s of thousands — the most money miguel had ever made on the site.
the tension coiled tightly within you both, miguel being on the verge of tears with how deep you were hitting, scraping against his prostate. his cock was red a twitching, the cock ring starting to slide off from how slick his length was. you didn’t wanna cum, not before he did. the wetness dripping down your thighs was getting harder to ignore, the force of your orgasm feeling like it’d be enough to push the vibrator right out of you.
miguel was whining so loudly, drowning out the sound of your hips meeting. his lips were pulled back in a small snarl, large hand jerking his cock whilst the other groped one of your tits — his flushed face looming over you. “gonna cum,
mommy. g-gonna cum so fuckin’ hard — need it so bad, baby.” you let out a low growl, swatting his hand away from his cock as you held it tightly in your grip, working as a makeshift cock ring. “you’re not cumming till i do, so be a good boy and wait.”
he whined like a little baby, earning him another hard slap on his ass. the vibrator inside of you was on it’s highest setting, small streams of squirt trickling out of your sore pussy. the friction of your clit rubbing against his balls, the debauched sight of him, the pressure in your core — it was all too much. your hand loosened its grip around his length slightly, rapidly stroking up and down the stiffness, his hips chasing your hands.
“cum then, go ahead and cum like the nasty ,little, bitch, you are.” he nodded, drool sliding down his neck as he squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a stream of curses and broken cries of your name. his cum was so thick, shooting all over your bare chest and catching on your pretty face. your eyes closed in bliss as you licked his cum off of your lips, hips slapping against his rapidly before you freeze, your own orgasm squirting out onto his lower half, the cock you had simultaneously released white, creamy strings of cum deep into his ass.
all you could do was stare at each other, eyes roaming around the others face as a small smile grew on both of your lips. you shook your head, pushing his heavy body off you. your cock drips onto your rug as you walk to his phone to turn off the live, “bye-bye forever, hope you enjoyed!” you giggled, waving a drenched but perfectly manicured hand to the camera.
you place his phone face down on your desk, climbing into the bed next to miguel — your heart swelling as he rests his head on your plush chest. he was snoring quietly, beefy arms wrapping around your torso tightening when you pressed a kiss to his forehead. miguel had definitely learnt his lesson, making a mental note to delete his account as soon was he wakes up.
maybe it wasn’t that bad — being in love.
-happy late halloween!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🎃
taglist; (some links aren't working :( sorry!!! )
@honeyfrenchietoast, @zzxzzxzzzsworld, @vesperurdad, @grapejuicenads, @boldlyimportantface, @clementine-thedestroyer, @choasinterludee, @hayden-the-goat, @obi-mom-kenobi, @miguelzslvtz, @111gltzpzy, @mreowmoreww, @deckfunkk, @imfinenotsblog, @skylarlyn823, @miyaluvvsyou, @eliozs, @darksidescorner, @ravenlini, @dearlyjinie, @astarstruxkgirl, @ximena-nothere
#cheonstapes#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara headcanons#cheonstapes films!🪷#miguel o’hara smut#miguel smut#nerd miguel#sub miguel o'hara#spiderman 2099 spiderverse#miguel ohara#atsv miguel#miguel spiderverse#miguel spiderman#miguel ohara x reader#miguel ohara smut
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no nut november — lee know (winner)
pairing: lee minho x fem!reader
warnings: swearing, smut (18+ mdni), oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex
a/n: part of @gimmeurtmi's and i’s collab <3
word count: 4.3k
series masterlist
“God, that feels so good,” you whine.
Minho’s head pops up from between your legs and he grins, chin shiny with your arousal. “You close?”
“I was until you stopped,” you grumble.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says with a pout.
You push his head lightly. “You’re not sorry.”
“You’re right, I’m not.”
You roll your eyes. “Just because you can’t cum doesn’t mean I can’t.”
“I thought we were in this together,” Minho whines.
“You really want to deal with a girlfriend who hasn’t cum in a month?”
“Good point.”
With that, Minho gets back to work. He’s teasing you purposely, this time, dragging his tongue up and down your slit without staying in one place long enough to be effective.
“Minho.”
“Hm?”
“Please...”
“Please what?”
“Need more.”
“Use your words, baby- hey. Don’t squirm.”
He presses down on your hips to keep you still, basically wrestling you into place. You surrender to him but only because you know he’s stronger. Minho smacks your cunt twice, each time making you jolt slightly.
“Let’s try this again. Use your words to ask for what you want.”
“Can I- can I have something inside? Like your fingers or your tongue?”
“What about my cock?”
“What about it?”
“You don’t want my cock inside of you?”
“Of course I do, I always do. I just... didn’t think that was on the table.”
“Why not?”
“Are you really going to make me say it?” you groan.
“You don’t think I can control myself?” Minho accuses.
“No, actually, I don’t!”
He sits up, hand over his heart in mock offense. “You wound me.”
“You just get very... passionate when we have sex.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that once you start, you can’t stop.”
Minho narrows his eyes at you like you’re challenging him, even though that isn’t your intention at all. You don’t want him to lose on your account, but you can only resist your irresistible boyfriend offering you his dick on a silver platter for so long.
“I can’t believe you think that little of me!”
“It’s not that you can’t last, Min- we both know you can. You just like to... finish something once you’ve started.”
“Is that supposed to be a pun?”
You grin. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”
He rolls his eyes at you. “You’re such a loser.”
“That you’re in love with.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky that’s the case.”
“And here I was thinking you’re the lucky one.”
“Oh, I definitely am. Listening to your terrible jokes is a small price to pay for getting to be your person.”
You push his chest bashfully. “Don’t get all cheesy now.”
“Why not? Can’t take it?”
“No, actually. I can’t. If you keep pouring your heart out to me like that I’ll die on the spot and then you’ll go away for my murder. “
“Worst they could get me for is manslaughter,” Minho scoffs like he’s brushing off the possibility.
“So comforting to hear when you have me pinned underneath you.”
He smirks. “Did you want to get fucked or not? I do have to work later tonight.”
You sigh, shrugging. If he was so insistent about it, you weren’t going to fight it anymore. You were only trying to do him a favor in the first place. His funeral and all that.
“Give it to me.”
Minho’s smirk turns into a genuine grin and he rubs your thighs in excitement. “I know you wanted something inside but did you want me to make you cum before fucking you?” You shake your head no. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, just put it in.”
“So romantic.”
Despite the sarcasm in his voice, Minho scoots up so that his face is just inches above yours and kisses you deeply, getting you to moan so that he can slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like you, unsurprisingly, and like the strawberry jam you put on your toast in the mornings.
“Spread your legs a bit more for me, baby,” he whispers. You do, and he praises you for it. “There you go.”
One of his hands comes down in between your legs to rub your clit as he eases himself inside of you. The fit is perfect, like always, but the stretch is obviously a little more intense than usual.
“You alright?”
“Yeah, just give me a minute.”
While he waits, he just lies on top of you, ignoring your complaints when you tell him you can’t breathe. Then, you tap him on the back twice to let him know he can move so he does.
Minho isn’t one to jump right into fucking the life out of you, preferring to start slow and build gradually build the pace, and today is no different. He’s even slower than he normally is, being extra considerate of your disposition.
“You can go faster,” you urge him. “I promise I won’t break.”
You see him hesitate, almost like he wants to ask you if you’re sure, but he doesn’t. It’s something he’s been working on, trusting you to be honest about what you want in the bedroom, much like you’ve been working on telling him what you want in the bedroom. “Wrap your legs around my waist, baby.”
You moan as soon as you lock your ankles behind his back, the angle already pushing him deeper inside of you.
“Oh fuck,” you gasp.
“Atta girl. So good for me when you wanna be, huh?”
You nod, whimpering.
He keeps his fingers on your clit as he fucks you, wanting to get you to the edge as fast as possible. You assume he’ll draw back, slow down and edge you just like he had when he was eating you out a few minutes ago, but he doesn’t.
“Fuck, I’m going to- I’m cumming!”
You sob as it hits you, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend’s neck and pulling him close. He makes a sound of surprise as he falls forward into you but easily accepts his fate and begins to kiss and nip at your neck.
Minho’s still fucking you even after you come down, even though your legs are trembling and tears are staining your cheeks. He seems entirely unaffected by the way your pussy’s clenching relentlessly around him. Meanwhile, you’re falling apart every time the head of his cock nudges your g-spot. Curse his dancer’s hips and performer’s stamina.
“Think you can give me another one?” he asks. You can hear the smirk in his voice and it’s infuriating.
You don’t get the chance to respond before you’re cumming again, whining his name and biting your fist so hard you think you’ve drawn blood. It isn’t unlike Minho to fuck you into a second orgasm right after the first, he loves overstimulating you almost as much as he loves edging you, but it always catches you off guard.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he grunts.
“Yeah, I just c-came twice.”
“You’re always tight,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Thank you?”
“You’re welcome.”
You snort and roll your eyes while Minho kisses your nose.
“One more?” he asks, rolling his hips experimentally.
Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you moan. “Yes, please. Please make me cum again.”
Minho tries to gently coax the third orgasm out of you, taking his time instead of fucking your brains out like he just had been. You can tell he’s getting close too. He’s trying not to show it but he has a tell that’s a dead giveaway every time.
“So good for me, letting me do whatever I want to you,” he pants. “So fucking warm and tight and perfect. God, you can never get enough of this cock, can you? Just have to have it all the time.”
“Yes, always!” you agree even though you aren’t entirely sure he’s expecting an answer.
“That’s my fucking girl.”
You cum unexpectedly, shocking both yourself and your boyfriend. It’s all Minho’s fault, really. He can’t say shit like that and expect you not to gush everywhere.
He tries to make the most of it by thrusting deep as he fucks you through the orgasm. You clutch him to you, digging your nails into his back as your thighs tighten around his waist.
The cries of his name and the pulsing of your cunt drive Minho right to the edge and he’s suddenly frantic, whimpering and grunting in your ear as he desperately begs you to say the things he needs to hear.
“Tell me you love me,” he whines. “Please, baby tell me you’re mine.”
“I love you! I love you, baby. I’m yours, I’m yours. ”
It hits him hard- body going tense, eyebrows knitting together, mouth falling open as he cums inside of you. He looks so pretty like that, it’s a view you’ll never get tired of. It’s almost enough to make you cum again. You can feel it, feel his cock throbbing as he fills you up. You hadn’t used condoms with Minho for a long time now, didn’t need to when you were taking twice the typical dose of birth control for your awful periods. And you had been dating for long enough that you could trust each other with something as intimate as this.
Minho gives you and himself a moment to recover before he’s pulling out and rolling off of you. He feels around for one of the washcloths you always kept on the nightstand and finds one, cleaning himself and your thighs off.
“I’ll wet go wet another one with warm water for the actual mess,” he assures you. “Don’t want to use a dry washcloth on that. Your PH balance is already fucked up enough after what we just did.”
You wrinkle your nose at him. “Can you not say stuff like that until at least twenty minutes after we fuck?”
“You don’t think it’s sexy that your boyfriend cares and is knowledgeable about vaginal health?”
“I do, but I don’t think I would classify the subject as bedroom talk.”
“Agree to disagree.”
It isn’t until you’ve both showered and are laying in bed together that you bring the bet back up. Minho still has about an hour before he needs to be at the JYPE building and he’s trying to spend as much of that time with you as humanly possible.
“Min, the bet,” you sigh.
“What about it?”
“You lost. You guys shook on it like... a few hours ago.”
Minho shrugs. “Oh well.”
You sit up, detaching yourself from him to give him a look.
“What?” he asks.
“You’re the most competitive person I know..”
He grins. “Thank you.”
“That wasn’t necessarily a compliment, but you’re welcome, I guess. I just mean you’re not even a little upset about being the first out?”
Another shrug. “Meh. You win some, you lose some.”
“Have you told them yet? What did they say?”
“I’m just gonna let them figure it out on their own,” he says.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like.”
You narrow your eyes at your boyfriend as it dawns on you. “You were never going to play, were you?”
Minho smirks. “Oh, I’m playing. I’m just playing a different game.”
-
“I’m not lying to our friends!”
“It’s not lying! It’s just not telling them.”
“It’s called a lie of omission for a reason, Minho. Because it’s a lie. And what if they straight up ask me about it? What am I supposed to say then?”
“Just change the subject.”
“Yeah, because that’ll work fine and not be suspicious at all.”
“Babe, please,” he pleads.
“It seems mean!”
“It is mean,” he agrees. “But it’s funny.”
“What if they all hate you after this?”
“They contractually can’t hate me. They still have to be in a group with me for the next two years and if we renew then even longer. Besides, this is me getting back at them for volunteering me to MC for Music Core. I was sick the day the representative came around to the company and they all recommended me knowing I wouldn’t want to do it because they thought it would be funny. Next thing I know, I’m in the audition room and they’re telling me I have to wear stupid hats and do aegyo every Saturday-”
“I thought you liked the hats.”
“They’re okay sometimes,” he huffs, refusing to admit what you both know to be true. “But it’s the principle of the thing.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, Mr. Drama King. What do I get in return for participating in your little revenge plot?”
“What do you want?”
“The rest of the SKZOOs.”
Minho purses his lips, holding back a scoff. The only SKZOO you owned was Leebit, obviously. You actually had a couple of Leebits around your apartment but Minho had jokingly banned you from getting any of the others because, in his words, he was supposed to be your favorite member.
“Having the others doesn’t mean you’re not my favorite,” you’d argued. “Do you want Leebit to be lonely?”
“Leebit doesn’t need friends,” Minho had insisted. “He’s happier by himself.”
You weren’t convinced but you also didn’t feel like arguing with your very stubborn boyfriend on the subject. You were content with Leebit for the time being- until now, that was.
“That’s really what you want?” Minho asks.
“Mhm.”
He sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Fine. Deal.”
You grin triumphantly and kiss him on the cheek. “Pleasure doing business.”
“You’re a menace.”
“And that’s why you love me. We’re made for each other.”
-
Your plan was to simply avoid the members and their partners for the entire month. If you didn’t run into them, you wouldn’t have to lie to them. Easy peasy. Right?
“Jisung did what?” you gasp, standing dumbfounded in the middle of your bedroom as your boyfriend gets dressed.
“Planned a surprise birthday party for me,” Minho repeats.
“Why would he do that?”
“Because he’s my best friend?”
“But... your birthday was last month. And how is it a surprise party if you already know about it?”
“You know he’s not good at keeping secrets. Or planning ahead.”
You sigh and put your hands on your hips as you watch Minho button his nice dress shirt.
“Do I have to go?”
He pauses to look up at you. “What do you mean do you have to go? You don’t want to?”
“It’s not that,” you explain, “I’m just worried about someone bringing up your stupid bet and having to lie to them.”
“I’ll do most of the talking,” he assures you. “Just stick by my side.”
Thankfully, the party Jisung had planned was on the smaller side. Only Minho’s closest friends were in attendance which meant that you knew almost everyone there. Han had admittedly outdone himself with the setup, too. You couldn’t even recognize the JYPE ballroom with all of the decorations and lights strung up everywhere. You told him as much when you saw him.
“If only the guy was actually surprised,” he grumbled to himself, “but thank you. I’m glad you like it.”
The ‘sticking by Minho’s side’ method only worked when he was actually by your side. Midway through the party, he excuses himself to go talk to one of his friends, leaving you to fend for yourself until he returns.
“Oh my god, I feel like it’s been forever!” a familiar voice echoes from behind you.
You turn to see Hyunjin’s girlfriend holding her arms out to you for a hug, and quickly reciprocate, briefly wrapping your arms around her in greeting.
“It’s been too long,” you agree.
“Where have you been?” she asks. “The other girls have been asking for you.”
“Oh, you know,” you mumble, “work has really picked up lately so I’ve just been swamped.”
It’s not technically a lie, you have been swamped, but you’ve also been actively avoiding your friends at the same time.
“Ugh, that sucks. It must be so stressful,” she sympathizes, then lowers her voice. “How have you been doing with... you know?”
Fuck.
You take a deep breath and swallow the guilt that threatens to claw its way up your throat as you scramble to come up with a bullshit answer. “About as well as any of us, I figure.”
“Fucking tell me about it,” she groans. “I nearly killed Hyunjin when he told me about it. I still might.”
You laugh. “If he goes missing, I won’t say anything.”
Suddenly, Minho’s back by your side, his hand resting on the small of your back. He greets Hyunjin’s girlfriend warmly. She wishes Minho a happy birthday and then excuses herself to go find her own boyfriend.
“What were you two talking about?”
“Who’s asking?” you ask in response.
“The birthday boy.”
“He has no authority here, sorry.”
Minho’s jaw drops in faux shock. “You’re really not going to tell me?”
“She just asked me how I was holding up through all of this No Nut November bullshit,” you admit.
“Wait, she actually asked you about it?”
“Yes, she actually asked me about it. Girls talk about this stuff.”
He winces and rocks back on his heels. “Damn, I’m sorry, baby.”
You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, just don’t fucking leave me again. What was so important you had to ditch me for in the first place?”
“I went to go say hey to that girl Jeongin likes,” Minho explains, nodding in her direction.
You look over to where she was now sitting with Jeongin and nod in understanding. “That’s her?”
She was one of the guests you didn’t know super well. You had only seen her at a few group functions and she mostly kept to Jeongin and some of the other younger members.
“Yeah, that’s her.”
“What did you say to her?”
“I just thought she might be interested to know that her crush on Innie is mutual.”
“What?”
“She likes Jeongin back.”
“No, I know she does.” One of the other girls had told you about Jeongin’s little crush and how the two were practically shooting heart eyes at the other all the time but were completely oblivious. You just hadn’t been able to put a face to the name until now. “How do you know that?”
“It wasn’t hard to figure out,” Minho mutters defensively.
“But why would you try to meddle in their business? Shouldn’t you let them figure it out for themselves?”
“If I didn’t interfere they’d never act on their feelings,” he argues.
“And why did you decide to ‘interfere’ now of all times?” you push.
Minho smirks, knowing you’re on to him. “I think you already know the answer to that.”
You roll your eyes and shove him lightly. “Why are you trying to make him lose? You’re already out so why does it matter?”
“I’m just trying to keep it interesting!”
“You’re being an asshole, is what you’re doing!”
“You’re hot when you’re mad.”
“Don’t change the subject!”
“What do you say we get out of here?” he suggests, completely ignoring what you’d just said.
“You can’t leave your own birthday party early!”
“Says who?”
“It would be rude, Minho.”
“Fine, then let’s find a closet or something.”
“You really want to fuck like twenty feet away from everyone you’re up against for No Nut November?”
He shrugs. “Who doesn’t like a little challenge?”
-
Jeongin loses next, then Hyunjin. Changbin follows not long after, then Chan, then Felix. All the while, you continue to have sex with Minho. He comes over a lot more often, fucking you in every room of your apartment and then falling asleep in your bed just to go again in the morning.
You can’t risk being at the dorms because neither of you are very good at keeping your hands off of each other, but you don’t want to raise suspicion by not being around so you drop by a couple of times throughout the month under the guise of bringing Minho dinner or picking him up for date night.
When the boys ask about you, Minho gives them the same excuse you’d told Hyunjin’s girlfriend about work. They don’t pry, thankfully, probably too intimidated by your boyfriend to invoke your name more than once every three to five business days. Minho could be a little possessive at times, even around the friends he’d known longer than he had known you, and that was working in your favor this month.
The other six having lost meant that Seungmin was the only one left standing. Technically, he had already won. But he doesn’t know that. Only you and Minho know that.
You expect Minho to tell him the good news as soon as Felix announces his failure, but he doesn’t.
“November isn’t over yet,” he points out.
“You’re just going to let Minnie suffer?”
“He’ll be fine.”
“He’s going to kill you.”
“Probably.”
-
Minho feels a little bad about having you lie on his behalf, but not bad enough to stop you from doing it. You’re just as much of a little jerk as he is, which is why he knew you’d agree in the first place. Sure, your moral compass is a bit more aligned than his, but that’s what makes you such a great pair. You’re there to reign him in when he goes too far, and he’s there to push your boundaries.
“You’re having fun, aren’t you?” he asks when you come back from a girls brunch all giddy and breathless.
You hadn’t even wanted to go in the first place to save yourself from lying to them all morning but Seungmin’s girlfriend had begged you to, seeing as you were the only two whose boyfriend’s hadn’t caved and therefore weren’t getting laid like the other girls were.
You didn’t want to leave her hanging like that, so you went. And now, you’re practically glowing with adrenaline as you recount the last two hours to Minho.
“I said that you won’t even touch me,” you exclaim, making Minho’s smile falter. “And that you’ve resorted to sleeping on the couch when you stay over so you don’t accidentally get too close to me in your sleep.”
He scoffs. “Did you have to make me sound like a total fucking loser?”
“Would you rather I have told the truth?”
“Okay, okay, you’re right. Thank you for doing that.”
You take a seat on Minho’s lap and hum happily. “You’re welcome.”
-
When the clock strikes midnight on December first, Minho’s surprised by the radio silence from Seungmin’s end.
“Do you think he’s asleep?” he asks you.
“Maybe he’s fucking his girlfriend into oblivion,” you suggest with a shrug. “I hope he is for her sake. Poor girl was desperate for dick.”
Minho isn’t really sure how to respond to that so he doesn’t. He just hums in acknowledgment and turns the lamp by your bedside off so that your room is doused in darkness. You pat his thigh comfortingly under the blankets.
“We’ll find out tomorrow, babe.”
“I guess we will.”
Seungmin doesn’t text the groupchat until the afternoon, hours after Chan’s texted asking who won. Minho shows you the texts and you read over his shoulder as the messages roll in.
Kim Seungmin SKZ: lost an hour or two before midnight. congrats minho.
Lee Felix SKZ: minho won??? Why am i not surprised at all lol
Hwang Hyunjin SKZ: I think we all saw this coming.
Hwang Hyunjin SKZ: pun intended.
Bang Chan SKZ: so where are you going to take your gf?
Minho: actually, you all should congratulate Seungmin.
Bang Chan SKZ: what?
Hannie: what? did you lose yesterday afternoon or something?
Seo Changbin SKZ: ???
Minho: I was the first to lose.
The groupchat is silent for a single beat before it starts blowing up with messages from all of the members furiously cursing Minho out. He laughs as he scrolls through them.
Bang Chan SKZ: all in favor of voting lee know out of the group?
Kim Seungmin SKZ: i think it’s unanimous.
Minho: Relax, Minnie. You won. You’re getting the trip.
Kim Seungmin SKZ: RELAX? YOU’RE GOING TO TELL ME TO FUCKING RELAX??? I COULD HAVE BEEN FUCKING MY GIRLFRIEND THREE DAYS AGO AFTER FELIX LOST BUT NOOO YOU THINK YOU’RE SO FUNNY MAKING THE REST OF US LOOK LIKE IDIOTS
Yang Jeongin SKZ: i mean it is kind of funny
Hannie: you’re not mad innie?
Yang Jeongin SKZ: i was out second... or i guess technically third so i was never going to win anyway. minho got me a girlfriend out of this so i can’t really complain too much
Minho: Listen, I’m happy to be the sole contributor to Minnie’s vacation since I was the one to orchestrate all this. The rest of you can donate to that nonprofit we talked about at the beginning of the month. I’ll make a donation too obviously but don’t worry about the trip.
Kim Seungmin SKZ: I don’t want your pity money
Minho: it’s not pity money, it’s sorry for being an asshole money
Seo Changbin SKZ: if he doesn’t want it, i’ll take it
Kim Seungmin: don’t you fucking dare
Minho: anyway, if you guys are done bitching I’m going to go spend some time with my girlfriend now. I hope you’ve all learned your lesson.
Hwang Hyunjin SKZ: our lesson???
Lee Felix SKZ: wym?
Bang Chan SKZ: oh don’t tell us you’re still mad about that
Minho: not anymore. we’re even now.
Minho puts his phone down on the counter as soon as it starts to ring with a call from Seungmin. He swipes the decline icon and turns his attention to you.
“Was it worth it?” you ask.
He opens his mouth to answer but his phone rings again, cutting him off. It’s a call from Chan this time. He declines it and turns the phone off completely so that no one else can bother the two of you.
He leans forward and kisses you hard, taking your bottom lip between his teeth as his hands settle on your ass.
“Was it worth it?” he repeats, smirking. “I’d do it again in a fucking heartbeat.”
sorry again for the wait- as you all know i've been going through a lot lol
nnn tags: @doesthismeannothingtoyou @yellowroses-world @allyoops @thelostverse @karlitaburrito @lydataylorsversion @septemberkisses @caticorn61 @multifandomtrash-dree @cixrosie @mchslut @cutiequokka @fairygemss @multistancheck @lady---boner @stay-bi @compersian @raspbinniecreme @skzgallll @strawberriesandknives @laylasbunbunny @goddessofhiddenpleasures @brit97 @jonaticdragon @linobuns @vampcharxter @skizzel @sillyrabbit76 @sahazzy @kpfly @zerefdragn331 @wonuziex @sirleeknow @ashcapybara
#no nut november stray kids#no nut november skz#nnn skz#stray kids smut#skz smut#lee know smut#lino smut#lee minho smut#minho smut#stray kids x reader#lee know x reader#stray kids x female reader#skz x reader#skz x female reader#lee know fic#lee know fanfic#lee know fanfiction#stray kids fic#stray kids series
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cherry bomb | part 2 | jungkook (m)
pairing: jungkook x fem reader
summary: after your town goes into lockdown because of the cherry bomb massacre, you find out that the murderer's interest is on you. eventually, you’re left with no choice but to face him.
genre: horror/slasher, angst, smut, college!au
word count: 13.7k
warnings: major character deaths, gaslighting, hallucinations, anxiety/paranoia, grief, trauma, violence (including knife and gun use), torture, blood, gore, descriptions of dead bodies, a funeral scene, fuckboy!JK, oral (fem receiving), fingering, finger-sucking, handjob, cumplay(?), hair-pulling
a/n: this part is quite rougher than the first, so heed the warnings. same notes as the last part—not meant to be entirely realistic since this *is* a slasher. block/filter as needed. i didn’t mention this in part 1 but this fic is not set in present day; more like somewhere in the 2000s? i don’t think this fic would work as well with all this advanced technology/the prevalence of social media now
...also, i had this story all written out and then decided to completely change the plot at the last minute because i figured out a way to write the original plot i had wanted to do from the beginning. 💀 yeah…just leave your thoughts below
taglist is at the very bottom of the fic—for some reason i wasn't able to tag everyone who requested, so please reblog this fic so folks can see it
sources for the fic dividers: one | two
link to part 1
you’re standing in front of some stranger’s house in the early hours of the morning, your body heavy from exhaustion as your adrenaline has run out. this is not at all how you expected your night to end when you left your dorm hours ago. it must’ve taken at least 40 minutes to get to this house, and you’re less familiar with this part of town, which you try not to feel uneasy about. you suppose the farther away from the scene of the carnage, the better.
jungkook bangs on the door, calling out the name yoongi-hyung until the porch light comes on. though it’s illogical, you’re tense with apprehension that the murderer could somehow appear at any moment, and you hope whoever yoongi is lets the both of you in soon. so much for no longer looking over your shoulder.
a man with hair just as long as jungkook’s answers the door, looking disheveled and annoyed. “why the fuck are you banging down my door at nearly 2 am—"
yoongi stops speaking as he eyes the both of you up and down, his gaze going from the bite mark bruises you left on jungkook’s neck to the dried blood on your face to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. his expression is between surprise and curiosity. “what the fuck is going on here?”
“can we talk inside?” jungkook says, though he doesn’t wait for an invitation before pushing his way past the other man and stepping inside.
“uh…hi. sorry.” you step inside too, glad to not be out in the open anymore.
yoongi takes another look outside the door at the state of jungkook’s car before closing and locking it. “mind explaining this shit? i thought you were going to that party you told me about?
“i did,” jungkook says, his voice full of frustration. “the fucking killer showed up at the party.”
“the fuck are you talking about?”
“you know what i’m talking about. that werewolf-masked freak? he came and just started stabbing people to death. we watched him shoot a fraternity member in front of us, dude. that’s why my car looks the way it does.”
“the campus is probably dangerous,” you add. “that’s why we came here. we just need somewhere safe to stay for the night.”
yoongi goes to the window and draws back the curtain. he peeks out the small holes in the side of the blinds rather than pushing the blinds down to look outside. “and you’re certain he didn’t follow you here? i thought he only killed virgins anyway. why the hell was he shooting at you?” then yoongi turns away from the window and looks at you. “oh. is this why?”
feeling put on the spot, you blurt out: “look, i don’t think that matters much anymore. he seemed to be killing anybody who was in his way.”
“and he was on foot the whole time, so there’s no way he could’ve followed us,” jungkook adds.
yoongi shakes his head and walks away from the window. “whole town is fucked, then. come on.”
you’re relieved to be able to scrub the blood off your face and change into fresh clothes. you initially thought it was peculiar that yoongi had spare clothes ready for you to wear until he alluded to keeping them on hand for any of jungkook’s hookups that he brings over.
“sure—of course.” you’d just nodded and tried not to look embarrassed as you accepted the clothes.
even after showering you don’t feel entirely clean, though. you think it might be impossible to return to feeling anything like your former self after tonight.
the couch has a pull-out bed, so it’s not as uncomfortable as it would be just sleeping on a regular sofa, which you are grateful for. you’re still arranging the pillow and blankets when jungkook walks into the room holding his own bedding.
“i think i should sleep here,” he says.
“there’s no room on the couch for the both of us,” you protest, thinking he means to take your spot.
“i mean on the floor. earlier, you didn’t seem like you wanted to be left alone in here.”
“oh.” you try to take the edge out of your voice; it’s hard to be polite when you’re still so overwhelmed with stress. “that’ll be uncomfortable though.”
jungkook just waves his hand and dumps his pillow and blanket on the floor before going to push the coffee table out of the way. “doesn’t really matter, i think we’ve been through worse tonight than sleeping on a hard floor…”
“thanks,” you say quietly, watching him spread his blanket out on the ground. you want to say something else, but you can’t think of anything.
“it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”
after a few more moments of staring at jungkook as he arranges his sleeping area, you finally ask, “i was wondering how’d you meet yoongi? he doesn’t seem like he’s a college student. i’ve never seen him around our campus, at least.”
“he isn’t. he works as a music producer, so he’s out of town a lot, but this is his homebase. as for how we met—it’s a long story. he and my brother actually used to know each other, so…” you think he’ll explain further, but he just shakes his head. “but he’s a good friend.”
“i see. a music producer…nice. how cool for a little town like this.”
after everything is to his liking, jungkook gets under the blanket. “tonight was a lot, so try to get some sleep.”
you nod and turn the lamp off, though you’re doubting you’ll get any peace tonight. “yeah…you too.”
--
SATURDAY MORNING, NOV 4
you wake up around 11 a.m. on a strange couch wearing strange clothes in a strange room. with your brain’s half-conscious state, your terror reawakens; you think maybe you’ve been kidnapped by the murderer and the car ride with jungkook last night was a dream—until yoongi pops into your mind.
you try to regulate your breathing and settle back beneath the blanket, though you know you won’t be going back to sleep.
you haven’t gotten more than an hour of sleep in total, broken up into 20-minute intervals across the hours. every time you’ve tried to close your eyes and drift off, you see the frat member’s skull bursting apart again, shocking your entire nervous system. you can think of nothing but the piles of bodies and the deaths you witnessed. perhaps it’s better that you don’t sleep; you figure your dreams wouldn’t be any more tolerable than your thoughts.
as you shift around on the couch, your whole body screams with soreness. your arms, your ribs, your sides, your legs, and—to a lesser extent—even between your thighs where jungkook was last night.
you glance over and see that he’s still sprawled on the floor, blanket halfway kicked off. he’s actually awake, his face turned away from you as he blinks slowly and stares at nothing, but he doesn’t say anything and so neither do you. with you spending most of your night awake, you saw that he was able to get more rest than you did. lucky him.
it hurts to move, but you reach for your phone and check for any signs of lorelai. none. there is one text from camille, sent 40 minutes ago.
➤ camille: I talked to Lorelai’s sister. She went to go see about a missing persons report. The police took her information but didn’t seem very concerned about it and said she might have just stayed the night with other friends after the party. Apparently a lot of others had the same idea as you. Campus is a ghost town. They’re still identifying all the bodies, so no word yet.
➤ y/n: so we just have to sit here and wait to see if she’ll turn up alive or dead? that’s useless.
➤ camille: As per fucking usual with the pigs.
➤ camille: She also told me there’s supposed to be a lockdown or something. It’s on the news.
➤ y/n: a lockdown???
looking around the room, you spot the TV remote sitting on yoongi’s coffee table a few feet away. you try to sit up, but it takes you a couple minutes longer than you anticipate because of the pain. jungkook notices the movement from the corner of his eye and turns to look at you. “what are you doing?”
“tryna get the remote.”
jungkook grabs it and hands it to you, and you turn the TV to one of the local news channels.
➤ camille: They’re telling people not to leave their homes for anything non-essential while they search for him. Not sure how long that’s supposed to last. I guess now they wanna get serious about this fucking killer? Too late for that.
you and jungkook watch as the newscaster gives a rundown of last night’s events; to your small relief, it looks like the killer didn’t try to go to the campus after the murders at the party house. the newscaster goes on to announce that the police are instating a citywide curfew, which they’ll discuss further at a press conference in the afternoon. in the meantime, they advise everyone to only travel in groups, shelter in place if possible, and keep all windows and doors locked.
you laugh humorlessly, and jungkook glances at you again. “in groups? we were all packed into one damn house at the party, and how much did that help?”
➤ y/n: are you sure you’re okay at the uni?
➤ camille: I’m fine. My roommate brought some of her friends into our room so no one’s left alone. Either way, my dad is coming to help me move some of my things out and come back home.
➤ y/n: okay, please just stay safe.
➤ camille: You too.
“what now?” jungkook says once the newscast goes off. “everybody just stays holed up for like a month while they hunt for that guy?”
you roll your eyes. “people won’t stay in their homes for that long. i don’t know how any of this is gonna work. we wouldn’t be in this mess now if they’d cared when this first started happening.”
“you think so? students would still be getting killed. the only difference is that a good chunk of people would just be sitting at home freaking the fuck out and too scared to go anywhere while the killer would still be on the loose.”
“…damn. it’s truly bleak to assume we’d still be in the same situation. you’re an optimistic one.”
“better than deluding yourself about it.”
“whatever. where’s your family to freak out over you? somebody should be concerned about your whereabouts by now. didn’t you say you have a brother? speaking of, i’m gonna have to call my sister soon…”
jungkook turns back to the TV, and you can tell he’s become more tense than he was seconds ago. “yeah, but i’m estranged from them. yoongi’s my family.”
wrong thing to ask. you wonder about the reason for it but decide it’s probably better not to pry. “ah…that sucks.”
jungkook looks back at you like he’s irked by that response, but he makes a noise resembling a chuckle. “tell me about it.”
later that afternoon, after you’ve reassured your sister veronica on her work break that you are fine and at a “friend’s” house (because you have no clue how to refer to either of these men), you and yoongi sit at the kitchen table with brunch while jungkook goes outside to examine the damage to his car more closely.
it’s difficult to eat, but you do so anyway; you don’t want to be rude by wasting the food yoongi made. the news station still plays loudly from the living room as you wait for the press conference to come on.
“so, about you and jungkook...” yoongi starts, looking at you from over the rim of his cup of coffee.
“what about me and jungkook?”
“we both know he didn’t get those bites on his neck from a wild animal attack.”
you sit up straighter in your seat, a sudden spike of irritation hitting you. “aren’t we all grown here? who cares?” you try to sound unbothered despite feeling very green about all of this. after all, you’d only had sex for the first time last night.
“look, i don’t care. fuck him all you want. i’m just trying to advise you not to get emotionally involved, because that’s not how jungkook operates. the amount of girls i’ve had somehow coming after my neck when their situationship with him doesn’t work out is starting to get really old. it’d be best if you didn’t do the same.”
you’re simultaneously annoyed at his assumption of you and flustered because you want to prove him wrong about acting the same as the other girls. you hate both feelings. “i don’t want anything like that with him. i just needed something done and i got it. it doesn’t matter anymore.”
yoongi shrugs, and you get the sense he’s heard that before and isn’t convinced, but you can’t be bothered going back and forth with him about this.
the press conference comes on TV a few minutes later. they announce that classes at your university are cancelled indefinitely; parents and relatives will need to come move their students out, and the school will be operating with a skeleton staff and increased security presence for any students who can’t leave the campus. the citywide curfew will be at 8 p.m. every night, by which time almost everyone will need to be in their homes, and it will end at 6 a.m each morning.
“fun,” you say sarcastically. “at least i won’t have to worry about finals and trying not to get murdered at the same time.”
when jungkook comes back inside, you let him know about what he missed from the press conference.
“we should just stay here for now.” when you raise your eyebrows, jungkook says, “i basically live here when i’m not on campus for classes. plus yoongi-hyung lets me bring girls here all the time, this is nothing new.”
“if both of you are gonna be hiding out in my place, we’ll need to go to the store,” yoongi says. “more mouths to feed.”
“…or i could just go home?” you propose, your mind reeling at them already making plans. you feel awkward about staying in a stranger’s house for who knows how long. “i think we only really needed to stay here for the night. it’s fine.”
“will you have people there with you?” jungkook asks. “it’s not safe to be alone.”
you’re surprised he seems to be this concerned, but you answer: “well, i mean…my sister works 12-hour shifts as a nurse and she’s the only one living there, so…” you’d chosen your university because your older sister lived in the area, and because it was a tradition for women in your family to attend that school, but there were no other relatives you could turn to. your parents lived a couple of towns away.
yoongi comes to the conclusion so you don’t have to. “in other words, you’ll be alone most of the day.”
“…i guess. but i’m really not tryna impose on you by staying here.”
yoongi tilts his head, a small smirk on his lips. you automatically dislike the look on his face. “why don’t you take jungkook with you, then?”
you and jungkook glance at each other. “but, hyung…”
yoongi shakes his head. “you already know i can take care of myself. seriously, don’t worry about it.” and then yoongi winks at you. you don’t know for sure, but you take that to mean he’s probably packing heat like camille’s dad.
“if you’re sure.” turning to you, jungkook says, “so, how about it?”
“it’s my sister’s house, so i’ll have to ask her,” you say tentatively. “yeah…uh. let me do that now, i guess.” you pull out your phone to text her about it, though you know it’ll be a while before she gets another work break and can answer. “in the meantime…i think we’ll need to go to the store either way. and then to campus to pick our things up.”
“you’re right. let’s go then,” jungkook says.
the store is full of people panic-buying food and necessities in preparation for the curfew and effective lockdown, which you expected. you and jungkook end up going your separate ways to find the things you need because it’s quicker that way, and because you want to get in and out of the store as soon as possible. the crowdedness is too much like the party, and despite yourself, anxiety begins rising in you due to the claustrophobic atmosphere. you try to maintain even breaths as you keep searching for items. just what you need—a shiny new trauma to make your life harder.
you pass by a man in one of the less-crowded aisles before realizing he’s standing in front of what you need to get, examining one of the food packages. you wait a few moments to see if he’ll finish up soon, and when your eyes begin to wander, you see that there’s a long gray hair clinging to the back of his leather jacket, standing out clearly against the black. you probably wouldn’t have noticed this at all on any other day, except your mind has been on high alert for hours now; you find it strange that this strand clearly doesn’t match the shade or length of the hair on his head, which is short and plain brown. the shade of the hair also weirdly reminds you of something, though you can’t quite recall what; it remains just out of your mind’s reach.
you shake your head. he could’ve come to the store with somebody who has long gray hair, or hugged them before he left home, and a strand stuck to his jacket. it’s the least of your issues right now.
the man must feel your presence behind him because he turns around to look at you. you’re a little taken aback by his gaze; his expression isn’t mean per se, but very intense, as if his entire focus is trained on you.
there’s a second’s pause, like he’s thinking about something before he speaks. “am i in your way?” he asks, never breaking eye contact. his voice doesn’t portray any particular emotion.
“i just have to get something really quick.” he steps aside and gestures to the rows of food without a word. you slip in beside him and grab what you need before moving away again. “thanks.” you think about telling him about the hair on his jacket but decide against it; your decision is solidified when you spot a wolf figurine keychain on his keys, faded from time but still distinguishable. it makes your breath catch.
there’s no way it could be him. it was kind of dark in the party house with nothing but string lights and lamps illuminating it, and everything happened so quickly…but you do remember the colors of that mask. red, yellow, black—and that dark gray for the fur.
but maybe it’s really all just a coincidence; how much sense would it make to turn every person with wolf paraphernalia and random stray hairs into a suspect?
you walk down the rest of the aisle and away from the man with growing unease. maybe it’s time to find jungkook so you can get out of here; you can hardly keep yourself together, and despite your best attempts at logic, you can’t stop yourself from getting more frantic about those two things.
speeding up your walk and weaving through people, you look down every aisle in search for jungkook before you find him, rushing over to him as you breathe heavily.
“whoa, what the hell is wrong? did somebody do something?”
“no, i…”
“what happened?”
“it’s the…well, the…i saw, uh…”
“y/n.”
“i saw—the mask. the fur from the mask. do you remember it?”
“…you mean that stupid ass werewolf mask?” you gesture for jungkook to lower his voice. “wait, you’re saying you saw it in here?”
“no, i saw a man who had a strand of hair on his jacket…” it starts sounding ridiculous to your own ears the more you speak, but you continue. “the strand—it was the same color as that fur. the same length! and he—he had some weird wolf keychain…”
jungkook stares at you for a long moment before sighing. “you’re not serious? a random strand of hair that could be from anybody or anything? that could be from someone’s fucking grandma for all we know. plus a keychain…maybe he just likes wolves, y/n.”
you already know that saying i just feel like something is off won’t be enough to convince him. you sigh with a deep sense of defeat, considering that he’s probably right. maybe your initial assumption was the more sensible answer. “…right. i think i’m just really fucked up right now after everything that happened. can we finish up here?”
“yeah, we will. because you definitely need to lay down soon or something. you haven’t had any sleep all night, right?” the way jungkook eyes you with concern as if you’ve lost your mind annoys you. you’re about to give a smart remark when you notice something in the carrying-basket he has.
“…a baseball bat?”
“if the killer comes after us again, duh. we’ll be prepared this time. or at least i will.”
“good luck with that if he happens to have another gun.” rolling your eyes, you brush past jungkook to go to one of the checkout counters.
in the parking lot, you see that the man from earlier has also come out and is putting the last of his grocery bags into his car trunk. there’s really nothing spectacular about his appearance that would make him stand out in a crowd, with his average height and average looks, let alone incriminate him as a serial killer. yet that familiar unease won’t leave.
he sees you and jungkook walking towards the car together, and his eyes dart to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. then he makes eye contact with you. you give a half-hearted wave, unsure what else to do with his eyes stuck on you. for a moment, his lips turn up into the faintest smile before he shakes his head and gets into his own car.
--
MONDAY, NOV 6
you’ve spent half of saturday and all of sunday trying to get used to living in your sister’s house with jungkook. veronica had been surprisingly okay with having him stay over, though most of it was her being relieved you finally found “a potential boyfriend who’s actually cute.” you didn’t have the energy to argue with her.
you’ve also been constantly checking on camille (to her eventual annoyance) and seeing if there are any more updates on lorelai. still nothing. your dread grows the further away you get from that bloody friday, but you try to keep your thoughts from straying too darkly.
right now, you, veronica, and jungkook all sit on the couch together in a neat little row, a bowl of popcorn in front of you on the coffee table and some science-fiction B-movie playing on the TV. your sister proposed the idea to distract yourselves from everything going on, but so far, you feel like it isn’t very effective. at least not for you. your mind keeps wandering to other things every 5 minutes.
eventually, veronica yawns widely, stretching her arms and legs before rising off the couch. “okay, i’m getting tired as fuck. i need to go to sleep for work tomorrow anyway. you guys enjoy the rest of the movie, okay?” she pats your shoulder as she passes by you on her way out of the room.
jungkook waves. “oh, sure. goodnight.”
“night, sis.”
when jungkook’s attention goes back to the movie, your sister makes eye contact with you and points her finger at you menacingly. you give her a shocked look while she mouths you know what i mean and swirls her finger in jungkook’s direction. embarrassed at the implication, you roll your eyes and turn your head back to the TV screen. having sex with jungkook on your sister’s couch is not high on your list of priorities tonight.
after your sister is gone, jungkook spreads out on the couch like it’s his own living room, placing his legs right over your lap. you sigh, looking over at him—and hoping that your eyes don’t linger too obviously on the expanse of thigh muscle that’s now on display from his shorts riding up higher.
“…really? i don’t want your big ole legs in my lap.”
jungkook just grins. “you should lay down too, it’s more comfortable this way.” you stare at him, and he tries to egg you on by pulling the sleeve of your shirt. “come on.”
“i’m not laying down on top of you, if that’s what you’re after.”
you do end up lying down, but on the opposite side of the couch so that your legs are tangled together, which really just increases the amount of contact between you either way—but whatever.
this makes jungkook laugh more. “ha, it’s like we’re scissoring.”
“so damn corny.”
you two continue watching the rest of the movie, but by the end of it you don’t remember half of what happened. taking the remote, you flip through the channels and try to find something else to look at. there isn’t much interesting to watch on a random monday night��which would be a school night anyway, if not for the current context.
as you search for a channel, jungkook asks: “what would you do if you found out who the killer was?”
you squint your eyes at his odd question. maybe the obvious answer would be to alert the police. but after days of having your anger stoked like a fire, that’s not exactly the answer you’d choose. “maybe i’d kill him.” the words leave your lips easily, and you hardly think twice about them once they’re out.
neither of you speak for a few long moments.
“does that scare you?” you ask, after the silence starts annoying you. you want to laugh, but there’s nothing really funny about the situation.
“…not really. angry women are kinda sexy. so are dangerous ones.”
you scoff. “i’m not tryna be sexy, you fool. and how many dangerous women have you dealt with? seems to me you only have a thing for the innocents.”
“it’s not like i only fuck virgins. you don’t even know me like that.” he nudges your leg with his foot like he’s also annoyed, but his expression doesn’t show any actual irritation.
“…if you want to go back and forth about it, go outside and argue with the wall or something. i’m in no mood, jungkook.” you shove his foot off of you. “just, holy shit. i wish i could have just one hour where i don’t have to think about any of this shit. my mind can’t even breathe.”
he’s actually quiet for a couple minutes after. you think he’s moved on from the conversation until he finally says, “i can give you an hour.”
your body becomes alert at that. the insinuation in his tone is obvious. you glance backwards as if your sister could hear you from upstairs, though you know that’s illogical. “i got what i wanted from you already,” you whisper.
“so? what if i wanted to give you more? you know you’re allowed to have sex with a person more than once, yeah?” he chuckles.
here he is making you this offer, and once again you feel like you’ve been reduced to the state of a confused lamb in front of a hungry wolf. you realize that the idea of letting yourself get more physically entangled with jungkook scares you. he is not someone you can turn into a boyfriend, who wants to be a boyfriend, and you are only looking to save yourself from any potential hurt. “it would just be sex—right? you have to know i’m not looking for anything deeper from you.”
jungkook smirks. like with yoongi, you don’t know if he believes you. “i know.”
you want to undo almost everything from the past few days. you can’t forget, but for a while, you want to just exist outside of the timeline where there’s a killer on the loose and one of your friends is missing. it’s too much to handle; your body is approaching its limits for the amount of stress it can take. you need a balm to numb the pain and the fear, and you dislike that you are giving into your base instincts to do so. you feel guilty, somehow. but pleasure is easy. at least it has been whenever you sought it on your own—and now you have someone else to give it to you. someone who is in front of you now, proposing it with all the willingness in the world. maybe there’s really nothing wrong with saying yes.
“jungkook…”
“hm?”
“please just shut the fuck up and don’t say another word about the outside world right now. i don’t want to think about anything but your…” you falter, still trying to get used to expressing what you want sexually.
jungkook sits up, his hands sliding up your legs and to your hips. “but my what?”
“um, your…” your thoughts end when he leans down and pulls the hem of your sweater up, planting a kiss on your waist where your skin meets the waistband of your sweatpants. one kiss turns into a second, and a third. the fourth becomes an open-mouthed embrace of his lips on your skin, and you make a small noise of pleasure when his tongue gets involved.
“careful. don’t want veronica to come down here, remember?”
you huff. “that isn’t happening any time soon, believe me.”
his kisses continue as he begins to slide your sweatpants down, revealing the waistband of your panties. once they’re fully on display, he leans forward to nuzzle his face between your thighs, his mouth and nose pressing into the seat of your underwear. his actions take you off guard. you actually give a brief chuckle from surprise, though you are also somewhat embarrassed. “now what the hell are you doing?”
“let me savor my meal before i eat it.” his warm breaths tickle your inner thighs as he speaks.
“ugh, don’t turn me off.”
“that’s funny, because i seem to have an easy time getting you wet.” to prove it, his fingers press into the seat of your underwear to feel the wetness that’s seeped into them; you sigh from the brief pleasure his fingers’ movements afford you before he pulls them away.
jungkook drags your panties down next, his lips trailing down your lower abdomen and across the curls of hair covering your pubic mound. your body fills with anticipation at the gradual pace of his actions and the purposeful, wet caresses of his mouth.
when he uses his thumbs to press your lower lips apart and expose you more fully to him, you have half a mind to be self-conscious about it until he places his mouth on you in earnest.
jungkook eats like someone who hasn’t done so in a while and doesn’t know when he’ll get to do it again. his mouth sucks at your clit like he’s desperate for you to come, tongue rolling over the swollen nub in an unrelenting pattern that has your stomach tensing, and you quickly realize you do have to try to silence yourself even if you know it won’t wake veronica up. you twist your hands into the sleeves of your sweater and lean your head back on the couch’s armrest as you arch your hips up closer to jungkook’s face, uncaring about how vulnerable you feel completely offering yourself up to him like this; right now, all you want is to feel good.
“gonna come quick again? maybe we can set a new record?” jungkook pins your knee against the couch with his elbow to keep your legs open as he slides two fingers inside, diving straight in instead of working you up this time. your body breaks out in a sweat and you know you really won’t last long once he does this, the tips of his fingers aiming for that dreadful, wonderful, and overpowering place inside you. you don’t know how people do this—you feel like you’re going to die when he stimulates that spot, and all you want to do is scream even though you can’t.
“a r-record? fuck off…” you choke out, though you begin to rock your hips into the rhythm of his fingers, needing so badly for him to take you over the edge again.
he chuckles. “i don’t think you want me to fuck off right now.”
you have no words for a good comeback when he buries his head between your legs and slurps at your pussy again and crooks his fingers repeatedly to where your orgasm is unexpectedly rushing down upon you, causing your body to tense as you gasp and stifle any sounds that escape with your sweater sleeve.
jungkook doesn’t stop there and you don’t really expect him to, because you’re beginning to learn he isn’t a one-and-done type of man. he keeps sucking and stroking you right into another releasewhile you push the beanie off his head, fist your fingers into his strands, and tremble over the sight of his pitch-black mess of hair between your thighs. something about the visual is so appealing to you.
after he has made you come for the third time, you watch him sit up on his knees to reach into his shorts and pull his dick out, his darkened tip slick with precum. his long hair falls into his face as he glances downward, using the hand he’d been fingering you with to lube himself up with your cum.
“come here,” you tell him, your voice coming out sharper than you intended; but he doesn’t care, because he follows your request without a word and presses himself into your side. the couch is just big enough to accommodate both of you in this position, but it’s still a tight fit, and your bodies are once again tangled together.
“let me touch you,” you say, your palm pressed to his stomach, feeling the firmness of the muscle.
he raises his eyebrows, like you didn’t even need to ask. “of course.”
“no, i mean…” he realizes what you actually mean as you brush his hand away from his shaft and wrap your fingers around it instead.
“should i teach you how?” jungkook brings his hand to overlap yours, though his breath becomes a bit strained when you slide your hand to the base of his cock and back to the tip again, the pads of your fingers rubbing over the sensitive head. seeing your fingers around him turns him on more than he thought it could, and it’s just a simple fucking handjob.
you roll your eyes. “stroking a dickshouldn’t be that hard.”
“everyone likes it differently, though. fast, slow, soft, or rough…just the tip, or the whole shaft.” you can’t deny that—or the way you find yourself throbbing at his words, his voice husky from the pleasure. which is why you let jungkook close his hand more fully around yours and guide your movements.
it’s captivating to observe his reactions from your hand on his skin—the heavy breaths he lets out and the soft moans and even softer whimpers that come in between the exhales. whenever you squeeze his shaft more firmly or rub your thumb against his leaking tip, you find yourself grinning at the rise and fall of his chest and the tongue that darts out of his mouth to lick at his lips. but mostly, your eyes are drawn back to the sight of your hand working him over, his thighs and stomach tensing sporadically.
eventually, you both look away from your joined hands and at each other’s faces. your eyes dart to his lips and back to his gaze again, and you shift your face forward to signal your desire for a kiss. he meets you there by pressing his lips to yours, and it isn’t hard for him to get lost in the meeting of your mouths and the heat from your palm on his shaft.
your free hand returns to his soft hair to tug on it as your tongues slide against each other. he grunts at the burn of his roots being pulled but doesn’t stop you; on the contrary, his body responds favorably as more precum swells from his tip and his nipples poke against the material of his shirt.
“do you like that, jungkook?” you mumble against his mouth.
“you know i do.” at some point, his hand falls away and he lets you stroke him on your own.
jungkook gives a shuddering moan into your mouth when he climaxes minutes later, thick streams of his cum shooting onto his shirt and dripping down your hand. he tries to keep quiet and doesn’t entirely succeed, but it doesn’t much matter.
you squeeze the few remaining drops of cum from his cockhead, trying to make sure you don’t grip hard enough to actually hurt him. you pull your sticky hand away from jungkook when you think he’s finally emptied, but he grabs your wrist and you look at him questioningly. you watch with shocked eyes as jungkook brings your hand up and takes your messy fingers into his mouth, sucking his cum from them. you know instinctively it isn’t the first time he’s done this—not with the look of pure satisfaction on his features as he licks his own seed off your fingers.
his enthusiastic pleasure is part of the reason why you accept when jungkook gives you a crushing kiss, passing his cum from his tongue to yours. you don’t know what you expected it to taste like, but it isn’t gross like you’ve heard others complain about when sharing their sex tales; despite being salty, the overall taste is neutral. still, it takes some getting used to.
when you pull away from each other, noses brushing and lips wet from each other’s spit, you look into his dark brown eyes and get the sudden desire to say something that’s been buried in the back of your mind for days now.
“why did you come straight to me that night?” you whisper. “like you already knew who you were there for.”
jungkook stares back, his lips curving up slightly. “i just wanted to. or i wanted you, more specifically.”
“that’s not an answer.”
“well, it’s my answer.”
“was i another one to knock off your list?”
“you think i have a list?”
“i’m not stupid. it’s not unusual for guys to have a list. plus, plenty of rumors go around.”
jungkook taps his fingers underneath your chin and kisses you on the lips again, though it is brief. “stop believing everything you hear.”
you clearly won’t be getting a straight answer from him tonight. with the moment broken, you sigh and begin pulling your bottoms back on. “…whatever you say, dude.” once you’re dressed, you climb over his body to get off the couch. you poke him in the chest as your eyes roam over him in his disheveled state, his shorts pulled down and his cum staining his black shirt. “might wanna clean yourself up, huh? i’m going to sleep. and, yeah…thanks for the distraction.”
--
TUESDAY, NOV 7
with the weather being as cold as it is and heading toward winter in another month or so, lorelai is surprised by how quickly the bodies began to smell.
she doesn’t know much of anything about bodily decomposition—because, to her parents’ disappointment, she wasn’t about to be a biology major and have to be around cadavers in a dissection lab—but if this were a movie or something, she would’ve thought it would take longer than just one day. the smell started to hit her the saturday after the party.
but ultimately, this isn’t a movie, and the fact that she’s trapped in a decrepit house in some remote part of town is her present reality.
she doesn’t remember anything about how she got to this house; she thinks she must have been concussed before she was brought here. her head has been hurting badly for days, and not even the simple relief of a painkiller is available.
what she does know is that she’s being kept in a dirty living room on an equally dirty mattress, her hands and legs tied by rope and zip-ties. if there were any miniscule chance of her escaping, it would be impossible to go anywhere considering both her ankles are broken, only adding to the amount of physical pain she’s been in for days.
the living room is mostly empty except for the bodies of some other students from the party, which have been scattered around the room. lorelai tries not to look at them—especially not at the ones she knows—but it’s difficult. they become even more terrifying to her when night falls, turning into dark, rotting shadows in the corners of the room. there has been nothing but the company of these corpses for days, and a couple of visits from the killer.
he's never once taken off his wolf mask or his gloves, and every other part of his body stays covered in all black. she doesn’t have the first idea of what he looks like underneath it all. he has spoken to her a few times, but the voice isn’t one she recognizes. his words when she first awoke inside this house still knock around in her mind, filling her with dread.
he’d crouched in front of her, watching her move around on the mattress and try to orient herself. he had the casual air of someone observing a flipped-up bug struggle on the sidewalk before crushing it underfoot. “you aren’t y/n, but you’ll do for now. we’ll have some real fun later on. you’ll help me give her a good scare.”
“how the fuck do you know y/n?” lorelai had struggled against her restraints, but this only made her newly broken ankles hurt worse. tears began to fall from her eyes from the pain and fear.
the killer had said nothing to that—only tilted his head curiously and stared at her, which was unnerving even if she couldn’t see his eyes.
“you have no fucking reason to go after her, she’s not even a virgin anymore you dumb fuck—” with those words, the killer had backhanded her, sending her already injured head into a fresh wave of agony.
“things would’ve been different if not for that fucking party. you students think you’re so fucking clever, yeah? and look how you paid for it.” it was impossible to see any facial expression, but his body language spoke of anger. “no matter, though. virgin or not, i’ll see this through to the end.”
now it’s yet another morning, and he has returned. he has a lot of debris in his hands—stuff like sticks and dry moss and foliage. he’s also carrying a small bag, the contents of it a mystery. everything he does causes alarm for lorelai, but now confusion joins in.
“ready to have some fun?” he asks. with duct tape over her mouth, she can’t answer back. she watches as he arranges the debris on the ground in front of her, her anxiety mounting as he takes a lighter out of his pocket and sets fire to the foliage.
leaning forward, he rips part of the duct tape away from her mouth with his gloved hand, causing her face to sting. “got anything to say?”
“wh-what the fuck are you doing?”
“i’m gonna stoke a nice fire here…get this knife hot enough to hurt.” he brings out his knife then, and lorelai shrinks away from the blade as he drags the flat of it across her throat—but there’s nowhere else to go, as she’s sitting up against the wall. “then i’ll just cut this pretty little body up a bit. the finishing touch…i think i’ll slice your throat open. how does that sound?” he takes the knife away from her neck to hold the blade over the flames.
lorelai’s breath hitches, and her stomach begins to physically hurt from the outpouring of anxiety flowing through her. she starts to sob, trying to speak through the tears and snot and drool. the only question she can muster up is, “wh-why?”
“this is for y/n—remember? i hope that concussion hasn’t fucked with your memory.” the killer watches the reflection of the flames on the blade as it grows hotter. “and…i’m doing someone a favor.” he doesn’t wait for her to speak again before putting the duct tape back in place over her mouth, leaving her to cry to herself and face her rising distress as he heats the knife until it’s burning hot. internally, she wishes there was any way in the world to get out of this situation.
it isn’t much longer before he’s finished. lorelai screams as he approaches her with the knife, and then at the feeling of the red-hot blade scorching her skin, though the sounds are stifled by the duct tape.
“now, be still while i fix you up.”
--
WEDNESDAY, NOV 8
you go outside that afternoon to check the mail and have an excuse to get out of the house; it doesn’t matter if it’s only for a few moments. you’re not used to staying cooped up in one place for so long with absolutely nothing to do, and you feel like you’re not too far off from going mad with cabin fever. it hasn’t even been a week since everything happened.
you open the mailbox, and there are the usual bills along with something strange: a blank envelope with no return address. even your sister’s address isn’t written on it. flipping it over, you see that the envelope was never sealed. someone must’ve just come up and put it inside the mailbox. but who the hell would do that, and for what reason? whenever any of your neighbors have something to give you or your sister, they come straight up to the house to do it.
inside the envelope is a set of polaroids. their content makes you drop the rest of the mail. your legs grow weak, and you end up sitting down hard on the end of the driveway, some of the polaroids slipping from your hands. the pictures show the bodies of some of the students from your university, their corpses posed in odd positions and some bare of clothing—all dead.
you struggle to breathe as you frantically flip through the rest of the pictures. in the center of all the group photos is lorelai, her neck torn open and her wrists and ankles tied. she’s still dressed the way she was the night of the party, though her dress is stained with dark brown blood. there are open cuts all over her bare skin, their appearance rough-looking and uneven as if they’ve been cauterized.
there are several group polaroids, several of lorelai alone, and several angles of the outside of a house, which must be the same one the bodies are being kept in. one photo of lorelai slips out of your shaking hands, and you see there’s barely legible handwriting on the back of it, which reads, “this is just the teaser, y/n.”
you scream and don’t stop screaming until jungkook comes running out of the house holding the baseball bat, as if the killer might’ve gotten bold enough to attack in daylight. a couple of your neighbors peek out of their houses and make their way over with concern on their faces once they see you sitting on the ground, your exclamations ringing through the street.
there’s a disarrayed group of people around you grabbing at your shoulders and asking what’s wrong, what happened, and then gasps and exclamations of shock when they see the polaroids. you feel yourself being pulled to your feet and then lifted up—maybe it’s jungkook, because it smells like him—but you’re too disoriented to make proper sense of anything right now. you can only think of how much time has been wasted, and how little time lorelai actually had left.
--
SUNDAY, NOV 12
in the main lobby of the funeral home, you sit in a chair next to camille, staring into empty space while the other girl tries to cry as quietly as she can. she cries as if she’s ashamed of it, and you wish you could comfort her, but you don’t know what to say or do. for the past few days, you’ve mostly just felt numb.
you’re waiting for veronica to come back out so you can leave, as she’d stayed behind after the service to talk to lorelai’s family for a little longer.
lorelai’s family had opted to have her cremated after seeing the state of her body. a lot of other families did the same after the events of cherry bomb, not even wanting to entertain the idea of a closed-casket funeral. you can understand their feelings about it if you push through the haze in your mind to consider it for long enough. though the morticians have done the best they can over the past week, sometimes knowing that your loved one has multiple stab wounds and eviscerated organs beneath all the makeup and fancy clothing is too much to handle.
when veronica finally comes out, the three of you walk outside to join the rest of the people who’ve started getting in their cars. some still linger in small huddles, shaking their heads and wiping their faces.
jungkook, who’d driven you and veronica to the memorial, waits outside for you all, leaning on the side of the building. you both thought it was probably better for him not to attend the service considering lorelai was never fond of him and he didn’t know her that well.
“is it finished?” he asks.
“it is.” veronica sighs. “god, funerals are so damn…bleak.”
you notice a man waving at your group from the other side of the parking lot and realize it’s camille’s dad. her posture straightens when she catches sight of him, and she hurriedly tries to wipe the rest of her tears before shoving her tissue into her pocket. “i-i think my dad is waiting for me. i…i’ll see you guys later, alright?”
“okay, camille.” the strange absence of emotion that you’ve been trapped in for the past few days suddenly cracks open when you notice camille’s anxious demeanor as she speed-walks away from the rest of you. intense sorrow overtakes you; you don’t want her to leave, but she has to go.
you are crying before you fully understand what’s happening. veronica puts her arms around you and squeezes you against the side of her body. jungkook reaches a thumb up to wipe away your tears, though you don’t let him get very far before turning your head away and into veronica’s shoulder.
“y/n…”
“how am i supposed to go on?” you exclaim, catching the attention of a few people nearby. “the police said maybe she’s just staying with friends. and now look. plus, the killer knows where me and my sister live now…maybe he always knew.”
“we don’t even have a clue who the killer is…” jungkook mumbles. “there’s no one you know of who might have a grudge against you?”
“no, jungkook. the police already gave me all that questioning. and it doesn’t help me feel any better to think maybe all these deaths are somehow my fault.” you scoff.
“y/n, nothing’s your fault because some freak decided to go around killing people; that was his decision.” jungkook argues.
you nod slightly to his words but say nothing else, not wanting to go further into that topic. you don’t know if you can believe him about that.
the parking lot is emptying out now, so you try to pull yourself together so the three of you can leave. “well…you don’t need to keep staying with us if you don’t want to. we have those assigned bodyguards now, so…” you glance in the direction of one other car sitting beside jungkook’s—inside it are two men the police force appointed after the polaroids of the bodies were planted in your sister’s mailbox.
jungkook looks at you as if he’s trying to gauge your expression; he himself looks surprised, though he attempts to play it off. veronica glances between you both, recognizing the awkward shift in the air.
“you don’t want me there anymore? i mean it is your house—” he glances at veronica “—so that’s fine with me if—"
“what? i didn’t say i don’t want you there, neither did veronica, it’s just if you don’t want to be there—"
“i never said i didn’t want to be there, though?”
you both become quiet, jungkook looking at you and you returning his gaze for a few seconds before looking off to the side. veronica is still standing between you both like she’d rather be anywhere else on earth.
“i just figured that maybe…” why are you being so concerned about me? isn’t this the part where we go our separate ways? is what you really want to ask. you have seen and learned enough from your friends’ and even your acquaintances’ experiences to realize that any other one night stand would not have cared so much. that’s how these things go, right? but he isn’t really a one night stand anymore, either.
you don’t even know if you’re considered friends with benefits, but what would that change? you’d still seen others tossed aside without much thought by their FWBs while in times of need. considering his history, you don’t understand why jungkook isn’t following the same template now, and you don’t think you should ask why for fear of breaking the illusion.
fed up with your own confusion, you decide now isn’t the time to lament on your lack of knowledge about these things. “nevermind. that’s fine. so you’ll stay?”
the corner of his mouth lifts in a brief smile. “i’ll stay as long as you won’t try to kick me out.”
you aren’t in the mood to attempt to smile back, but he seems to understand that. “right, well...good.”
“…now that you two have figured that shit out, can we leave?”
--
FRIDAY, NOV 17
jungkook thought that getting outside a bit more would help you feel better and prevent you from developing a complete fear of leaving the house, which is why you’re sitting in this claustrophobic little diner now with him, yoongi, and camille—and of course, your ever-present bodyguards in the booth behind you all. but this outing isn’t doing anything to mitigate your fears.
nearly 10 minutes in, you have to ask jungkook to switch seats with you so you’re not on the outside of the booth, as you’re afraid that it’s too easy-access if anyone—say, the killer, though you’ve been trying not to think so obsessively about him—were to come in and start stabbing you to death right where you sit. being on the inside calms you for a little while until you become anxious about the window beside you; what if he has a gun again and simply shoots through the glass? all he’d have to do is stand on the sidewalk and aim, his werewolf mask laughing at you with its eternally frozen growling expression, and your brains would be all over the table just like that frat guy’s.
your meal sits half-eaten as you get increasingly lost in your anxieties. the others are talking about something, but you can’t hear what. it’s like some of your senses have shut down or begun working incorrectly. the strawberry sauce in camille’s sundae looks too much like blood and even smells like it from the occasional whiffs you get, and you find yourself staring at the sundae dish and wanting to throw it across the restaurant.
jungkook’s hand touches you on the back, and the tension in your body increases. he feels it and draws away, though he keeps trying to meet your eyes. “are you okay?” he whispers.
“why ask that? she obviously isn’t,” yoongi says, like he’s annoyed with the obviousness of jungkook’s question.
“hyung, i’m just trying to help.”
“it was your great idea to come out here when she didn’t want to, though.”
“y/n—” camille starts.
“can’t you throw that out? it smells like blood.” your mouth feels useless and hard to maneuver, but you manage to say those words.
“what?”
“the…that. that thing.” everyone looks at camille’s melting sundae. yoongi raises his eyebrows.
“blood?”
“do you mean it—looks like blood?” jungkook suggests.
you raise your voice in irritation, not understanding how everyone else is unable to perceive the same scent that you do. “no, i-it does, but it smells like blood too! just get rid of it!”
one of the waitresses comes over to the table. “is everything okay over here?”
“um, we’re fine! i’m finished with this though.” camille hurriedly hands the sundae off to her, trying to keep the situation calm.
“oh, well—the rest of you too? that’ll be it, then?” she gathers everyone’s plates and leaves with a smile that attempts to be cordial but is still colored with unease.
her departure leaves a stiff silence in which you all spare glances at each other but try to avoid directly meeting eyes. camille is the first to break it.
“i’ll ask my dad if i can stay over with you,” she suggests. she suddenly sounds much more tired. jungkook’s eyebrows furrow slightly at her words; yoongi silently glances at the younger man. “just, you know…maybe the extra company would help? he’s been treating me like a kid again, but we should be safe with the bodyguards there, so…”
“you don’t have to do that,” you say, though you’re too exhausted to truly argue.
“you’re in shambles, y/n. and it’s not just for your benefit. i’m feeling pretty fucking alone right now, and it’s hard for my dad to understand the emotional side of it, so…” camille plays with her fingers and doesn’t look at anyone as she speaks; you know talking about her father can be a sore spot for her sometimes. “uh, anyway. not to trauma-dump or anything. just let me do this.”
you sigh. “fine…okay. do whatever you have to. can we just leave?”
as you’re all walking outside, jungkook pulls you aside.
“i still worry about you after that incident at the store, you know?” he admits.
you shrug his hand off your arm and glare at him. “you think i’m crazy.”
“i don’t. i just want you to be able to relax and not feel like you’re being hunted 24/7. i don’t think the killer is constantly waiting around the nearest corner for you, y/n.”
“you don’t know how close the killer could be. he knows where i go to sleep at night. so stop the bullshit, jungkook.”
“you’ll be okay. you have me, remember? i protected you that night…i can do it again.”
you examine his face for a long moment and find that you are too overwhelmed with stress and fear to be moved by his words. “i’d like to trust you…but the killer might just murder you too. then who’ll save me?” you don’t wait for his response before walking away to catch up with the other two.
--
LYING IN WAIT...
it’s strange to see the police bodyguards in veronica’s driveway and backyard everyday. it’s not the same two all day—they switch off so that there are two doing a day shift and two doing a night shift.
the security team at the hospital where your sister works is aware of the situation, so you try not to get too worried about her safety when she’s away from the house—but it’s difficult.
there have been no more kills connected to your university since lorelai. it seems like half the town has forgotten their fears and tried to go back to some sense of normalcy while the other half still hides away and lives in perpetual panic, including you. the former group of people has started muddying the waters for the police, with some teenagers getting brave enough to sneak around in wolf masks and vandalize buildings with red-lettered virgin graffiti just to fuck with the cops. there have even been a few people who turned themselves in claiming to be the killer—only their supposed confessions never matched the details of the case.
reporters have tried to hound lorelai’s family and your family several times for any speculations or answers on the killer’s identity, but none of you are willing to spread misinformation just to give them something to write about. however, that hasn’t stopped other residents of your town from sharing their speculations and even implicating their own relatives or neighbors—whether as a fucked-up joke or as genuine revenge just depends on whoever’s speaking. with all of these false leads, the police are still no closer to finding the killer than they’d initially been.
everyday feels like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, though the chances of any more kills are starting to seem improbable; the university is practically empty. but it doesn’t matter to you if the school is nearly deserted, because the killer has his aims set on you now, and you only wish you knew why.
up in your room, you and camille sit on your bed gazing out the window—the window that must always remain locked now, for fear of unwanted ingress. you’ve never been uncomfortable in your sister’s house, but lately you’ve been feeling like you’re boxed in with every wall pressing towards you.
sitting up from your lying-down position, you have to find the appropriate words for a moment before speaking. “camille—i can’t stop feeling like maybe we aren’t entirely safe,” you murmur.
camille raises her eyebrows. “why not? those guys stay outside all day, and we keep everything locked up day and night. literally, the only time the front door opens is for veronica to leave and come back from work everyday.”
“i don’t know. there’s no particular reason for it…it just seems like we’re waiting for something.”
“…yeah? for the killer to be caught.”
“but he’s made no moves recently. you remember the policeman’s daughter, right? i even texted her and she hasn’t heard anything new that we don’t already know. seems like things have slowed down at the police station. it’s not like that abandoned house was in the killer’s name or anything, so what leads would they have?”
camille frowns and rubs her eyes like something’s in them, but when she looks at you directly, you see her eyes are red from unshed tears. “…i want things to be okay, though. i’m tired of living like this. you know how i had to beg just to get my dad to let me leave the house. he’s constantly on edge.” you feel even more unsettled to see camille so distressed lately, as she’s always been the only one able to pull something funny out of a terrible situation—something enough to distract you from the horrors. “all i know is they’ll have to dig his ass out of some hole in the ground at some point. he can’t hide in this town forever.”
“yeah…i guess you’re right.” you still don’t feel reassured, but you don’t voice your doubts.
--
WEDNESDAY, NOV 22
“i think i might go mad,” camille says from her position on the armchair, her limbs splayed haphazardly across it and one hand stuck in a bag of chips.
you sigh. “you’re the one who wanted to watch this thanksgiving movie marathon.”
“the most mid holiday of the season,” jungkook adds.
“no one cares what either of you think, thanks.” it isn’t long before the program is over and the ending credits are rolling. with an exaggerated exhale, camille gets up from the chair and crunches the bag of chips in her hand. “i’m going to your room, y/n. you two just do whatever it is you do down here, since you hate my movie choices so much!”
“means we can finally turn the channel.” jungkook snatches the remote off the coffee table and does just that.
camille goes into the kitchen to throw out the chip bag and wash her hands. your focus returns to the TV. a few seconds later, you hear the upstairs flooring creak above the noise of the water pouring from the tap.
“what’s up, sis? i thought you were sleeping.” veronica is known to be a deep sleeper, so it’s not common for her to be getting up in the middle of the night. there’s no answer to your question. you glance upstairs, but your sister isn’t standing there; she isn’t standing at all, instead being carried by someone wearing an all-too familiar mask.
you scream as the killer tosses your sister over the stair railing. her torso has been sliced open from collarbone to navel, her body leaving a large splatter of blood on the floor where she lands. jungkook jumps to his feet but is momentarily immobilized as he gazes at your sister’s body crumpled on the floor. you slide off the couch and crawl over to her, still crying out, but there’s no life left to try and salvage.
the screaming brings camille rushing to the kitchen doorway. she can barely vocalize what’s wrong? before spotting veronica’s body and stopping in her tracks. in a moment that feels like it takes forever to pass, the killer pulls a gun from his waistband—you recognize it as one of the guns the policemen carry and realize he must’ve killed the bodyguard posted in the backyard—and shoots her in the chest twice.
“camille!” when you go over to where she’s lying on the ground, she is still alive but bleeding intensely and struggling to breathe. your knees slip in the blood that begins pooling around her. “shit, camille…p-please don’t die…” you press your hand against the wounds, but they’re bleeding so much that your efforts don’t help, and the pressure of your hand causes her more pain.
there’s the sound of a gunshot at the front door as the lock is blown off, and the door is banged open a few seconds later by the remaining bodyguard. he has virtually no time to fire off another shot before the killer is shooting him in the head first.
the killer throws the gun aside, taking his knife in his other hand and making his way down the stairs. “your sister left her window cracked open. i waited for days for a slip-up like that. see how much harm can come from a simple mistake? well, she was collateral damage anyway.”
even in your panic, it’s as if all your bodily functions freeze when you recognize the familiarity of the killer’s voice. camille reacts with a rattling gasp, but her body is becoming too weak for her to utter anything; all she can do is watch as the man stops at the bottom of the stairs and pulls his mask off.
“yoongi…” your voice breaks as you try to speak again, but nothing coherent comes out.
he drops the mask on the floor and brushes a hand through his hair. “i guess you weren’t expecting that. good. we kept it up ‘til the end.”
your lips form around the word we, but your vocal cords won’t cooperate. you twist around to look at jungkook, who is still standing by the couch.
the man who you’d gotten too close to for your own good and done so many firsts with, who’d promised you that he’d protect you and was even there for you on the day of lorelai’s memorial, looks at you now with eyes glowing from the thrill as his mouth twitches into a smile—small at first but growing into a full grin. “i almost can’t believe we staged all that shit and it actually worked. you really believed it all, y/n.
not all of those kills were hyung’s, of course...there’s no way i’d miss out on the best parts. you don’t know what it’s like until you kill a person for the first time. crashing cherry bomb was his idea, though. and lorelai was mine. that bitch would’ve kept you away from me, and i needed her gone for this kill to work.”
through tears, you finally muster up the strength to ask, “wh-why have you done this? that night…y-you mean to tell me none of that was real? being shot at—why would you—” your voice rises until you’re shouting. “you-you’ve killed so many people. what was the purpose?!”
jungkook’s smile fades somewhat as he pretends to think about it, acting like he’s reminiscing on wistful memories. “i realized that killing and fucking aren’t that different, y/n. the real ecstasy of it is in taking someone pure…and doing something to them that has never been done before, and can never be done again. there’s a certain eroticism in killing someone, stabbing them, entering them…it’s like sex in the most profane sense.”
“you’re disgusting,” you mutter, glaring at him through your tears. you can’t help but feel shame to think of the times you’d had sex with him. had he simply been imagining murdering you during those moments? it makes you want to throw up.
yoongi steps closer until he’s right in front of you and camille. “and as for me…i just enjoy it. practice really does make perfect. you wouldn’t believe how entertaining it can be to see someone beg for their life.” his lips turn upwards in a dark smile resembling jungkook’s. “but instead of raging at us, i think you have bigger matters to be concerned with.” yoongi gestures his knife hand to camille, and when you look down at her body, you realize she’s no longer moving.
you lift camille’s head up with your hands as if that could make her return your gaze, though you can find no sign of breathing or pulse. “god, no…” you scream in frustration, your hands slipping in her blood. you check once more and again for any signs of life, because there is just no possible way this could’ve happened, but there are none present. “please—i’m sorry…”
“time’s up.” yoongi grabs your arm and yanks you away from camille, jostling you to try to get you on your feet. you flail around in his grip, fruitlessly scratching at his arms that are covered by his thick jacket, before managing to elbow him in the groin with your frantic movements. “shit!” this causes him to loosen his grip, which is enough for you to scramble away from him, slipping in the blood as you go.
you make it to the other side of the room where the officer lies facedown—though there isn’t much left of his face from yoongi’s shot. you snatch the gun from the dead officer’s hand and point it in the direction of both men. the safety is already off; all you’d have to do is pull the trigger and kill either one of them right now. before you can act, yoongi uses his free hand to pull another gun from his waistband—his own.
“as i said before, i know how to take care of myself,” he says, flicking the safety off and aiming for you, though his stance shows he’s still in pain. “please don’t assume it’ll be that easy. do you even know how to shoot a gun?”
you and yoongi are at an impasse as you both point your guns at each other, jungkook looking on with casual amusement coloring his face. “fuck you,” you spit out. you remain hesitant to fire on him, knowing that even if you succeed, he could fatally shoot you at the same time.
“let’s not do it this way,” yoongi says, his voice low and soft in an attempt to be persuasive, though you just find it disturbing. “you were supposed to be a clean kill. a few stabs and it’d all be over. i’ll even let jungkook do it, since you seem to like each other so much. do you really want to be shot down like a dog like camille over there?”
“you and him can both fry in hell!” you shout.
yoongi glances over at jungkook. they both nod before yoongi hands the knife to him, and the younger man takes a few steps in your direction. you don’t know whether to point the gun at him or keep it trained on yoongi; your head is pounding with a headache that you’ve only just realized you have. “don’t come over here. stay away from me!”
you press your back to the wall as jungkook comes closer, inching towards your right side with his knife at the ready. you slide away from him as you keep your back against the wall. “hand it over, y/n. it doesn’t have to be like this.”
“hand it over and let you kill me? are you insane? you lied to me this whole time, you fucking piece of shit.”
jungkook scoffs and looks at yoongi as if to say can you believe this? “why wouldn’t i lie to you? you were always meant to die.”
he won’t stop coming towards you, and you’re running out of room to slide away from him. you grasp for anything to try to reason with him, though you know it’s futile. “you realize that if you kill me now and you conveniently survive, everyone will know it’s you? you’ve been living here for weeks, you jackass!”
“hyung and i have that covered. it’s not for you to worry about, considering you won’t be worrying about anything soon.”
jungkook lunges for you with the knife, thinking he can catch you off guard and overpower you. you scream and pull the trigger in your frenzied state of mind, shooting yoongi. the next few things seem to happen almost simultaneously:
you hear the crash of yoongi’s body hitting the TV stand and the TV falling to the floor.
you feel jungkook’s knife piercing your shoulder, causing you to fire a stray round into the wall from the unexpected burst of pain.
you hear another gunshot that’s not from you; you see and feel jungkook stumble into you, the knife sliding from his fingers and to the floor.
you realize that he’s been shot when his hand flies to the bullet wound on his lower back; he’d been standing in front of you, and yoongi meant to hit you, not him.
“jungkook!” yoongi’s shout is furious and regretful as he steadies himself on the TV stand.
trying to push the pain into the back of your mind, you clumsily grasp jungkook’s fallen knife and run for the stairs. more shots follow you and most of them miss but one, which strikes you in the thigh. while you cling to the stair railing and try to regain your footing, you are suddenly staring mortality in the face and understanding with a freezing-cold clarity that you will die right now if you don’t do something.
your nervous system vibrates with fear and adrenaline as you tighten your grip on the police officer’s gun and shoot yoongi with it twice—in the same area he’d shot camille.
these last two bullets finish him off immediately. you don’t think it’s fair, with how camille suffered and bled and died in your arms. for a moment, you’re so outraged that you wish he’d come back to life so that you could kill him again. you’re torn from these thoughts by jungkook.
“you bitch…he was my only family after everyone else threw me away. do you understand? i’ll fucking kill you!” jungkook is nearly writhing in the ground from his upset and from the hurt of his injury; it frightens you that this same man is someone you once thought you could grow fond of.
you aim the gun for jungkook next, but the chamber is empty. either way, he currently has no weapon, which leaves you with a small chance to get away before he re-arms himself. throwing the gun away, you stagger up the rest of the steps while his screams continue echoing up to you.
you give no thought to the blood trail you’re leaving behind as you rush to veronica’s room and to the window yoongi had entered through. you begin squeezing yourself through, keeping your grip on your knife all the while, but your injuries make it difficult to move. a few more tears slip out as you try to balance your injured leg on the tree branch beneath the window, and the desperation of wanting to give up clings to you.
you hear jungkook’s heavy and limping footsteps coming up the stairs, and you attempt to hurry, but you’re only halfway out of the window. when he crashes into the room, it’s unnervingly easy for him to grab your arm and yank your body back through the window, uncaring of how you get scraped up in the process.
he jams you up against the nightstand with one of the kitchen knives to your neck to stop your movements; his harsh maneuver causes the objects on the nightstand to rattle. the nightstand’s edge digs into the backs of your thighs, the pressure causing your wounded thigh to hurt more.
“you want to know why i picked you?” jungkook hisses, the knife’s blade stinging your throat as it begins to break skin. “you were just another choice out of many, but i decided you’d be the first one that i’d fuck and kill.”
it’s painful to hear, but it angers you at the same time. “fuck you!” in your rage, you spit in his eyes. jungkook jerks back and the knife shifts from its previous position at your neck; you take those few seconds to grasp the alarm clock off the nightstand and crash it against his head.
“shit—!” he cries out, stumbling and grasping the side of his head. he tries to grab for you again, but you jump onto the bed and crawl away from him, your stomach lurching at all of veronica’s blood soaked into the sheets. you spot a small decorative glass bowl on the dresser—the one filled with little candies that you’d always teased veronica for, saying she was so much like a grandma handing out treats to her grandchildren. when your feet touch the ground again, you clasp your hand around it like it’s a lifeline and fling it at jungkook’s head as hard as you can, just as he makes it around the bed to your side. the shards cut his face when it breaks, slowing him down further as he grabs his slashed and bleeding face. one of his eyes is blinded from the blood and glass.
this will probably be your only chance while he’s struggling to gather himself. you rush towards him with the knife handle tight in both of your hands and drive the blade into the middle of his chest, putting all your strength into that movement—just as his own knife impales your abdomen.
you are both simultaneously struck from the shock of being stabbed, and it takes you a few long moments to piece your mind back together as the pain radiates throughout your body. jungkook groans when you shift the knife around in his wound as you pull it out, letting his blood flow out freely. his breaths become wet and rattling as he chokes on his own blood, the red fluid staining his mouth and dripping down to his neck. he jams his knife further into your wound in retaliation so that the handle is flush against your body, causing your head to spin.
“i-if i die, i’m taking you w-with me.” jungkook gasps with his remaining effort. his body starts to sag from its standing position as he weakens, his hand slipping from the knife handle. he loosely grasps the comforter with one hand as he collapses to his knees, his torso becoming soaked with blood and his head bleeding from your earlier hits.
you drop your knife and lean against the bed too, shifting your body to find a position that could lessen the pain, but it’s impossible with a knife lodged in your abdomen. you know enough to understand that you’ll bleed out faster if you remove it, though, so you resist the urge. “you can rot in hell alone, jungkook.” you watch him struggle for what feels like minutes before his breaths stop altogether and his body slumps to the floor. he is just a blur of clothes and blood through your tears. you’ve never felt so lonely in your life.
you have a thought to call 911, but you’re becoming more and more lightheaded from the blood loss, and you can already hear sirens approaching on your street. you figure one of your neighbors must’ve called after hearing the gunshots; perhaps the bodyguard sent for backup before he was shot. your rescue has come much later than you would’ve preferred—or maybe everything just happened much faster than it seemed. you can’t tell anymore.
you can’t tell anymore, and you no longer want to look at the carnage around you, and nothing makes any sense. so, you close your eyes to it all; and when you feel someone lifting you in their arms—this sensation is so familiar—and maneuvering you onto a stretcher, you allow yourself to relent to it and empty your mind of everything.
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THE LINE—
pairings: steve harrington x henderson!reader
1 — part 2 coming soon…
words: 3.6k
Summary: You realize the line between love and hate is very thin as you babysit and monster hunt alongside Steve Harrington.
Leaning pathetically against your locker, you banged your head against the metal, tugging on the end of your cheerleading skirt that got caught in the door when you slammed it shut. It’s your fault really, you were so happy to get it open for once. Of course, it had to be too good to be true.
“Need some help with that?”
Your lips swerved into a smile at the familiar voice, leaning away from your locker to look at one of your favorite girls.
“Yes, Nancy. Please!” you pleaded, laughing as the girl stepped forward, easily opening your locker door, not even needing to ask the combination from the amount of times she’s had to open it.
Nancy Wheeler smiled smugly when your locker opened, releasing you and your skirt.
Nancy had been one of your best friends since you moved to Hawkins along with Chrissy Cunningham and Heather Holloway. At twelve years old, you were anxious, but to your surprise, extremely charismatic. You found friends like wildflowers, something you loved, but Nancy was one of the best. She was like a rose, beautiful and smart, something that drew you to her in the first place.
“My savior! How could I ever repay you?” you joked, mocking a princess before laughing at your own joke, tugging your books tighter to your hip.
Nancy grimaced. “Well,” she started, and your brows furrowed, making you feel uneasy, “Firstly, by not being too mad…”
Nancy shoved a note in your face. You squinted reading the words that alert you that King fucking Steve was waiting for your best friend in the bathroom, wanting to make out. Gross.
“Ew,” you stated, playful smile turning into a pout. Your shoulders slumped, concern kicking in rather than disgust. “Harrington? Really, Nance? You could do so, so much better.”
To you, Steve Harrington was the worst person at Hawkins high. A real player who had absolutely no consideration for anyone’s feeling but his own and his stupid little posse. Generally a piece of shit.
“You owe me,” she mutters, shrugging her shoulder to try to rid her mind of what you were implying, what she had already been anxious about.
“I just think it’s a bad idea,” you say softly, trying not to hurt the poor girls feelings, but really you were just trying to help.
“And why’s that?” she asks, on the defensive.
You shake your head, holding yourself back from rolling your eyes. “He’s a bad idea,” you state simply. “He treats girls like shit and you know better to accept that.”
“You don’t know him.”
“I know that he dumped Charlotte after he had sex with her,” you offered, looking at her with a raised brow. Nancy rolls her eyes.
“Well, that’s Charlotte. And I’m going to see him,” she announces, a little like she’s singing.
Sighing disappointedly, the bell rings in your ears. Great, you’re late.
You give Nancy a look already walking backwards towards your first period. “Make good decisions. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
“You wouldn’t go out with him the first place!” she calls back, looking at you with a playful expression.
“Exactly.” You smile, finally turning around and heading to your class. When you fully turn, your smile disappears.
Something about Steve makes you anxious, fills your body with unease whenever you two make eye contact when your both at your lockers. You hate the way he smiles smugly at you. And you hate that he’s going after another one of your friends, the fear of her getting hurt makes your stomach ache.
This time, if he hurts her, you hurt him.
And that’s exactly what happened.
You were on your evening walk, frowning at the missing poster you see of Will Byers, your little brother’s best friend and Johnathan Byers, one of your best friends, brother. It’s a saddening sight, especially since the young boy’s funeral. Absolutely heartbreaking.
Frustration is throbbing through your body. You feel helpless, unable to find the boy despite having helped put up posters and searched through the woods countlessly.
You were also angry with yourself for allowing your brother out of the house when you heard the news, letting him and his friends set out in search for him themselves because your heart ached looking into your brother’s teary eyes as he begged you not to tell mom that you caught him sneaking out.
It was stupid, that you told him to keep his walking on him, stay with his friends, and to stay safe or you’d fucking kill him. You’re a shitty sister.
You were an idiot. An idiot people pleaser who never knew when to say no to her friends and family. It was stupid that when your empathetic heart feels their pain you resort to the worse stress reliever, and contradictory to your guilty conscience, violence.
“Harrington, you better get your ass down from that ladder right now!”
You saw him from a mile away, the words spray painted on the movie theatre that you would always take your brother and his friends. The only thing you could make out of it was that Steve fucking Harrington was caught defaminating one of your best friend’s names while vandalizing the cinema.
Steve’s eyes went wide at the sight of you, the beautiful girl who ignored and criticized his every move. His ex-girlfriends best friend. His heart raced at your angry expression. His cheeks probably got a little red too.
“Henderson, what the hell are you doing here?” he asked, sponge pausing its movement to look down at you. Steve had completely forgotten what it looked like had happened, oblivious to everything else around him, his entire focus on you. His fake innocence only made you angrier.
Ignoring his question, you fumed, “Get your ass down or I’m pushing you off this damn ladder!”
Steve’s eyes widened as he muttered curses under his breath, quickly climbing down from the ladder. You pretended that seeing his face bloody and bruised didn’t make your stomach ache.
“Jesus, what your pro—,” You shoved him, and he stumbled back, arms stretched out as his back hits the ladder, “blem!”
“You wrote this? You called Nancy a slut?!”
You pushed him again, and he stumbled again, still looking at you like you’re crazy. He caught your wrists when you went to push him again.
Your hands were held at his chest, pulling you into his chest despite how you try to plant your feet, to stay away from him. Steve still has an bizzare look on his face as he looks down at you, cheeks pink and he’s slightly out of breathe from how he scrambled to grab your wrists. Steve rapidly shakes his head, blurting, “What? No! No, I didn’t!”
You let out a scoff, nodding sarcastically as if you believed him. “So… you just cleaning it up? Bullshit,” you spit, and Steve looks almost hurt by your insinuation.
“Yes! “ He announced, running a hand through his hair when you tugged your wrists free. “I didn’t write this!”
Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked at him accusingly, like he was stupid. “Then who did, Harrington?”
“Tommy.”
“Oh, you’re best friend!” you exclaimed, “That totally makes so much of a difference.”
“No, Henderson, — I.” He groaned. He glanced around, breathing out of his mouth before he pinched his nose. “I should’ve stopped him, I know, but I’m cleaning this up now. I’m trying to fix it.”
“Because you got caught?”
“No! I just—,” he shook his head. “I’m not… friends with those assholes anymore. I just wanna help.”
Really? you thought to yourself. Your nose scrunched as you scanned him up and down for a second with repulsion. He’s not friends with Tommy and Carol anymore? That’s hard to believe.
Your interrogation seemed never ended, and you still had the urge to punch him in the face despite the cuts and bruises that stand prominent on his handsome face. You wet your lips, ignoring your natural concern and continuing. “Help? Help what?”
“I wanna apologize,” he said. “To Nance.”
“Really?” you deadpanned. Steve arms waved wildly before he poked to fingers into his forehead, closing his eyes.
“Yes, I’m sorry. Is it that hard to believe?”
“Yeah, it is, King Steve,” you scoffed, before you let your thoughts slip into your words. You switch your footing, voice quieting ever so slightly when you ask, “What happened to your face?”
He paused.
“Byers,” Steve replied embarrassed, not even looking at you as your eyes widen.
“Really?” You sound surprised, and you are. The boy who’s been the nicest to you, one of your best friends ever since you’d gotten to town. Your babysitting buddy. The boy who’s brother was missing.
“Johnathan did that?” You ask. When he nods, you hum. “You deserved it.”
“I know.”
Humming, you look at Steve for a second, checking out his bloodied face and red knuckles. Next to his foot is the sponge he was using, it’s turning red and it looks like it’s decomposing from overuse. It makes you clear your throat when you catch his eyes again.
Quietly, almost whispering, you ask, “Do you love her?” You gulp, specifying, “Nancy?”
He sighed, and he looked at you for a good minute, clearly contemplating. Truth be told, he didn’t know. She was… different from his other girlfriend.
Steve would be lying to himself if he said that he didn’t like you. He knew he did, since last year and you walked in wearing a pretty little sundress and gave him attitude when he offered to be your prince charming and open your locker. Maybe he liked Nancy a lot, but he didn’t know if you could love someone and stare at their best friend when their back was turned.
He swallowed, shrugging. “I don’t know.”
You don’t like him. You don’t like him. You don’t like him.
Steve’s word make you nod to yourself, ignoring the relief you feel that he’s not in love with her for Nancy’s sake. Clearly, Steve was a shitty teenage boy, and even worse boyfriend, but you believed in change.
“You really want to make things right?” you question, still trying to keep your guard up despite how you feel them crashing down around you. Goddammit, you hate Steve Harrington.
“Yes,” he groaned, meaningfully.
In your head, you were screaming. Blood curdling, a homicide victim type of screaming, and it’s so loud, so so freaking loud that you couldn’t hear your own thoughts. Maybe, that’s why you make a dumb decision.
You shrug, already turning around to start walking. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”
“Wait, what? Where?”
“To go see Nancy,” you scoffed, as if it was common knowledge. Impatiently, you said, “Come on, I don’t want to be seen with you.”
You trudged forward, once white sneakers thumping against the sidewalk. Behind you, you can hear Steve jog forward, eager to catch up with you.
It doesn’t take long, but the moment he’s beside you, words spill from his lips, quickly. “I— I have my car.”
Pausing in your step, you begrudgingly looked at Steve, quite relieved that you don’t have to walk all the way to Jonathan’s house. “Okay. Where?”
“Over here,” Steve says, almost out of breath as he points to his car. You head towards it without a second thought, harshly pulling on his passenger car door and glaring at him when it doesn’t open.
Steve looks at you strangely, kinda of afraid of you, and he puts his key in before opening the door for you. You don’t look at him, not even when he gets inside the driver seat and starts the car, too busy staring out the window.
“Do you, um, want any music?” Steve stutters, looking at you hesitantly. You roll your eyes.
“You not talking is enough for me,” you smile, sarcastically.
“Oh,” Steve deadpans, biting his lips at he turns away from you, ready to drive.
Great, now you feel bad. You offer, “What do you have?”
“Yeah— yeah, I have Beat It, some AC/DC, Uptown Girl—
“Uptown Girl, please,” you cut him off. Your casual manners make Steve blush. You don’t even notice that you said it, and it reminds Steve how good you are. You were solid good.
A good girl.
A nice girl.
And one who wants nothing to do with him.
Go figure.
Steve realizes how fucked up his mind is as his knuckles turn white on the stirring wheel. He starts to drive, listening to you hum while starring out the window, sometimes cutting yourself off to tell him directions to Jonathan’s house.
When he asked why there, you said that he had to apologize to Jonathan first. He listens to you for reasons he could not comprehend, because he found himself trusting you despite how much you must hate because he knows you.
In the hallways, he’d watched you tell freshmen directions, laugh on your way to class, help kids who would drop things. You’d barely notice the boys that trailed after you that you thought were only friends, and he’d watch you scold them whenever they were mean to some freak, or nerd, or geek, in the halls.
You were nice. The nicest girl at that damn school, and unbeknownst to you, The Queen Of Hawkins High.
He can’t keep his eyes off you, and he’s never felt guiltier. He let his friend call his girlfriend a slut while he was yearning to kiss her best friend on the way to apologize to her. There was something wrong with him. Steve shook his head, letting his eyes part from you and focus on the road.
The drive was slow, but the moment the car parked in the Byers’ driveway, you were quick to usher Steve out.
“Go,” you wave.
“What?” Steve’s heart races. “Right— right now?”
“When else?” you blink.
“Shouldn’t we rehearse something?”
You sigh, holding back a much needed eye roll. A fake smile props on your lips. “‘Jonathan, I’m sorry for fighting you in the middle of the street. That one’s on me,’” you say. “‘Oh, and I feel bad for smashing your camera to little bits. How about I buy you a new one with my daddy’s money?’” You drop your smile. “That good?”
“The camera wasn’t my fault,” he justified.
“I know, I was there. Still, that doesn’t make what you did right, so get out of the car and apologize,” you punctuated.
Steve mouth gaped. Then, he begrudgingly unbuckles his seat belt and grumbles under his breath, stepping out the vehicle. He slams the car door shut.
You snorted a laugh, sinking into Steve’s comfy car seats.
From where your sat, you have a clear viewing of the show. You’re not sure whether or not Jonathan will forgive him. Apart of you hopes he doesn’t. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did.
What did surprise you was watching Steve, under the warm yellow glow from the Byers house lights, pound on the door and then eventually force his way in.
Hastily, you trailed after him, leaves crunching under your quick feet.
“Steve!” you called once in the door way. “This wasn’t what we talked about…”
The words died in your throat as your eyes scattered across the room, the sight of Jonathan, a shit ton of weapons his living room table and Nancy with a gun pointed at Steve’s face had you had you bewildered.
“You two need to leave now!” Jonathan said, but you were more focused on Nancy’s count down, gun still pointed at Steve.
Before you could think, you were shoving yourself in between Steve, Jonathan, and the gun, hand raised in defense. The mass of Christmas lights around you flickered briskly with your final shout, “What is going on?”
Few words between Nancy and Jonathan end with Steve Harrington, grabbing your wrist and dragging you down the hall into a bedroom as a venus-flytrap looking bear rips apart the ceiling.
“What the hell was that,” Steve yelled along with a variety of curses.
“Shut up!” Nancy and Jonathan shouted, synchronized.
You and Steve shared a feared look.
Pounds and gurgles erupt from the other side of the door until they suddenly stopped. In the silence, Nancy and Jonathan exit the room, Steve and you right behind them.
“Are you going to tell us what that was?” you rasped desperately.
Nancy’s reply was short. “A demogorgon.”
You recognized that name. “Like—,” you brows pinched together. “From DnD?”
“That’s what the boys said.”
“The boys,” you repeated. “Like Dustin, Lucas, and Mike? They know about this?”
“Look, Y/N, I’m sorry but we don’t have time for the questions. It’s going to come back, and you two,” she gestures to you and Steve, “need to leave. Right now.”
Breathing heavy, and with the shake of your head, you said, “No.”
“Yes, go,” Nancy said, stepping closer. You were the same height, she couldn’t intimidate you, not even with a gun in her hand. You weren’t going to leave, especially because of the newfound fear of that thing going after your brother.
“Y/N,” Steve tried, eager for the door.
“No, you go,” you said to Steve then turned to Nancy, “I’m staying so either let me help kill it or I’ll stand here and be bait.”
“Fine,” Nancy said.
Jonathan threw you a lighter. “Throw this into the carpet when it’s here.”
Steve felt pathetic watching the three of you. He didn’t want to leave and be a coward, but he didn’t want to die either. One thought over powered the other and he sprinted to his car, but seeing rapid flickering lights, he forced himself back inside.
After swinging a crowbar at the demogorgon and watching it swallow it whole, you were sure you were going to die. You fell back, squeaking in despair as you did so. The demogorgon’s mouth widen, and you may have gotten a little teary eyed at the sight of Jonathan and Nancy on the floor, looking helpless as well.
But to your shock, Steve Harrington jumped in front of you, swinging a bat like he hadn’t quit baseball in seventh grade.
What happened next was blur, but you remember Steve Harrington forcing you to your feet and the sight of a demogorgon enveloped in flames.
—
With shallow breaths, you sat on the wooden porch in front of the Byers’ house, illuminated by a singular warm lantern, recollecting the previous events. Mind racing, you hardly notice the body next to yours.
Well, until, and hand landed on your shoulder. It’s large, much bigger than your own. Your eyes traced the arm up to its owner, seeing a bloody, concerned face staring back at you.
“You okay?” Steve asked, and your heart swelled the slightest bit at his worry. He had just almost killed himself and he was worried about you.
Your eyebrows twitched, the undying desire to hate him still present. “Yeah,” you choked, “I’m fine.”
Steve nodded. He retracted the hand off your shoulder slowly, which you were grateful for. Nancy and Johnathan’s dull chatter filled the void, the four of you too nerved to fully close the front door.
Clearing your throat, you said, not looking at him. “Thank you for — um — saving my life.”
When Steve spoke, you turned to him. “Anybody would’ve done the same.”
“No they wouldn’t have,” you said, entire body angling towards him. You kept your hands in your lap, tediously explaining, “They would’ve ran for the hills, like you should’ve, but you didn’t. So thanks. I owe you one.”
“Don’t mention it,” he griped, but you shook your head with a scoff, readjusting yourself to look straight forward. You went silent again. Not far from you, you can hear the engine of a car, smell the toxic carbon monoxide polluting the air.
Steve Harrington saved your life. King Steve Harrington saved your life.
Laughing to yourself, you eyed Steve carefully. “I never would’ve taken you for a hero, Harrington.”
“Guess you were wrong,” Steve chuckled. His eyes shone particularly bright in the moonlight.
“Mhm,” you hummed, looking to your lap, “maybe about a lot of things too.”
You hadn’t known why you said that. Steve’s lips parted at your words, a dumbfounded look forming on his face.
“Y/N!”
Immediately, your head whipped to the noise. Your eyes widened with recognition to the voice. “Dustin!” you shouted, voice echoing off the trees in question.
A car pulled up, and in the back windows you could see three smiling faces in the window.
Smiling. They’re okay, you told yourself. And free to yell.
“You boys are so lucky.” The words came out forced, a quiver in your voice at the pure relief you feel, rushing to the boys off the porch and watching the three of them exit the car safely. “You could’ve gotten yourselves killed,” you snapped. “Why didn’t you told me?”
Only after you spoke did you notice their red rimmed eyes.
Your lips twitched into a frown. Swallowing back your own tears, you pulled Dustin, Lucas, and Mike into a hug. “I’m so glad you all are okay.”
Vaguely, blue and red flashing lights pull up onto the driveway of the Byers’ house. Police step out their car with questioning looks. It’s not long before one offers to take you and your brother home.
Glancing behind you, Steve Harrington’s eyes found yours swiftly, as if they had been trained to you this entire time. Hesitantly, you raised your hand, not very high, but just visibly for him to see. You gave Steve a small wave.
He smiled at you, and you were sure that it hurt.
been meaning to write a steve fic for a while. he’s so boyfriend and i’m a huge hopelessly pining/enemies to lovers girly
not my best, probably will rewrite in the future
#yovrnewromantic#stranger things x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve x reader#steve#steve harrington stranger things#stranger things#billy hargove x reader#eddie munson x reader#steve harrington x henderson!reader#henderson!reader#dustin henderson#dustin henderson x reader#dustin henderson x sister!reader#king steve#king steve harrington#cheerleader
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Tiktok Trouble Pt 2- Jake Seresin
Authors Note: LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO SEE MORE
Word Count: 2253
Warnings: Allusions to smexy times
Description: You love pranking your husband, and tiktok loves it too
Authors Plea: Hey guys! I love likes and reblogs and I thank you all so so much. BUT I LIVE FOR COMMENTS! I really enjoy when you guys tell me what you like and dislike and what you want to see more of, so I beg for more comments. LOVE YOU ALL!
Enjoy!
The morning of your errands had started off salty with Jake, who content with bitching about everything, and you had gotten just as snippy with him considering you had been in such a good mood when you both left the house. But he had worn you down, now you were sitting in the car with your thighs sticking to his leather seats like crazy (he hated air conditioning and the heat was just clinging to you) while he ran in and grabbed what he needed from this store.
Normally Jake would take you in with him, but today he made a snippy comment about not wanting to be in there forever so you rolled your eyes and turned the music up as he got out, cracking the windows like you were a dog.
It’s here you got the idea.
You had taken a break from posting pranks on tiktok, your guys’ sink had actually busted (Jake was so happy he watched the videos) and one of his old navy brothers had lost their lives so you both had flown out for the funeral. After that everything just seemed to be too busy, and Jakes mood was ever so cranky as of late. But today seemed like a good day to try and lighten the mood. So you set up your phone and waited, once you saw him come out of the store you began fighting something in the backseat.
Jake, as first, seems to think you are looking for something and when he gets into the car he slaps your thigh lightly. “What’d you lose?”
“NOTHING! BUT THIS BITCH HAS LOST HER MIND!” You snap and start swinging at an imaginary figure in the back. Jake stops and stares at you, leaning against his door as he tries to figure out what is going on while you act out a very angry fight.
“What. Is. Happening?”
“Bubs, she’s running her fucking mouth to me right now- seriously? No YOUR MOM-” You are about to swing at the air again and he catches your hand, pulling you back and reaching to feel your forehead.
“We should get you some water-”
“Mind your fucking business!” You shout to the back and your husband nods aggressively and turns to the back to snap out a ‘bitch’ before turning to you and moving to buckle you in.
“You tell her. You tell that….bitch?” He really doesn’t seem to know what to do, so he simply buckles you and reaches for the water bottle he brought, that’s when he sees your phone. “Oh for the love of-”
You’re laughing your ass off and he’s covering his face as you turn off the video. “Really?! I was so confused!”
“I’m sorry. You were being such a sourpuss this morning and I HAD TO!” You laugh, kissing his elbow as he continues rubbing his face. “Love you bubs.”
“I love you too. Even when I think you’re batshit crazy.”
—------------------------
COMMENTS:
“The thigh slap- PLEASE LORD I’LL BE GOOD-”
“LMAO, when he finally just gives in and helps”
“SNSJKSJJANNX X I WANT THEM BOTH! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!”
“Y/n has now proven she can fight anyone that tries to take her man”
—-----------------------
“Sugar?!” Jake calls from the bottom of the stairs, tapping his foot a little impatiently as he waits for your response. You, being the perfect wife who would never do anything wrong in her life ever, closed out the webpage of adoptable dogs that your husband specifically said no to and ran to the stairs.
“Yeah bubs? What’s up?” You smile, watching his face morph into suspicion.
“Didn’t like that one bit- but I need to run to the store and figure out what pipes match our sink. You’ll be okay here?”
“Will I be okay in the air conditioned house with my handsome husband out going to get stuff for our sink? All lonely and sad and ever so hor-”
“Okay okay, just gimme a kiss.” He laughs, waiting for you to run down the stairs and kiss him before you get an idea and run back up the stairs as he leaves.
You snatch your phone and film a quick video of him getting into the car before screen recording yourself texting him ‘Come over he just left’ once you are sure he’s down the block. Then you wait, until you hear a sharp screech and see his car zooming into the driveway. You set up your phone to record on his dresser and run to your shared bathroom as he books it up the stairs.
“Y/n?” He asks when he reaches the bedroom, looking nothing less of pissed.
“Yeah bubs? I thought you were going out?” You call from the bathroom, fixing your hair as you waited.
“I decided that you broke the sink and should come with me.” He says sternly, crossing his arms and leaning on your dresser, the camera catching his jaw flex perfectly. You swing the door open with wide eyes looking nothing less than excited.
“Can we stop for pops?” You know he loves when you say pops instead of soda, and he tries not to smile.
“As soon as you tell me what dumbass you were trying to sleep with in OUR BED.” He snaps, giving you a tight lipped smile with his arms still crossed.
“Ohhhh yeah…. About that….” You smile, pointing to the camera and watching his face relax instantly. “Say hi to your fans bubs-”
“Are you trying to kill me?” He laughs, pulling you in to kiss you before standing up and walking to the door. “Grab your phone and purse. You’re still coming with me.”
—--------------------
COMMENTS:
“Girl, he’s MILITARY. Are you trying to get hit?”
– “STFU, that man does not hit woman unless they ask. Watch their other vids”
“The way his arms flex when he crosses them. I see now why she likes pissing him off.”
“They f***ed in the car. FOR SURE”
—--------------------
Before Jake got home from work you had hot glued the olive jar while taping it, then started cooking dinner while you waited. When you heard the sound of his keys in the door you started filming, leaving your phone on the table as you moved back to the stove.
“Evenin’ Sugar.” He smiles, moving to you and kissing your shoulder as you move a cheek to him so he can kiss that as well. “Whatcha makin’?”
“Your in a good mood, that southern drawl comes out when you are.” You smile, watching him set his keys on the counter and reach across you to steal a green bean.
“Watched Rooster do 100 pushups.” He laughs before wrapping his arms around you. “What time do your parents get here?”
“About an hour- can you open that jar for me?” You ask sweetly pointing to the jar of olives you had glued.
“What do I get out of it?” He teases, already snatching the jar. He tugs on it once, twice, then he gets frustrated and puts all his strength into it, face pinching up as he grunts out. “You’re kidding me..”
“Can’t get it?” You ask, moving closer as he tries again, grunting and turning red. “How about you go get changed and try again when you come back?”
He nods, setting it down with a face of disbelief and allowing you to kiss his cheek before running off to change. You snatch the jar and take it to the fridge, replacing it with the jar you hadn’t glued, setting it up. When you know he is within eyepoint you grab the fresh jar and pop it open with ease.
“WOAH BABY!” He laughs, picking you up and spinning you around. “I married she hulk.”
“It wasn’t that hard.”
“Now you’re just hurtin my feeling- HEY GOTCHA!” He spots the camera, keeping you lifted in one arm while he points at it. “You tried messing with me and I busted ya-”
“Okay okay- put me down.” You laugh, gripping his shoulder to not fall. “Bubs-”
“Nope!” He laughs, reaching for the sink hose and dousing you with it making you squeal.
—--------------
COMMENTS:
“I think he is finally catching on”
“Making us all wet- oop”
—---------------
The next prank a whole two weeks, both of you getting busy with work and not having much time together besides sleeping, but you finally had a day off….which meant torturing your husband obviously.
You had woken up before him and gotten ready, doing your hair and makeup just the way he liked whilst picking an outfit you knew he loved before walking downstairs and putting a little heart over the date on the calendar just to fool him a little more.
He trudged downstairs while you were on the phone with your parents, taking a second to lean on the counter and admire you while drinking the coffee you already prepared for him, wiggling his eyebrows when you turned to him while talking.
What he didn’t know was that you were talking on a fake phone whilst yours was hidden on a shelf filming him. “Yes! I’m very excited for tonight, I think Jake is gonna try to surprise me.”
His eyebrows stop wiggling and pinch together in confusion as he pulls the cup away from his lips, mouthing a ‘what’ as you point to the calendar and then leave the room to keep ‘talking to your parents’.
Your husband looks at the calendar and sees the heart, head snapping to the side as he tries to think about what today was supposed to be. “Crap crap crap-”
The only problem came when your phone actually started ringing, drawing his attention to where it was hidden to film. “AHA!”
You laugh from the other room, knowing you were busted and the prank had failed, walking in to watch him flip the camera off and turn it off. “You haven’t been on your a game , lovely wife. I expect better.”
“Bring it on then.” You smile, enjoying the cocky smile that fills his face.
—------------
So you upped your game, you bought a couple cameras to hide around and you thought of some great ideas. Jake Seresin was gonna regret marrying you.
The first day he was gone on a mission you decided that instead of worrying about your husbands safety you would rather learn the WAP dance to piss him off when he gets back. The day after his return he is laying on the couch with his eyes closed (you made him tired after a long night in his defense) and you decide that you want to show him a tiktok dance.
“Okay I’m gonna set up the phone here,” You explain, leaning it against your tv before taking a couple steps back for dancing room.
“Oh so I know where the camera is this time?” He teases, you snort and try not to look where the mini camera is hidden by his game console.
“Just watch-” You laugh, playing the song. His eyes widen when it starts playing and then you start dancing and he is shooting up. By the time the song got to the actual WAP part he is dashing to snatch you up of the floor.
“No ma’am.” He laughs, hanging you in the air like a dog that just got busted.
“WAIT! THERE IS MORE!” You laugh as he goes to turn the phone off.
“Sorry Sugar but I really don’t need the squad seeing my gorgeous wife dancin’ like a stripper all over the internet. Save it for the bedroom.” He sets you down and smacks your ass harshly while laughing before he leaves the room thinking you hadn’t gotten any of that on film….sucker.
—---------------
COMMENTS:
“THE LAUGH AFTER HE SPANKED HER! STFU FNJENFJDBSB”
“LET HER FINISH THE DANCE! NOOOOO-”
—----------------
“JAKE SERESIN!” You shout, winking to the camera that was hidden in the kitchen and wait. The second you shouted with an angry tone you heard his phone drop and the sound of his feet hitting the stairs to rush to you. Once you were sure he could see you, you pretend to be angry.
You have your arms crossed and a harsh glare as he comes into the kitchen looking like a little puppy.
“Yes Sugar?”
“You got something you wanna tell me?” You ask, taking a step back when he takes a step for you. His eyes flash hurt and for a second you wanna tell him it’s a prank, but you double down and wait.
“I….I uhm- well…..I forgot our anniversary?” He guesses, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. “No! Wait! I missed your families monthly dinner- no w-”
“Final answer?”
“Wait, Y/n baby, just tell me what I did. No gimme a hint.” He rushes, falling to his knees. THE MAN ACTUALLY FELL TO HIS KNEES, and grabbed at your thighs. You break then, laughing and grabbing his jaw softly.
“Just a prank babe.” You smile, kissing his temple and he whips back to glare.
“You know what?”
“What?”
“I’m gonna make a tiktik and start pranking you!” He seethes and you crack up, but he shakes his head. “You’re laughing now, but you just started a war sugar.”
“Bring it on Bubs.”
“Oh I will.” He flips off your phone which makes you laugh harder already knowing that the phone wasn’t recording and he kisses your cheek before walking off.
“See you soon…..”
—--------------
COMMENTS:
H_ngman: You have been warned!
Mrs.Bagman: Bring it on!!!
Authors Plea: Hey guys! I love likes and reblogs and I thank you all so so much. BUT I LIVE FOR COMMENTS! I really enjoy when you guys tell me what you like and dislike and what you want to see more of, so I beg for more comments. LOVE YOU ALL!
#jake#seresin#jake seresin#jake seresin imagine#jake seresin smut#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin top gun#jake seresin angst#hangman#hangman top gun#hangman imagine#hangman smut#hangman angst#hangman x reader#top gun cast#top gun maverick#top gun sm#top gun smut#top gun maverick smut#top gun maverick angst
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And here is the other Carmy one!
Can I please request a fic where Carmy and Sugar have a younger sister, who is around 15 or something, running away and just showing up at Carmy’s doorstep, imagine him coming home to his apartment and seeing his lil sister asleep on her tiny backpack that she brought and he’s just like, “Y/n????” Carmy calling their Mom to let her know that Y/n’s at his apartment, his sister literally clinging to him and begging him not to send her back to their mother. Their mom giving the okay for her to stay with him, and Carmy looking at Y/n’s puppy dog eyes and agreeing. Omg ALSO him letting her work at the restaurant!!!!! Something that he always wished Mikey would’ve let him do!! UGH HIM PRETTY MUCH MENTORING HER AND GUIDING HER IN COOKING. Y/n following behind him like a lil lost pup. Her kinda being an assistant to her big brother!! He’d make sure she gets to school safely and I feel like he’d make sure she’s getting whatever she needs at school!! The staff taking care of her too like she’s one of their own, showing up to events at school, helping with homework, etc. Especially since Carm struggled in school, he doesn’t want the same thing to happen to her. Sugar may feel a littleeee offended that Y/n chose to go to Carmy instead of her, Y/n just has a special relationship with her brother and really looks up to him (probably wanting to be a chef like he is) 🤧 The staff being so fond of her and taking care of her
𝒴ℴ𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓎
A/n- I love this so so much! so sorry this took a little I’ve been on a bit of a break. This is a lil short but im just trying to get back into the groove of writing ): im working on the other reqs too!
Throwing everything you could fit into your bag, you glanced around the room once more. You never wanted to come back here.
Now where you would go? You didn’t know.
You wandered around the streets for a little, getting some food and once it hit 9 pm, you knew you had to go somewhere.
You found your feet padding against the stairs up to his apartment, remembering his address by heart.
“If you need anything, I’m always here, alright?” Were the words that rang in your head everyday ever since the funeral. Every time she yelled or asked you for a drink, you thought back to your brother.
He had given you a little slip on paper with his address on it, the numbers written quickly and sloppily. You kept it ever since.
You raised your fist, rapping on the door. When there was no answer, you did again. He wasn’t home you soon realized.
You sighed, putting your pillow that was underneath your arm onto the floor, knowing it could be a little until he was back. You ended up falling asleep on the floor.
And later, you woke up to a voice.
“Jesus…” he mumbled, your eyes slowly fluttering open.
“Hey, y/n.” He said quietly, “c’mon, get off the ground.” He held a hand out for you, you wiped the sleep from your eyes and grabbed his hand.
“Carmy.” You murmured sleepily, he chuckled quietly and began to unlock the door. You followed him into his apartment.
“What are you doing, y/n?” He asked you, motioning for you to sit down on the couch next to him as he got a glass of water.
“I… ran away.” You admitted, taking the glass.
His eyes widened, he stayed silent for a while until he spoke up again.
“Why’d you come here?”
“It’s the only other place I had to go.” You shrugged, looking at him with pleading eyes.
“Fuck… okay, let me…” he pulled out his phone.
“Wait, don’t make me go back. Please, don’t.”
“I’m just gonna let her know you’re here. I’m not sending you back.”
He went to the other side of the house, quietly talking to her.
He glanced back up at you, looking at your eyes and sighing when he put the phone down.
“You can stay here. Just until-“ he spoke, walking over. But he was cut off when you ran over and wrapped your arms around him, thanking him multiple times.
His hand was on the back of your head as he looked up at the ceiling.
———-
“Don’t be nervous. They’ll love you.” He said, he entered the room, seeing everyone sitting down at the table.
“Hey, everyone.” He greeted them all, you standing awkwardly behind him.
“Y/n?!” Sugar practically shouted when she saw you. She ran up, giving you a tight hug.
“Is that the shrimp?” Richie asked, standing up to get a good look at you now.
“Hey, guys.” You said to them both.
“I haven’t seen you in a while, how’ve you been?” He asked, giving you a hug as well.
“Oh my God! I missed you, what are you doing here?” She continued. You gave her a smile and looked at Carmy.
“Uhm, everyone, this is y/n. My sister.” He motioned to you. “She’s gonna be working here from now on.”
A bunch of people started talking at once, all greeting you.
“Wait, seriously?” Sugar asks him. He nodded.
“I.. ran away.” You told sugar and Richie. They both stayed silent for a moment.
“You chose to stay with him?” Sugar asked you, cracking a small smile again.
“Yeah. Sorry. I don’t know your address.” You told her.
She just smiled and gave you another hug.
“The foods gonna get cold,” Carmy said, nodding towards the table with a small smile. You sat in an empty chair next to Carmy.
The next weeks were the best, you felt more free than ever now. You learned how to cook better, and Carmy was more patient with you than he was with the others.
You seemed happier, and that was all that mattered to him.
You were a part of their family now.
#carmy blurb#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy the bear#carmy x you#carmy x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto blurb#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto blurb#carmy berzatto#the bear
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2012 Raph x reader Incorrect Quotes
Uhm...mostly, that is. There's a few that are just random TMNT 2012 incorrect quotes. This was very fun for me. Might do it again sometime if the mood strikes.
***
(Y/N), skipping rocks on a lake with Raph: It’s such a beautiful evening.
Raph: Yeah, it is.
Raph: *whispering* Take that you fucking lake.
***
(Y/N): Why does Leo always do the laundry so loudly?
Raph: So everyone knows that no one helps them out in the house.
Leo, in the distance: *slams the washing machine shut*
***
Raph: You’re giving me a sticker?
Mikey: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!”
Raph: I’m not a preschooler.
Mikey: Fine, I’ll take it back-
Raph: I earned this, back off.
***
Raph: Why am I always the bad guy?
(Y/N): Well, why am I the pretty one? We all have our thing.
***
(Y/N): Is Raph always like this when they lose?
Mikey: Oh, yes. You should've been there for the fabled 'Great Jenga Tantrum'.
Raph: yOU BUMPED THAT TABLE AND YOU KNOW IT!
***
(Y/N): Hey, wanna help me commit arson?
Leo: What the hell!?
(Y/N): Oh, sorry, my bad.
(Y/N), whispering: Wanna help me commit arson?
Leo, whispering: Of course. What do you need?
***
Casey: You know what bothers me? Bats. Why can bats fly?
Raph: Not again...
Casey: No. Seriously, who gave them the right? They're mammals! Mammals walk on land, no exceptions.
(Y/N): Just wait until you hear about whales.
Casey: What now?
***
Casey on Monday: *glues a dime to the sidewalk* Heh heh heh.
Casey on Wednesday: *walking down the street* Ooh hey! A dime!
***
(Y/N): When I met you I thought you were a real bitch.
Raph: What changed your mind?
(Y/N): Oh, I still think you’re a bitch, I’ve just grown to like that about you.
***
Leo: When I said you should try being friendlier this isn't what I meant.
Raph, stirring a cup of tea aggressively: Oh, so now I'm TOO friendly? There's no pleasing you.
(Y/N), who broke into their house an hour ago: Two sugars please.
Raph: Coming right up.
***
Casey: It’s funny how well you and Raph get along. Didn’t they hate you at first?
(Y/N): Raph hates everybody at first. It’s their way of reaching out to people.
***
Casey: We can bake these cookies at 400 degrees for 10 minutes or 4,000 degrees for 1 minute.
Donnie: No, that's not how you make cookies.
(Y/N): FLOOR IT!!
Casey: How about 4,000,000 degrees for 1 second?!?
Donnie: yOU'RE GONNA BURN THE HOUSE DOWN-
Casey: I'M GONNA HARNESS THE POWER OF THE FUCKING SUN TO MAKE COOKIES!
Raph: DO IT!
Donnie: NO-
***
Raph: What the fuck? People actually tell their crushes they like them??
(Y/N): What the hell do you do?
Raph: I die? What kinda question…
***
(Y/N): I made this friendship bracelet for you.
Raph: You know, I’m not really a jewelry person.
(Y/N): You don’t have to wear…
Raph: No, I’m gonna wear it forever. Back off.
***
Raph: *sneaking in through their window*
Leo: *turning in their chair and flicking the light one* You want to tell me where you've been all night?
Raph: I was with (Y/N)?
(Y/N): *turning in their chair* Wanna try again?
***
Raph, at (Y/N)'s funeral: I need a moment with them.
Everyone: Of course. *They leave*
Raph, leaning over (Y/N)′s coffin: Okay, listen here you little shit. I know you’re not dead.
(Y/N): Yeah, no shit.
***
Raph: (Y/N), I don't like you.
(Y/N): What did you say?
Raph: You heard me!
(Y/N), internally: And it turns out I actually didn't hear what the fuck you just said.
***
*(Y/N) sneezes*
Raph: (Y/N), are you sick? Here, let me wrap you in a blanket and hand-feed you some warm soup while singing you a lullaby!
*Donnie sneezes*
Raph: Oh my god. Shut the hell up.
***
(Y/N): Okay, but what if we went to dinner not as friends this time?
Raph: ...So...as enemies??
(Y/N):
***
Raph: WHOEVER CAUSED THIS MESS IS GOING TO-
(Y/N): It was me...
Raph: ...Is going to be forgiven because everyone deserves a second chance.
***
Kidnapper: I have your partner.
(Y/N): What? I don't have a partner...
Kidnapper: Then who just called me a lowlife bitch and spit in my face?
(Y/N): Oh my god, you have Raph.
***
Raph: I want to kiss you.
(Y/N), not paying attention: What?
Raph: I said if you die, I won't miss you.
***
*(Y/N) is crying after a breakup*
Raph: There there, (Y/N).
(Y/N), still crying: Thanks, but how did you get into my room?
Raph: Great question—
***
Raph: *yawns*
(Y/N): Yeah, being that pretty must be tiring.
Raph: Then you must be exhausted.
Leo: Will you two shut up? Some of us are lonely.
***
Raph: Watcha doin?
(Y/N): Stealing my neighbour’s cat.
Raph: Scandalous.
Raph: Can I help?
***
(Y/N): Come on, Leo. Nobody actually believes that Raph is in love with me.
Leo, to The Squad: Raise your hand if you think that Raph is helplessly in love with (Y/N).
*Everyone raises their hand*
(Y/N): Raph, put your hand down.
***
(Y/N): Someone take me to art museums and make out with me.
Raph: But they said not to touch the masterpieces.
(Y/N): Well somebody's got to pin the artwork to the wall.
Leo, on a walkie talkie: This is Leo, those idiots are fucking around in the East wing again.
***
Mikey: I dare you to kiss the next person who walks into this room.
Raph: Screw that, I’m not kissing anyone.
*(Y/N) walks in*
Raph: Fine, I’ll do it. Rules are rules you know.
***
Raph: If you want my advice-
Donnie: No offense but you’re the last person I want relationship advice from. You tried to kill your significant other. Multiple times.
Raph: First off, that was before we started dating. Secondly, they’ve also tried to kill me.
(Y/N): It’s true. It was mutually attempted murder.
***
Casey: Time sensitive question how flirt boy.
Raph: Throw rocks at he.
Mikey: Hot Dogs.
(Y/N): Kill him.
Casey: Thanks guys.
***
Leo: Why do you look like that?
Raph, laying face-first on the floor: Like what?
Leo: Like you’re dead.
Raph: It’s because I’m dying. Fuck off.
Casey: Raph accidentally called (Y/N) “babe” in front of everyone today.
Raph: *sobs into the floor*
***
(Y/N): I'm so happy, I could kiss you!
Raph: Um...Neat.
*later*
Raph, lying face down on their bed: I said "Neat," Donnie. Who the fuck says neat these days?
It's not neat to say neat but I said it anyways because I'm fucking stupid.
Donnie, reading a book: Don't beat yourself up too much, Raph. Everyone gets nervous sometimes. Remember what I did when Casey confessed their love for me?
Raph: Didn't you thank them?
Donnie: *closes the book and looks at the ceiling* I fucking thanked them.
***
(Y/N): How would you like your coffee?
Raph: As dark as my soul.
(Y/N): Got it, one cup of milk coming right up!
***
(Y/N): Raph, I need some advice.
Raph: You need advice from ME?
(Y/N): Yeah, frightening, isn't it?
***
(Y/N): *sighs* I have no friends...
Raph:
Raph: *coughs* Bitch, what am I? A roach?!
***
Leo: You need to stop swearing so much.
Raph: Shut the fuck up.
Leo: Yeah, that's not how you do it.
Raph: Alright sorry. It's just that it's hard not to swear. The words just creep up on me when I least expect it.
Leo: Now now, don't be like that. Just replace the swear words with 'beep' and you'll be fine.
Raph: Shit the beep up.
Leo:
Raph: SHUT, DAMMIT! I MEANT SHUT!
***
Raph: *is throwing stones at (Y/N)'s window*
(Y/N): You have a phone for a reason, Raph!
*THUD*
(Y/N): DID YOU JUST THROW YOUR PHONE AT MY WINDOW?!
#tmnt x reader#tmnt 2012 x reader#reader insert#gender neutral reader#gn!reader#tmnt raph x reader#tmnt 2012 raph x reader#raph x reader#tmnt 2012 raph#2k12 raph x reader#2k12 raph
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school bus graveyard incorrect quotes pt. 1
Ashlynn: What's two plus two?
Aiden: Math.
Ashlynn: ...I will accept that answer.
_______________________________________________
Logan: I started school with straight A’s. Now I’m not even straight.
_______________________________________________
Logan: *talking about Aiden’s funeral* You do know we’re burying a great person today!
Tyler, shocked: Did someone else die?
_______________________________________________
Ashlynn: Nothing feels better than winning Monopoly. Not love, not sex, not free pizza, nothing!
Tyler: I’m sorry, have you tried pizza?
Ashlynn: Yes, and it doesn’t compare to owning half the board and watching the light die from your friend’s eyes as you take their money and feel your friendship slowly deteriorate.
Aiden: I like you.
_______________________________________________
Logan: *working in a flower shop and minding their own business*
Tyler, storming into the store and slapping $20 on the counter: HOW DO I PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVELY SAY “FUCK YOU” IN FLOWER???
_______________________________________________
Taylor: Why are you two always out during rainstorms?
Ben, typing: It’s so peaceful and refreshing. I love the smell of rain.
Aiden: Tyler bet me I couldn’t get struck by lighting, but they’re WRONG.
_______________________________________________
Aiden: Am I going to far?
Taylor: No, no, no. You went too far about 7 hours ago. Now you’re going to prison.
_______________________________________________
Aiden: Comparing Taylor and phantoms is like comparing apples and oranges.
Taylor: We’re both unique in our own ways?
Aiden: Apples are superior in every way and all oranges should be eliminated.
phantoms: Which one of us is the orange?
(I think we all know the answer to that)
_______________________________________________
Aiden: The shadow realm? No, I’m sending you to Ohio!
_______________________________________________
Aiden: FIGHT ME, YOU NERD ASS SLUT!
Ashlynn: At least try to sound slightly more sophisticated when you threaten someone.
Aiden: Oh, I'm sorry. I should ask; dost thou want to engage in a duel, my good bitch?
Ashlynn: Somehow that's worse.
_______________________________________________
*While planning to break in somewhere*
Aiden: Hey, let's do "Get Help!"
Ashlynn: What?
Aiden: "Get Help."
Ashlynn: No.
Aiden: C'mon, you love it!
Ashlynn: I hate it.
Aiden: It's great! It works every time!
Ashlynn: It's humiliating.
Aiden: Do you have a better plan?
Ashlynn: No.
Aiden: We're doing it!
Ashlynn: We are not doing "Get Help!"
*A Minute Later*
Aiden, carrying Ashlynn: Get help! Please! They're dying! Help Them! *throws Ashlynn at guards, knocking them out*
Aiden: Ahh, classic!
Ashlynn: *gets up* I still hate it. It's humiliating.
Aiden, laughing: Not for me, it's not.
(aww~. couple banter)
_______________________________________________
Aiden: I hate when people ask me, 'What did you do today?' Buddy listen, I woke up at noon and then it was five p.m., okay? I don't KNOW!
_______________________________________________
Aiden: School sucks.
Ashlynn: I know, but you have to do it so you can get a job.
Aiden: What are jobs like?
Ashlynn: They suck.
_______________________________________________
Aiden: If a demon possessed me, I’d just be like, “Okay, take it from here, good luck man.”
_______________________________________________
Aiden: *slams books down in front of Aiden*
Aiden: Boil up some Mountain Dew. It’s gonna be a long night.
Ashlynn: You could of said literally anything else.
Aiden: Cauldron boil and cauldron bubble, Baja Blast to fuel my trouble.
Ashlynn: I’m going to just stop challenging you when you say random shit. I won’t win. I realize this now.
#school bus graveyard#Ashlynn banner#Aiden Clark#Ben Clark#Taylor Hernandez#Tyler Hernandez#Logan Fields#Aiden and Ashlyn in love#they are blind
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hotd episode 6 thoughts
ohhhh the family drama in this one was DELICIOUS, i enjoyed it very much.
i will admit i found the time skip a little jarring at first even though i knew it was coming, just because so much stuff happened during those years, but emma d’arcy and olivia cooke were absolutely SERVING and i loved them.
rhaenyra with her kids … rhaenyra obviously loving them so so much … rhaenyra smiling as soon as she saw baby joffrey … oh it was a lot.
as soon as older rhaenyra said “fuck” while climbing the stairs i was like. yes. absolutely. i love you, this is perfect casting.
i have been overly invested in daemon and rhaenyra’s children ever since reading f&b so i feel pretty emotional actually seeing jace, luke, joffrey, rhaena, and baela on my tv screen. they’re real! they’re little and squishy! i want desperately to protect them!
i’m really glad that they included alicent’s “do keep trying, sooner or later you may get one that looks like you” bit, it’s such an iconic line of bitchy dialogue.
i SO wish that we had gotten to see more of the relationship between rhaenyra and harwin (they didn’t even kiss!) but the little bits that we did see of it were really tender and lovely, especially with baby joffrey.
helaena targaryen being a weird little girl with a bug collection is something that can be so personal, actually.
also, her saying something like “you’ll have to close an eye” while aemond is talking to alicent about wanting a dragon … please oh PLEASE let helaena have prophetic dreams, that would be great.
i am aware that aemond targaryen is going to grow up to commit a ton of war crimes but honestly i just wanted to give him a hug in this episode.
alicent being constantly exasperated that her children are growing up to be a bunch of absolute weirdos was really, really funny.
we finally got to see vhagar! she is so large and so ugly and i love her very much and seeing her fly with caraxes was a lot of fun.
i’m really sad that we only got to see adult laena for one episode, she was so regal and self-possessed and i really liked her interactions with her daughters and the fact that she clearly doesn’t want to indulge daemon’s sulking.
the implication that daemon stayed away from westeros for 10 years because he couldn’t stand to be around rhaenyra when they were married to other people … oh man. oh boy. that is so much. can’t deal with this right now, sorry!
alicent and criston having a weird warped version of fealty and courtly love based on their shared hatred of the same person … yesssss i love it give me more.
harwin strong in his dilf era repeatedly punching criston cole in the face is literally everything i wanted to see from him in this episode.
viserys talking about the bonds of friendship being forged through combat together while aegon ii is beating up his nephews is just like. jesus christ. viserys please learn to read the room.
alicent and larys having their scheming little dinner together was so fun, especially since it’s clearly a common practice. seems like larys is going full-on villain and that’s going to be entertaining to watch.
kind of sad to see that daemon and rhaenyra’s marriages are both breaking down, but i can understand why since there are a lot of stressors in both of those relationships.
around halfway through this episode i was like “there seems to be a lot going on here, maybe i won’t have to watch harwin and laena die yet” so the last 10 minutes absolutely sucker-punched me.
rip lyonel strong you were a real one and possibly the only man in westeros with both honor and common sense.
i am not quite sure how i feel about laena’s death, i always thought childbirth was a lazy way to get rid of her and i can see that they were trying to add more dignity/autonomy but it also made it more violent … i’ll have to think on it.
the milf on milf violence in this was just really fun and i can’t wait to see more.
i am READY for the funeral drama next week, bring it on!
#pie says stuff#pie watches hotd#hotd#hotd spoilers#house of the dragon#rhaenyra targaryen#alicent hightower#daemon targaryen#harwin strong#laena velaryon#aemond targaryen#helaena targaryen#larys strong#aegon ii targaryen
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It's Who We Have | Part Four
Summary: After Nut's funeral, Billy and his estranged friend share some choice words | Word Count: 3.7k~ | Warnings below the cut!
General Taglist | Billy Washington Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Warnings: language, mentions of neglect, mentions of bullying and sexual assault, islamophobia
“Take those fucking sunglasses off, you look like a prick.”
Billy winced when he knocked his right hand, bandaged and bloody, holding it close to his body, the other pulling the sunglasses that Paddy hated so much off his face.
“Why didn't you call your sister?”
Billy scoffed, “Like I'm gonna be the first to tell her. She'll find out in her own time.”
Paddy simply sighed from behind the steering wheel, his fingers twitching with the need to say something, but unsure how.
“A fucking Halal butchers? Who put you up to do that?”
Now it was Billy's turn to sigh, “nobody.”
“Oh yeah? Nothing to do with these English Flag-fucking-Crusaders, whatever they're called.”
“Listen mate, please, I don't need this right now.”
Paddy simply let out a frustrated breath, concentrating on now tailgating the car in front of him. Billy slumped in the passenger seat of his friend's car, feeling that Paddy amongst the little remaining group of friends, would be the least judgemental.
Turns out that wasn't true.
Billy resisted to cringe when he heard Paddy's voice on the other line when he'd rung him from the police station, hoping at least that he felt worse than he looked. And he looked pretty shit.
He thought, Lana wouldn't be faring much better.
He could feel the deep, dark judgement and anger seeping off Paddy, in the way he gripped the gearstick and his grunts of annoyance at usual menial things.
God fucking help him if she ever found out.
She'd pretend she didn't want to kill him, but would work on a way to do it in her head before she ever said it.
If he was being honest with himself. He'd had far too much (albeit not as much as Lana) and was angry, upset, annoyed. And he wasn't even sure what at.
At the time, it was easy to be annoyed at anything.
Just so happens the Halal butchers was right in front of him.
“Not told your sister then?” Paddy prodded whilst stopped at a red light.
Paddy was usually so sing-songy in the way he spoke, something carried down through his Irish family. And though he was technically the first of his generation to be born in England, the few times Billy and their mates had gone down to his for drinks, you’d be forgiven for thinking you were right back in the bustling centre of Londonderry, with the statue of Mary placed ceremoniously on the mantelpiece, as well as every shelf in every bedroom.
Not that Paddy himself would describe himself as religious.
Since meeting him in the first year of College, Billy had always tagged him a sort of ‘class clown’. It was easy to laugh when Paddy was around. And whether he meant to or not, he was just funny.
But here, sat beside him, being interrogated very much like he had felt the night before by the police officers who’d picked him up, that aloof, silliness that Paddy most often wore, was nowhere to be found.
“Not yet,” Billy answered simply, trying not to fiddle with the damp bandages around his hand.
“You gonna?”
Billy shrugged, feeling as if this were only the beginning of the questions that he was likely to get from those closest around him.
And Paddy need not even say what was on his mind, his fallen expression of disappointment was enough as he pulled up beside Billy’s flat and pulled the handbrake up.
“Get out my fucking car.”
The door opened a good ten seconds after she’d knocked, and when Libby’s bright, blonde hair appeared in the doorway, a phone in one hand, her friend looked nothing short of shocked.
“Come in, just on FaceTime with Ami,” she muttered, ushering her in without question and closing the door, “No, no, I’m still here, carry on.”
“So anyway, this old Chinese lady is like ‘oh my god, I love your hair, you’re so lucky’ but she wouldn’t stop fucking touching me!”
She couldn’t help but grin as she heard Ami’s ramblings over the phone and Libby’s dramatic replies, all while they filed into the kitchen to put the kettle on.
“Oh dear, Ami, however will you survive. There’s worse things than people touching your hair.”
“Not fucking much,” Ami answered with a huff, “anyway I’ve gotta go. Hi and bye, misery-guts!”
Libby snickered and turned her phone so that she could at least wave goodbye on the camera. To which she gave halfway between a playful smile and a grimace, and stuck two fingers up at her instead.
Once Libby hung up she snorted, “sarky bitch. Milk, no sugar?”
She nodded, “Yup, please. As long as you’re not too busy acting like a proper sister-in-law.”
Libby scoffed, handing one of her Emma Bridgewater mugs to her and leant back against the kitchen counter, “Abi has yet to pop the question yet, friendo.”
She hummed a laugh, tapping her fingernails against the mug.
“So…you saw him.”
“Unfortunately, yes. At the wake…”
“Jesus Christ. Billy there?”
She huffed a mirthless laugh again, “Unfortunately yes again. Billy punched him in the face.”
Libby cocked her head, a sort of worried grimace on her face, “Cute, I guess? Or stupid.”
The tea burned her tongue, but she was eager to do something to occupy herself, otherwise her thoughts would, “Probably a bit of both.”
“What is the deal with you and Billy?”
There it was. The golden question. An answer she’d like to know herself.
She sighed, “Libs-”
“I mean, you two used to be thick as thieves and then bam suddenly he can’t talk about you anymore. And now that you’re back, which I love by the way, it’s like whenever he sees you he sees a fucking…ghost or something.”
Suddenly Libby’s bright eyes seem much too intense, and she has to look between her feet to get a grip of herself, sighing as she taps her fingertips on the mug of tea she holds.
“Listen I know he’s not always been there for you in the way you needed-”
“It’s not- I don’t know. I always had this feeling like…he didn’t really like me, just tolerated me.”
She doesn't need to look back up at her friend to know there's a sad expression there. And the moment is so utterly quiet, that she can hear the neighbour next door mowing their lawn, both the smell and haze of fresh grass drifting lazily through the air.
It reminded her of Cranstead Fields.
Fuck, why did everything have to circle back to him.
“Billy is a lot of things. Cruel is not one of them,” Libs sighed, “maybe just stupid.”
When they both gave an exhausted and yet relieved laugh, the tension somewhat shifted.
“I love him, Libs. I don't know if I should, but I do.”
Her friend opened her mouth, about to reply or add something. But her lips clamped shut immediately.
“God, you're both insufferable,” Libs laughed, crossing her arms, “you two need to be adults and talk it out. Or do some therapy on the NHS, I know that really helped you.”
She rolled her eyes, “knowing my luck I’d have fucking Becky as my therapist. If that happens I'm face timing you from the edge of a bridge before I jump off.”
“Dramatic.”
“And don't mummy me, doesn't suit you.”
“Suits Abi just fine.”
“Ew, Libs.”
Libby had tried her best to make her feel better, and for that, she was nothing short of grateful. Some good needed to work its way back into her life at the moment. And the way her loving friend deemed fit to lift the mood, with a small glass of white wine, was not such a bad thing either.
In truth, she can’t help but wonder, that if she’d met Libby while she was at secondary school, she likely would’ve walked right past her.
Libby had always been popular, not by some maniacal grasp to preteen power, but through her bright, happy smile, stellar sense of humour and ability to make friends with just about anyone.
If Libby was the explosive, firework-like presence in school, then she was like a ghost, merely living between planes of existence, enough to interact with things and people around her, but not enough to leave any lasting impression.
Or at least that’s what she thought.
They were through the second episode of Gogglebox and nearing the end of the little glass of white when her phone buzzed in her back pocket.
“Hang on, Libs. Lana’s calling me.”
Libs’ head pulled back as if in shock, “what she calling you for?”
She shrugged and pulled the phone to her ear. Lana sounded hurried and stressed, like she was holding too many things in her hands.
“Sorry to call you like this.”
“No, you’re alright, what’s up?”
“Listen, I know you and Billy aren’t exactly on great terms but do you mind checking on him? I was blackout last night and dunno what happened to him.”
“Uh- yeah, course.”
“Cheers. I’ll ping you his address.”
As soon as she hung up, Libby was instantly wide-eyed and nosy, asking a barrage of questions. All the while she tried to give any vague answer she could, scrolling her contacts for Paddy’s name.
“Jesus Christ, who you calling now?”
She held a finger up, “Hiya, Pad. Yeah I'm alright. Listen, you've not seen Billy about have you? What do you mean why am I asking you, you've still got Billy’s live location from that time he got lost having a piss at the club like two years ago, remember? You're my private investigator.”
She shot Libby a glare when she loudly sipped her wine loudly, to fill the silence.
She furrowed her brows, “when you say don't be mad, it insinuates I'm going to be mad, Patrick.”
Libby watched her friend's face fall, nearly losing grip on her phone held at her ear, and a sudden eerie silence when she heard Paddy's low voice on the other end.
“No, I won't tell him you told me, Lana asked me to go check on him anyway. Cheers, bye.”
She didn't spare Libby a look, her body suddenly pent up and eyes aflame. And her friend knew she meant business when she polished off the last slither of her wine before pulling herself up.
“Well?” Libby asked as she watched her pull on her coat hastily, getting frustrated when the zip wouldn't do up the first time.
“I'll tell you later, just know, I want to fucking kill him.”
Year 8 seemed to exist in a realm suspended between the innocence of Year 7 and the weighty responsibilities of Year 9, ensnared in the relentless passage of time. School, once brimming with purpose, now felt hollow, as did much else. Yet amidst the drudgery of daily life, the mundane trek home stood out as particularly grating, a constant reminder of the mundanity that had settled in.
Her mother's refusal to heed the school's advice regarding HPV jabs only added to the melancholy of the year. It was Miss Slator, her form tutor, who provided a semblance of maternal care, just as Mr. Thornby had the year before, acting as a paternal figure. Their concern and support, though appreciated, couldn't dispel the sense of disquiet that lingered within her.
The memory of receiving her first HPV jab during lunchtime, accompanied by Miss Slator, was tinged with discomfort, both physical and emotional. The sharp sting in her arm served as a poignant reminder of her vulnerability, exacerbated by the absence of her mother's reassuring presence.
She fiddled with the hem of her skirt, jumping out of her skin when Billy’s bag slumped down on the spot next to her.
“Is it sore?” he asked, huffing down on the bench beside her, looking out at a group of teens playing footie at Cranstead Fields, despite the looming grey cloud hanging above them.
She rolled her eyes, “course it hurts, you twa-ow!”
It was light, and friendly, the way he punched her left arm, the way all the boys had been doing to all the girls at school after their jabs. But it still fucking hurt.
“Dick.”
Billy smiled boyishly, pulling a bar of chocolate out his coat pocket.
“That for me?”
He nodded, as if it were obvious, “for being so brave.”
“Don’t be sarky,” she scoffed, smiling albeit gratefully and snatching the chocolate from him.
She folded it over in her fingers, the bright purple packaging tempting her to eat it now. And she didn’t say it, but she thought she might save it for later, so that she’d be less hungry if her mum chose to not cook any tea.
It was a sad thought to have, that she might rely on it.
“How is safeguarding,” he asked calmly, not reacting when her wide, panic-stricken eyes turned to him.
“How-”
“Saw you in Mr Healy’s office,” he interjects, pushing the blonde strands of hair off his forehead, waiting for her to say something.
Billy was almost disappointed at her response.
The soft glaze of her eyes, wide and embarrassed, but near longing to lift the weight off her conscience. The way her shoulders dropped to make herself appear small. Crossing her arms, rubbing them lovingly, like she was desperate for some semblance of touch like this.
He saw the bob of her throat and braced himself for those large thick walls she’d built before she even said it.
In that moment, as the crushing burden of her secrets threatened to suffocate her, she found a temporary reprieve in the simple act of confiding, even if just for a fleeting moment. And wanted to, so readily to trust him. Despite her best efforts to fortify her emotional barriers, the ache in her heart intensified, a visceral reminder of the profound yearning for the connection she so deeply desired.
“Dunno what you’re talking about.”
One could be mistaken for thinking it was early afternoon by the time she pulled up behind Billy's battered Vauxhall, it was still so bright outside.
With a heaved sigh, she threw her bag over her shoulder and locked her car, having to take steady, easy breaths to calm herself as she crossed the road to Billy's flat. Cigarette smoke clung to her clothes as she crushed it beneath the heel of her shoe, the smoke burning in her lungs and the lingering nagging at the back of her head that at some point, she had to make a point of giving up.
With a click, a man in a tracksuit and a cap slid out the door that led to the flats behind the row of shops. His eyes were hidden under a shadow, taking wide, calculated steps as if to place as much distance between him and the property he’d just come out of as possible.
As if being caught doing something he shouldn’t.
A shiver crept up her spine when they passed one another, and his stark eyes lit up under the tip of his cap, peering at her in suspicion.
She couldn’t shake that feeling even as she ascended the stairs to Billy’s flat. The sizzling nerves didn’t even seem to replace it.
Her stomach felt sick with emotion when he answered the door in tatty looking clothes, his shirt pilled up from years of use, hair somewhat greasy and an old, bloody bandage around his fist.
Billy took up the doorway with his height, his arm stretched across it in a gesture of defence. But it seemed as if when he laid his darkened and tired blue eyes on her, she saw him shrink.
“Can we have a word?” She asks, her tone flat in a manner that tells Billy he knows exactly what she's here for. In a manner that was tired, disappointed and saddened in equal measure.
“Fuck’s sake…”
Billy’s flat smelled of mildew, proven by the fact his clothes were still damp on the airer and all his windows were shut with the curtains drawn. His shoes were piled up in the hallway, one on top of the other, clearly favouring a particular pair that sat above them, as if he couldn’t be bothered even with the choice anymore.
He offered her a cup of tea, no doubt in an attempt to calm the rocky waves of panic surging through him. It was clear Billy was embarrassed by the state of his flat, as he glanced at her every now and then to make sure her expression was not one of judgement. The only one he found was one of despair.
Billy looked at his friend as if she was other-wordly. The world he’d made within the tight confines of his flat, did not have space to fit the idea of her inside of it.
His shoulders slumped, and the words that came out his mouth did not seem like his own as he sat awkwardly on his sofa, even that, covered in old clothes and crap. And all she could do was shake her head and peer out through his thin curtains, not able to look at the person she thought she had known once upon a time.
Both of them felt it.
The surge of heat that flooded their veins before an argument.
“I don’t need you to parent me. I’ve had enough of that already.”
She wanted to laugh bitterly at that, but managed herself somehow, “maybe you need it, Billy. These new mates of yours don’t seem to be doing you any favours, do they? Was it their fab idea for you to do it? Hm?”
“Does it matter?” he replied dismissively.
“Can't you see you're being fucking groomed, Billy? Fucking hell, what would Ami and Abi think?”
Their friends.
Did it mean nothing anymore?
“They’re different.”
“Oh, are they? Until they’re not. Until they do something to piss you off and then all of a sudden it’s ‘people like them’. What about their mum? Because fucking newsflash Billy, she wasn’t born here either, you’ve not got a fucking clue!”
He is quiet. His jaw tight, body wound so tight that even she could see his frustration.
“What’s next? Lobbing a brick through Mrs Ahmed’s window?”
He scoffs, his hair slipping off his head as he shakes it, “I fucking hate when you’re like this.”
“Like what? Speaking fucking sense?” she laughs bitterly, “I'm alright with that if I'm the only one holding you accountable!”
“When you’re stubborn.”
Billy needn’t ever shout.
She could sense his deep annoyance in not only his gaze, but his voice.
And she thought with anger in her veins, burning with fury, that what did he have to be annoyed about?
“Who the fuck even are you Billy.”
It came out her mouth without even really trying. She didn’t know if she regretted it or not when she saw his expression. He was still defensive, that much was clear, but in the way he looked at her, it seemed as if he was grasping for something.
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she asked, almost desperately.
“Because I’m not used to this version of you.”
“Well, sorry Billy, I grew up. I of all people wish we could go back to the way we were, but here we are, fucking adults, avoiding each other like fucking teenagers!”
“There’s no need to shout.”
“Well give me something then!” she exclaims, “something, to let me know you give a shit.”
“Fucking hell, I punched the guy who broke your fucking heart, is that not enough?!”
“Now who’s the one shouting,” she claps back with venom, “And so what, you-”
She stops herself, her face falling somewhat. And when she’s quiet so suddenly, Billy’s bright eyes meet hers, hands clasped and rested on his knees, leaned forward on the sofa as if to appear smaller. His expression is confused and irritated in equal measure.
“What did you say?” she asks in a whisper, blinking slowly.
“I…punched the guy who broke your heart?”
She feels the lump form in the back of her throat, her eyes curiously flitting between either of his, trying to understand what he is thinking without having the courage to ask.
Billy shakes his head, “I mean- is that not what he did? He fucking dropped you like you were nothing.”
Silence envelops either of them for a solid few seconds. So long that it’s suffocating, like the walls are closing in around them for the first time in years. And for a split second, with her eyebrows furrowed in pain and hands shaking, she looks just as she did on the last day Billy saw her at college.
“You don’t know, do you?”
What she says then sends a full-body shiver that begins at the base of Billy’s neck and clatters all the way through his limbs. Blood turning cold immediately.
What does he not know?
He finds himself restless at the idea. That he was perhaps supposed to know something, but irrevocably doesn’t. That everyone else is aware of something so obvious.
He didn’t know it wasn’t just some nasty breakup.
He didn’t know that photos and videos of her in her most vulnerable moments were sent around the school, rumours circulating on MSN, hateful messages scribbled on her desk. And that she didn’t have the courage to tell anyone that the guy who had humiliated her and dragged her name through the mud, still had the indecency to rub it in her face.
He didn’t know that because of what happened, she nearly left school entirely, but that it was so late into the school year, she just waited it out before college. But that those few months, were absolute torture.
Billy never grasped the magnitude of her anguish—the nights spent in tears, the days clouded by despair. The sanctuary of school became a battleground, where every glance felt like an accusation, every whisper a condemnation. Yet, she soldiered on, clinging to the hope of escape, even as her spirit withered under the relentless assault.
He didn’t know that her mum berated her for weeks, even months. Didn’t give her bus money and didn’t wash her clothes, in what she perceived was fair punishment, thinking her daughter had purposely sent suggestive photos and videos to a random boy at school.
She had hoped he knew... but now faced with the daunting task of revealing her truth, she recoiled, sickened by the prospect of laying bare the depths of her suffering.
But in all that, as tears made her vision go blurry, a watery smile lifted to her lips at the memory of when he’d come to her at Cranstead Fields. He hadn’t been pushy and simply accepted that she needed comfort. And a friend. She remembered wetting his school shirt with her tears, and the smell of the detergent his mum used, with jasmine fabric conditioner pods. To which she thought now with delight, that he still smelled the same.
He was like home to her.
Home.
What was home now?
“Oh Billy…” she whispered through a choked, almost bitter laugh, “...it’s sweet…that you did all that just because you thought he broke my heart.”
General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd@blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301@jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian@randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies @virtualsweetsqueen
#billy washington x y/n#billy washington x oc#billy washington x reader#billy washington#billy washington x you#billy washington fanfic#billy washington trigger point#trigger point fanfic#trigger point series#trigger point#ewan mitchell#ewan mitchell characters#billy washington fanfiction#billy washington smut#billy washington angst#trigger point billy washington#billy washington fic#billy washington fluff#billy washington x fem!reader
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Sex Education season 4 thoughts
The good
Aimee’s journey. As I’ve discussed online no end, I have complex PTSD. While I was never sexually assaulted like Aimee was, her avoidant trauma responses were very relatable to me. To see her taking the power back this season, especially when the burned the jeans she was assaulted in and did the photoshoot with them, made me feel a bit less alone as I try and heal. I cried my eyes out, so much so that I had to take a break from watching to collect myself!
“Even when I’m doing something I love… it feels like I’m still wearing them, like it never goes away”
Cal’s story as a non-binary person is very different to mine (and for the record, that doesn’t make either of us any less valid, because there is no singular way to be non-binary). Nonetheless, hearing someone I love as much as I do Gillian Anderson affirm our shared gender nonconformity meant the world. I’m sick of facing transphobia from society, but especially from people that I once considered idols. So knowing that Gillian embraced a role where her character supports trans youth healed something within me. It’s not the first time she’s showed up for our community though - she always makes a point to include non-binary people, for example in her Dear Gillian announcement video. I don’t mean to undermine the real hero of the story here: Dua Saleh, the actor who played Cal - it’s just that I had already formed such a deep connection with Gillian, so it hit me doubly hard from her.
The funeral scene. Just… the funeral scene. I really lost it when Mr Hendricks played With Or Without You on the piano and everyone else joined in.
Other people have spoken about this better, so I won’t get into it as much, but by god, the representation. One example that really struck me was the sex scene between Abbi and Roman at the end, where she said “I love being inside you”. It wasn’t a big deal, their transness was completely normalised.
This might be an unpopular opinion, but I loved the Motis ending! Maeve made the right choice going back to America, and long distance relationships are really hard when you have no plans to reunite, so I get why they called it off. Also, relationships at that age don’t usually last, as much as I hate to say it, and yet via Maeve’s letter, the show managed to honour that they can still shape one’s life and be really important.
The bad
If it wasn’t clear, I’m a Jean Milburn stan first and a human second. Unfortunately, I was disappointed in how they handled her storyline this season. Firstly, I’m tired of every single female character on television having an arc that culminates in motherhood. Not knowing who the father was felt like bad writing for Jean specifically, like very out of character, because she’s a sex therapist, so she’s all about safe sex and communication around those things. By no means am I suggesting that they should’ve kept Jakob as a character (if you don’t already know, his actor sexually assaulted hundreds of women which, by the way, was public knowledge before he was ever cast), but they could’ve come up with a better workaround. Maybe I’m biased because Jean is a comfort character of mine, but I wasn’t very pleased with the fact that they didn’t allow her to be happy for a single second this season either! That being said, I do think it’s important that we don’t gloss over the postpartum depression representation here, which could mean so much to so many. I wish they’d brought Maureen in to help Jean though, because their relationship was so special and yet we didn’t see them interact onscreen once this season.
I haven’t heard anyone else mention this, but I was disappointed with how they handled sapphic relationships this season. Not only were Ola and Lily erased entirely, but the writers fucked up the storyline for the only established sapphic couple remaining (Roz and Sofia Marchetti). Like, why was the Big Plot Twist™️ that there was, in fact, a man intimately involved with their family? Our lives don’t have to revolve around men, you know? The show didn’t explicitly acknowledge the fact that genetics to not make a family in my opinion either, because Roz and Sofia’s conversation with Jackson was just about how his biological father was missing out on raising him.
The… mixed? Idk!
I deserve to be sent to horny jail for this, but Jean breastfeeding initially drove me insane. I quickly changed my tune though, because breasts are not inherently sexual and breastfeeding shouldn’t be sexualised, so it makes me feel a bit icky to see people thirsting over that.
I’m not sure how I felt about the development of Adam and Michael’s relationship. On one hand, I thought it was beautiful to see them both grow and reconnect. On the other hand, I was slightly concerned that it was veering into “you have to forgive your abuser” territory. I don’t have parental trauma, so I don’t have the authority to comment, but I’d be interested to hear other people’s perspectives.
I really appreciate how they tried to explore toxic relationships with the introduction of Beau as Viv’s love interest. However, I don’t feel that it was given the weight it deserved, because there was so much else going on.
In summary
I’m not disappointed with how this season turned out overall. Although it definitely wasn’t perfect, I thoroughly enjoyed watching it, and it made me very happy. I do recommend checking trigger warnings before watching it though, because it is a lot darker than previous seasons.
I’d missed this show and these characters more than I’d realised, and I can’t believe I’ll never see them again. It was really hard to say goodbye!
#yes I binged all of season 4 in one day but I was too lazy to post about it until now. love that for me#miscellaneous thoughts:#gillian anderson is a phenomenal actor jsyk#this season is confirmation that ncuti is gonna be an amazing doctor#I may be becoming a hannah waddingham stan what of it#also this is personal so feel free to skip#but I’m so so proud of myself#because this season would have been too triggering for me to watch not long ago#but I’m ✨healing✨ now#sex ed season 4#sex ed s4#sex education season 4#sex education s4#sex ed spoilers#sex education spoilers#sex education netflix#sex ed netflix
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✨GhostSoap incorrect quotes✨
With 141 chaos included.
Soap: Oops, got your mental illness 😊
Ghost: You give that back.
Ghost, pulling out a knife: That was a gift from my father!
-------
Ghost: I'm sorry for being mentally ill.
Soap: ...
Ghost: And a bit messed up in the head.
Ghost: The sex will be good though.
-------
Ghost: Johnny, this place is fancy and I don't know which fork to kill myself with.
-------
Soap: Simon, you're late for date night again, what was it this time?
Ghost, standing in the living room covered in blood: Well...
Soap, sighing: Baby I want to go out for dinner!!
Ghost: I know but just one more time love- next week we can go on a proper date but-
Soap: Hiding a body isn't a date!!
-------
Ghost: I don't want you talking at my funeral!
Soap: What?
Ghost: You can go to my funeral but you can't talk-
Soap: Why??
Ghost: My funeral is my time to shine!
-------
Soap: I don't know what the big deal is
Gaz, sighing: Ok, let's break this down. First of all, you don't fix any of the appliances in your apartment.
Soap: Yeah, it's too hard.
Gaz: You don't fix up your apartment in general.
Soap: Couldn't be bothered.
Gaz: Dude, you can't even fix up a decent meal for yourself.
Soap: What even is a stove. I mean...
Gaz: Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you??
Ghost: Hey, can I have 40 bucks real quick?
Soap, leaning in to whisper: I still think I can fix him.
Gaz: For fucks sake-
-------
Soap: Ghost, what's like a word your parents wouldn't let you use growing up. Like they said it was a curse word but it really wasn't.
Ghost: No, I can't say that, it's too embarrassing.
Soap: Oh come on I'll go first, my parents told us 'shut up' was like a curse. Like it was a terrible phrase we couldn't use.
Ghost: What? My parents said that to me all the time.
Soap: Really?
Ghost: Ok, this is a word we literally never used in our house. I don't even know if I'm pronouncing it right... Uh, love?
Soap: What?
Ghost: Oh I am pronouncing it wrong. Uh, luvé?
Soap: Uh no, it's pronounced love.
Ghost: Oh, yeah, well we never said that.
Soap: Ghost, you- you know I'm here for you right?
Ghost: That's so kind of you Johnny. You know what, I tolerate you.
Soap: What... What?? Tolerate? That's mean
Ghost: What, no it's not! That's like the deepest form of affection you can show somebody!
-------
Soap: Have you seen a person named 'Ghost' around here?
Gaz: Ugh, yes. He made a horrible mess of the blood fountain.
Price: It looks fine to me?
Gaz: IT USED TO BE WATER!!!
-------
Ghost: *Screams*
Soap: *Screams louder to assert dominance*
Gaz: Should we do something?!
Price, observing: No, I want to see who wins this.
-------
Gaz: On a scale from “damn Daniel” to “fre sha vaca do”, how are you feeling?
Soap: In between “it’s an avocado, thanks” and “how did you defeat Captain America”, but as a solid answer I would say “I don’t need a degree to be a clothing hanger”. How about you, Ghost?
Ghost: Probably “road work ahead”.
Price: I speak many languages, and this is none of them.
-------
Ghost: I think Price was right.
Soap: I'm surprised he haven't marched in here to say 'I told you so.'
Gaz: He wouldn't do that.
Price: You're right, Gaz. For once in your life, you're 100% right. I would never say that.
Price: *turns around, the shirt they're wearing says 'Price Told You So' on the back*
-------
Ghost: I just ended a four year relationship.
Soap: Oh, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?
Ghost: Hm? Oh yeah, I’m fine. It wasn’t my relationship.
*Gaz and Price fighting from across the room*
-------
Ghost: This is bothering me.
Soap: Well, you are digging up a corpse.
Ghost: No, not that. That's, uh, pretty par for the course, actually.
-------
Ghost: Can you please be serious for five minutes?
Soap: My record is four, but I think I can do it.
-------
Ghost: Oh just so you know, it's very muggy outside
Soap:
Soap: Ghost, I swear, if I step outside and all of our mugs are on the front lawn...
Ghost: *Sips tea from bowl*
-------
Ghost: Okay. I get it. You've had a really hard time lately, you're stressed out, seven people died-
Soap: Twelve, actually.
Ghost: Not the point. Look, they're dead now and really whose fault is that?
Soap: Yours!
Ghost: That's right: no one's.
-------
Ghost: Soap was banned from the chicken shack, so we had to go out of town to get some.
Soap: Well, they shouldn’t say “all you can eat” if they don’t mean it.
Ghost: Soap, you ate a chair
--------
Ghost: Do you think you’d actually notice if someone didn’t cast a shadow? Or if their limbs were just slightly too long? Or if they had just a little too many teeth? like how many times have you passed Something on the street and you just didn’t Notice It?
Soap: Stay woke monsterfuckers ur love is out there!!!!!
Ghost: Yknow what? Not my point at all in any way whatsoever, but I’m glad I could be an inspiration.
-------
Ghost: Sorry it took me so long to bail you out of jail
Soap: No it’s my fault, I shouldn’t’ve used my one phone call to prank call the police
-------
Ghost: What is your biggest weakness?
Soap: I can be uncooperative.
Ghost: Okay, can you give me an example?
Soap: No.
-------
Ghost: It’s dark in here
Soap: Don’t worry dude I got this
Soap: *Stomps his feet*
Soap: *Skechers light up*
-------
Ghost: I'm 10 times funnier and sexier than you
Soap: 10 times 0 is still 0 though
Ghost: Jokes on you, I can't do math
-------
Ghost, in a meeting: My policy is if you see something, say something.
Soap: I saw a squirrel in a tree today!
Ghost, with the tone of someone who is used to Soap: Outstanding.
Ghost: This is what I’m talking about people.
-------
Ghost: You saved me. I owe you my life.
Soap: No thanks. I’ve seen it and I’m not very impressed.
-------
Ghost: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them.
Soap: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.
-------
Soap: Am I in trouble?
Ghost: Take a guess.
Soap: No?
Ghost: Take another guess.
-------
Soap: Remember when you didn't try to solve all your problems with attempted murder?
Ghost: Stop romanticizing the past.
-------
Ghost: I'm a reverse necromancer.
Soap: Isn't that just killing people?
Ghost: Ah, technicality.
-------
Soap: I can explain.
Ghost: Can you?
Soap: If you give me thirty seconds to think of a lie.
-------
Ghost: Fitness tip: never stop pushing yourself. Some say 8 hours of sleep is enough. Why not keep going? Why not 9? Why not 10? Strive for greatness.
Soap: Next time you’re working out do 15 push ups instead of 10. Run 3 miles instead of 2. Eat a whole cake instead of just a slice. Burn your ex’s house down. You can do it. I believe in you.
Price: There were so many mixed messages in that I can’t-
#simon ghost riley#call of duty#john soap mactavish#johnny soap mactavish#captain john price#ghoap#ghostsoap#im having writers block so take this brainrot in my momentary abscence#call of duty incorrect quotes#cod incorrect quotes#incorrect quotes#ghost x soap
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the ache
billy hargrove x gn!byers!reader
word count: 625
warnings: grieving, mentions of death, post the battle of starcourt
a/n: um, so…i just wrote this in thirty minutes, give or take. it’s a bit of dialogue that i’ve been kind of toying with in my head for a few days, and here i am, at one in the fucking morning, writing this. i’m sorry in advance. (also for context, none of the season three hopper death shit happened.) i love you all. <3333
————
When you don’t show for dinner, Joyce knows exactly where you are.
There’s no guesswork, or calling around. She knows.
She knows because she’s been where you are. And she knows you shouldn’t be alone.
She remembers when Hopper had come and sat on the floor in front of her without a word. It had settled something inside of her, that small gesture. Sure, it hadn’t soothed the ache—nothing could do that, nothing but time—yet it had helped. It felt like a breath of fresh air.
Joyce parks the car, and makes her way to where she stood all those months ago as they lowered him into the ground.
You’d been silent then. She wasn’t sure you were breathing, really. And when they’d finished, when the funeral was over, you’d just stood there. And she’d waited until you made your way to the car, and she took you home. Anything for her baby.
————
The grass is chilly under your palms, where you’re desperately ripping the blades up and flinging them to the sides. There might be two sparse patches left by the time you’re finished, but that’s okay. It’ll grow back.
Your face is wet. You gave up on wiping it dry long ago.
When you hear footsteps behind you, you don’t even have to turn because you know exactly who it is. Who’s come for you.
You start to cry again, but this time it’s worse. This time you’re sobbing.
Joyce sits down beside you, settling on her knees.
You look up at her, but you can’t really see her because your eyes are filling with tears and blurring your vision.
“Oh, baby,” Joyce says. She runs her hand over your leg.
You cry out. You’re practically wailing. It hurts, you’ve noticed. It’s like an ache, and it won’t leave. It stays.
You look away from her and at his headstone. William Hargrove, it reads.
That’s all he is now, a plot. A marker. A memory.
“Mama.” Joyce never takes her eyes off of you. Seeing you like this fills her with an immense grief, and she wants nothing more than to make it all go away. To fix it. To kiss it better.
“Mama, I miss him.”
A sob wrenches free from your throat, and you’re wiping desperately at your face again because now she’s here and she can see you at your weakest. But it’s no use, so you let it come.
“My baby,” you cry.
Images of Billy flash through your mind: sitting with him in the staff room while it rained one day at the pool and no one could swim, helping him get a tangle out of his hair, kissing him on the cheeks just to see him blush.
He’s gone. He’s never coming back. Your Billy is dead.
“Mama, please.”
You don’t know why you’re begging, but you are. And you keep begging, like it’s going to fix something. It’s not.
Please what? Please bring my boyfriend back. Please undo what happened that night. Please let him be safe. Please.
Joyce wraps her arms around your shoulders and you cling to her like you’re afraid she’ll disappear too. Like she’ll be in the ground and you’ll be sitting and crying out for her just as you are now.
You’re not sure how long you cry for, but she lets you for as long as you need.
And when you’re done, you go home and lay in bed. You slip on one of his shirts, and you think about him.
You cry some more, and try to remember something Hopper told you after he’d taken you out of the mall that night.
“That feeling never goes away. But everyday it does get a little easier.”
You hope he’s right.
————
please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33
#billy hargrove#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove x gn!reader#billy hargrove x y/n#billy hargrove x you#billy hargrove x gender neutral reader#billy hargrove fanfic#billy hargrove fanfiction#billy hargrove fic#billy hargrove ficlet#billy hargrove angst#billy stranger things fic#billy stranger things#billy hargrove x byers!reader#billy hargrove x gn!byers!reader#byers!reader#joyce byers#jim hopper#savannah’s fics
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Incorrect CoD Quotes #4
(Warning: mild swearing)
~~~>
Sherlock: *slurring* I just inhaled an entire can of Febreeze and I am tripping balls right now
Ghost: Fucking hell! Why would you do that?!
Sherlock: Better question is why am I still alive?
Gaz: 😰
Soap: I like her.
~~~>
Ghost: I am this 🤏 close to finding a bridge or tall building and seeing if I can fly. If I can, cool. If I can’t, even better.
Price: Ghost no.
Ghost: Ghost yes!
~~~>
Price: Do you remember that kid you kicked in the face last week?
Soap: Which one? I kicked, like, three.
Price: The one who-
Price:
Soap:
Price: I’m sorry WHAT-
~~~>
Sherlock: Somebody stole my antidepressants. Whoever you are, I hope you’re fucking happy.
Ghost: *somewhere in a corner, giggling to himself like a madman*
~~~>
Ghost: What do you call a man with a shovel in his head?
Soap: … What?
Ghost: An ambulance immediately.
Soap: -_-
Ghost: *slapping his knee*
~~~>
Graves: My house, my rules.
Alejandro:
Alejandro: *pulls out a knife* My knife, your life.
Rudy: Oh, ohh.
~~~>
Graves: I have a gun.
Ghost: I have missiles.
Graves: I have a Death Star.
Ghost: I have Shadow Company. I’ve got Shadow Company.
Graves: Oh you wanna be like that, I have Soap.
Ghost: *smirks* I have your browser history.
Graves:
Graves: Touché.
~~~>
Price: *singing* Castaways. We are castaways -
Laswell: Can you stop? We’re literally at Shepherd’s funeral.
Soap and Gaz: *trying not to laugh*
Laswell: Okay now -
Ghost: *continues singing* Passed away. He has passed a-
Soap and Gaz: *wheezing*
~~~>
Graves: *yelling at Shepherd* You are making $500,000 and you were only going to pay me 30?!
Laswell: You’re getting 30 grand?! I’m getting a thousand!
Price: *confused*
Price: You guys are getting paid?
~~~>
Makarov: Who the fuck are you?
Sherlock: I’m the person that’s gonna cut your dick off and glue it to your forehead so you look like a limp dick unicorn. That’s who the fuck I am!
Makarov: 😳
Nikolai: *wiping a tear from his eye* So proud.
~~~>
Sherlock: Rur~
Gaz: What sound is that?
Sherlock: A dyanasaur.
Gaz: A what?
Sherlock: Dyanasaur.
Gaz: It’s a what?
Sherlock: Dyanasaur.
Gaz: Make the sound again.
Sherlock: Rur~
Gaz: Oh, you’re talking about them things from Jurasissi Parac!
~~~>
Ghost: I’m so fucking ugly.
Soap: Shut the fuck up!
Ghost: *snort*
Soap: You think this is a fucking game?!
Ghost: *continues to laugh* Shut up. Stop it.
Soap: Stop fucking saying that shit.
Ghost: Tell me I’m beautiful.
Soap: You’re fucking gorgeous.
~~~>
Alejandro: You’re dumb.
Valeria: . . . I don’t like your hair.
Alejandro: *gasps dramatically* Dios mío, she went there!
~~~>
(I know I said I would post the next fact drop yesterday but I had forgotten that I had a date with my boyfriend 😬. Please accept this token of gratitude for your guys’ patience and the promise of a fact drop later tonight.)
#call of duty#call of duty oc#incorrect call of duty quotes#incorrect cod quotes#task force 141#cod sherlock#simon ghost riley#kyle gaz garrick#john soap mactavish#inspired by youtube#john price#phillip graves#alejandro vargas#rodolfo parra#kate laswell#vladimir makarov#valeria garza#fact dropping
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