#I think I've figured out what's wrong with this image

[kirkklan2]

345 - "Loretta"

#ArtEveryday #art #art every day #ginger root #city slickers #loretta #I think I've figured out what's wrong with this image #it's something to do with the spotlight. #but eh #yeah. #Spotify

[alfheimr]

My Favorite Cheap Art Trick: Gradient Maps and Blending Modes

i get questions on occasion regarding my coloring process, so i thought i would do a bit of a write up on my "secret technique." i don't think it really is that much of a secret, but i hope it can be helpful to someone. to that end:

this is one of my favorite tags ive ever gotten on my art. i think of it often. the pieces in question are all monochrome - sort of.

the left version is the final version, the right version is technically the original. in the final version, to me, the blues are pretty stark, while the greens and magentas are less so. there is some color theory thing going on here that i dont have a good cerebral understanding of and i wont pretend otherwise. i think i watched a youtube video on it once but it went in one ear and out the other. i just pick whatever colors look nicest based on whatever vibe im going for.

this one is more subtle, i think. can you tell the difference? there's nothing wrong with 100% greyscale art, but i like the depth that adding just a hint of color can bring.

i'll note that the examples i'll be using in this post all began as purely greyscale, but this is a process i use for just about every piece of art i make, including the full color ones. i'll use the recent mithrun art i made to demonstrate. additionally, i use clip studio paint, but the general concept should be transferable to other art programs.

for fun let's just start with Making The Picture. i've been thinking of making this writeup for a while and had it in mind while drawing this piece. beyond that, i didn't really have much of a plan for this outside of "mithrun looks down and hair goes woosh." i also really like all of the vertical lines in the canary uniform so i wanted to include those too but like. gone a little hog wild. that is the extent of my "concept." i do not remember why i had the thought of integrating a shattered mirror type of theme. i think i wanted to distract a bit from the awkward pose and cover it up some LOL but anyway. this lack of planning or thought will come into play later.

note 1: the textured marker brush i specifically use is the "bordered light marker" from daub. it is one of my favorite brushes in the history of forever and the daub mega brush pack is one of the best purchases ive ever made. highly recommend!!!

note 2: "what do you mean by exclusion and difference?" they are layer blending modes and not important to the overall lesson of this post but for transparency i wanted to say how i got these "effects." anyway!

with the background figured out, this is the point at which i generally merge all of my layers, duplicate said merged layer, and Then i begin experimenting with gradient maps. what are gradient maps?

the basic gist is that gradient maps replace the colors of an image based on their value.

so, with this particular gradient map, black will be replaced with that orangey red tone, white will be replaced with the seafoamy green tone, etc. this particular gradient map i'm using as an example is very bright and saturated, but the colors can be literally anything.

these two sets are the ones i use most. they can be downloaded for free here and here if you have csp. there are many gradient map sets out there. and you can make your own!

you can apply a gradient map directly onto a specific layer in csp by going to edit>tonal correction>gradient map. to apply one indirectly, you can use a correction layer through layer>new correction layer>gradient map. honestly, correction layers are probably the better way to go, because you can adjust your gradient map whenever you want after creating the layer, whereas if you directly apply a gradient map to a layer thats like. it. it's done. if you want to make changes to the applied gradient map, you have to undo it and then reapply it. i don't use correction layers because i am old and stuck in my ways, but it's good to know what your options are.

this is what a correction layer looks like. it sits on top and applies the gradient map to the layers underneath it, so you can also change the layers beneath however and whenever you want. you can adjust the gradient map by double clicking the layer. there are also correction layers for tone curves, brightness/contrast, etc. many such useful things in this program.

let's see how mithrun looks when we apply that first gradient map we looked at.

gadzooks. apologies for eyestrain. we have turned mithrun into a neon hellscape, which might work for some pieces, but not this one. we can fix that by changing the layer blending mode, aka this laundry list of words:

some of them are self explanatory, like darken and lighten, while some of them i genuinely don't understand how they are meant to work and couldn't explain them to you, even if i do use them. i'm sure someone out there has written out an explanation for each and every one of them, but i've learned primarily by clicking on them to see what they do.

for the topic of this post, the blending mode of interest is soft light. so let's take hotline miamithrun and change the layer blending mode to soft light.

here it is at 100% opacity. this is the point at which i'd like to explain why i like using textured brushes so much - it makes it very easy to get subtle color variation when i use this Secret Technique. look at the striation in the upper right background! so tasty. however, to me, these colors are still a bit "much." so let's lower the opacity.

i think thats a lot nicer to look at, personally, but i dont really like these colors together. how about we try some other ones?

i like both of these a lot more. the palettes give the piece different vibes, at which point i have to ask myself: What Are The Vibes, Actually? well, to be honest i didn't really have a great answer because again, i didn't plan this out very much at all. however. i knew in my heart that there was too much color contrast going on and it was detracting from the two other contrasts in here: the light and dark values and the sharp and soft shapes. i wanted mithrun's head to be the main focal point. for a different illustration, colors like this might work great, but this is not that hypothetical illustration, so let's bring the opacity down again.

yippee!! that's getting closer to what my heart wants. for fun, let's see what this looks like if we change the blending mode to color.

i do like how these look but in the end they do not align with my heart. oh well. fun to experiment with though! good to keep in mind for a different piece, maybe! i often change blending modes just to see what happens, and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. i very much cannot stress enough that much of my artistic process is clicking buttons i only sort of understand. for fun.

i ended up choosing the gradient map on the right because i liked that it was close to the actual canary uniform colors (sorta). it's at an even lower opacity though because there was Still too much color for my dear heart.

the actual process for this looks like me setting my merged layer to soft light at around 20% opacity and then clicking every single gradient map in my collection and seeing which one Works. sometimes i will do this multiple times and have multiple soft light and/or color layers combined.

typically at this point i merge everything again and do minor contrast adjustments using tone curves, which is another tool i find very fun to play around with. then for this piece in particular i did some finishing touches and decided that the white border was distracting so i cropped it. and then it's done!!! yay!!!!!

this process is a very simple and "fast" way to add more depth and visual interest to a piece without being overbearing. well, it's fast if you aren't indecisive like me, or if you are better at planning.

let's do another comparison. personally i feel that the hint of color on the left version makes mithrun look just a bit more unwell (this is a positive thing) and it makes the contrast on his arm a lot more pleasing to look at. someone who understands color theory better than i do might have more to say on the specifics, but that's honestly all i got.

just dont look at my layers too hard. ok?

#process #art tutorial #unsure what else to tag this as. if this does not post properly i will cry.

[cupid-styles]

only angel (tattoo artist/plug harry)

in which harry owns a tattoo shop, sells weed on the side, and has a big crush on y/n, a shy virgin who's very much enamored by him.

here is part one of tattoo/plug harry!!! I hope you like it :) please lmk if you'd like more from them <3

word count: 10.2k (!!!!)

content warnings: y/n's parents being unkind people, comments and discussions about weight/disordered eating, fainting (caused by a piercing), smut! (y/n's first time being fingered, dirty talk, harry being a soft dom)

masterlist | talk to me

part two

. . .

Y/N doesn't know why she's here.

If the glares from the employees of the tattoo and piercing shop are anything to go off of, they don't know why she's here either. And it all makes this whole thing even more embarrassing.

In reality, she does have a reason to be here. Mai, one of the few friends she's made in her grad school program, asked if she would drive her down to The Village for a tattoo appointment she had.

Y/N's eyes nearly bulged out of her skull when she asked, especially when she pressed for more details about this tattoo she was getting (it was a strawberry just above her hip, which Y/N didn't quite understand considering she thought tattoos were supposed to be meaningful). But, ever the pushover, Mai ended up convincing her, going as far as getting her to come inside — the one boundary she had — and wait while she got it done.

(Thankfully, her parents had some benefit charity thing going on today, so they weren't concerned with Y/N's whereabouts or where she was taking the car they bought her on a Saturday afternoon.)

The shop, called St. Mark's Place Social Club (aptly named, she supposes, considering it's located on St. Mark's Place), is nice. Unlike what she imagined tattoo parlors would look like in her brain, the spot Mai chose to get tattooed at seems sanitary and actually quite trendy.

It's not wildly crowded with customers hustling and bustling around, but there's a few artists at work at their own small stations. The walls are painted a cozy forest green, all donning frames upon frames of, what Y/N assumes are, sheets of tattoo designs. The receptionist who checked Mai in even offered them some water, which Y/N thinks was very nice.

"Are you nervous at all?" Y/N asks quietly as they sit in the rattan chairs in the waiting area. Mai's filling out some questionnaire on an iPad, but she shakes her head at her question, crossing her legs. 

"No, not really," she murmurs nonchalantly, "I have a few tattoos already and I've been here before. The artist that's doing it is really cool and he's so hot."

Y/N's mouth forms around an oh as Mai quickly taps her signature into the tablet. She stands from the rickety chair and walks back over to return it to the front, her heeled boots clacking against the wood floor as she does. 

Y/N has her gaze set low in her lap, eyes passing over her fresh manicure (her mother has a standing weekly appointment for her). She doesn't even notice that someone's standing over her — more so, towering over her — until the figure clears his throat, her head snapping up to address them. Assuming she's done something wrong (what it is, she isn't sure), she goes to apologize immediately, but the long haired man in front of her cuts her off.

"You have an appointment?" 

Instantly, she flounders. Her mouth drops open as she stumbles over an answer: "I— um, no, I'm not— no, no appointment."

"So you're a walk-in, then?"

"N-no," she shakes her head quickly, his all-black outfit forming a blur in front of her eyes, "No, I'm not getting a tattoo."

The man laughs. He actually laughs at her, and Y/N doesn't know whether she should be embarrassed or pleased that she's made this very attractive man smile.

"You're sitting in a tattoo shop. You know that, right?" the stranger crosses his heavily tattooed arms over his chest, and Y/N's eyes fly to the swirls of black ink covering his skin. They're everywhere; all different fonts and images and numbers and... she wonders if he even knows what they all mean or how many he has. 

"Yes," she finally manages out, folding her hands neatly in her lap. It's the default body language she goes to when she's nervous — when she was a teenager, her parents paid for her to go to social etiquette classes, and the instructor told her that this was a good way to show that she was in control of her actions, even if underneath her pastel pink turtleneck, her chest was covered in hives. "No, I'm not getting a tattoo. I'm here with someone getting one."

Thankfully (though Y/N would've preferred it happening about two minutes earlier), Mai walks back over to them, a grin taking over her features when she spots the man talking to her.

"Harry!" she greets excitedly, and Y/N watches as his eyes flicker over to her, flashing a tight smile in her direction.

"Ah. This is who you're here with." he — Harry, apparently — says to Y/N. She doesn't know what she's supposed to say to that (if she's supposed to say anything), but any response is once again cut off. "Hey. You ready?"

She only now notices the gum wedged between his teeth, his jaw moving in a hypnotizing way. His tone appears to be far more clipped with Mai, but Y/N is fast to chalk it up to some fluke. Maybe the other employees mentioned something to Harry and they thought she was in the wrong place or something. That would make sense, she thinks.

"Yeah, all good. I'll see you in a bit, Y/N," Mai nods, swinging her bag over her shoulder, focusing her attention to Harry, "So listen, I'm going to a show in midtown tonight, I was thinking maybe after we finish up here we can—"

"Are you coming back with us?" Harry's eyes fall back onto Y/N, and it's only then that she realizes he's talking to her again.

"Uh... am I allowed to?"

He smirks. Y/N's chest feels like it may concave in simply from the sight.

"I own this place, so yeah, you're allowed to."

Mai's tapping her foot impatiently now, her hip popped out slightly with her arms crossed over her chest. "My appointment started a few minutes ago, Harry—"

"Okay," he says curtly, turning on his heel to face her, "Go in the back and get ready then. You know where my station is."

Both Mai's and Y/N's jaws drop at that, his snappy tone clearly not one to fight back on. Surprisingly, Mai does just that, turning around and walking back to where Harry has his things set up. 

"You coming, then? Y/N, right?" 

The teasing smirk is still painted over his features, as if he finds humor in outwardly rejecting Mai's advances. Y/N doesn't know why her heart beats a little bit faster at that, warmth spreading from her chest to the rest of her body as he continues gazing down at her.

"Y-yeah," she answers, grabbing her purse and standing up. "If it's not too big of a deal."

"Course not. C'mon, you can follow me."

. . .

Mai's tattoo comes out beautiful.

However, Y/N can hardly focus on the artistry and apparent talent because she's far too busy staring at Harry, who also looks beautiful while he works.

It's distracting, embarrassingly so, that she barely even registers when he's finished wrapping her new tattoo in some sort of clear wrap, sending her back up to pay. Quickly, Y/N scrambles to grab her things, realizing that she's once again left alone with Harry.

"What, running away so soon?" He asks as he cleans up his work station, spinning around to face her in his chair. He has that smirk on his face again — the one that simultaneously intimidates her and makes her entire body burst into flames — and anxiety begins to eat away at her, nervous of saying the wrong thing.

"I just— you're done. So I was gonna go."

"How do you know Mai?" 

It bothers her somewhat that he ignores her, but being the subject of his intense glint, she shifts her stance from foot to foot, shrugging her shoulders.

"We're in the same grad program. We've had a few classes together." she answers obediently, clutching the strap of her purse closer to her shoulder. 

"Mm," he hums, tossing some paper towels in the trash, "You sure you didn't want any tattoos today?"

Y/N's face erupts into a hot flush for the thousandth time today and she instantly begins to shake her head. "No. No, thank you, I mean. My parents would kill me."

"Your parents?" Harry asks, a slightly stupefied expression on his face. "You're in grad school. Surely you don't make decisions on your appearance based off of them."

He punctuates his sentence by giving her a once-over and she feels nervous under his gaze. She's never particularly felt good about her appearance. She's always just felt... neutral. She grew up with a mother who was constantly dieting, imparting weight loss tips on her every chance she got. When Y/N hit puberty, her father made comments about how grateful he was to finally see her drop the "baby weight". Even now, her mother critiqued her, making comments about how important it was to maintain a good figure; that she'd never find someone to spend her life with if she didn't take care of her looks.

So, all in all, it was safe to say that tattoos were extremely off the table for Y/N. 

"It's complicated," she finally replies vaguely. She knows that most people in their mid-20s aren't as deep under the thumb of their parents as she is, but she wasn't lying when she said this — the circumstances weren't as black and white as she wished they were.

However, there was something she'd always been curious about, and she had seen the piercing rates out in the front of the shop.

"But, um— do you guys do piercings?" she follows up before Harry has a chance to question her parents any further. 

"We do," he replies slowly, "Well, yeah, I do. Why, are you thinking about getting something pierced?"

She swears his eyes quickly glance to her chest, but just as quickly as she notices it, they're focused back on her face. She clears her throat, willing herself to have an ounce of self-confidence. 

"I was wondering if I could get my ears pierced."

Harry quirks an eyebrow and stands from his chair. Her heart rate speeds up tenfold when he walks over to her, his hand reaching outward. 

"May I?" he asks, pausing before he makes any movements. She nods, hoping he misses the way her throat bobs in nervousness. Gently, he pushes some of her hair behind her ear, taking a look at the lobe. He does it to the other one and she wonders if he can sense that she's holding her breath. 

"Hm, you really don't have them pierced," he mumbles lowly, eyes flitting back to her face. "Yeah, we could do that if you'd like. You sure daddy won't get too pissed?"

He says it with a simper though she's not entirely sure why; she thinks if he understood the dynamic between her and her parents, he'd be more concerned than teasing. Nevertheless, she shakes her head. 

"Like you said," she says softly, blinking as they stare back at one another, "I shouldn't make decisions on my appearance based on what they want."

His smirk breaks into a grin, and for the first time, Y/N feels like she's doing something right.

. . .

Y/N didn't think she would be this nervous to get her first piercing, but between the gorgeous man invading her space with a needle and the fact that Mai definitely won't want to be her friend anymore, she's feeling a little tense.

Before getting situated in the chair, Y/N said that she needed to tell Mai she'd be a bit longer, but Harry waved her off and told her he'd take care of it. Apparently, that just meant peeking his head out from his work station and yelling out to Mai that Y/N was busy and wouldn't be driving her home. (Y/N thinks she heard Mai practically stomp out of the shop.)

So now, she's spending her Saturday the last way she thought she would: With her eyes squeezed shot, anxiety making her heart thump far too fast in her chest, with a long-haired tattoo artist hunched over her body. He's so close that she can smell the woody fragrance of his cologne, and she has to resist breathing it in as she inhales deeply in an effort to calm her heart rate.

"Alright, you ready?" Harry asks lowly, his tone a groveled murmur that sends tingles down her spine. She nods, feeling particularly speechless from his closeness and her nerves. "'kay, I'm gonna count to three. Take a deep breath."

Y/N imagines he looks especially gorgeous right now, but she's too scared to open her eyes and see the needle he's about to puncture her skin with. Instead, she simply nods her head again, mentally preparing herself for the countdown. 

"Breathe, dove," he says calmly. Her stomach jumps at the pet name but does as he says. "Good. Okay... 1, 2, 3."

She jumps from the bite of pain that stings her earlobe, instantly wedging her bottom lip between her teeth as he shushes her. 

"It's alright, that was it," he murmurs, though she can still feel him at her side, carefully wiggling the earring into the newly formed hole. "Y/N? You okay?"

She blinks her teary eyes open and opens her mouth, willing her throat to push out a yes. Instead, Harry's face goes blurry as the images in front of her get hazy. In a panic, she tries to stand, the ringing in her ears sending loud alarms to her brain. She thinks she hears Harry tell her to sit down, his strong arms taking a hold of her own — but that's when everything goes dark. 

. . .

Harry's known this girl for all of two hours, and he's never felt panic ravish his body the way it did when she passed out a few minutes ago. 

Thankfully, she comes to less than two minutes later (he counted), but he remains by her side the entire time, gently stroking her hair back. As a professional tattoo artist and piercer, he's of course had people faint under the needle, but it's never happened from just a standard ear piercing. 

He supposes he maybe should've prepared himself for this. The sweet girl who accompanied Mai didn't look like she belonged at St. Mark's Social Club, but the moment his eyes zeroed in on her, he felt pulled to her. From the pastel pink top that stretched over her chest to the white ribbon tied in her hair, she was the opposite of any girl he's ever been attracted to — and yet, all he wanted was to tuck her under his arm, pull her into his chest, and spend the rest of his life protecting her.

Harry tells himself he's being stupid; some lovesick nerd that just needs to get his cock touched, but as he watches her slowly nurse a cup of water, warmth returning to her complexion, every doubt is thrown out the window. 

"I'm so sorry," Y/N pouts, lifting a hand to run through her hair, "I'm... I feel so stupid, I'm so sorry, Harry."

"Why are you apologizing?" he asks through furrowed brows. "It's not your fault. People pass out all the time here, you have nothing to be sorry about."

"Y-yeah, but this is annoying... you probably have another appointment coming up and—"

"I don't."

"Yeah, but—"

"Y/N?"

"What?"

"Stop it."

She huffs, but the apologies stop after that. With his arms crossed over his chest, leaning back against the wall, he watches to make sure she finishes her water. He can tell she's still feeling embarrassed and it bothers him that she thinks of herself as something to feel sorry about.

"Y'know, kinda looked like some kind of badass Sleeping Beauty while you were passed out," Harry says with a smirk, making her eyes widen, "Pretty cute, if you ask me."

Y/N's face warms and he chuckles, deciding that making this girl blush is his new favorite past time. 

"You're being silly." she mumbles, finishing off the water with a final swig. He shakes his head and takes the empty cup from her hand, tossing it in the garbage can behind her. 

"Would never lie to you, dove. We're going on what, three hours of knowing each other? I wouldn't even dream of it."

"Harry," she whines and it makes him immediately grin, especially as she pushes her bottom lip out in a slight pout, "Shush, stop it."

"Think I should just call you princess from now on, hm? Such a pretty face coming in here, think I got lucky having you pass out on me."

He laughs loudly when her lips part, her jaw slack from the compliment. She doesn't have a comeback for that one, but he assumed as much. He turns to face the cabinets behind him and grabs a paper towel and a pen, quickly scrawling out his number on it before handing it to her.

"This is my number. I'm not gonna do your second piercing today 'cos that sounds like a recipe for disaster, but I want you to text me when you wanna come in and get it done," he explains, "I only work here on the weekend, but I'll come by any day you're free, princess."

She shuffles her feet before nodding her head, stuffing the paper towel in her bag. "O-okay. That sounds good."

"Good," Harry breathes, reaching out to for her hand to help her up, "Do you need a ride home?"

"No!" her eyes dart away from his face, blinking quickly as she focuses on the dark green walls. "Um, no, thank you. You've done enough for me today. I appreciate it, Harry."

"Sure," he says slowly, narrowing his eyes at her, "Okay, well... get home safe for me, alright?"

"I will." she nods and punctuates her sentence with a harsh swallow. "Can I... is it okay if I text you when I get home?" 

A gentle smile wiggles its way onto Harry's face, warmth filling his body once again. 

"You took the words right out of my mouth, princess."

. . .

To: Harry (St. Mark's Social Club)

hi, im home!! im so sorry again for what happened but thank you sm for making sure i was okay. hope it wasn't too inconvenient! 

Y/N's never texted a boy she has a crush on (well, except for Jason Saunders in the 8th grade, but her dad found out within the hour and made her delete his number as he watched). She thinks she must still be lightheaded from fainting because there's no way she can seriously have a crush on someone she barely knows, but nonetheless, she pushes herself to message him to at least thank him for everything he did for her. 

She sighs as she throws her phone in her purse and climbs out of her Range Rover. Locking the doors, she crosses her fingers as she walks up the stairs and to the elevator of the luxury garage, pressing the penthouse button on the panel. She hopes her parents are still out — if they're home, she'll be on the receiving end of their badgering for the rest of the evening, and she still wants to work on a paper she has due later next week.

When the sleek elevator doors open, she's met with silence — the only telltale sign that she's alone, with the exception of her parents' private chef and maid. Relief floods her body as she steps out and into the apartment, toeing her shoes off in the entryway and taking quiet steps to her bedroom. 

She's exhausted from the day, flopping down on her bed with a sigh. Mindlessly, she feels for her phone in her bag, pulling it out to scroll through Instagram before she commits to doing work for the rest of the night. Instead, she's met with not one, but two texts from Harry.

Remember what I said about apologizing, princess?

Glad you made it home safely. Don't forget to text me about your second piercing — just name the day and I'm there. xx

She wants to let out a squeal, even if there's a large part of her brain that's constantly reminding her to limit her excitement. He's probably just being polite, she says to herself. 

Still, it doesn't stop her from replying a mere moment later, promising to restrain her apologies and message him when she's ready to get her other ear pierced. 

. . .

"Where were you yesterday?" 

Y/N blinks at her father as she sets down the spatula, shifting her attention from the buckwheat pancakes she's currently cooking. 

"Studying on campus," she replies easily, even if she had to coach herself all night to lie. She's never one to fib, let alone to her parents — she's always felt some type of fear when it comes to her father, but she knows he never would have approved if she gave him some vague answer about taking a friend to an appointment. 

He lets out a noncommittal humph. "You know there's no reason for you to be getting a masters degree when you'll just work at the company when you graduate."

Her stomach tightens. It's a frequent area of contention between she and her parents — their dream for her has always been to work at their jewelry company as soon as she graduated college, but she somehow managed to convince them to entertain her wish to go to graduate school for an English degree. They told her she could do it as long as she starts at their office as soon as graduation comes around.

She hasn't quite yet figured out how she's getting out of that one. If she even can.

"I know, father," Y/N forces out, redirecting her attention to flipping the pancakes on the pan. "It's just important that I get good grades."

"I can't imagine it's very difficult. You speak the language."

She bites her tongue. Her parents have never understood her love for books, always scolding her for having her head in the clouds from a young age. If she's being honest, books have served as a way for her to escape, always wishing she could be the girl getting whisked away by her romantic interest. 

Things always worked out in her books. Potentially having a happy ending like the ones she reads about is the only thing that keeps her going sometimes. 

Her mother, looking pristine as always even at 9 in the morning, enters the kitchen just as Y/N's sitting down to her eat. Turning stiffly, her eyes narrow at her daughter. 

"Those better not be full fat, Y/N." she says, jabbing her pointer finger at her plate. 

"They're not." Y/N says softly.

In response, she simply hums. "I don't understand why you don't just have Freya make you food. She's there for a reason."

Y/N quickly stuffs a bite of pancake into her mouth, shrugging her shoulders as she slowly chews. She's never felt comfortable requesting their chef make her anything to eat when she was perfectly capable of doing it herself. 

"Don't shrug. It's not ladylike," she scolds, Y/N's posture immediately straightening, "We have a lunch meeting with the Franklin family today. If you're available, you should come. You need to start learning the business."

"I have to work on a paper," the lie rolls off her tongue, knowing full well that she nearly finished it last night, "Finals are coming up. School is getting very busy."

"You know, Y/N, you're lucky we grant you all this freedom." her mother spits, the high heels of her Louboutin shoes clacking against the marbled flooring. "One day, you're not going to have this much of a choice in how you spend your time."

Despite only eating half a pancake, Y/N no longer feels hungry. Instead, she just nods her head and rolls her lips into her mouth. 

"You're right. Thank you for everything you do for me." 

She clears her dishes and goes back to her bedroom before her parents have a chance to see the tears streaming down her cheeks.

. . .

Y/N spends the better part of Sunday crying in her bedroom. 

She's so exhausted of this cycle. Her parents work so hard to tear her down all the time, never once taking into account what her dreams and aspirations are. She feels like she can't do anything right, as if nothing she'll do will ever please them. 

In her fit of anger and sadness, she decides she needs to leave Harry behind. He's just a pipe dream, a tiny little sliver of what her life could be if she had less restrictive parents. That night, when she's laying awake in bed, she decides that in the morning, she'll take the fresh piercing out and throw the earring away, delete his number, apologize to Mai, and pretend like this weekend never even happened.

That is the plan, anyway.

Until she wakes up to her alarm at 8 am and she has an unopened text from him, and her heart beats in a way that she's never truly felt before. She doesn't think she's ever smiled this wide after just waking up, the mere appearance of his name on her screen sending waves of hope and happiness throughout her body. 

From: Harry (St. Mark's Social Club)

How's the piercing holding up? 

After getting home on Saturday, he texted her a series of care instructions for the piercing, instructing her to clean it twice a day, twist the earring, and let him know if anything felt off. She wasn't sure what it was, but she felt particularly giddy when he told her what to do. 

To: Harry (St. Mark's Social Club)

good!! no pain or anything and ive been doing what you told me to :)

She has a class at 10 this morning and she knows she should follow her typical routine of a shower, breakfast, and getting ready, but instead, she just lays back in the fluffy tufts of her bedding, smiling to herself as she waits for Harry to text back. A minute or so later, her phone vibrates.

Good girl.

Think you'll come in for your second anytime soon?

Her stomach twists in a delicious way but she's not sure why. There's nothing inherently sexual about what he's messaged her, but it has her craving more, a steady heartbeat forming somewhere deep in her core. 

Her eyes read over his question and she bites her lip. She knows that less than 10 hours ago, she was planning to forget Harry, but the feeling he gives her is addictive. She doesn't want to stay away — so she won't.

yeah, if you don't mind doing it :)) maybe today? 

In reality, she doesn't want to go under the needle again so soon, but she's craving to see him. He did say he'd come in any day for her.

Harry: I'd love to. What time are you free?

Y/N: i have classes from 10 to 1 today.. would 1:30 work? i can come by on my way home from campus

Harry: How about I meet you at your last class and we walk to the shop together?

Y/N swears her heart is going to beat right out of her chest. Her parents have never allowed her to hang out with a guy outside of anyone they approved of — over the years, they've attempted setting her up with other men of their same financial and social stature, but Y/N was never interested. As a result, they all grew bored of her by the second date, and her parents would yell at her for not being appealing enough. 

She doesn't know if Harry will be bothered by the same thing, but she wants — no, she needs — to find out.

Y/N: okay:) 

Harry: Great. Can't wait to see you. x

. . .

Harry knows he's pushing it.

This girl may as well have wealthy virgin tattooed across her forehead, but he just can't get himself to stay away. It doesn't seem like she wants him to either, which just makes it harder. And as he's waiting for her outside of her lecture hall on a campus he's never even step foot on, he realizes that they're from very, very different universes. 

That doesn't really bother him. He can see the obvious differences — he wears all black, has over 70 tattoos (most of which were impulsive or practice while he was apprenticing), and gives people tattoos and piercings for a living. Y/N is smart and soft; an English major in graduate school, lives with her parents, and drives a car that costs more than his yearly rent. 

He's not blind. Although, if he was blind to pretty, innocent girls, he probably could stop walking around with a permanent boner from thinking about how gorgeous she'd look in his bed.

The only thing that can tear him from his thoughts is the sight of her. He watches as she walks through the doors of the building, a slight pep in her step when she notices him, waving her hand with a smile. He licks his lips absently, willing the arousal pooling deep in his stomach to go away. 

"Hi," she greets as she approaches him, "How're you?"

"I'm good." he answers, trying his best not to let his eyes wander over her outfit, "How was class?"

"'s okay. Kind of boring. Almost fell asleep once or twice."

"Yeah?" Harry chuckles as they begin to walk towards the nearest campus exit. "Gotta stay awake in those smarty pants classes of yours, princess."

He already knows she's blushing before he turns his head to see the familiar flush flower over her skin. He points to the bag over her shoulder, pausing his steps. "Lemme carry that for you."

"Oh— no, you don't have to, I don't want to be annoying—"

"Why would that be annoying?" he asks with a quirked brow. She swallows, shrugging her shoulders. "I don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable."

"N-no, it wouldn't," she shakes her head and he nods, keeping his arm stretched out. She pushes the strap down her shoulder and hands the bag to him. "Thank you. That's very kind of you, Harry."

"What d'you have in here, a ton of bricks?" he asks teasingly as he slips the pink tote over his own shoulder. 

"No! I have to bring books to campus every day so we can discuss certain passages and stuff. I guess I've been doing it for so long I didn't notice how heavy it is."

"It's very heavy, Y/N," Harry says, stuffing his hands into the front pocket of his sweatshirt, "No wonder you're falling asleep in class, you're basically doing an upper body workout on your way there."

"It's not that big a deal," she replies nonchalantly. "It's just— it's what my professors want, so."

He continues grumbling, annoyed that anyone would ask this girl to shuttle all this weight to campus every day. 

"Can you start parking closer to your lecture halls, then? I don't wanna find out you dislocated your shoulder one day."

She shakes her head. "I don't drive to campus."

"Oh, is parking that bad?"

Y/N begins to fidget, wringing her hands out in front of her as they walk. Harry glances at her from his peripherals, soaking in the nervousness written all over her face. 

"No... my parents don't let me drive to campus, that's all."

He hums, attempting to stay unbiased, even if everything he's learned about her so-called parents has only made anger rise in his chest. 

"Do they have a lot of limits on things you can and can't do?" 

"Kind of. I don't know."

"Is... is that something that bothers you?"

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth as they stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn. He shifts his body to face her. 

"I've never really told anyone about how they are, but... well, they take care of me. They always have. They just have a very clear vision of what they want for me."

"Right," Harry nods, "Just because they care for you or pay for certain things doesn't mean they're good, though. I'm not saying they aren't— I just don't want you to confuse the two."

"I guess."

He decides to leave it at that, mainly because he can she's growing uncomfortable, but also because they're approaching the shop. He pushes the door open and holds it for Y/N, who sheepishly walks in, Harry close behind. 

He doesn't acknowledge anyone as she follows him to his station, but she supposes it's not out of the ordinary for him to do these things since he's the owner. Once they're safely sheltered by the walls of his space, Y/N lets out a breath, sitting down in the chair she was in on Saturday.

After setting her bag down, he washes his hands at the sink. A long-haired guy pops his head in, grinning when he sees Y/N. 

"Hey, H," he greets, "Didn't know you'd be here today."

Harry's tone is gruffer towards the man, even though he seems friendly. "Yeah. What's up?"

"I need a favor. I have an appointment that looks like it's gonna take a little longer than anticipated — last minute changes and all that to the design, but Jude is coming in to pickup at 2. You mind dealing with him?"

He glares at the man before assuming what Y/N is starting to call his signature pose — arms crossed over his broad chest, leaning back against some surface in his station (today, it's the tattoo bed).

"None of the other idiots can do it? Kinda busy."

"It's your off day, figured you could handle him," he shrugs, "Unless you'd like to introduce me—"

"Shut up." Harry replies, clenching his jaw. A spark zips up Y/N's body, though she's not sure why he seems to take offense to the man's words. "Yeah, I'll deal with it. What does he want?"

"Just some edibles and a few grams of bud. Nothing crazy."

Again, Y/N doesn't miss the way Harry shoots a glare at him, who simply raises his hands in mock defense. As if speaking through some sort of secret language, he backs out of the room, his Adidas sneakers sounding crisply against the wooden floors as he walks away.

"Sorry," Harry mumbles.

"Oh. It's okay."

He turns back around to look at Y/N, who somehow looks even smaller in the chair since they arrived.

"You have no idea what that was about, do you?"

She shrugs, though it's clear that Harry's right. She doesn't often like showcasing her naive nature, like it's some sort of party trick for people to laugh at. It makes her feel sad, a reminder of the "normal" years she could have had if not for her parents.

He sighs and lifts a hand to run through his messy hair. "A few of us sell weed on the side here. It's not really a big deal, but we just do it for some extra cash on the side. I would've rather told you on my own time, though."

Y/N's palms find her thighs, plucking at the hem of her skirt as she swallows, digesting the information. Weed? Her parents had always taught her that all drugs were bad. In their minds, weed was just as bad as heroin, but when Y/N read about states legalizing the former, she didn't quite understand how that made sense. 

"I hope that doesn't make you think any differently of me," he continues. "I'm sorry."

She keeps her eyes set in her lap, "Is weed... bad?"

She's expecting him to laugh at her but instead, when she looks up, she's met with a small, adoring smile on his lips. His eyes twinkle just a bit as he shakes his head.

"No, it's not bad, dove. What do you know about it?"

"Nothing, really. I know it's legal in some places but my parents always told me to stay away from any drugs."

"I think a lot of parents do that," Harry replies with a nod, "But it can actually be really helpful for people. Mentally, physically. And others just like it, they enjoy the feeling of being high."

She swallows before biting her lip. "Do you... do you like it?"

"I do." he says. "Is that okay?"

She thinks he could tell her he's a serial killer and she would be okay with it.

"Yeah. 's okay."

His grin widens. "Alright. Lemme get you settled with this other piercing. I'll have to step out to sell to Jude at 2, but after that, do you wanna grab something to eat?"

She nods so fast she feels like a bobblehead. A chuckle — the warmest, most melodic thing Y/N thinks she's ever heard — sounds from his mouth.

"Just don't pass out again on me, Sleeping Beauty."

. . .

Y/N takes her second piercing much better than her first. 

(And by that, she means she only teared up a little bit, and no fainting occurred.) 

She's actually more nervous about the whole weed... thing. She feels torn. There's a half of her that feels intimidated by it; the part that still has a foot stuck in her parents' world, she supposes, where they taught her to never even look at people like Harry. The other half of her is intrigued to see what happens. Fascinated by him, maybe, and the way she feels when she's around him, and she doesn't know whether that's a good thing or not.

"Harry!" 

Someone calls his name from the main room as he's cleaning up and he peeks his head out. 

"Yeah?"

"Jude's here!"

He looks a lot less flighty about it than she assumes he would. Instead, he simply walks back into his station and unlocks a bottom cabinet to reveal a safe inside. 

"Know you're watching, princess," he says, turning his head to flash a toothy smirk in her direction. She looks away, blinking nervously. "Don't reveal any of my grand weed secrets to anyone, hm?"

"I'm not," she huffs, making him chuckle, "I'm just... curious."

Harry hums, pulling contents out from the safe. When he's done, he doesn't even bother concealing any of the weed he's just taken out, instead just rising to his feet. 

"I'll be right back. We can talk about the curiosity in a second."

Y/N's not snappy enough to come up with a response so she simply watches him walk away. She's only seen drug deals go down in movies and TV shows, where they're dramatic and part of the mob and guns are a necessity. She doesn't think this is one of those drug deals, but who is she to assume?

Surprisingly, Harry returns less than two minutes later with a small wad of cash in his hand. He pockets it, smiling at her when he sees she's still sitting there, the same perplexed look on her face. 

"Steal any of my bud while I was gone?"

"Harry!" 

He cackles and shakes his head. "Alright, dovie, c'mere."

Hesitantly, she stands, shuffling over to where Harry is back to kneeling on the floor. He looks up at her with an expectant expression, a wordless command to do the same. She does.

"Okay. You said you were curious?"

She nods.

"I've always found that the best solution to curiosity is knowledge. This doesn't mean you have to do anything, but it's good to know about things that may intimidate you," he explains. "So, weed can be found in a few different forms. I only sell flower, which are these little buds," he pulls out a container, showing her the small green nuggets. "And edibles, which is just candy or chocolate, stuff like that, with different levels of potency." 

"Oh." Y/N furrows her eyebrows, a small wrinkle forming between them. "That's it?"

He chuckles, "Mhm. That's it."

"And what does it do?"

"Like how does it make me feel?"

She nods.

"It's different for everyone and strains — like, the types of weed — will affect people differently, too. For me, it just makes me a little more relaxed and giggly, more touchy and less in my head. It's nice."

"That does sound nice." she says softly. He hums as he pushes the container back into the safe, locking it back up in the cabinet. "Do you think I would like it?"

It's a question that kind of blurts out without thinking about it. When he turns to look at her, eyes serious and thoughtful, she feels small; the way everyone her age or older has always made her feel. She swallows harshly, immediately regretting it.

"I don't know the answer to that, but if you ever want to try, you can tell me. I'll make sure you have a safe experience."

It's not the answer she's expecting, but instead maybe the one that only exists in her wildest dreams. She looks down to hide her blush and he smiles to himself, ducking down to catch her eyes. 

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're a blushy little thing."

Her jaw snaps closed, wiggling uncomfortably at his blatant call out. Her mother always told her that her emotions were easy to read — she said it made her weak, though. 

"I like it," Harry quickly amends, throat bobbing, "I like it a lot." 

She thinks she notices his eyes zip to her lips, but just as quickly as they dart down, they're back up to her eyes. She swallows when she realizes they've somehow gotten closer, the distance slowly closing between them in millimeters. She doesn't know who's moving in — if it's him or her or both — but suddenly, she's looking up and his face is hovering over hers, blinking in silent permission. When she doesn't grant it because she's too nervous to speak, his tongue peeks out, licking over his raspberry lips. 

"Is this okay?" He asks, minty breath ghosting over her mouth. "Can I do this?"

She nods, because she thinks any noise that would come out of her mouth would be just that — a sad excuse of a squeal. Her heart is pulsing in her ears, her hands trembling over her thighs, and then it happens — he presses his lips to hers, so gently it's almost like they aren't even there. The last time Y/N kissed someone, it was in ninth grade in the locker room after school, and she doubts it even qualified as a real kiss. This is different, though. This is Harry. 

He feels the nervousness radiating off of her so he breaks away, despite the already addictive taste of her mouth. He's gone too quickly and it makes Y/N's heart rate quicken even faster. 

"Need you to relax, princess." He says with his forehead pressed against hers. "Just follow my lead, okay? Promise it's not hard."

Embarrassed, she nods again, willing him to close the gap for a second time. This time, his lips are quick to move against hers, and it initially takes her by surprise. But she does what he told her to, mimicking his movements in tentative paces. With each passing moment, he's kissing her more and more breathless, and she lifts a shaking hand to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. It's a bold move for her and she swears she feels his signature smirk form into their kiss. 

Time doesn't feel like it moves much when Y/N's mouth is on Harry's, but she knows it is because she needs a break to breathe. With panting lungs, she pulls away, watching as Harry's eyes flicker open. His lips are pinker somehow and swollen with spit. The image makes her core throb. 

"Y'okay?" He asks. Y/N notices his pupils are darkened and he shifts from his seat on the floor, adjusting his lower half. 

"Y-yeah," she nods, "Needed to, um, breathe."

He chuckles. "Yeah? Get a little dizzy there?"

"A little bit." 

"Cute," he murmurs, lifting his thumb to swipe a bit of spit away from her bottom lip. Instinctively, her mouth opens, and she watches as his eyes flicker to hers. Through labored breath, he slowly moves his thumb along her plushy lip, resisting the urge to sink it inside. She's not sure why something as small as this is stirring her insides, but her eyes widen when he breaks away, pushing the finger into his own mouth. 

"Oh." She breathes out. 

"I don't wanna scare you," Harry whispers, "But I'm completely fucked when it comes to you, dove. If you don't want this... want me, I need you to go now." 

She swallows. Slowly, she rises to her knees and inches towards him, closing the small gap that formed between their bodies. She's hesitant in her movements but pushes herself to straddle him, gently sinking her ass down into his lap. His eyes widen. 

"I want this. I want you." She says. 

"Good," Harry mumbles, brushing his lips against hers for the third time that afternoon, "Good." 

. . .

Y/N thinks she could go pro at lying to her parents.

A month ago, she had to spend hours preparing the perfect fib, coaching herself on how to articulate it just casually enough so it didn't seem fabricated. These days, they come out like nothing. 

I'll be home late, I have a group project to work on in the library.

I'm going to a tutoring session for one of my classes, I probably won't be home until dinnertime.

I'm spending some extra time on campus today so I can get a head start on a paper.

In all truthfulness, school couldn't be the furthest thing on her mind right now. Harry is.

Ever since that day they kissed at his shop, they haven't been able to spend more than a day apart. Mostly, they follow the same routine from that very afternoon, where he'll pick her up from her last class of the day and they'll walk back to St. Mark's together. Sometimes, Harry will have deals to do so they sit and talk in the downtime. Other days, he'll have actual work to tend to, accounting and whatever it is he does as a business owner, so she'll do some homework, enjoying the silent companionship. Y/N never stays too late into the evening, not wanting to push her luck with her parents, but Harry always sends her off with a kiss that leaves her breathless, making her promise to text him when she gets home.

And the kissing... yeah. 

Y/N likes to think she's gotten better at it from all the practicing they've been doing. She still gets a bit flustered, but it's one of her favorite things to do with him. The second they shuffle into his station, Harry closes the door so they're finally in private, and it's like a switch is turned on. Within seconds, they're wrapped up in each others arms, mouths wet and hot against one another. She's discovered that her favorite place to be is seated in his lap while his tongue explores her mouth, breathy pants parting her lips. He loves to squeeze her ass over the pleats of her skirt, knowing that it riles her up in the smallest forms of contact — tiny rolls of her hips, nails being pressed into his skin, a slight pull of his hair. 

She doesn't think things could get much better with Harry until today, during their typical makeout-and-grinding session, when he ducks beneath her jaw, pressing messy kisses to her soft skin. It's then that the words leave his lips. 

"Can I feel you under here, dove?"

His hand is fisting the hem of her skirt and the low tone of his voice makes lightning zip through her body. She doesn't know how to reply — she wants to say yes, but her mouth is dry from immediate anxiety. 

"N-no one's ever touched me there," she whispers, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Harry hums, unbothered, kissing her jaw once more before backing away slightly.

"Don't have to do if you don't want to. We can just keep doing what we've been doing if you'd prefer." he replies nonchalantly, his lips swollen. She swallows nervously, perturbed by his frank nature.

"I— I do want you to feel me," Y/N mumbles. It's not a lie — yes, she's a virgin who knows next to nothing about her body besides its reproductive process, but sometimes, when she goes home in the evening, she thinks about what it would like to keep going. She's seen movies and TV shows, but those have only made her even more curious. Sometimes the guy takes it slow and makes it romantic, other times it's painful and uncomfortable. She can only hope Harry would take care of her.

"Where, princess?"

Well, she can only hope that Harry would take care of her in his typical teasing ways.

Huffing, she shakes her head. "I can't say that, H."

"Can't touch you if I don't know where you want it," he murmurs, kissing her cheek lightly. "Wanna hear you say it. Ask me."

"Harry," she whines. "Please? You know... where."

"Here?" he asks, pressing his the warmth of his hand to her thigh. "This where you want me?"

"No."

"Hmm, how about here?" he moves his hand up just a bit further, inching underneath the fabric of her mini skirt to the crease of her thigh. Again, she shakes her head. 

"Dunno where you want me then, dove. Thought you were my good girl."

"H-higher." she mumbles, attempting to push her body closer so he gets the hint.

"Higher?" he echoes with a smirk, "Here?"

This time, his fingertips have found the waistband of her panties. It immediately feels wrong, but not because of who's touching her, but rather the act of it. She takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the voice in her head. Slowly, in an act of false confidence, she bunches the fabric of her skirt up at her hips, watching as Harry's eyes widen. They instantly dart down to the small wet patch between her thighs and it makes him groan softly.

"Jesus," he mutters, forgetting about his little game. He gently thumbs at her clit through the material and she jumps. Using his other hand to squeeze her hip, he tries to keep her steady, mumbling out an apology. "Am I allowed to see this cute little pussy?"

She clenches at his question, surprising herself with how turned on she feels from just a few words. 

"Yes," she nods, "Please."

"'Please'? Aren't you just the sweetest wet dream, hm?" Harry murmurs. He pushes the width of the fabric to the side, making Y/N shiver from the sudden exposure and being under his gaze. "Are you always this polite or is this just for me, princess?"

She licks over her lips when he parts her pussy with his ring and middle fingers. He hums, dipping a fingertip into her crease and lifting it to his mouth. He looks at her expectantly and she realizes she hasn't answered him yet.

"J-just for you." 

"Pretty, swollen pussy just begging for attention. Do you always get this needy when we kiss?" 

She nods, her eyelashes fluttering as he runs the tip of his pointer finger through her wetness. 

A poor excuse for an answer sounds through her lips, the affirmative tone being the only thing that gives him an idea of what she said. He snickers boyishly, Y/N's jaw dropping when they both feel her pussy pulsate. 

"I think my girl is a bit naughtier than I thought," he breathes, moving his finger back up to her clit to form slow, small circles. She gasps from the intensity, a new sensation of overwhelming pleasure that she's never received before. "Is that the truth, dovie? Do you wanna be my naughty girl instead of my polite one? Tell me." 

"Harry," she mewls, arching her back to press deeper into his touch, "P-please— feels really good."

"Yeah?" he smirks, a mocking tone to his voice that makes Y/N squeeze her eyes shut. "Yeah, does it feel really good?"

"You're— you're being mean—"

"Oh, I don't think so, dove. I think I'm letting you use my fingers to get off, petting this pretty little clit until you cum all over my hand. I don't think that's mean, do you?"

He stops stroking at her and her eyes snap open. She can feel how warm her face has gotten under his touch, quiet puffs of breath ghosting over his lips as his eyes twinkle, knowing what he's done.

"Why'd you stop?" she asks in a small voice.

"You said I was being mean," Harry replies with a shrug, "If I were really mean, I'd leave you here high and dry. Do you want to learn about edging today, Y/N?"

She shakes her head, her bottom lip pushed out in a pout. He hums and lifts his hand to his mouth, his pink tongue darting out to swirl around the fingers that were just caressing her. She watches him with wide eyes. She doesn't think she's ever been this turned on in her life.

"Do you like when I tease you?" he asks lowly. They both know the answer — her body couldn't lie even if she wanted to, and Harry noticed it the second he felt her pussy clench against nothing at his mocking tone.

"Y-yes." she whispers.

"Dirty girl," he murmurs, moving both his hands down to her hips to give them a squeeze. He tightens his hold on her and gently moves her up to the tattoo bed, helping her lay down. "We have all the time in the world to learn about what makes your pussy wet, but right now, I wanna make her cum. Can I do that, dovie?"

Y/N nods, allowing him to adjust her body however he wants. He smiles at how pliant she is for him, sticking to her good girl demeanor. 

"Need you to tell me if I go too far or if something doesn't feel right, okay?" he reminds her as he fits himself between her thighs, "At any point, you say stop and we do, no questions asked." 

"Yeah. Okay."

It's apparent to her that Harry is experienced, because it takes no time for him to wiggle his fingers back to their initial position. His thumb is applying the smallest bit of pressure to her clit, still sensitive from when he was playing with it before, but now he's circling over her hole with one of his larger fingers. She gasps at the slight intrusion. 

"Have you ever put your finger in here, princess?" 

She shakes her head. "N-no."

"Do you want me to?" he asks, though he can already feel the way her hole is all but sucking him in, "It won't hurt. Promise."

She trusts him — maybe foolishly, because she knows her parents would disown her if they knew the position she was in right now — but she pushes the thought to the back of her head, instead simply answering his question with a nod. He keeps his eyes on hers as he slowly pushes in, a gasp instantly falling from her plushy lips. Her immediate reaction is discomfort, but as he starts to stroke at something towards the back of her walls, it feels... good.��Overwhelmingly good. So good that a loud moan frees itself from deep in her chest and he jumps up, gently pressing his other hand over her mouth. He ducks down and presses a kiss to the shell of her ear.

"Know I'm making your little hole feel so good, but there's other people here. I wanna keep those moans just for myself, okay?" 

Her eyes roll back as he continues to pump his finger inside of her, the assault on the magic little spot never stopping. She can sense the smirk that's likely formed on his face but she can't find it in her to care because she's never, ever felt this good before. She whimpers against his palm and he groans quietly, the sight of his gorgeous girl writhing beneath him nearly too much to handle. He wills his own raging hard-on away, instead focusing on Y/N's need to cum before he can even consider getting himself off. 

"H-harry," she sounds beautiful mewling his name even when it's muffled by his hand, "I feel— I'm—"

"I know, dove, I know," he coos, quickening the loops around her clit. She's growing increasingly sensitive from his touch as her hole throbs around his finger. "Let go for me. Let go for daddy, lemme see that pretty pussy soak me."

Realistically, he would've preferred introducing her to the whole daddy kink thing on different terms, but he's instantly reminded of how insanely lucky he is when those are the words that push her over the edge. His jaw drops as he watches her squirm underneath his hands, riding out her orgasm and squeezing him in the most delicious way. 

"Fuck, you're so fuckin' beautiful," he groans, unable to stop himself from lightly grinding his covered cock against her inner thigh. He can feel the warmth radiating off of her core and his desperation to feel her grows by the second. 

When her orgasm finally subsides, she's panting heavily and he swallows, palming himself over his pants. 

"Is this okay?" he asks breathily. Y/N raises up onto her elbows, her eyes growing a bit wide when she sees what he's doing. Despite how exhausted she is, she still nods, the curiosity of what he looks like when he comes steadily building inside her. "'s not gonna take me long — that was the prettiest thing I've ever fuckin' see. Jesus."

She blushes but he doesn't notice as he pulls his cock out from under his pants and boxers. He spits into his palm and starts to stroke himself, his gaze glued to the swollen mess between her legs. 

In college, Y/N watched porn once. It was with her roommate and her friends, who found out she was a virgin and asked if she knew anything about sex. She didn't, so they had some sort of debauched education night for her, which was really just an excuse to giggle and make fun of the way guys moan in porn. It made her feel weird, watching this couple have sex on camera, but what she does remember is the girl encouraging him to cum. Once she started begging, it pushed him to her orgasm, and Y/N was pretty impressed with that.

So, she swallows her self-conscious nature and gazes up at Harry as the slick pumps over his length grow clumsy. She can see the pre-cum bubbling at the tip and the way he gathers it with each stroke, using it to further lubricate himself. 

"Want you to cum for me," she breathes out, the words sounding foreign when they leave her lungs, "Please. Wanna see it."

Harry's eyes nearly bulge out of his head and she assumes she's done something right by the way he quickly squeezes them shut, a quiet fuck falling from his lips. 

"Please cum for me, daddy."

Much like it was for her, the use of his honorific is what finally pushes him to his finish. His jaw goes slack and his chest vibrates with muffled groans as spurts of cum rain down on Y/N's mound, eliciting a small gasp as the feeling. It's messy, but she's enamored by how gorgeous Harry looks when he comes: swollen lips, clenched abs, flushed cheeks, his large hand fisted around his length. 

"Shit," he mutters, reaching up with his clean hand to push his curls out of his face, "Are you alright? Was that okay?"

She nods far too quickly for her own good. She'd be lying if she says she isn't slightly overwhelmed, but she wouldn't take any of it back. She never wants to forget how good he made her feel, while the knowledge that she's the one that turned him on like that is a boost to her confidence. 

"Lemme clean you up, hold on," he says breathily, reaching over to grab one of the folded hand towels in the cabinet. Gently, he runs the fabric over her sensitive bottom half, shushing her softly. He does the same thing for himself and then helps her shimmy her panties back up. "You sure you feel alright, dove? You're being quiet." 

"'m okay. Just tired." She replies truthfully, sitting up to lean back against the wall. 

"Yeah? One little orgasm and you're ready for a nap?" 

She giggles and buries her head into his shoulder,  her limbs feeling particularly jelly-like. He wraps a loose arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer, chuckling as he presses a kiss to her hair. 

"That's alright. I'm happy to take care of you however you need, princess." 

. . .

"When were you planning on telling me the bookstore is hiring?"

Harry's eyes widen at Y/N's unusually bold demeanor. He glances down at her, following her gaze to where she's staring at the small bookstore across the street. Sure enough, there's a help wanted sign in the window. 

"I didn't know you were looking for a job, dove," he replies with a shrug. In all honesty, he's never really paid attention to the business across the street from his own. 

"Well... I'm not really, but I do want to start making my own money." she says softly, biting her lip. 

He raises his eyebrows, "Yeah? You wanna go see if you can fill out an application?"

Despite her nerves, she still nods her head. Harry smiles and intertwines their fingers together, guiding her across the way to the bookstore. He holds the door open for her and she swallows anxiously, stepping inside the quaint store. With his hand pressed to the small of her back, he gently ushers her to the cashier. 

"Hi," she says shakily, "I saw you're hiring people and I was wondering if I could apply." 

The woman at the front grins, immediately launching into a conversation with Y/N about how excited she is that someone's interested in working for them. As she pulls a paper application out from a drawer on the side, Harry smoothes his hand over her back, rubbing it gently. He's so proud of her, his heart feels like it could burst. 

It's only when she's finishing up filling out her information that someone says her name. They both turn, Y/N's eyebrows instantly furrowing in confusion. 

"Y/N," the woman hisses, and Harry glances down to watch his girl's face crumble, "What are you doing?"

"Y/N... who is this?" Harry asks, his possessive instincts immediately taking over. 

She swallows harshly, tugging at the sleeves of her sweater. 

"Um... this is my mom."

read part two here!

#writing #tattoo artist h #I hope this met everyone's expectations! #y'all came through w sooo many good ideas so im a little nervy lol #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fan fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #one direction #harry styles x oc #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles one direction #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fic recs

[thethingswedotomorrow]

I love the Good Omens 'Night at Crowley's Flat' trope where after stopping the apocalypse in season 1, they go to Crowley's Flat and talk and kiss and fall in love and have a peaceful night, I do.

BUT

What if the night became 'The Night an Angel and a Demon Get Insanely Drunk and Teach Each Other How to Act'

Because honestly

They go to the flat, and ALL they know is they are going to have to swap themselves if they want to survive and finally be free from Heaven and Hell

But they have absolutely NO clue how to pull it off successfully

Sure, they know each other in and out.

Aziraphale has Crowley's eye color committed to memory (and also to paper, since Aziraphale spent 4-5 years in the late 80s trying to find a craft store in London that could help him do the color justice)

Crowley could find his angel in a crowd of millions (and not even just because only one single person in that crowd would be dressed in that ridiculous shade of tartan)

BUT they know they have to truly get this right, down to the exact detail.

So, naturally, they start by promptly opening the closest bottle of scotch that Crowley had available

Crowley was convinced this would be the easiest thing they've ever done

"Only you, Angel, would find a way to worry yourself to death AFTER stopping an apocalypse"

They begin with the easy part, switching corporations and clothing.

It was easy. Until Aziraphale realized he had to actually physically move in the very, very tight pants Crowley prefers.

The first three times he tries walking, he falls face down. And each time, realizes how it's equally hard to get back up again.

Not to mention that Crowley's corporation had learned that after 6000 years, it didn't really need all those vertebrae and bones since he never used them anyways

So now Aziraphale is just laying on the floor in terribly tight pants, very confused on how Crowley has managed all this time

(Crowley is also on the floor, having dropped there laughing after the 2nd attempt)

After they both get up (one much faster than the other) Crowley tries coaching the angel on how to walk like him

Until Crowley realizes he doesn't actually know how he walks, he just sort of wills himself forward and hopes his limbs keep up with him along the way

Eventually, after enough drinks, they settle on a technique called "Just pretend all your limbs are snakes. And you're a snake. Honestly, just as snake-y as you can manage, Angel."

Aziraphale, as difficult as this was for him, figures out that he may have gotten the easy side of this situation here. Crowley very much disagrees.

"Once an Angel, well, definitely not always an Angel, but close enough right?"

He very quickly realizes he may be wrong when Aziraphale asks Crowley to copy his walk

"Dear Lord Crowley, it cannot be that hard. You simply have to walk in a straight line"

It was indeed that hard.

Crowley has all his vertebrae now, but no knowledge of how they should be used

He tries to hold his hands behind his back and march forward, walking in what he thinks is probably, on some plane of reality, maybe a straight line

He's convinced that he's the perfect image of a stereotypical angel, head held high, an air of 'holier than thou' surrounding him

When Crowley asks Aziraphale, he only says, "Well, I suppose it will have to do for now."

Internally, Aziraphale thinks of the fact that Crowley looked identical to a bumbling penguin walking on ice.

When Crowly sits down, very pleased with himself for an impeccable performance ("As always, Angel. I've still got it." Aziraphale uncaps the vodka and drinks straight from the bottle, just staring into the distance.

He has just realized that their existence hinges on whether Crowley can figure out how to sit on a chair like a proper being with appendages and a spine.

And the odds are not in their favor, if they way the demon is sprawled out on the couch (reminding Aziraphale suddenly of a very well-done noodle, and suddenly he's starting to wonder if humans had the right idea with stress eating) is any indication

Crowley announces that he refuses to utter the words tickety boo, even if faced with destruction

"Honestly I think I'd rather have the holy water at that point" "Crowley." "I swear you just make sounds up sometimes, those aren't even real words"

4 bottles (and a very large order of takeout) later, they've got the act down well enough that it's starting to weird Crowley out

"Angel, seriously, enough with the nose. When have I ever done that with my nose? Exactly zero amount of times. I'm not a rabbit"

2 bottles later and Aziraphale has miracled Harry the Rabbit into the flat for a reason they can't quite remember

But they've got music playing from somewhere in the corner, and plenty of drinks, and the night goes on into the morning, and then they're sobering up and marching out for the most dramatic acting of their lives

And the world hasn't ended yet, so they'll probably be fine. Probably.

#aziraphale #crowley #good omens #ineffable boyfriends #ineffable husbands #good omens headcanons #good omens fic #crowley good omens #good omens aziraphale #good omens crowley #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale good omens #otp: ineffable #ineffable spouses #ineffable idiots #good omens s2 #good omens fluff #crowley and aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #crawley #good omens hc #ineffable #neil gaiman #good omens aziracrow #aziracrow #amazon good omens #david tennant #michael sheen #GOheadcanon23

[purple-babygirl]

welcome baaaack! i missed you so much

i've been here since forever and i remember a very long time ago that you promised us insecure chubby bucky. i never forget and i'm still waiting for him (when you get time for sure). i would love to read that whenever you right it! otherwise i'm really happy you're back again.

much love purple<3

Pairing: Insecure!Chubby!Chef!Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Word Count: 4,180

Summary: Bucky runs into his ex, who manages to mess with his head, bringing his insecurities to the surface again. His girl takes it upon herself to show him how perfect he is.

Warnings: 18+ content, bullying (sort of), fat shaming, negative self body image, insecurities, intrusive thoughts, mentions of cheating, a little crying, a little angst, smut, unprotected vaginal sex, cum, multiple orgasms

A/N: Nonnie, omg, you have been here a long time! I love and appreciate you so so much and I can't believe you stuck around for so long wow:"💜💜 Thank you so much for existing and for being here you're the reason I don't wanna leave again💜💜💜 Here's one insecure chubby bucky for you, I hope you like this one and that I did a good job💜 Thank you again ilyyy, please enjoyxx💜💜(y'all i think i forgot how to write smut what is wrong with me)

~

perfect to me

“I’m so sorry, baby, I have to run,” she told him after checking her phone, pecking his lips and taking quick steps down the aisle of the large store.

Bucky smiled, taking another fruit plate and placing it in their cart. His girl was such a hard worker and he couldn’t be prouder.

It was going to be Christmas soon and his girl was still working hard so Bucky was going to make her the best holiday food she’s ever tasted.

He was focused on picking the freshest cranberries when he heard a scoff, a very familiar one.

“Hey, Ryan,” Bucky sighed, not really wanting to ruin his good mood, as he turned around to meet a face he knew too well.

“What does she owe you?” said Ryan, tilting his head with a smirk.

“What?!”

“There’s no way this chick is seeing you. I figured she must owe you and is just paying her debt!” He smirked further, not even trying to hide his gloating when he saw that his words still had an effect on Bucky.

“My relationship with her is none of your business.” Bucky’s voice was suddenly low as his eyes stared down at the contents of the cart.

“But my relationship with you is.” Ryan put a finger under Bucky’s chin but the latter took a step away.

“We don’t have a relationship. You cheated on me, remember? I was too fat for you.” Bucky’s shaky voice moved nothing inside Ryan. If anything Ryan wanted more.

“And now you’re too fat for her.”

“Shut up. She is nothing like you.”

“Really? Do you even know where she goes when she leaves you? Where she is right now, for example?” Ryan smirked.

“She got called into work and had to run to the office.” Bucky knew he owed him nothing and if he was in his right mind he wouldn’t have went through a conversation with Ryan at all, but he wasn’t.

“How are you still so naïve?” He laughed heartily as if Bucky’s misery was actually amusing to him.

“Leave me alone.” Bucky tried to push the shopping cart and walk away, but Ryan stepped before him.

“I didn’t know your publisher lived in an office.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She leaves you to go fuck your publisher. You know him, black guy, sexily built, very handsome.”

The words left Bucky feeling lightheaded as the world seemed to twirl around him. Could history be repeating itself? No, not this time. His girl was not like that.

“I saw her coming to his building with him.”

“How’d you even-”

“I wait tables in the restaurant across the street from his apartment. I didn’t know she was with you but damn are you lucky you met me today!” Ryan laughed insensitively.

“It’s probably someone else.”

“I think I know what your publisher looks like.”

“You’re lying,” Bucky chocked out, trying to get out of Ryan’s way.

“You don’t sound so sure about that.” Ryan tilted his head again with a smug smirk, poking Bucky’s tummy, “you know why? Because deep down you know she’s too sexy for you. Because you look at her and then at yourself and you can’t figure out why she’d want you. Because you know that sooner or later she’s gonna get tired of your fat ass and—”

“My life now is none of your business, Ryan. You left. You chose to go, so stay gone.” Bucky’s weak voice interrupted, shutting Ryan right up before he sped out of the store, leaving the groceries behind.

“You’ll come back to me when you see for yourself!” He shouted after Bucky, but he didn’t stop nor turn back.

The questions he had raised in Bucky’s head, Bucky had no answers for them himself. Why was this sweet girl with him? What did she see in him? Anyone who met them thought the same thing: they didn’t belong together. So what did she see differently? What was Bucky bringing to their relationship? Could he even satisfy her? Could he keep her fulfilled?

He thought the days where Ryan messed with his head were long gone but he was obviously mistaken. Ryan could still easily hurt him. He could still make him feel as large as an elephant yet smaller than an insect. The dagger he’d planted was in so deep that Bucky couldn’t feel anything but the pain the stab brought.

~

His ex’s words plagued his mind. They took over and drowned out his girl’s voice, pushing it to the background.

All of a sudden, Bucky was very aware of his size, of the way the couch made the slightest sounds under his weight, and the way his girl could fit her whole self on one of his thighs if she wanted to.

“Bucky bear?” A hand on his cheek pulled him out of his thoughts.

Suddenly, he hated the words she nicknamed him with. Bear? Is that how big she thought he was?

“Hmm?”

“I was asking if you wanna go shopping for last minute gifts with me tomorrow,” she repeated, smiling sweetly, her fingers brushing a few hairs back and behind Bucky’s ear as she yawned.

Bucky’s new cookbook became a best seller after one week of release and the publication house was throwing the amazing chef a party.

She couldn’t be prouder and she wanted to support Bucky all the way. She loved Christmas and now it was going to be even better with this event added to their memories.

She was going to go all out for her man and he didn’t even know it. It was going to be a huge surprise and she couldn’t wait to make it happen.

“Yeah, why not,” Bucky replied, faking a smile back.

“What were you busy thinking about?” Her thumb traced his stubbly cheek as she frowned worriedly.

For a wonderfully successful cook, Bucky didn’t look so happy.

“You,” he answered with the truth though his eyes didn’t sparkle like they usually would at the thought of her.

“What about me?” Her smile returned as she stared lovingly at Bucky’s face.

“Why are you with me?” Bucky couldn’t hide the sorrow in his voice if he tried.

“What?” She sat up straight in his lap as her face fell.

“Please don’t make me repeat the question.”

“Buck, where’s this coming from?” Her hands cupped both his cheeks.

“I just don’t get it.” He shook his head, swallowing as his hands removed hers from his face.

“Don’t get what?!” She placed her hands on Bucky’s chest instead, refusing to let him push her away.

“Why you’re here!”

“I’m here because I love you, what’s hard to get, baby?”

“Do you really love me?”

This was serious. She’s never seen her boyfriend look so broken.

“James, what’s going on?”

“Answer the question, plum,” Bucky requested, the back of his fingers stroking over her cheek, knowing this was probably the last time he would get to touch her soft skin.

“Of course I love you!”

“Then why do you leave me to go meet Sam and then lie to me about it?!” Bucky unintentionally raised his voice.

“W—what?”

There were so many emotions overwhelming her and none of them was pleasant.

She was shocked, hurt and dejected. Bucky has never raised his voice at her before.

 “What were you doing together last night? And the night before and the night before that?!”

“Bucky, you’ve got it all wrong.” She shook her head, heartbroken that Bucky would think of her like that.

“Please leave.” He slid her off his lap and stood up, turning his back to her.

“Bucky.” Tears pricked her eyes.

“Leave, plum.”

“Bucky, me and Sam were—”

“If you won’t leave then I will.” Bucky sped to the door, grabbing his jacket from where it was hanged.

The last thing he wanted was to cry in front of her too. He’s already shown his weakness once; never again.

“Bucky!”

He ignored her calls, ready to run out of the door and let his legs take him far away where he’d have to hear no lies and could no longer get hurt.

“James Bucky Barnes, don’t you dare walk out on me!” She blocked the door, preventing Bucky from exiting the apartment.

Her eyes glistened with yet to be shed tears as her heart pounded in her chest. The mere idea of losing Bucky for any reason terrified her more than anything else.

She loved the man with her heart and soul and would go to the ends of the Earth for his sake. Why couldn’t he see that?

“I didn’t wanna ruin the surprise but… your book is a best seller. Me and Sam were planning you a party to celebrate. We figured if we met at the restaurant it’d ruin the surprise so I saw him at his place after work.”

Bucky stared at her dumbly.

“You can call Sam if you don’t believe me.”

“Oh.” Bucky felt like someone’s just dumped a bucket of cold water over his head; felt like an absolute idiot, “oh, plum.”

“I’m sorry I kept it a secret, but I’m not sorry I wanted to do something nice for the man I love.” A tear rolled down her cheek and her lower lip trembled, “and I’m really sad with you for stalking me and doubting me like that. I didn’t expect that from you, Bucky… and I’m hurt.”

“Sweet plum-”

“You can leave now if you still want to.” She took quick steps to the bedroom, leaving Bucky at the door.

It wasn’t often that she and Bucky fought and it was never something that couldn’t be solved within an hour. He could never bear to see her upset, let alone let her go to bed mad at him.

“Plum,” Bucky softly knocked on her door, swallowing the lump stuck in his throat, “can I please come in?”

But this was big.

Bucky has doubted her love for him. He has insulted her loyalty and ruined everything because of his insecurities and the poisonous words of a man who never cared for him.

She opened the door for him in a heartbeat, her face soaked in tears.

“No, no, sweet plum.” Bucky took her in his arms, praying to the deities she wouldn’t repel from his touch.

“You pushed me out of your lap.” She sobbed, her chest heaving and her forehead pressed to his shoulder.

His accusations hurt but the fact that he pushed her away somehow hurt her more.

Bucky couldn’t help but let his tears fall as well.

How could he be so thoughtless? She was the one good thing in his life and he almost let her go. No amount of restaurants he could open could make him feel as happy as a smile from her would.

He could write a library and collect every prize ever known to humankind, and she would still be the best thing Bucky has ever won over.

“I’m stupid, baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His hold tightened, engulfing her smaller frame in a desperate hug, “please don’t cry because of an idiot like me. I’m sorry, sweet plum. Forgive me, baby.”

“Why’d you do it?” Her sad eyes looked at him in question, full of confusion yet void of bitterness.

“I- sweet plum-” Bucky didn’t know how to answer her question because now that he looked back, he could see how stupid it all was.

Why did he follow her for 3 consecutive nights while she went to meet Sam instead of just trusting her? Why did he choose to believe and trust in Ryan’s words and not her love for him? Why was it easier for him to imagine her with someone like Sam but impossible to think of her with someone like himself?

“It’s because I’m a big idiot,” Bucky replied.

“Bucky.”

“Please forgive me, plum.” Bucky pecked her temple.

“Tell me what happened.”  She demanded softly, wiping Bucky’s own tears away and kissing his chin.

“Nothing happened, sweet plum. I got inside my own head again. I’m sorry, baby.” Bucky lied with a sad smile, too ashamed to admit Ryan’s words almost had him ruining the best relationship he’s ever been in.

She nodded understandingly, her hand cupping Bucky’s face as she rested his forehead on hers.

Bucky would tell her when he was ready. She didn’t want to stay mad at him. She knew he had issues with self confidence and she wasn’t about to make him feel even worse. He would come to her when he was comfortable. Bucky would tell her on his own.

“Please stay.” She whispered, her teary eyes heavy with sleep, yet afraid to go to bed and have Bucky leave after.

“I’m not going anywhere, sweet plum.” Bucky kissed her forehead, taking her by the hand to their bed.

~

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Her soothing voice whispered, filling the dark room.

Bucky was laying wide awake, Ryan’s words playing in his ears over and over again. What he did to his girl and how he made her cry. All the messed up shit he did just hours ago gnawed at him and took the sleep away from his eyes.

“I ran into Ryan,” Bucky finally replied, unable to sleep while he’s hiding something from her, “he filled my head with thoughts about you leaving me for Sam, and I let him.” He admitted to the ceiling, hesitant to meet her eyes.

“I would never leave you,” she promised him without reluctance, cupping his face and making him look at her.

She wanted him to see all the love her eyes held for him with no shame.

“Please don’t. I will lose the weight, I will—”

“Wait, what? He told you I’d leave you because of your weight?” Both hands were back on Bucky’s cheeks, thumbs wiping under his eyes.

Bucky nodded.

“And you believed him?”

“It’s why he left me.” He shrugged.

“Bucky,” she sighed.

“I know I know. It’s what’s on the inside that counts—”

“Don’t talk as if you’re not physically breathtaking!”

“Baby—”

“No! You have no idea how handsome you are, do you?!”

“Plum, you don’t have to say such stuff.” Bucky shook his head sheepishly and regretted it when he saw sadness cover her delicate features.

She quickly shook it off, scratching her forehead before taking Bucky’s hand, helping him sit up in their bed.

“Sweet plum, what are you doing?” Bucky asked when she started moving the covers down his torso.

“Gonna love on my man. Would you let me, Bucky? Can I love on you?” she asked, her voice soft and sweet.

Bucky nodded, hypnotized by the adoration shining in her eyes and she started to undress him.

Her eyes never left his as she took piece by piece of clothing off, revealing his beautiful figure to her, her smile only faltering when she bit down at the sight of her man in all his naked glory.

Bucky’s body was lit up under the soft moonlight coming from the window, helping her appreciate every curve and inch.

This gorgeous human being was his and he was hers.

“You’re so fucking sexy you take my breath away,” she moaned, slipping out of her own sweater, “and I don’t just mean the way you make me cum so many times until I have to fight for oxygen.” She brushed her lips on his.

Bucky was speechless. He could only stare and try not to lose his own oxygen.

“Keep your eyes open for me, Buck.” She pecked his lips once and he opened his eyes at once, not even realizing he’d closed them in the first place.

She smiled at how fast he followed the instruction, leaning back on the headboard and licking his lips.

Bucky’s groan when her bra hit the ground made her giggle. She slipped out of her panties, leaving herself bare before Bucky’s eyes.

“Come here, plum,” Bucky’s arms reached for her but she shook her head.

“This is about you, Bucky Bear.”

She climbed on the bed between Bucky’s legs, her hands wandering along his shins, thumbs caressing up his inner thighs. She bowed forward, peppering kisses on Bucky’s soft flesh.

“I love your thighs,” her lips moved higher and higher, the tiny kisses and nibbles driving Bucky crazy as he tried not to touch himself, “love how thick they are. So strong. So perfect. I would ride them all day if you’d let me.”

Bucky whimpered when she accompanied the honest words with a bite, leaving her mark on his pale flesh.

“And that ass,” she moaned, her hands sliding underneath Bucky, pulling his legs up and cupping his ass cheeks.

Bucky’s shy gasp made her smirk. He was so precious she could eat him. Maybe she should some day…

She let Bucky’s legs settle back on the bed and kept kissing up and up, skipping his twitching cock on purpose and placing wet kisses on his tummy instead. Her eyes locked with his and Bucky bit his pink lip.

He looked so beautiful, blushing, disheveled and turned on like that. His pupils were dilated, his cheeks rosy and his breath uneven; she was falling in love with this chef all over again.

“I love your tummy so so much,” her tongue dipped in Bucky’s bellybutton and the flush spread from his cheeks and on to his neck and chest.

Another moan slipped from his lips as her warm tongue lapped at his skin. She was full on licking him now.

Her words were romantic but the way she was loving him was driving him insane.

“I love to feel it against me when we hug,” she kissed his right side, “I love when you let me rest my head on it and I get to hear you breathe and feel your heartbeat,” she kissed his belly, “I love how it warms my back when you spoon me. And I love feeling it pushing against my ass when you take me from behind.” She pressed a final kiss to his left side.

“My favourite has got to be your cock though.” She gave his leaking dick a single pump and his hips were already bucking off the bed, “I’m a sucker for this cock, baby. Literally.”

Bucky was too busy whining when her mouth wrapped around the crown of his cock to call her out on her bad joke.

His whole body was on fire with need for her. He needed her to do something, anything.

“Plum, please. Let me get you ready. I need you. I need to be inside you.”

Bucky didn’t want to cum in her mouth, not this time. He needed to be buried deep inside her and he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to last.

“I’m ready,” she said, situating herself on top of his cock, rubbing the tip on her wet folds, letting out filthy mewls at the feel of him against the lips of her pussy, “always ready for you, baby.”

Before Bucky could argue that he should at least make sure she was prepared to take him just in case, she was pushing the tip of him in, stretching herself out on his cock with her head thrown back and her mouth open in a silent scream.

“Fuck, plum, so tight,” Bucky groaned, feeling her pussy grip every inch as soon as it disappeared inside her.

When she has completely impaled herself on Bucky’s cock, she stilled, taking a minute to get used to the stretch.

No burn has ever felt as good as the burn she got when Bucky’s dick split her in half. Getting opened on this cock was her favorite thing in the world.

She dragged her lips along his stubbly jaw as she waited, kissing all over his face, savoring the moment as sweetly as possible as if the head of Bucky’s cock wasn’t almost touching up her cervix.

Her open palms glided from around Bucky’s neck to his shoulders and down his arms until she reached his palms.

“and those hands, I think you already know how much I love your hands.” She chuckled as she continued and Bucky nodded, squirming below her.

“I love when you hold my hand; makes me feel safe; chosen,” she rolled her hips, making Bucky groan wantonly.

“I love how fast you can make me cum on the fingers of your left hand.” She whined when Bucky’s hands dug in her sides as she moved on him, surely leaving bruises behind.

“Fuck, plum-” Bucky was so close so fast and he wished he could last longer but the movement of her body on top of his, the words leaving her mouth and her walls snug around his cock were too much.

“I love you. Every inch, every part. I love all of you, Bucky.”

Bucky groaned in reply, chest heaving as he watched her take him.

“I love every part of you. I crave your touch like my lungs crave air.”

Bucky involuntarily thrust up, making her eyes roll.

“Oh Buck!” she wailed, Bucky hitting her favorite spots so good.

He couldn’t stop his hips from meeting hers every time she came down to take his cock over and over again, eyes glued to where he was disappearing inside of her.

“Nothing could ever match the feeling of being filled up of you, Bucky.”

“I love you, plum ahhh fuck,” Bucky moaned, overwhelmed by emotions and ready to burst any second.

“I love you too, Bucky bear. You’re my everything; my one and only.” She kissed him hard, thighs shaking around his body as she came on his cock.

Bucky couldn’t help but let go himself, cumming harder than he has ever before, filling her up with so much cum until he felt it leak out of her despite having her plugged on his softening cock.

She moaned at the warmth of his cum, shuddering when it seeped out of her.

“Fuck, plum,” Bucky sighed on her shoulder, breath still shaky.

She giggled shyly, burying her face in Bucky’s neck.

“Where did that come from?” Bucky asked, cupping her cheek so he could look at her.

She was glowing, smiling at him so innocently as if his cock wasn’t still buried deep up her leaking, pulsing pussy.

“From here.” She pointed to the spot between her breasts.

“Right here?” Bucky leaned forward to press a kiss on her hot skin, making her laugh as she nodded.

“I love you,” he whispered on her lips.

“I love you, Bucky. I love every tiny detail about you inside out. Nothing will ever change that.” She promised, seeing his eyes soften once again, insecurity dissipating.

“Thank you, plum.” Bucky hugged her close, kissing her shoulder and the back of her neck.

“Thank you for letting me show you how much I love you.”

“So you love my cock huh?” Bucky teased.

“Buckyyyy,” she whined, trying to get away as her face heated up.

“No, say it.” Bucky bit his lip, looking at her with a smirk.

“You know I do. Stop.”

“No, plum. I don’t know anything.” Bucky shook his head trying to act serious, “say it again.”

“Iloveyourcock,” she mumbled, trying to take herself off his cock.

“What was that, plum?” Bucky thrust upward into her and even with a soft cock he could make her make the sweetest sound.

“Hngh, I love your cock, Bucky,” she moaned, throwing her head back.

“Hmm, how much?” Bucky swirled his hips, feeling himself get hard again.

“S-so much,” she admitted as his cock stretched her sensitive pussy.

Bucky held her close, turning them the other way around and gave a deep push when he was on top, his cum making the filthiest squelching sounds as she screamed an “oh god”.

“So much you’d let me take you again?”

“Yes, yes,” she nodded frantically, not wanting the man to stop his thrusts.

And he wasn’t going to.

Bucky’s tummy pinned her down as he pressed his lips to hers, eating up her squeals as he pounded her into the bed, showing her how much he loved her.

~

“So you really don’t care about my weight?” Bucky asked, supporting his body up on his elbows as he stared at her glossy eyes.

She could barely remember her name as she tried to come down from the other two orgasms Bucky has just given her, his body still on top of hers, but that wasn’t a question she needed to think about the answer to.

“I only want you okay and healthy, Bucky. If you’re comfortable, I’m comfortable. If you’re happy, I’m happy. Otherwise, you’re perfect to me,” she told him with a shrug, pushing his wet hair behind his ears, “every little thing about you is perfect.”

“I love you so much, plum.”

“I love you more.” She smiled, heart fluttering at the look he was giving her.

“Not possible.” Bucky kissed her lips, “not possible, plum.”

~

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[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 4

[prompt: roleplay] male reader x kang hyewon 8k words

“I need you,” Hyewon says in the uneasy dark of a hotel room, with two urgent fistfuls of your shirt, “need you to do to me all the things my husband never will.” “Yeah, I know,” you tell her, “you said that,” and her eyebrows move in all the wrong directions, “I’m just wondering if, you know, maybe we should give him a little more credit.”

-

Here’s the truth:

Hyewon doesn’t believe in leaving evidence behind and you don't find it particularly productive to doubt her; you’ve been talking in code for years. Parts and pieces of yourselves reduced down and bottled into set phrases that, to anyone else, would be totally incomprehensible.

"i've been thinking," she texts you, which you've come to understand means she's already made up her mind, "maybe we should do that thing we were talking about. tonight."

(You're not always so fast on the uptake.)

You send two back two texts, both of which ask "which thing?" because the hallway from the breakroom to your desk has poor reception and it never lets you send just one.

Then, right after you cross the threshold between signal-drowning-concrete and the glitzy glass-walled arboretum they've built to make you feel like you're not a total cog in their corporate machine, your phone pings the receipt of Hyewon's reply: a picture - her laptop, propped up on your coffee table with its screen angled for perusal, of a booking site that's filtered to show results for their 'king bed & view' room at a midrange hotel a forty-five-minute ride from your apartment.

"not really doing much narrowing down here hyewon."

She replies to you - her text bubble appearing over another couple still images, of herself in the vanity mirror as she curls her hair around her finger and holds this little black slip of a dress over her shoulder, black lacy lingerie in tow, the whole nine - with:

"i'm feeling kinda adventurous."

-

Five o’clock rolls around but you never really do figure it out. You spend the last three hours at work deciding which kink of hers (oh, does she have a few) this is all in service to.

There's nothing overtly sexual about her pics in the first place - not more than usual anyway, more showing off her curves and cut jaw than showcasing anything for her 'adventurous' intent. So that can't be the tell - you'd seen her in a corset once (you can't unsee it) and the angle of her hips to the mirror makes you think that if she was planning on pulling on a  pair of crotchless panties then she probably would've found her thigh high stockings, too.

You try and think of what the two of you had even talked about when discussing these little scenes - how many times you'd ended up 'in the mood' during or after such a meeting of the minds, how it'd snowballed from there, a whole list of filthy what-ifs that she'd probably put more thought into than you ever have - but you draw a total blank. It could be any of a number of things.

Until,

"i left you instructions on the kitchen island," reads a text on your phone which you definitely don’t check while you’re driving -

And then it hits you.

"ah."

"yeah, 'ah'," she replies.

-

A quarter past seven at the hotel bar is way too early for any real promiscuous activity, but then again, you're here playing at pretend and half the fun of games like this is in the setup.

Meet me at the bar, your instructions read, introduce yourself, and play it by ear.

There's some couples at the other end, some friends downing shots by the round, people musing over their aperitifs, and a woman sipping alone at the bar - Hyewon, appearing to you from the back first:

The pointed edges of her shoulders narrow out over this tiny cocktail dress that somehow covers less of her than if it weren't there at all, skin tight, accentuating even her softest curves. She has her hair fixed a particular way - teased enough to flip at the ends but still a single sweep down her shoulders, pulled together softly by a ribbon in the back, tied like a fantasy, allowing a wispy strand to fall to her face - glossy and dark and glowing to this rich, deep mahogany where it's cast in the lamplight.

The line of her throat, of her chest. Where her hips meet her waist in a rounding flare. The effort and beauty she's gone to, for you - that she puts in every day just because she knows it gets your attention, can do more than turn a head or two; Hyewon's appearance is almost indifferent of you, only coincidental, but she puts on a damn good act.

(You look a lot more worn in comparison: jacket thrown over dress shirt and khakis, tie loose at the neck. Standard office attire with just a step-outside-regulation. Disheveled.)

A drink, you suppose - approaching the bar to try and catch the bartender's attention to order a single malt.

But if Hyewon's been waiting long, she doesn't complain when you pull into the stool beside her and sit for a long moment.

"Do you mind if I join you?" you say over a pair of politely folded hands - and that's generally where her 'instructions' end.

The look she fixes you with is just this unashamed smoldering, her body language this contradictory kind of lazy - cool, like her night was going exactly the way she planned but she still had places to be.

"It depends," she replies, one slender finger curled around the stem of her martini glass - which historically, is a drink she hates. "Who's asking?"

"Just me," you offer, letting the gesture and your tone leave it up to her. And then slowly, perhaps awkwardly: "ostensibly a complete and utter stranger who knows a gorgeous woman when he sees one - and who could never pass up a chance to see how the rest of her is."

"Smooth."

"I guess it is, considering you didn't immediately run for the exit."

Hyewon nearly snorts.

"Hard not to." She tilts her head back at you, assessing. Her cheeks are rosy pink. "A handsome thing like you doesn't usually buy themself a girl's time with flattery -"

"Buy your time or your drinks?" you tease, and you can tell she wants to roll her eyes - but she keeps them carefully lowered. Eyelashes dipping down like blackened fans.

Hyewon shifts slightly, resting her chin onto the heel of her wrist like she's leaning against an imaginary windowpane and tipping her face a little sideways. It makes you smile. "One gets the other, if you catch my meaning."

Maybe it takes you a little too long to lift your gaze off her lips to find her eyes, or off the sweeping curve of the hemline sitting high across her long legs, but she watches you for just a breath. It's a more telling moment that she pretends she doesn't know you.

"You can look at me if you like," and then without further preamble, she introduces herself with a slight tilt of the head and an expectant expression: "call me Hyewon."

You figure that if you've gotta say one word to get the ball rolling you want to say her name, and as a little revenge for forcing you to think on this scene and think on what to say, what your character would say, how exactly she wanted you to go about 'meeting' her in a hotel bar, how her fucking scenario's been building up in her head for god-knows-how-long (even though, in the scheme of the two of you and your relationship, it’s nowhere close to being the most demanding sex you've had), you reply simply with:

"Pretty."

It's satisfying, how she hesitates - pausing a little longer on your face to gauge exactly what you meant. Studying. But the next beat of your heart - or hers - is effortless, easy.

"I know. That's what my husband calls me."

"Husband?" You keep yourself from raising an eyebrow. "And I don't suppose I'm also... married?"

"Different day, different you."

"Meaning I have a wife or a mistress of my own," and you flick your wrist at the barkeep for a top-up of what's in front of Hyewon. "You're telling me I'm the kind of man who'd only settle for two."

It doesn't sound quite right, though Hyewon picks up on it. Doesn't let on. "Aren't men like you always? Charming to a fault, but always voracious - insatiable, especially with women like me."

"Women like you."

"Married women. Unavailable," she simpers, and in a practiced little motion, draws her hand out to where you can see it properly, this sparkle on her fourth finger that catches the lowlight of the bar. The diamond looks real - not that you'd actually know - and your stomach flexes up mid-somersault thinking about the financial impropriety for what amounts to a gag. A practical joke. Hyewon the comedian.

Still, you go with it and take her hand in yours, admiring. "What a pity." The glint off its faceted surface - Hyewon's watchful as she allows it.

"Isn't it," she agrees.

The more unnerving thing - besides how composed Hyewon can make herself be - is how the narrative quickly becomes a whole hell of a lot clearer with the context of marriage in play. She's mentioned it before: the infidelity thing, the way it leads to the raunchiest, filthiest bits she'll dare to explore. In some ways, her desire for the untouchable makes a lot more sense -

And maybe that's what had been nagging at your mind since she brought up the idea of playing the part: you always end up kissing in that stupid 'caught up' sort of way. With an intensity that's hard to beat. Even though you wouldn't ever cheat on her. Not in a million years. You'd watch her leave before doing anything like that.

But it's thrilling, almost, and even more thrilling that this isn't entirely improvisation: how well the two of you might actually play this off, as two total strangers to this illusory little roleplay that you'd normally say was your very last interest.

"But you know there's something I've come to appreciate about married men," Hyewon continues, her voice in this conspiratorial sort of hushed.

You blink, drawing her out.

"They know how to tie a knot."

There's the flirty wink, an upward flick of the chin that draws your eye to the span of her chest. To her body in that skin-hugging dress and your fingers entangled in hers - the gentle bump and shift of the bodies behind her, moving between the tables - Hyewon a queen of circumstance, playing to the moment as it bends; as her lips part in a pleased smile, red and smooth, almost innocent, and you can't help but imagine tasting her on your tongue, the force that'd take for her to yield when you finally got your hands in her hair.

(What a character, honestly.)

"Tell me something," you say, "why would a married woman, this pretty little thing like you, be all alone in a place like this - without her charming husband."

Hyewon's smile curls at the edges like smoke. "I never said he was charming."

You raise an eyebrow. "Good-looking, then."

"Never said as much either."

“Why are you with someone you find neither attractive nor charming?”

Hyewon makes a face, slightly pitied. “If that Isn’t what I’m asking myself everyday.”

"Hm." You narrow your eyes into something more quizzical than suggestive. It works on her anyway. "That doesn't feel too much like it's in character, Hyewon."

She shrugs, but it's that coy kind of shrug. She thinks you'll let her off easy - you usually do. All considered, she's the type who thrives off the chase and, as of today, so do you.

"But he is cute." Her expression is just this side of sweet, as she takes a dainty sip of her drink. Like the taste doesn’t bother her, like she isn't pretending she doesn't hate it with every fiber of her being. Like this is easy. "And maybe -" she quirks an eyebrow at you, withholding a smirk. "-you're right. Maybe, I was looking for someone cuter to fill the bill. And luck would have it, here he is."

So - apparently - her character doesn’t mind a little light infidelity.

Hyewon takes in the vague sense that the message wasn’t as clear as she might have liked, her forehead scrunching as she tries to convey - in a way that would communicate even to an airhead - some realization to play your part.

"Maybe it's the wrong question,” you start over, taking it from somewhere near the top, “what are you doing here, with me?"

That's when Hyewon graces you with one of the soft, slow kind of smiles: the kind that manages both an air of 'you dimwit' and 'good question'. Her fingertips barely graze yours but it's noticeably electric. Just enough to feel your pulse fluttering.

(You don't care that none of it’s real - Hyewon looks to you through thick eyelashes like a goddess of temptation and sin - and it makes something wicked coil up warm at the pit of your gut. A curious thrill and a recklessness that you have to admit feels a little nice - being the man trying to talk this woman into bed. The challenge and the buildup, the want to work for it. It's new. It's fresh. Lo-and-behold, it's kinda hot.)

When you catch her stare, she fidgets. So slightly, so briefly, your chest is on fire and you're barely into the pages of her plans, of this night ahead.

"Wish fulfillment, let's say," and that is no less true. "See it’s my husband."

"Mhmm."

"He respects me too much to do the things I'm going to ask you to do."

"Like?" you continue to prod.

Hyewon lets out the tiniest shiver of a sigh, like a trickle of cold water down the length of her spine. "Take a good guess."

You finish the rest of Hyewon's martini, slow. Savoring the warmth and bitterness sliding down the back of your throat. The night's young, sure - and if you're supposed to be spending it all wrapped around Hyewon's finger. This means you can take your time.

"Show me your room?" you propose, gesturing to the empty glass.

"I thought you'd never ask."

At your offering, she stands up and throws on her coat - long, double-breasted, chic - but only really just off her shoulders to have the hem hit her legs mid-thigh. One of her many personal quirks. Hyewon knows how to move like there aren't two eyes staring at her wherever she goes: not the awkward side-to-side of a girl who wasn't made to wear heels - a loping gait - nor the assured click, click of the taller kind that totter like it's all they've got going for them.

Something totally different: a little careless and a little haughty and an assurance of the highest confidence.

She winds an arm round yours like they do in movies, this parody of a leading lady - Hyewon not a seductress as much as she is someone who'll look the part just to convince you otherwise. There is a pretty big discrepancy, you find, between her bravado and her smile, her figure and her artistry - you couldn't act if you wanted to; meanwhile, she does whatever she damn well pleases. And somehow that doesn't even begin to cover the things that turn her on.

The two of you make for the stairs, winding up floor after floor until it's perfectly quiet, perfectly out of sight - hidden away from prying eyes and ears.

The silence of an empty hotel stairwell is thick - Hyewon's hand comes off the railing, as she takes to the wall and turns to face you. It's a gentle tug at the tie loose around your neck, barely any give before you're already there, holding her by the hips.

"Might've gotten us lost there," you whisper, as her finger plays at your chest and finds its way round the collar of your shirt. Your top button is already undone by the time you notice she's not fond of it. "The elevators would've gotten us where we're headed faster."

"Don't worry." She hums, leaning in close - like a magnet, like gravity. "You're getting the scenic route."

"Anything to stall the inevitable," you tease, but it isn't a thread she seems interested in developing.

"Something like that."

Hyewon shifts her weight back onto her right foot, her skirt riding up just barely. The dip between her inner thighs and the smooth curve of her leg is open and bare to your sight, her dark stockings like an unspoken challenge: the panties, lacy, loose, no crotch.

And it gets... indecent, the way your lips connect, how you realize half-way into that kiss, she's still smiling. It isn't any one way that does it; maybe it's the clever use of her tongue, or that particular position you've coaxed her up against the stairwell wall that makes it seem like Hyewon can't be any more in danger - it's too much to handle and your mouth goes slack on the reflex of an apology; her hand has a hold on you by the jaw and it won't budge.

"My husband," she murmurs into you, the trace of the words ghosting into the breath between the both of you. "Never lets me."

"What," you rasp, barely recognizing your own voice, your hand heavy on her side - the very real fear that you might tip over a banister because Hyewon's got her heel half-way into the back of your calf and any less bracing would bring you down. Your thoughts are a fog, with her cheek in one hand and your knee already up between her thighs.

"His wife," she almost swallows down, kisses turning chaste because maybe it's just easier to gently peck out her intentions, how she looks to you with dark eyes, heavy-lidded and wanting, a thumb trailing down the plane of your cheek. It'd feel like pity if you weren't thinking exactly the same.

You try to finish it for her:

"She likes it rough."

"No." Her nose traces yours before she connects you again - gentle and slow, and a shudder rolls all down the expanse of her shoulders; you think you have it about right. Until she makes the slightest adjustment and her grip in your hair turns agonizing, perfect and burning on the edge of too tight - too much. You are straining against the wall of a hotel hallway and she's saying, "not rough."

She kisses you. Hard. Until you gasp for the stolen air in her lungs.

"Filthy," she manages against the heat and sting at the side of her cheek.

(Damn.)

Your voice has gone and lodged itself firmly somewhere between her lungs - but there's something that says she knows. That you've got it in you, the brimming potential that might just say everything you ever wanted but couldn't figure the right way to put it.

It's the tone of her voice or the spark in her eyes, but one moment into the next - you're caught in this pull - like gravity's increasing tenfold at her will; her heartbeat's so strong you swear you feel it against your ribs as she's demanding:

"Messy. Dirty. A little uninhibited," and the obvious thrill of that must flare up like lightning under her skin - the way it makes her moan, soft and breathless: "fuck me like my husband doesn't."

She’s not even waiting for the comfort of the room yet, which in hindsight is probably checking more of Hyewon's many boxes - it's the sex in public thing, the fear of discovery thing, the desire to have you ravish her out where anyone can come upon you sort of thing - the thought of which has your jaw go a little slack too. Her leg up is coiled up around your hip, your fingers tangled in her hair and sliding up the length of her thigh, until you're fucking kneading up her ass and drawing out that desperate whine in her.

"Fuck," she exhales into your shoulder - a hand on the metal bannister to brace against those little circles you start to rub inside her, pushing - slowly - one, two, three knuckles deep, testing - before drawing back, and plunging forward again. This ache, slow and purposeful, pressing just enough into her until there's a wet sort of friction that has your hand slick all down your wrist.

It never takes long, with your fingers on her clit, fingers inside her, a palm covering the moans out of her mouth -

She cums just like that.

Whining and broken and bent under you, and with an elbow hard against her ribcage to make the breaths come shallow.

"Stay quiet for me, sweetheart," you find yourself murmuring, as your teeth graze the shell of her ear - the short burst of hair and silky strands across the back of her neck; you're undoing the neat ribbon tied round the length of her hair and letting her waves settle on her shoulder in time for you to swallow down the sound of her sighs, the tension in her lips, and the frantic jolt when your fingers push through the wet, heat of her pussy again, merciless and quick. You have to be careful; she nearly bites your fucking tongue out.

"Can't." Her jaw's tight on it, the slight staccato to her breathing, murmuring and slightly dazed: "if we get caught, someone will see. Someone will notice."

Her next exhale is more shaky. "Anyone could see us like this," with just her toes curling and her stomach tensing on every second beat. Your grip leaves a bruise. "Please-"

"We're not supposed to be doing this at all, are we? If you've got a husband waiting somewhere?"

You hear yourself, and it sounds sorta degenerate, though in all the right ways, you figure, like something straight out of one of Hyewon's romance novels, the dirty, smutty ones that she swears up and down she simply reads for the plot, but the dazed, hazy kind of mood they get her worked up into suggest otherwise.

You trace the rough pad of your thumb over her pussy, this delicate, ghost of a touch. One you'd have to strain to even tell if it was there or not until she whines - eyes screwed shut like she doesn't mean to, just does. The sound of it bouncing around the stairwell.

And then, all this wet: her skirt's ridden all the way up to her stomach, damp and near-transparent with slick, and you can just imagine the puffy pink between her legs - between her stockings in the afterglow of an orgasm, spent and sensitive and sore and wanting for more. Your eyes linger a little too long -

"I shouldn't let you," she manages, half a moan on it - one of her heels comes up the stair you're standing on and the way Hyewon clings onto you for balance says enough, but still, she demands, with all the strength her throat allows: "make it fast. You're lucky I let you see me like this at all -"

And she cuts off abruptly, looking at you.

(She'll play coy for a while longer. Which, Hyewon being Hyewon, will look like as much an effort as her sprawl out on the bed for you is.)

"The room," you say to her, harshly, "where is it."

"Four more floors."

-

Room 1014 as it turns out is like every other room you've ever been in, each one perhaps a little more identical than the last - except this one has Hyewon sitting in your lap while you get comfortable on the bed, and there's also the way she looks in the mirror above the headboard, the desperation in her stare, right back into the reflection.

"What all," she says, "do you want to do to me?"

This time - no explicit instructions - just an implication. You have to figure it out.

See, the image of her is like every fantasy rolled into one, wearing this thin black bra that has her breasts just about spilling over. They're amazing - the color and shape of her skin. Soft. Cradled between the cups like a godsend, and maybe that's why it drives her a little crazy how good you look biting down the ridge of her breast and flicking your eyes back up to catch her expression.

It has you feeling, if nothing else, a little ‘adventurous,’ too.

Her belly tenses on a heavy sigh and it's one hell of a thing to have Hyewon staring you down, like you're an animal or an idiot, with her eyes flashing and a thinly veiled anger in the purse of her lips. There's a thousand things she'd like to do to you - for you to do to her - but it's about the predicament: the silk necktie she'd pulled off you as you both stumbled through the door has ended up around her wrists, pinning her arms behind her back in a way that suggests a loss of control. Just the mere suggestion of a little playacting, but she's almost keening.

You feel the touch of her right calf keep rising - curving down your waist, hooked behind the small of your back - her thighs smooth, and a hot line along your sides.

"I should fuck that pretty mouth of yours," you say against the shell of her ear, because you know better than anyone, the very concept gets her wet. Uncomfortably so.

And she leans her head against your temple like she'd love it. You could be imagining the little whimper as she clenches up round nothing - until a growl escapes the back of her throat and she's saying -

"Is that how you're going to cum? With me on my knees and nothing else? Cover my pretty face? How you’ll completely ruin me?. You’re more creative than that."

“I don’t know that I am.”

Her hips move to find some friction where there isn't any until you give her some, pulling your cock out through your pants and feeling it brush, once, twice against the seam of her. Hot, and hard. Ready. And if she only tried a little, the angle was made perfectly to slot your head in, but neither of you move. She doesn't yield.

"Let me fuck myself on you," she suggests, strained, almost pleading. "Then perhaps I will."

You could take her like she is. Any which way. But this is about getting a particular reaction - one that'll leave her spent and trembling - and nothing like that will happen without a little bit of preparation and prelude. You want to watch her writhe for hours. Until she forgets she's playing a character at all, until she's panting your name and whimpering for release, her cheeks burning.

But at least it gets her writhing on you, the heat and press of her body as she leans in close, your eyes locking:

"Get your cock inside me-" the urgency in her voice. "-fuck me right now, this second-"

"Say it again."

"Fill me with your perfect cock." The words land right on your lips, frayed at the edges as the tether to her control slips another notch. "Push my thighs apart until you break me," Hyewon tells you - and then with her legs twisted up in the comforter, the creaking mattress and the sweat on the sheets: she rolls her hips like they're pleading for it.

"Pushy."

"Gentle's got no appeal for us."

"Apparently not," you reply - but then it's suddenly a lot easier, to slide one hand in Hyewon's hair, and grip at the knotted silk wrapped tight 'round her wrists to hold her. There's no hiding the subtle arching of her spine, how the pressure off her arms pulls her chest in or makes it all the more comfortable, she doesn't let on, she'll probably keep pretending she doesn't like this, that she hasn't always wanted -

You run your tongue over her collarbone and thrust up inside her, once - a warning that you're not giving in to her quite yet.

The smile that runs her lips is brittle. Like her patience isn't what it used to be - she makes a quiet little noise, pained. A flash of discomfort. But there's a moan and a curse out of her:

"Like that. Harder."

"What does harder mean?" you ask, with a deliberate repetition in motion, thrusting upward, forcing her hips to shift a few degrees further back - her knees clenching around the sheets as you're met with no give - Hyewon's resistance through a dark smile, and her grip slackened in her hands, despite you keeping a fist wound tight in the hair on the back of her head, tightening the other around her restraint.

Her throat flinches: this shudder.

She takes a couple heaving, open-mouthed breaths, before she has it in her to glare at you again.

"Harder-" The way her mouth shapes around the word gets the better of you - cute little cupid's bow in pink, full and swollen and pursed up as if in pain. Or desire. Or both, the way her head is tipped back, hair half undone - an idea is already coiling at the back of your mind. "-until I can't stand."

"Or talk?"

And when your hand loosens on her wrists, her posture slumps like it's relief, that you're finally going to move along in a direction she's getting some satisfaction from -

Hyewon shakes her head in a moment that's almost blissed.

"You," her voice breaks on the tail end, "fucking wish you could shut me up that easily -"

In a motion almost gentle, you twist the length of hair down around her, from her scalp to her jaw, and wrap it around a hand. "Let's see if you'll change your mind, shall we."

There's a sharp draw of air in past her lips, just one sound, not a word. No proper rebuttal. She bites down, teeth clicking.

So you pull.

And this isn't some revelation, that Hyewon's cunt is heaven. Slick and tight, the fit around your cock and the gasp escaping the base of her throat - that isn't new. You've been here countless times, fucked her past her breaking point, beyond what should reasonably satisfy her or satisfy you, but that still doesn't take away from this incredible, heady rush that pulses through your entire body. It never stops getting better, not inch-after-fucking-inch the way you're bottoming out inside Hyewon's body and feel how hard the rest of her muscles tense up in the contact, how her pussy tightens and quivers, and grips around the entirety of your cock, the briefest taste of pleasure and release before it's pulled back just out of her reach - overstimulated, until Hyewon cries out.

You expect, predict the fight, the whimpers that spill out of her mouth with every slap of your skin and the breathless way she begs, pleads, like she'd rather her pride take it from her than have your fingers tug her hair up, right out of her scalp, with your arm locked around her lower waist. With your cock pumping faster, faster and a pressure, hot and inescapable, right there - the friction building - the slippery-wet heat sliding along your shaft with every stroke until you bottom out and her next exhale is a sob.

A goddamn fucking sob and the warm gush of liquid down her thighs - all on you. You fingers are pressed into her ass, pulling onto you, steading her bounce - and Hyewon finds her breathing uneven, as you smear wet across the curve of her backside, rubbing circles into her lower back as you catch up on the rhythm she'd lost.

"This tight little cunt, huh," you tease, and she nods so desperately it seems like she might snap. Like she might cry again and this time for real, a drop of her eye color past the blush, streaking down her cheek. You have the wherewithal to remember your character, your blocking, your lines: "this is what your husband won't do? Won't fuck you on every piece of furniture until you're a ruined fucked-out mess? Doesn't have the decency to work over his little slutty-wife until she's passed out, dripping with cum?"

Hyewon's fingers curl up into two balls of white knuckles and she chokes on her reply. "He won't."

"Tell him. He has a hot and dirty little piece of ass right under his own roof-"

"You think," and the string of words trails off when you manage to grind in, at this angle that has her reeling, trembling at every shift and jerk in momentum. Your knuckles drag against her soft and giving curves, almost gripping at her in the attempt to hold her down on you. "-my husband isn't enough."

"Well you wanted me to fuck the domestic housewife out of you," you murmur, taking two greedy handfuls of the ass bouncing in your lap, rubbing your palms along her hips, up and around the shape of her abdomen and her ribcage like you'd map it, memorize it. She wants this, you know this: your palms come around and over and brush your thumbs against her rising gooseflesh - she's putty in your hands. "No strings attached, remember, a one night kind of thing-"

"My husband loves me."

"Then it seems-"

"He makes me cum with his hands alone."

Your jaw works tight - Hyewon's cunt feels as good wrapped around you as she says your cock feels making a mess of it.

"Tells me he'd die happy hearing me moan his name."

"Oh, because no matter where he goes," you say, fingers wrapping under and around the back of her neck, forcing her to look you in the eye, "no matter what, your sweet cunt's the only one his mouth is ever watering for, isn't that right-"

A blink, lashes thick and feathering down and over the pools of her pupils as you have a hold of her tight. 

You're having a hard time with this, and you want to give it to her, the toe-curling-crescendo that would see her cumming at your will, or worse, losing the plot completely and your entire setup falling away from the charade of characters you'd both conjured. But she looks at you like she's never loved anyone like she loves you, the naked, barefaced devotion, the tenderness - a quick breath, a second - and the game is suddenly something far more personal, a truth. It isn't exactly fair: how your heart stutters. How much her heartbeat makes your pulse flutter, the electrifying rush you get when you fuck roughly up into her tight, wet cunt and make her bite down on nothing in the throes another orgasm.

You barely have a second to think of something coherent, let alone an out before she kisses you. If that isn’t totally disarming. So you move her into the next, flipping her onto her stomach, and she does nothing to fight back: Hyewon just lies there - the side of her face plastered to the comforter - exhausted, and gives a willing, malleable moan at the contact where your hand digs into the shape of her upper thighs, spreading them out as her elbows struggle behind her back.

"Here, baby," you say, finally unwinding the silk knot between her wrists, "I'll have you like the little desperate fucktoy you really are."

There's the bite to her bottom lip, the whole five seconds it takes for her hands to spread out and twist her fingers tight in the bedspread, before she whines - full-throated - and rocks back onto her toes to arch her back.

(See, the thing: Hyewon likes being fucked within an inch of her life. On all fours and pleading for more.)

With your free hand, you reach around her to run over her inner thighs.

Hyewon brings her grip to the bottom of the bed frame, for purchase, or leverage, you don't know, and in one simple motion, you slip your cock back deep inside her pussy.

You curse under your breath.

Hyewon fucking collapses.

It's a dangerous combination, having her begging and you nearly fully clothed while she's wearing barely more than this thin strip of black silk around her waist and a stocking on one leg, but you can't help it - she looks good this way.

"Fuck," she spits out, voice lost when your hips find hers in this wet, sloppy crash of skin that gets louder, faster and more punishing on each beat. "Like that, oh my God-"

Her whimpering only gets worse - when you start only pulling out halfway, until she's gasping like she can't breathe. You think there isn't a more wonderful, more obscene, more gorgeous thing than Hyewon spread out in front of you - the curve of her spine defining each and every one of the lines, dips, and rises of her body - and you would thank God or some higher deity right about now.

It’s fuck and please and every other little pliant utterance of “fuck my brains out, use me, make me beg, I'm so turned on right now I'll let you fuck me anyway you want - harder, faster, I can do whatever, just show me how, make me, push and fuck me hard until I'm raw and aching - god - like this, let me cum, please, let me - keep fucking going, oh my god, please, like this, fuck, just like this-"

You do thank God, actually - there's mirrors everywhere in this room, and you can catch the circular swing of her tits every time you force a curse and a sigh out of her: the bared teeth and the effort to push herself back on her arms, bracing for every thrust, fighting and fumbling to keep her balance and to make sure you have to pound her into the mattress until her cries reach a pitch.

Then, the thing you'd learned she'd never ask for but oh-so-dearly-wanted - you open your palm and bring it down hard on her backside. The impact of your flesh to hers, a crack, a moan and her whole body flexes - and it's then you do it again: matching the hit to the visible red outline of your handprint. The third time, she hisses, biting into the bed sheets so as not to cry out.

"Right? This is what you want? To be fucked and used?"

She doesn't reply with words, because she may in fact be biting her teeth into the cotton threadcount at the end of the bed, but she lifts her ass higher, angles her hips like she's waiting for more. Her brow is creased in a smile, even though a frustrated groan escapes her lips - so you give her that again, and again, until the back of her thighs are turning red and she's clawing one hand back along the length of your legs - pushing and pulling.

"You want me to fuck you senseless, sweetheart?"

And then, so needy and desperate she's just saying the first word that come to mind:

"More-"

"-when I've been railing into you so hard and your husband probably knows already, has to have seen, maybe he's listening at the door- oh," and your whole train of thought comes to a sudden halt upon seeing Hyewon's hand land on the perfect round of her ass, fingers pulling her soft, reddening skin taut, up and away from where your cock is disappearing between her cheeks - to allow more of your shaft into her hot, wet cunt - allow you to fuck her and fuck her up - allow the length of your shaft to slide deeper and hit all the spots that will send her reeling into this orgasm and the next.

Your gaze is stuck however, not to her curves rippling in excess, the damage of your thrusts pounding her body to ruin, or the look of flawless pleasure twisting up the pretty features of Hyewon's reflection, but instead it's the fucking flash and catch of the diamond that adorns her fourth finger. Even when you have her completely helpless, bent on your mercy, she's still wearing that promise, that intention to have and to hold, and you think, for at least a second, this whole roleplay thing isn't the worst idea: being a surrogate to fulfill someone's wildest fantasies. It might even be enough to make you hard all over again - the thrill and the debasement of your girl, lines quickly blurring between the Hyewon you'll take home and put back together and the Hyewon you're fucking pouding into a mattress - the here and now.

"Fuck, Hyewon," you find yourself swearing - steadying the hips rolling back in your palms, bending down until the flat of your chest meets her back, until your nose is in her hair, the long strands sticking to her lips and the back of her ears. Until you feel her shaking as you suckle against her skin, at her neck, hot kisses between the shoulder blades, finding a grip in her hands. Her grip in yours - as she's muffling these exquisite, needy sounds; she is perfect. Hyewon is perfect.

The first time you cum, it's this hot splatter of white: smeared across her ass and the crease of her lower back. It feels almost dirty to think that's just how you feel about it; your heart is stuttering in its erratic pace, but your eyes are drawn and enraptured, the sight of it all.

Then second, maybe your favorite: when she slips her hand to your aching shaft and simply takes you back inside her. This soft, wet, inviting heat that pulls you back to her.

"God- please," her head tips back, you feel the arch of her back through her ribs and stomach, the way her breath catches as you slide your cock through her creamed-out-cunt so much harder and smoother. "It feels so fucking good, baby," and there are tears now, welling in the corner of her eyes, "don't stop, God don't ever stop-"

She can barely finish her sentence before she's cut off, a moan ripped from the bottom of her lungs and a gasp straight from the pain-pleasure that has your balls slapping against her pussy every other stroke. And suddenly she's sitting, or rather, squirming into your arms, her face buried in your shoulders as she starts riding you, and not-quite crying and saying again - again, the whole filthy lot of things: about her wanting you to fill her, to plug her up with your cock. Every thrust she whines in your ears, clutching onto the fabric of your shirt and making a mess of herself in you.

It's this wild and reckless thing that makes its way around the room, on every surface and bit of furniture. You fuck her over the counter, let her ride you on the sofa, the chair, the two of you managing to find some sort of assistance in the wall even, the door frame, her legs up your sides and the slippery-sticky-heat of your mouths connecting and everything that isn't exactly meant to support that kind of strain buckling and nearly giving way - once when the wooden joints in the door-frame shift, once when she begs for release in that frantic voice that doesn't sound a thing like her. And the way she comes apart under you after, on top of you - is even sweeter; you imagine there's this endless possibility for love, for pleasure, a whole world in bundled in the notion that you could do it for her again, that it was always a question of Hyewon letting you have her that way, and the rest was mere foreplay - a stretch.

Only, on the bed again, Hyewon shivers beneath you, this full-body response, and you've got her stretched as she opens up - that the slightest of movements has her already whimpering out "fuck," and "please," and "right there," and "fuck you're going to make me come like this. You're so good, just fucking," and "more, harder, please, you feel so fucking good-"

The desperation for release is so palpable in her that it's curling into your stomach as your press Hyewon's knees into the points and edges of her shoulders and fold in her half - this perfect angle of leverage. Fucking her like she's yours and no one else's - the absolute delight of her cunt, wet, hot, and desperate to milk you empty - her body quaking at the force of each thrust, and the hungry grind of your hips into hers. Her fingers digging and knotting in the sheets around you until her knuckles pale, and your own grasp on her skin threatens to bruise.

"Inside me," she gasps out, because she can feel that edge just as well as you, "I want you to fill me, just cum inside, God, you always feel so amazing, fuck, like that, cum inside me, cum in me-"

"How could I say no, especially when you ask so sweetly," you tell her, kissing into her smile, "can you take another? Baby, look at me, look into my eyes, yeah? Look right back at me."

Her eyes blink and roll back a bit, almost losing focus and her eyelashes flutter - the creases in her brow, the elegant lines of her face locking up in the overwhelming tension, then, a peak.

And a demand, meekly asking you to fill her up. Until there's nothing left. "Cum," Hyewon moans, "for the love of fuck-"

You push her past her climax until she's practically weeping, sobbing through a litany of nonsense and slurred, unfinished sentences and almost howls, struggling beneath your weight and coaxing her fingers over the surge at the base of your spine. Before a hot liquid mess bursts out of you, into the deepest reach of Hyewon's throbbing cunt - cumming inside her, while you hold her down, not allowing her to move as your hips lock and you're both left groaning in utter agony.

(This was the thing you'd told her once - cumming inside her was almost always worth the effort it took to clean it all back out. You like the possessive aspect of it, maybe the slight humiliation, and more than anything, she'll just melt: once she's gone past the immediate discomfort. If anyone could really learn to get off on feeling a little filthy, it's the two of you. And she knows that too, Hyewon's eager little pout intimates, as she blinks down to watch where the two of you connect.)

You don't say much for the next while. If there's a line where this particular escapade blends back into your normal life, where the Hyewon curled up in the sheets is your own girl and not some half-conceived entity that didn't fit the reality of the rest of the evening, or how you see Hyewon everyday, even then, it’s not clear.

She's utterly boneless - this fragile, dazed thing that runs her palms all the way around her breasts and pulls up her stockings a little further up the line of her hips, as if you weren't going to peel them back and slip them all the way off when you had the wherewithal to handle it. But the strength in her isn't entirely lost either, she looks ready to burst: this air of pride and smugness - victory, right in her grin, which isn't totally surprising. Hyewon usually gets an odd satisfaction out of your participation in whatever hedonistic or obscene thing it is she wants to try.

This was her fantasy - maybe not a deeply rooted or unattainable one, but she'd worked out some kinks of hers and has walked away a far better woman for it, knowing what a sight she is to you. Like this.

"That was... fun," Hyewon eventually says, collecting articles of clothing strewn about the room.

Her shoes are one of two sets in the shoe-rack, but she'll have to look around and under the bed to find her dress. It would probably be some strange level of easy to play dumb and wait until she comes to the conclusion on her own that she should bend down and check down there, but she looks a little too worn out to really be interested in her clothes, more like, ready for the next part.

"We should do it again," her gaze lands, intent, and serious, back to you.

"Which part?" you have to ask, because you're probably still, a little slow on the uptake.

A small laugh, the sly smirk to herself; she knows she has you wrapped so perfectly around her finger, ready to bend to whatever game she can come up with: "whichever part you like."

#hyewon smut #izone smut #izone hyewon smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember

[charmercharm3r]

Masterlist

warnings: 9th member brain rot, kissing, body image? hardly proof read don’t come for me

prev: two, next: four

☆ﾟ

“Honestly? I hate it. I hate it a lot.”

None of your costume fittings were going well. Pants too tight, boots too big, couldn’t lift your arms or else your top would rise too high. Nothing worked. Did it at least look good? Meh.

“What’s wrong with it?” Chan asked as he stood beside you, looking at you through the practice room mirror.

“I dunno, it just… doesn’t feel right. Something…” You tried reaching around to feel the zippers and pins that held your outfit in place. Chan, ever observant, stepping to help unclip various pieces of the outfit. By the time he was done, it was a bit more revealing.

You were in the same leather pants as the rest of the group, but your top was the most modified out of everyone. A long sleeved body suite that followed the same black and white bedazzled color schemes with triangular cut outs down the shoulders and arms, rising a little too high on your hips. It was supposed to be a sexy piece, definitely not fit for a performance outfit. The stylists had it pinned to the leather pants to keep from revealing how exposing it was, saying how everything was so pretty and perfect for the concept, except this.

The pants rested a little lower on your hips, more comfortably. Chan looked at you again, “how’s that?”

You hopped and moved around, “a lot better.”

“It looks better too!” Hyunjin casually strolled into the conversation. He reached out to trace the seam that exposed your upper hips, “sexy.”

You swatted his hand away, “don’t be weird.”

“I meant it in a good way!” He threw his hands up and side stepped behind Chan and disappeared.

"If you're comfortable with it, this is much better. But it's a bit more than what you're used to showing," the older ignored Hyunjin and played with the pins in his hand.

Admiring yourself in the mirror, you realized it was a lot more than you're used to. The bodysuit was tight, which was okay because it was stretchy. But it outlined your body more than the other member's costume, therefore it stood out exponentially. "Do you think it'll be okay... y'know, in front of people?" The lowered tone of your voice, the question was shaky.

Chan paused to look at you with hints of concern, and he knew what you were talking about. He copied the hushed syntax of the conversation, "if you're worried about bad press, don't. You're part of us, like the biggest part. It's been how many years and if people can't handle that... well, that's their problem."

He lent you an encouraging smile before his attention was pulled away by a screaming Jeongin, then a thud following with Hyunjin piling on top of the younger. Chan had turned away to make sure the two were okay, and in within your lone thoughts, you figured he was right. Other people's opinions are not your problem. This was a step in the right direction.

And Chan was right, as he always is! The outfit was a smash during tour, people loved it and you felt confident. By the time the Japan tours were announced, you were ready to ask for something a bit more. Solo stages meant you were able to show more personality. You didn't have many solo projects, so it was already nerve wracking picking a song and getting help with the choreography.

The other members weren't around for your fitting with the solo stage outfit, just you and the stylist who started to enjoy your newfound excitement for experimentation. She had jumped for joy and brought out racks of different pieces, "I've waited five years for this day! It's like dress up and you're my barbie doll."

It was a large compliment coming from her, her enthusiasm made your energy spike. So you let her put you in different outfits and go over different mood boards to find what it is you wanted. The one-on-one time with her felt like turning a new leaf for your career and confidence. "I'm glad that you want to do this. I never wanted to push you to do something you're uncomfortable with, I'm so excited for you!" Aside from the usual encouragement from your members, her approval was the icing on the cake. After all, dressing people is her entire livelihood.

You hadn't given so much as a hint to the boys as to what your concept was, and it made them annoyed to no end. As they all talked about colors and themes, you kept your cards close to your chest to only let them know what you wanted them to know.

"You're being mean! Tell us! My nosy heart can't take not knowing!" Jisung pestered you the most, though you knew it came from a good place. They were all anticipating it.

When the dress rehearsal came, you put on your outfit last just so that they could all stew in their curiosity a little longer. They had all gathered on the sides of the stage to watch your run through, all of them still in their own costumes.

Your solo began with lifted from below the stage, that alone got howls from the members and also scolds from your manager to be quiet. It was hard not to glance over at them literally toppling over themselves to see your outfit up close, you laughed all throughout the run-through because of the little comments they'd make as if they were the audience.

"That's my bias!" from Jisung and a, "I'll treat you to dinner for being so cute!" from Minho.

Some other barrages of compliments later, the rehearsal intermission gave them time to rush onto the stage and tackle you to the ground. Physically dog pile on top of you so that you had no choice but to stay put. You couldn't even tell who was talking as everyone spoke at the same time. But soon enough, your manager walked over to get everyone under control once more.

Felix held out his hand for you to take and stand up. "Y/N'ie, you should've been dressing like this the entire time. You've been holding out on everyone," he teased, playing with the hem of your top.

It wasn't an outrageously different outfit to what you're used to, but also it was so brand new. An outfit made of repurposed denim in different shades, stitched together to make a halter-styled cropped top and skirt with denim arm and leg warmers to match. It was comfortable, and not to mention shorts built into the skirt.

"Just cus you said that, I'm gonna wear a track suit for the actual concert and bury this outfit in the basement," you lightly punched his arm.

"If you do, it'd be a crime against humanity. I'll have you arrested, I’ve got connections," Seungmin offhandedly mentioned. He looked indifferent, but the blush tinting his ears was a dead giveaway.

"To who? You don't talk to anyone except us," Jeongin spoke up.

"Your mom."

"Ouch," you and Felix giggle as the two youngest continued to bicker, hanging on each other's arms until it was time to finish the dress rehearsal.

Felix was always a person of comfort for you. Sort of like the baby blanket that you refused to give up because it's the one thing you know will always be there waiting for you to come home. That's not to compare him to a ratty old blanket, but more the sentiment behind it. Even after all of the praise from your members, you still found yourself looking for him to cling on to. Felix lets you, placing a hand over yours as you wrap around his arm like a vine that won't let go.

It wasn't until rehearsals were over and everyone were to change out of their outfits did you leave to let him gather his stuff. The others made jokes and poked fun, as they always did, but never Felix. Sure, he liked to tease, but even the way he did that was sweet and kind.

He could see the way you grimaced when looking at the outfit as you handed it back to the stylists for safe keeping, coming to your side unrushed as not to startle you. Wrapping an arm over your shoulder, Felix went with you to finish up small tasks before it was time to head back to the hotel.

Actually, Felix didn't leave you alone the rest of the day off, as well. He'd went with you back to your hotel room where the both of you took a short nap- you'd gone to the bathroom to find him passed out in the spare bed. Then when you woke up, it was also his idea to check out the restaurant and pool the hotel offered. You both did ask the other members if anyone wanted to join, however they were all off doing their own thing, except Hyunjin asked for you to ask him again in another hour. Something about taking a bath?

As Felix left to change into his swim suit, you silently kicked yourself for remembering to bring one in the first place. Initially, you had attempted to get out the activity by saying you didn't bring one. But then he went into your suitcase, taking everything out just to see it buried at the bottom. This was bound to happen, knowing how (affectionately) invasive all of the members are, you took caution by putting your undergarments in separate bags. Reliving the last fiasco with you in your underwear was something you avoided at all costs, now.

So now you had no choice but to go swimming, despite the sun going down and the temperature dropping.

The two of you grabbed an order of French fries and some drinks for dinner to take poolside. There was no one, thankfully. You don't think you'd be able to take your top off if there was even one other person there to see. Felix acted like this was normal. Because it should be. He's one of your best friends and has nothing but love for you, so why is this so difficult?

You've come to terms with your body and living in your skin. At least, you thought you did.

"One step at a time," the deep bass of a voice said softly over your shoulder. Felix had opened the to-go box of food and was taking a seat at one of the outdoor tables. "Let's just eat, for now."

Hesitant, you sat beside him, picking at the fries while staring at the reflective lights within the hotel. Comfortable silence besides the occasional water splashing against the concrete. "We don't have to go in," Felix offered with a sympathetic smile. "I'm just glad I got you out of your room."

"What do you mean, I always hang out with you guys when we're traveling."

"Yeah, in the hotel!" The crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled was cute. Felix is cute. "I mean going to dinner, sight seeing, doing fun things."

"I have fun! Like," you blanked for a second, grabbing a fry and shoving it in your mouth to buy some time. "Scrolling through the foreign tv channels and trying to figure out what's happening."

"You can't be serious." You shrugged and he rolled his eyes. "Well now we have to go in the pool. There is no way we are leaving when all you've done is try to find the Japanese discovery channel."

Felix stood and immediately stripped off his shirt, tossing it at your face cockily. Spitting the fabric out of your mouth, you were tempted to gag yourself with it again when you saw him shirtless. It's not like you'd never seen any of them without a top before, it's just that you always had to hide it. Felix wiggled his eyebrows at you, "how much do you love me?"

Flustered. You were flustered. "...A lot, I guess? What does that have to do w-"

"I jump, you jump kind of love?"

"What are you talking ab-"

He took off in a sprint towards the pool, quickly spinning to yell back, "You love me, so jump!" And he cannonballed into the deep end. The impact made the water splash over the edge and wet your feet. You stood to peer into the water where you could see his blonde hair bobbing before breaking the surface again for air. His skin glistened and glowed from the warm pool lights, ethereal. "If you don't come in, I'm gonna hold a grudge against you for the rest of our lives."

"Is that a threat?"

Felix nodded, "a very serious one that I'll make the rest of the guys get in on and annoy you for all of eternity."

They already annoy you, but like Felix said, I jump, you jump applies to all of you.

You looked around the area, not another soul in sight. Felix flicked some water at you, taunting. The smug look on his face, you wanted to slap it off of him, or kiss. Probably both.

Either way, you raised an eyebrow in challenge and slid off your shorts and shirt at record speed, barreling towards the pool to follow him with a leap. The water was cold, but refreshing. It wasn't hard to open your eyes beneath it to see Felix also dipping his head below, smiling widely at you. His hands reached out to guide you both back to the surface, inhaling deeply while he laughed gleefully.

Suddenly, you were being lifted in a warm pair of arms and smothered into his body. The two of you were in fits of giggles at both of your lacks in impulse control. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders while he held you closer.

The laughter slowly died down, but Felix didn't let you go. Though, his hands did slide a little lower. Barely grazing down your back, over your bathing suit bottoms and hooking beneath your thighs to urge you to wrap them around him. His plush lips were the pinkest you'd ever seen them, matching prettily with the blush on his cheeks.

You were almost weightless in the water, taking away the small fear factor that you'd be too heavy for him to carry like this, although it didn't go away entirely. You couldn't resist looking down at yourself, specifically in the stupidly small bikini that was the only one you brought. It was like your entire thought process was being narrated to him, Felix let go of one leg to tip your chin up to face him again. You met his eyes with a hint of embarrassment, but mostly bemused by the way he was looking at you.

There was lingering moment where you caught him staring at your lips, as well. The same hand beneath your chin trailed to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over the corner of your mouth.

"I thought we were supposed to be swimming," you whispered out of nervousness.

“Were we?” He didn’t give you time to respond, leaning in to brush his lips against yours. There was a small moment before they fully connected where you could’ve backed out, you could’ve pulled away and acted like nothing happened.

Instead, you pushed into him to fully melt against his lips. Felix tangled his hand in your hair to make sure there was less than oxygen between your bodies, water sloshing around as he reciprocated the heat behind the kiss. He molded against you like a perfect puzzle piece, following your lead in tracing his lower lip with your tongue. Hands grabbed at your thigh, your ass, the one in your hair trailing behind to wrap around your shoulder. His eagerness made you just as needy, just as desperate that you followed in threading your fingers through his blonde locks and raking your nails from there, down his neck and back. Felix’s body shivered at the feeling.

You could tell he was holding back when he groaned softly against you and his hold on your lower half tightened enough that you should be concerned there’d be bruises.

The other thing you should be concerned about was the water beginning to rise. Or, you were sinking? He still kept a firm grasp on you, and the water beginning to creep up your back didn’t seem to concern him, nor when it finally reached your neck and suddenly you were holding your breath and submerged all over again.

Only when the both of you were beneath the surface did he pull away to look at you. Felix smiled, cheeky and warm, he kissed you again, slower this time. A little more passionate and past the initial frenzy.

But air was an unfortunate necessity, and he lifted the both of you up again. His lips moved to the side of your cheek, placing supple pecks as you regained your breaths. You couldn’t suppress the small bits of laughter as your body relaxed and mind catches up with what had just happened.

Reluctant, Felix pulled away to brush the hair from your forehead. “Were we supposed to be swimming or something?”

“You were supposed to call me in a hour!”

The third voice broke your small bubble of bliss to see Hyunjin standing at the edge of the pool. He was only in a bathrobe and slippers, pajama pants peaking out from underneath while his hair fell into his face out of the ponytail.

You couldn’t even be bothered to let go of Felix, who in result of his shock actually held you closer.

“And why did he get to kiss you first?! That’s not fair.” Hyunjin started to untie his bathrobe, tossing it onto the table where the rest of your stuff was.

“What is happening right now?” You softly mutter as the only dry person present also pulled off his pajama pants to leave him in just his boxers. Entirely stunned and far too flustered to understand why he was stripping, you reached out to stop him, “Hyun, you just took a bath.”

“If getting in the pool is what I have to do, I’ll take a million showers. After I kiss you,” as he broke into a run towards the edge of the pool.

☆ﾟ

tags: @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @alexis-reads-fics @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @iadorethemskz @skyvastbunny @mamabymychem @katsukis1wife @woozarts @noellllslut @straykids5star @like-a-diamondinthesky

#stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids 9th member #skz #skz smut #skz fluff #skz angst #skz 9th member #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #skz fanfic #skz imagine #skz imagines #stray kids bang chan #stray kids lee know #stray kids changbin #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids han #stray kids felix #stray kids seungmin #stray kids i.n #felix smut #felix fluff #felix x reader #felix x yn #felix x you

[idyllicidols]

Caught.

A/N: Tumblr tells me I've been on here for a year already. Time really flies! Just a quick one for Happy self anniversary and Merry Christmas.

***

"Hello?!"

Nayeon calls out as she enters your apartment, closing and locking the front door behind her. There's an eerie silence as she walks through the hall. Your door is slightly open, just a crack. Nayeon gives it a light nudge and pokes her head inside.

"Merry Christm-"

Nayeon drops her duffle bag by the foot of the bed, her breath quick and heavy. Her heart almost stops beating. Her body freezes, rigid with shock.

She hears groaning, coming from a figure laying on your bed in the center of the room. Your cock in your hand, your phone in the other, frozen in place while your best friend looks at you in disbelief.

You can't take your eyes off her, quickly placing your phone back onto the nightstand.

You didn't even think. The content of your phone remaining visible until the screen falls asleep: a photo of her - nothing even scandalous about it, just a photo of her, smiling at the camera with her cute bunny teeth and gummy smile—making a dumb cute little peace sign and acting like a goof. The screen finally goes dark, but the image is burned into her mind. A photo of her. You were jerking off to a photo of her. Your best friend.

Nayeon stumbles forwards, her mouth agape and her brain still failing to comprehend any of the shit that's happening.

It's like an out-of-body experience. Nothing makes sense anymore, everything is wrong. All the air seems to escape from her lungs, and all her thoughts melt out of her ears.

You lay there silently, your cock sitting on your stomach, covered with your own precum. Your heart is about to burst out of your chest, sweat sticks your hair to your forehead, heat emanates from every inch of your body. You should have heard her outside.

"Nayeon, it's not what you think."

"Oh yeah? What is it? Because this seems pretty fucking obvious to me."

"I don't know! I mean, I do, but...shit."

Nayeon fumbles through the photos. More images of her, from different angles, of different clothing, none particularly pornographic or inappropriate. A few shots that highlight the curve of her body, one that is focused on the swell of her firm ass, one from the front where you can see how snug her yoga pants are.

"So this is what you're into then, huh, jerk?"

Nayeon sits down on the bed with a thud. You're at a loss for words, laying next to her awkwardly, cock awkwardly hanging against your stomach. Nayeon doesn't speak at all. You can practically hear her think, processing this information, unsure what it means, uncertain whether she should feel flattered, used, hurt, betrayed, disgusted.

Without another word, or any kind of warning…

Nayeon starts to undress, her shirt thrown behind her. Her basic pink bra cups her petite breasts, a small layer of flesh rises up over the cup, but it's hard to make out. The top half of her torso, from her clavicle to her abdomen, is toned muscle, lithe and defined, feminine and sexy. You can't tear your gaze away from the taut curves of her shoulders, her arms, her hands, which start working on taking her jeans off.

"Keep going jerk. Touch yourself."

You look at her quizzically. Nayeon has never talked to you so harshly, especially about this kind of stuff, and even less while she was slowly stripping out of her clothes in your bed. This is a new side to her, your best friend still has the same looks to her, only now she's half-naked, stern and intense and almost angry as she watches you slowly jacking yourself, holding your member at a gentle but eager pace.

"Is this what you like? Pervert. Thinking about me while you jerk yourself off? Is the real thing better?"

Her barrage of questions makes your head hurt. Or perhaps it's just the amount of blood that seems to be going to your cock, as your mind fills with a haze of lust and desire. This condescending tone. The humiliation. Is this really what you're into?

Your thumb glides over your swollen, sensitive tip, a quiet moan escapes you as Nayeon lays next to you on her side, watching.

"Disgusting. Tch."

With each disparaging comment from her lips, the greater the pit forms in your stomach.

"You wanna see them?" Nayeon teases, letting one of her straps fall down her shoulder.

Your throat is dry. So fucking dry that it's hard to talk. So you nod your head in the most shameful and guilty way imaginable. It's Nayeon. Your Nayeon. There are boundaries that aren't supposed to be crossed and lines that shouldn't be crossed, and here you are, crossing them both.

She lets the other strap slip off her shoulder. Nayeon plays around with you a bit, letting just a hint of tit flesh spill out of the side before sliding the cups up again. After letting your pathetic begging whines linger for a minute, she undoes the hook of her bra in one smooth, single-handed motion and slowly takes it off.

"Well better or worse than what's in that fucked up head of yours?"

"Better..." You groan out, your hand instinctively reaching out towards her chest.

She slaps your hand away, pinning your wrist down into the mattress.

"Perv. Fucking touch me and I'll tear off your dick, got it?"

Nayeon said no touching, but she did nothing to stop you from jerking off in front of her. Actually, quite the opposite: Nayeon leans in even closer, her fingers trailing down the sides of her small perky tits. She lifts the small handfuls and gives them a playful shake, grinning at how desperately your mouth hangs open, lust clouding over your eyes, completely entranced. She knows full well she doesn't have a spectacular pair of melons, but in this case, she's fairly confident in them and what they're able to accomplish. And accomplishing a whole lot right now, it seems like.

You're mesmerized and enamored and lost and whatever the fuck else the synonyms for obsessed are. You want her. God do you ever want her, your arousal building more and more as Nayeon trails down the waistband of her underwear. Down, past her soft curving hips, exposing the tight pink slit underneath.

"You're not gonna cum already are you?" Nayeon mocks. "Look into my eyes" she orders, taking her thumb and giving your bottom lip a tug, forcing your drooling face to stare into her smoldering eyes, her tone still berating.

"Focus. Don't you look away, okay?"

A whimper and a nod. "Okay Nayeon." You're willing to do anything at this point, if only she allows you to keep staring at those brown bedroom eyes of hers. You are so fucking screwed.

"Good. Follow my fingers now. But remember, no touching." With that her hand slides down: down to neck, hovering over perfect handful of tits, gently pinching her rock hard nipples, a blissful smile washing over Nayeon as she does. Fingers trace around her navel, delicate and lovingly, teasing your poor erection with an agonizing display of sexuality and intimacy, torturous enough to make you beg for it, but never doing. Your balls feel so tight. Your entire pelvis feels like one massive tight knot.

"Keep watching..." Nayeon notices your blanked out expression, snapping her fingers to draw your attention back to her. Finally, finally! Her hands slither under the waistband of her underwear, and with a devious smirk, finally pulls her panties off and throws them to the floor. Nayeon presses a couple fingers to her nether lips, feeling the wetness, then showing off her slick coated finger to you.

"Wanna sniff?"

You want to so badly. It would only take a moment, it'd be so easy to cross over those inches. Her beautiful eyes. The girl you've known for so many years. Your best friend. You pathetically pant, like a dog who knows he shouldn't be begging his owner, but still hoping against hope to get the treats she has locked away.

Nayeon thrusts out her fingers again, rubbing them directly against your nose—smearing the honey across your upper lip. That heavenly sweet aroma. An explosion of alluring femininity that hits you like a brick, a thick waft of her womanly smell so strong and enticing.

And yet you can't touch, unable to do anything but pathetically touch yourself , like some kind of fugitive prisoner denied everything but the cruelest of tortures. You want to run. Escape from the intoxication and humiliation. To say 'let's just not ever bring this up again, be friends like we always were.'

But that'll never happen, not when Nayeon holds her hand over yours.

"Why don't you cum already eh? I'm waiting to see what a worthless perv like you looks like when he orgasms. Look at your gross, needy face."

If only you weren't so damn excited. A warm, burning sensation coils in your chest, pooling downwards. Nayeon isn't even touching it—there's no skin on skin contact with your cock. Instead she's using your hand like a puppet, pumping faster and faster, bringing yourself right to the brink, watching with wicked glee at the pitiful state you're in.

"Thinking about your best friend. After all we've been through. How the fuck do you even live with yourself? Pathetic."

A shudder goes through your body, as if you are absorbing the verbal abuse she gives you, making you even more aroused than before, feeling ashamed and dirty and alive. It's sick, perverted, and horrible, yet you revel in it, taking pleasure in feeling inferior, seeing her act with superiority and indifference to you and your pleas.

Her hand is over yours, her soft skin so close to your cock, yet so far—forcing your hand up and down, the head throbbing and swelling, unable to hold on any longer. Your entire focus is on Nayeon and her lithe touch. How her tiny tits jiggle ever so slightly when she moves. How her dark locks drift about her frame, flowing past her slim arms.

Before you even know it, you're blowing your load, feeling like a teenager in your own body, humiliated as it happens, almost falling backwards from the force, completely submitting to the control of another, spraying all over yourself, as Nayeon stares at you with disgust and contempt in her eyes. "You already came? God damn, that was even faster than I expected."

You can't stand the fact that you orgasmed within seconds of Nayeon touching you, even if it was over your hand. So easily able to dominate you, you are overtaken by desire, need and lust. By shame and embarrassment, your cock in your hand with jizz all over you.

She picks up her clothes and walks away, leaving you with a mix of shame and indignation, getting dressed while ignoring you.

As she is about to leave she turns back and faces you.

"See you tomorrow, pervert. Coffee. Yea?"

You're left alone, covered in jizz, looking down and watching yourself go soft and your member drip onto your lower belly. Your head is cloudy with afterglow, unhinged and confused feelings settle over you; part guilt, part exhilaration, all humiliation. Your body feels exhausted. The cold December air cools the sticky substance, drying it against you, you feel it, that's your shame, a shame that Nayeon exuded upon you and that you took pleasure in.

#kpop smut #nayeon smut #twice nayeon smut #twice smut

[kaisacobra]

Let You Go - Tara Carpenter

Summary: It's been a while since Tara has seen you. She misses you, but maybe she's broken your relationship to a point beyond repair.

Warnings: Violence, blood, mentions of death, angst

Word Count: 7.9k

a/n: thank you so much for the ride guys! Here we have part 3 of second best, which (kind of) ends this trilogy. Of course, I'm still writing the alternate ending so stay tuned if you're interested!

third part of Second Best

It was two in the afternoon when Tara began rummaging through that box she kept at the back of her closet, sorting the contents into "burn" and "don't burn," all in line with what her therapist had advised. She needed to overcome the past, even if in small steps, and what better way to start than by burning traces of when everything started going wrong?

She looked into the box, examining the contents that would survive the purge. To no one's surprise, most of the photos contained you.

Tara reached for a specific photo among the others. A polaroid depicting a hug between the two of you, both with radiant smiles and faces so close that your cheeks touched. Mindy had taken this photo just before you both visited an amusement park that had been in town for a while. Tara's heart throbbed painfully. She missed you. A lot.

The girl sat on the bed with slumped shoulders, clutching the polaroid as if it were a precious possession. She couldn't take her eyes off the image of the two of you, with a happiness and innocence that would soon be ruined by her own actions. With a tired sigh, Tara closed her eyes, remembering her therapist's words.

The initial sessions were slow and unproductive, mainly because Tara kept her guard up and refused to talk much about her life to a stranger. Over time, the man became a pleasant presence, and Tara began to see him as some sort of a grandfather figure trying to advise his granddaughter. That's when she started sharing her problems and actively sought solutions.

"Do you think she'll forgive me?" she remembered asking, looking at her hands with shame. The bright white light in the room made the sweat on her palms stand out on her tan skin.

"Tara..." The man sighed, taking off his glasses as if he was preparing for a battle. "Don't you think you should worry about forgiving yourself first?"

The girl frowned and looked at him as if he were crazy. If anything, she was guilty of not only ruining her own life but also becoming a problem in everyone else's. She had no right to see herself as a victim. "What do you mean?"

"From what you've told me, I've realized you harbor a lot of resentment towards yourself on the inside." He pointed to Tara's chest, and she noticed no hint of judgment in his expression. Still, she felt strangely exposed. "Have you ever really reflected on this internal conflict you feel? About feeling guilty for things beyond your control?"

Tara scoffed and leaned back until her shoulders rested against the chair again, crossing her arms and staring at the walls like a stubborn child avoiding conflicts. "Beyond my control? I was awful to the best person in my life! I let a murderer into our life for-"

"See? You're doing it again." He smiled with a patience that bordered on irritating for the girl, crossing his hands on the glass table that separated them. "I'm not saying you're not at fault for being rude to your friend, but I'd like to focus on your past. That girl's attacks, parental abandonment... You're not to blame for that, Tara, but it doesn't stop you from carrying the pain anyways. Don't you think it affects you?"

She remained silent, but now her head was bowed in embarrassment. Her arms, once crossed, now enveloped her elbows in a half-hug, as if that would protect her from something. Without more exchanging words, the therapist followed the cue and continued speaking in a gentle tone, as if trying to educate a wounded animal.

"Tara, have you ever talked about your concerns with anyone, or have you just kept all these grievances inside until they exploded? Have you ever had any healthy coping mechanism?"

I don't deserve one. That's what she wanted to say, but didn't, because she knew it would make the situation even worse.

"Do you think I don't recognize the signs? Troubled young adult refuses help out of fear of abandonment and ends up driving everyone away, taking the opportunity to take out your emotional wounds on others? You won't be the first or the last person I've seen with this pattern." He spoke as if he could read her thoughts, leaving the girl a little scared.

Sitting up straighter in the chair, Tara turned her gaze back to the therapist, momentarily becoming interested in the conversation again. "Okay, what do I do to end this? What do I do to not be like this anymore?"

Broken, she wanted to say.

The man smiled gently and pulled open a drawer in the wooden cabinet to his left. Tara watched impatiently as he took out a black notebook and placed it on the table between them, looking between her and the object with a certain expectation. "I thought you could start documenting your feelings on paper, instead of keeping them locked within you. I think it can help you in the long run."

"Do you think writing in a journal will make me less of an ass and make y/n forgive me?" Tara replied with a sarcastic tone.

"I think it can influence a change in behavior, yes." The therapist reaffirmed, deliberately ignoring the girl's foul language. "And this exercise is not about y/n; it's about you. How do you expect her to forgive you if you can't do it for yourself?"

As stubborn as Tara was, the words had truly left an impression on her. That's why, on top of her messy desk, was the damn black notebook. The calluses on her hand throbbed with the memory of the force with which she wrote each new entry, trying to release her negative feelings onto paper.

She knew that your name was probably the most repeated word on all the pages, like a sacred mantra that she had to honor. Tara couldn't escape the fact that many of her emotions were so directly intertwined with the idea of you, and honestly, she accepted having to carry that burden as her own Sisyphean stone. She deserved it, after all.

Looking again at the polaroid, she sighed and slowly ran her thumb over the smiling image of your face, almost wishing she could offer you the same affection in person.

She was going to change. She had to change. For you.

_

"That was pretty good!"

The floodlights on the university’s sports field lit up as it began to get dark, allowing the young athletes to continue their training even at night. There weren't many people around, but you could see that the track team seemed to be gearing up to practice for the 100 meters a little to your left.

"Kate, I hit the white part." You grumbled in response to your friend's encouraging words. Kate Bishop had convinced you to attend one of her archery practices to "see her talents firsthand," and at some point, she thought just watching wouldn't be enough, and that you had to experience the sport for yourself.

That's why you were now on the archery training field with her, holding a semi-professional bow that was much heavier than you expected, proving over and over again that you were definitely not a natural at this.

It didn't seem to discourage Kate, however, as the girl still smiled with enthusiasm while looking at your target with a single arrow stuck in it. "At least you hit the target! You're improving; it could be worse."

"True! You could have hit someone's foot, like Miss Bishop did once." One of Kate's teammates, Yelena, commented with a laugh. The two, along with Maya Lopez, made up the Blackmore University women's archery team and were surprisingly good at it, having won all the recent competitions.

You laughed along with the other two while Kate gradually turned redder and assumed a betrayed expression. "Hey!" She protested.

It was amazing how people you had known for such a short time could make you feel so good. You couldn't even remember the last time you had laughed so freely since the incident with Tara happened, and that was already a significant victory for you. It's not like being with Mindy, Chad, Anika, and the others didn't make you happy, but it was hard to enjoy the moments with them when you remembered that, in any other situation, Tara would be there with you too.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, and you leaned the tip of the bow on your foot, letting its weight rest on your shoulder so you could reach the device with your hands. Through the lockscreen, you could see a message notification from Mindy, as if she had read your thoughts.

Best Twin: Movie night at the Carpenters' house, are you coming?

Best Twin: Sam misses you

Best Twin: We all do

You sighed deeply and looked at the notification with a grimace, not sure exactly what to do. Of course, you would love to spend time with your friends, and you definitely felt guilty for avoiding Sam by extension, even though she understood the reason. But your palms started to sweat just at the thought of sharing a small space with Tara again.

Mindy had already told you that Tara had started therapy after the encounter you had in some of the university’s corridors some time ago, but she had also said that it was entirely valid if you still didn't feel ready to see Tara after everything.

It was a strange feeling, as if two forces were fighting for dominance within you when it came to Tara. On one hand, just thinking about her made your chest ache. A wave of anger, sadness, and pure humiliation invaded you, and your eyes threatened to well up. What she did to you, what she said to you, marked you like a painful burn that might never stop pulsating.

But on the other hand, you wondered if there were still traces of that other Tara who loved and treated you well. The Tara who made you soup when you were sick and promised never to leave you. Maybe it was your foolishness, but you didn't want to believe that that part of her had simply gone away forever.

"Are you okay?" A soft voice reached your ears and quickly snapped you out of your thoughts, causing you to loosen the tight grip with which you had involuntarily held the phone. Looking up, you came face to face with Kate's kind blue eyes, patiently waiting for your response.

Kate Bishop had been an angel in your life, fitting in perfectly at the moment you needed her most. You had met her in the waiting room of the counseling center after spending a week living like a zombie following everything that happened with Tara, and you could barely comprehend that you were sharing the same space with someone like her.

At first glance, Kate Bishop didn't seem like someone who needed to be in a counseling center. She carried herself with confidence, always with impeccable posture and a calm expression on a model-like face. Always dressed in neat clothes that you were sure were designer and carrying a sports bag indicating her athletic background.

But when she approached you and started a conversation, saying she needed to talk to someone or she'd explode with anxiety before her first appointment, you began to realize that Kate might not be what you expected. She was, in fact, much kinder and more attentive than you could have predicted.

You talked a lot that day, and the next day, and the day after, until there came a point where you got along well enough to consider her a friend. Kate listened to everything about your issues with Tara and provided advice and emotional support. In return, you listened to her vent about her problems with a father who died in childhood, a mother imprisoned for fraud, and an inherited company she didn't want to have to run at that age.

They were quite different dilemmas, just as you were quite different people, but still, you felt at ease in her presence, and it was good to have someone who truly noticed you for once in your life.

"Hm? Okay. It's fine, yes, I just..." You searched for words but gave up, opting to speak the truth about what was bothering you. "Mindy invited me to watch movies with the others, and it's at Tara's house, and I didn't want to have to refuse, but I don't know if I'm ready for-"

Kate widened her eyes and raised her hands as if asking for a pause, interrupting your rapid and anxious flow of words. "Woah, hold on, champ. You don't have to go if you don't feel okay. They'll understand."

"Yeah, I know, it's just that..." You sighed, looking down at your feet planted in the field's grass. "I miss them, but... I can't."

As much as it hurt and was embarrassing to admit, you knew it still wasn't the right time. Not when you sometimes still woke up crying in the middle of the night with nightmares involving her.

"Then how about this?" Kate began to suggest, getting closer to you and gently shaking your shoulders. Physical touches had always been her way of offering comfort. "There's a party at my place tonight with some of my childhood friends, and I'm officially inviting you. You can tell your friend that you'll be busy spending time with a very beautiful, charming, and talented company."

You smiled as you let yourself be shaken by the cheerful girl in front of you. "A very humble company, apparently." You teased, poking her ribs playfully. "I don't want to disturb you, but thanks for the invite."

"Disturb? I'd be the one disturbing your illustrious evening by forcing you to hang out with my friends! Believe me, it's torture listening to Peter for 2 hours when he gets excited about his nerd stuff." Kate tried again, and by the way she looked at you with the expression of a begging puppy, you knew there would be no escape. "Please? It'll be nice to have you there."

There were two available possibilities. In the first, you could go back to your dorm, watch a bad movie alone, and spend the rest of the night thinking about how your friends would be having fun, specifically wondering if she would be having fun. In the second, you could take another step in getting rid of your codependent friendship (if it still existed) and enjoy the night with new people and a person who was becoming more and more important to you every day.

If Tara didn't want to be stuck in the past, you also had the right to do that. You deserved it too.

So, you accepted and only remembered to inform Mindy when you were already in the passenger seat of Kate's black Audi RS7.

_

Tara was distraught. Actually, saying that she was distraught was an understatement.

Last night had already started off as garbage from the moment Mindy announced that you wouldn't be coming to see them at the apartment. Sure, she should have expected it, but that didn't mean she didn't have any hope. She couldn't stop thinking about what you might be doing, the reasons why you hadn't come, how everything would have been better if you had.

But mostly, she felt relieved that you hadn't been there, because that meant she hadn't put you in danger again with another ghostface attack. It was a selfish thought. Quinn, her roommate, had died in front of her, Anika had her belly almost cut from end to end and was now in surgery, and all Tara could think about was finding you to see with her own eyes that you were okay.

She urgently searched for your face in the midst of the crowd of students walking through the Blackmore University campus, seeking the slightest fragment of your presence anywhere. She cursed herself again for not being able to just call you like she would if she hadn't messed up and made you block her in practically every possible place.

Finding you and making sure you were okay, in addition to delivering the terrible news, was her obligation. Mindy and Sam were with Anika at the hospital, and Chad had gone to check Ethan's alibi in the damn economics class. She needed to find you.

Fortunately, her prayers seemed to be answered by whatever entity it was. She saw you in the distance, radiant as she hadn't seen you in a long time. Tara's heart skipped a beat, and she opened her own smile after yours. It was bittersweet, the feeling of seeing you so happy but knowing that this happiness would be ruined the moment you laid eyes on her.

In a moment of distraction, a new wave of people passed in front of her, blocking her view of you. Fucking height. She thought with some annoyance as she tried to make her way through the students, trying to get closer to where you were.

When Tara finally managed to locate you again, the scene was quite different from before. Instead of laughing, looking forward, you had your back turned, seemingly struggling while a girl wrapped her arms around your neck. Tara felt a wave of anger rise through her veins and marched in your direction, ready to free you from whoever that crazy bitch was.

The younger Carpenter approached you with a speed she couldn't quite explain, and her motivation only seemed to grow when she noticed that the mysterious girl looked a lot like that senior she had seen with you in the hallway some time ago. Choosing to embrace her negative feelings, she used her strength in a way that would make her sister proud and aggressively pushed the girl away. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"Tara?!" You exclaimed in shock, your voice carrying surprise, and your expression wavering between anger, astonishment, and anguish. "What do you think you're doing, are you crazy?!"

Tara saw you getting closer to the girl (Karen, Kendra, she couldn't remember.) and gently placing your hand on her shoulder, as if checking her condition. That small gesture made more anger bubble in her stomach. She wanted to scream, throw a fit, damn, she wanted to destroy something just to get rid of that rotten feeling corroding her from the inside.

But she looked into your eyes and could see a glimpse of the sadness she had caused in the past by this same line of thinking. She couldn't do this to you again, especially because that wasn't even why she had come looking for you. Tara swallowed hard and clenched her fists, deciding to save her frustration to take it out on calluses on her own fingers later.

"She was attacking you," Tara mumbled reluctantly, knowing that the explanation sounded stupid but that she also owed some reasoning for her actions.

You clearly didn't seem satisfied with her motivation, as you only stared at her with a frown and crossed arms. "Kate is a martial arts expert, Tara. She was just showing me how to escape from an arm lock."

Well, how was I supposed to know that? Tara thought, but she decided it was better not to worsen the situation. Before you could ask why she had been clearly looking at you for some time, she decided to explain.

"Look, I'm sorry. There was a ghostface attack in the apartment yesterday, and I just needed to know if you were safe."

"What?! An attack?! How- Are you guys okay?!" You asked exasperated, and Tara saw it. She saw the exact moment when you had to restrain your arms by your sides before doing something you would regret.

Tara remembered that being the first thing you did when you could see her after the surgeries last year. You ran to her on the gurney and held her face with both hands, as if she were fragile. You ran your thumbs over her cheeks, right above the freckles, wanting to make sure nothing was injured. She remembered feeling well cared for and loved.

But that was before she messed everything up. Now, all that was left was that. You restraining yourself from offering your heart to Tara, and she wanting to die realizing the damage she had done between you two.

"Sort of. Anika is in critical condition in the hospital, and... Quinn died." Tara delivered the news with a solemn voice, trying to control her own tears as she remembered what happened. She saw when Kate raised her arm to offer a comforting stroke on your back, and, for the first time, all Tara felt was emptiness knowing she couldn't comfort you in that way.

You let out a few sobs before trying to compose yourself. It was clear that you had been affected by the events, and Tara knew you well enough to know that you would want to go after the others to comfort them. "Which hospital is Anika in? And where are Sam, Mindy, and Chad, I... I need to talk to them."

Tara felt a bit of pride in realizing that she still knew your way of dealing with things, even though she was worried that your priority was always to take care of others' pains. Of course, much of that was her fault, and a knot closed in her throat every time she remembered that fact. "Sam and Mindy are at the hospital waiting for Anika to be discharged. Chad went with Ethan to handle something about an alibi."

"I can take you if you want," Kate offered you  in a chivalry that almost made Tara vomit. "It will be faster if we go by car."

"Or maybe it would be faster for her to take the subway with someone who knows the address, like me." Tara retorted sarcastically, crossing her arms to try to cause, at least, the minimal intimidation to her rival. It didn't seem to be working, which made her even more irritated. "Speaking of addresses, where were you last night, Kate?"

Feeling that the conversation would only escalate, you quickly shook your head. "Stop it, Tara. There's no way Kate could be the ghostface."

"And why not?" The girl asked defensively, with an offended tone almost similar to one she would have if you had accused her. It was frustrating for Tara that you seemed willing to vouch for a person you had barely known. "She suddenly appeared in your life, got so close to you in such a short time, don't you find that a bit suspicious?"

"This might sound a bit surprising to you, Tara, but some people actually like having me around." You retorted with irritation, throwing daggers at the girl with a look so intense that she almost stumbled backward. "Kate can't be ghostface because I spent the whole night with her, okay?"

Suddenly, Tara felt dizzy, with a buzzing in her ears. Apparently, you hadn't had the best problem in overcoming your feelings for her. She felt weird inside, as if something were stuck in her throat. "Oh, I didn't know you guys..."

"No! Not like that, I just..." You widened your eyes and hurried to correct the double meaning of the sentence, waving your hands frantically in a way that made Kate open a smile in amusement beside you. "...I slept at her apartment, but not with her. Not that I owe you an explanation anyway."

Your phone vibrated with a notification, and all three pairs of eyes turned to the device. You quickly checked the message and let out a sigh of relief. "It's Sam. She sent me the address of the hospital; I'm going there now. Without any of you, please."

"Okay. Just be careful, alright? And call me if you need anything." Tara watched reluctantly as Kate pulled you closer by the shoulders and planted a small kiss on your forehead. She swallowed the envy and looked away, trying to think of the last time she had offered you any kind of affection.

You said goodbye to Kate with a warm smile and a hug. For Tara, your lips pressed into a line, and you nodded briefly, almost as if you were greeting a stranger.

She wondered if that's what you two were now.

The Carpenter girl prepared to leave, maybe to find Chad and help him or just take a walk to ease the tornado swirling in her chest. However, she was interrupted by a hand on her arm. Kate Bishop tried to get her attention, wearing a conflicted expression on her face.

"What is it?" Tara grumbled, shaking her arm to free herself from the other girl's touch. She was used to being shorter than most people, but with Kate, it became even more annoying, especially when she had to look down at her.

"Look, I know you don't like me, and, to be honest, I don't like you one bit, but I need you to do something for me," Kate said seriously, putting a hand in her pocket and retrieving an object that Tara could only identify as a car key.

The shorter one scoffed. "Listen, I know Y/N and I are on bad terms, but I don't need you to ask me to take care of her. I'm going to do that anyway because I care about her, believe it or not."

Kate rolled her eyes impatiently. "I know. I can see that in you the same way you can see it in me."

It was true, as much as it bothered Tara to admit. She wasn't blind, and she had enough experience in reading people to know that the way Kate looked at you was sincere, and the girl genuinely cared about you. Putting aside her own jealousy and envy, Tara was relieved to know that there was someone good enough to show these feelings for you. You deserved it, after all.

The girl continued, "This device here is a prototype from my mom’s—my company. It's for security." She raised the object and placed it in Tara's hand, who could now see the details of what she had previously thought was a car key. It was a black oval keychain with a single button in the middle, also black. "I pulled some strings and turned it into an emergency button. As soon as you press it, a signal will be sent to police cars and ambulances, and it will be their priority to get to you. That's one of the advantages of being rich and having contacts, I guess."

Tara turned the button in her hands, feeling the object weigh more now that she knew its function. "And why are you giving this to me and not Y/N?"

"Because I know she would use it on anyone but herself." Kate sighed in frustration. Tara knew it was implied in the sentence that you would use the button for her. "I'm giving it to you because... despite the fighting and you being a jerk..."

"Wow. Thanks for the honesty."

"... I can still see that you care." The taller one finished her sentence without caring about the interruption. She looked between Tara and the button with a bit of uncertainty. "When you press it, a signal will also be sent to my phone, and I'll come running wherever it is."

There were more implicit intentions in that sentence that Tara could pick up. I'll come running to help Y/N. I'll take her away from you. I can protect her better than you can.

Tara just offered a short nod and turned to leave, with the emergency button weighing as much in her pocket as her heart weighed in her chest. Thousands of thoughts filled her head, and all of them were about you and your safety. It was Tara's duty to keep you safe, first because it was her fault that you were even in that situation, and second because she had already hurt you enough.

It was her mission to protect you. To prove to herself that she could still be good for you. To prove to you how much she still cared.

And if she couldn't, if she had to press that button... well...

Maybe it would be the sign she needed to understand that Kate Bishop deserved more of a place in your life than she did.

_

The lobby of the abandoned cinema ironically looked like something straight out of a horror movie that Tara would hate. Dust had piled up in heaps on all surfaces, and the orange lights were so dim that they threatened to go out at any moment.

The others were in the center of the other room, where Richie Kirsch, being the maniac he was, left his extensive collection of items from stab movies and real life ghostfaces. Tara, however, thought it would be a better idea to follow you wherever your feet and lost expression took you, just so she wouldn't have to leave you alone, of course.

You had your back turned to her while leaning on the filthy counter with your elbows. Tara couldn't tell what you were thinking, but obviously, you were not okay, just like everyone else in that situation.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a box of Milk Duds on the other side of the counter that seemed untouched, just a few inches to your left. She approached with light steps, not wanting to make any sudden movements as if that would scare you away, and reached out to bring the box closer. "You like these, right? You can have them if you want."

You didn't respond to the joke, and you didn't even turn around to look at Tara. She felt your indifference like a stab to the chest, but she continued nonetheless. "Or not. This must be like a thousand years old anywa-"

"Tara, shut up." You finally responded sharply, making the younger girl look down in shame. She really needed to get used to your new treatment of her. You ran your hands over your face, covering it as if you were tired.

"Sorry." Tara whispered back weakly. She deserved it, but more than anything, she wanted to be able to offer you some kind of support in that difficult moment, just as you had given her all the support she needed in the past.

You scoffed, in a gesture so hostile that the younger Carpenter almost couldn't believe it came from you. You were still facing away from her, but now slowly taking steps away with tense shoulders. "Did you learn a new word? Didn't know it was in your vocabulary."

Tara felt the anger in your voice, and it made her hands begin to tremble with anxiety. You were right, and it was long overdue for you to know that. "I’m sorry, Y/N. I know it's too late for this, but I'm sorry for everything I did."

"Do you even care? Seriously, Tara, do you really feel sorry, or do you just miss having some idiot around who would do anything for you?" You retorted, your voice rising even as your vocal cords trembled. A dam had just burst open between you two, and now it was time to deal with the flood.

"Of course, I care, I love you!"

"SHUT UP!" You shouted in response. Tara recoiled from you with a start, startled as she had never seen you raise your voice at anyone. You were still facing away, but Tara could see that, even though you had wrapped yourself in a hug to control your reactions, it wasn't working. Your entire body was tense, as if your brain was struggling to choose between fight or flight, and the result was the tremors that seemed to spread through your system. "You have no right to do this to me! To play with me like this!"

"I'm not lying!" The shorter one retorted, and in an impulsive move, she grabbed you by the shoulder and forced you to turn until your gazes met. Tears were already streaming down your eyes like waterfalls, and your entire face seemed contorted in excruciating pain. Tara wished she could absorb all your hurt for herself. "I know I messed up, but I really love you!"

"You're toxic, Tara! That's what you are!" You shouted back with strength, holding the girl's gaze as if it were a challenge you needed to win. "You hurt me! And I was getting better, damn it, I was getting better away from you!"

"I know you were! I know! That's why I'm apologizing, okay? Because you're the best person I've ever met, and I ruined you like I ruin everyone! Because the best moments I've ever had were with you, and I feel like tearing my eyes out when I remember that I hurt you by being this way!"

"Tara..."

"No! Please let me finish." She rejected your interruption, taking the opportunity to relieve all the pain and guilt she felt inside her. "I'm getting treatment, okay? And I know you're not obligated to forgive me for anything, but I want you to know that I'm trying to be better for you! I'm trying to fix my shit to be someone you and Sam and the others can be proud of!"

"Tara..."

"And I know I hurt you a lot, but please don't doubt the love I feel for you because it's the only good thing left in me. I won't blame you if you never want to see me again, but..."

"TARA, GET DOWN!" You shouted, and before Tara could react, you were already pushing her toward the dusty wooden floor.

Everything was happening too fast for the Carpenter's mind to process. She hit the ground with a grunt of pain and a potential bruise on her arm, but she could see the exact moment when an arm covered in a black cloak descended toward your leg, making a deep cut in your thigh.

You screamed in pain, and Tara screamed next, watching your blood soak through the fabric of your pants and start dripping onto the floor. In a surge of adrenaline, the small girl ran to your side and almost reached for your arm when she was suddenly engulfed in a tight grip, with her two arms pinned to her back and a hand holding a knife to her neck.

She struggled against the masked person holding her, futilely trying to break free to get to you. Tears streamed so quickly down her face that she could taste the saltiness invading her senses. "Let me go! Y/N, run! Please, run!"

A sinister laugh reached her ears like the hiss of a snake. "Oh, Tara. Did you think it would be that easy?"

She recognized that distorted voice with effects all too well. She still heard it in her nightmares, calling her name in the dark. Ghostface was back. "I'm going to kill you, you motherfucker!"

"Oh, but I don't think so." The voice spoke in an amused tone as another killer, wearing the same mask and black cloak, approached your figure on the ground. Tara wailed like a banshee when the other pulled your hair forcefully, forcing you to stand up as he placed a knife on your neck.

She struggled a little more. "Leave her alone!"

"And where's the fun in that?" The ghostface holding her responded, almost as if they were laughing. "Come on, Tara. Weren't you the one who liked to release your anger by hurting Y/N? Why should only you have that privilege? Let's see, where was it that you got stabbed again?"

At the same time, as if reacting to a code, the ghostface holding you advanced in quick and precise movements, gripping you by the waist with one arm while thrusting the knife into you with the other, just above your kidney.

You let out another gasping scream as the blade pierced your skin, and Tara felt your body sagging as if you were about to collapse. She herself wanted to fall to her knees and plead for you to be released, but she couldn't. Whoever was holding her had great strength.

"Don’t you want her to feel the same pain you felt, huh, Tara? Don't want her to suffer what you suffered?" The voice continued to growl in her ear, sounding increasingly excited by the escalating violence. The knife on Tara's neck kept her head in place, so she couldn't look at anything other than your agony.

"No, I don't. Please, PLEASE." Tara pleaded with a tearful voice as another stab was delivered to you, this time in the center of your abdomen. Your shirt gradually turned into a pool of blood, and Tara feared you would faint at any moment.

"Tara..." You could barely pronounce her name, your voice choked and your own blood streaming down your lips. Tara's gaze met yours, and she shivered when you shook your head. She knew what that meant.

You looked feverish. Sweat and blood mingled on your skin, creating the most disturbing of the paintings. Your eyes were vacant, and Tara was so afraid they would close at any moment, never to open again.

And yet, with that nod of your head, Tara understood that your top priority at the moment was to make her understand that it wasn't her fault.

The girl's knees threatened to give up as the knife entered you one, two, three times. She shook her head but couldn't close her eyes because she needed to see you, needed to see that your eyes were still open, that you were still alive.

You couldn't die. You promised not to leave, even if everyone else did. You couldn't die. You couldn't die. You. Couldn't. Die.

"I love you. I'm sorry for loving you, I'm sorry," Tara whispered because she had no strength to speak louder. She felt on the verge of giving up and letting those maniacs do whatever they wanted with her. Nothing mattered anymore if you weren't here, and it was all her fault.

The ghostface holding her laughed with a deep voice. "You know, I could turn this into a Romeo and Juliet scene, but I think it would be more fun to kill you while Sam is watching."

With that, Tara felt her body being thrown backward, and she hit the dirty wooden floor again, this time landing with her head in a wound that would undoubtedly become a concussion.

She got up in a frenzied pace, in an adrenaline rush, thinking she could try to save you now that she was free. But, looking ahead, she realized she was outside the lobby’s door, and the maniac murderer already held the handles. Despite Tara's attempt to advance, the ghostface had already sarcastically waved and locked the doors, creating a deadly separation between you and herself.

Tara pounded on the hard wooden door, ignoring the pain in her knuckles. She hit and hit and hit, feeling cuts open on her skin and burn from the repetitive contact. She was crying, screaming, punching, cursing, doing things she couldn't even rationalize because it didn't matter anymore.

Nothing mattered anymore. Not without you.

She collapsed on the floor, tired, injured, and desperate for you. Her sobs echoed in the seemingly empty hallway, and she was too afraid to put her ear to the door and hear screams of pain like your last breath. Tara felt lost until she remembered that she was no longer trapped.

Rushing to reach the device in her pocket, she sighed in relief to find it unbroken. She pressed the button multiple times without a second thought. If she had a chance to maybe save your life, she would grab it without a doubt.

Tara remembered what she had thought before, how pressing that button might symbolize that she shouldn't be in your life. She stood up and leaned against the wall, trying to rid herself of the wave of nausea, and left the button hidden near the door. If help came following the signal, the first place they would look would be where you were.

If help came and you made it out alive, that was a promise. Tara would finally leave you alone. That's what you deserved.

---

Tara was almost sure she had developed a hospital phobia since the events of last year.

There was no other explanation for why she felt uneasy in that environment, even after they had taken all precautions for her. She still hated the white walls and the smell of chemicals and couldn't wait to get out of there.

For now, she decided to ignore this feeling and continued following Sam through the corridors of fluorescent lighting. It was important for her to stay inside until they finally found the doctor who could tell them what they wanted to know.

She checked her hands again, finding the tanned skin covered in some bandages but free from the mixture of her blood and Ethan's after she... lost control.

After she was separated from you, everything happened so fast that Tara could almost think it was all a delusion. All the revelations, the attacks, her adding another victim to her count, the police arriving... All of that had taken a back seat because nothing was more important than you.

It was as if her life had turned into a black and white movie in the moments she was without you. Everything felt colorless, purposeless. Fortunately, she was pulled out of her own spiral of melancholy when she saw you being taken out of the old movie theater on a stretcher by paramedics. She tried to get closer, but it was needed to give you space so that nothing touched your wounds and caused an infection.

Tara tried to go in the ambulance with you, but she and Sam were pulled for another checkup, and you needed to be rushed to a surgery room urgently if you wanted to have the slightest chance of survival. So, Tara let you go, but there was not a moment when you weren't on her mind.

That's why now, she desperately searched for your surgeon with Sam. No one seemed to know about your condition, and she already felt like tearing her hair out from anxiety. Tara just needed to know if you were at least breathing.

"Dr. Isley?" Sam called the attention of a red-haired doctor who was passing by them in a hurry. Tara sighed in relief that her sister was paying attention to her surroundings because her mind was in a completely different place. "We were informed that you performed emergency surgery on a family member. Her name is Y/n Y/L, admitted with multiple stab wounds."

"Oh, yes. Miss Y/L." The doctor replied in a professional tone, but there was impatiency all over her body language. "It was a difficult surgery, and she lost a lot of blood, but fortunately, no vital organs were hit. I won't lie, the recovery will be painful, but at least she survived the operation without any apparent severe collateral effects."

This was the best news Tara had heard in days. She opened a smile and didn't even try to hide her own happiness as she prolonged the conversation. "Is she in any room? Can we see her?"

"Miss Y/L is in room 604, but I'm afraid only one person is allowed in at a time to avoid any disturbance."

"No problem, we can take turns." Sam pointed between her and her sister. Despite seeming much calmer than the younger one, Tara knew Sam was just as relieved as she was to know that you were still alive.

"No, you didn't understand. There's already someone in Miss Y/L's room." Dr. Isley warned and, seemingly losing the rest of her patience, she began to walk away. "Sorry, but I have other patients to attend to."

The two Carpenter sisters looked at each other alarmed. Who could be in your room? Chad was still in his own surgery, Anika had gone to stay with Mindy while she received some stitches, and frankly, your parents had never been present enough to travel between states so quickly for your sake.

They walked down the corridor, moving as fast as possible without disturbing the other people being treated or working in the area. Tara's heart threatened to jump out of her mouth as she looked from door to door, searching for the numbering of your room. 601. 602. 603.

Tara stopped so abruptly at the door that she and Sam bumped into each other, their sneakers making noise against the shiny white floor. The simple door had a small window through which it was possible to see the inside of the room without necessarily entering. Tara looked inside, ready to break the handle and force her way in if necessary.

But it wasn't, because Tara Carpenter recognized exactly the girl sitting next to your bed, holding your hand gently and stroking your hair, even though you were sleeping. She remembered, with a tightness in her chest, that Kate Bishop would be notified the moment she pressed the button.

And, in her own words, she would come running to take care of you.

"Tara, who-"

"I have to go." Tara interrupted her sister's words, looking at the scene in front of her without blinking. She knew what she had to do; there was no reason to fight the facts.

"What? What do you mean? You just got here." Sam asked, partially annoyed and partially confused by the younger one's actions.

"You heard the doctor. Her recovery will be painful, and if I stay around, all I'll cause is more pain." Tara opened a small smile just to try to pretend that she wasn’t dying inside. She knew Sam could see the truth, that she could see her broken heart and internal conflict, but she also knew that was the only possible solution.

"Tara..."

"Sam, you know I'm right. You told me that yourself a few days ago, remember? I hurt her." The girl shook her head in surrender and took a few steps away from the door. Away from you. "She needs peace, Sam. And the only way she can get that now is if I'm not around."

Tara took one last look inside the room, seeing how peaceful you looked. Sleeping, without any worries, and with an incredible and caring person by your side, ready to help you in whatever you needed.

Someone much better than her.

Perhaps that was the first time Tara had made a selfless decision in a long time, but she didn't feel deserving of any credit for it. What she had to do now was get better. Maybe more entries in her journal and more visits to her therapist would eventually fill the void she felt within her.

For now, she just turned around and started walking away from room 604. Each step hurt, like a razor cutting her skin, but it was the right thing to do. Tara had hurt you for far too long, and now...

Now it was time to let you go.

#scream #scream vi #scream 2022 #scream x reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #scream imagine #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter imagine #tara carpenter #Spotify

[katsukikitten]

Handing Katsuki father's day cards that are for his own dad or yours and he needs to "read and sign it" but as he's reading it his brow starts to furrows.

"Sweetheart, ya got the wrong cards." He's reading it for the third time now.

"I got the right ones." You're trying not to giggle before he's rolling his eyes and reading the card aloud.

"You're not just an amazing father," he flips it open, "You're going to be an amazing grandfather too."

"Yea baby that's the right card." You hum, stepping into the kitchen to get the final card and present.

"Baby, it isn't. We don't have kids. Unless ya mean our cats but then they've been grandparents." He tosses the card down, rising to help you find the backups he's assuming you're looking for. This wasn't the first year you'd accidently gotten the wrong card or one that was just slightly off, he thinks nothing of the message.

Barely had any caffeine as the two of you rose early to get ready to host his parents and yours.

"Katsuki, it is the right card." You say, pressing another card into his hands, no envelope or anything. Just thick white card stock with black letters and an image of white new balance shoes.

"It's almost time for these bad boys." He scoffs, looking at what the world has deemed the official dad shoe, he looks up to see a box in your hands, "Sweetheart, what the fuck? I hate these ugly ass shoes. Ya know that."

He's got this smile to his face the one where he thinks you're being too playful and silly, every now and again you two get each other gag gifts. You're surprised he hadn't caught on yet especially since you always joked that the second you knew, you'd be getting him "those ugly ass dad shoes."

"I know." You both share a laugh, you pressing the shoe box into hands, "Just open it. They'll be fun to wear today, goes with the theme."

"What's the fuckin theme? Dads?" He opens the box and sees the shoes but something is taped to the top of the box. A grainy picture in black and white, a blob in the circle and when he lets his eyes focus as best they can without his glasses perched on his nose, he thinks he sees a very specific shape.

He rips it from the box, bringing the film closer and yes he can see a nose and his face morphs into complete surprise. You giggle as you watch him figure it out, which you swore you wouldn't be able to get this far without him figuring out why you'd been feeling so sick lately.

"No fuckin way." It's low and for a split second you think he isn't excited, then he locks eyes with you and he gives you that look. The one where he's smiling but his brows furrow up and his eyes aglow with unshed tears like you are his world, like you're giving him the world, and he's putting the shoes down to gently pick you up and twirl you around.

"A baby. We're having a fucking baby." He's pressing kisses to your cheeks when he sets you on your feet, if you thought you were spoiled before you'd be rotten by the time this pregnancy was done.

"A baby." You repeat back to him, your own excited tears clinging to your lashes, ones Katsuki gently kisses away.

"How long?"

"Three months. It was really hard to keep a secret but I really wanted to do that shoe thing I teased you about. I've got the receipt so we can return them I'll-"

"Nah I've got the perfect idea for 'em."

An hour later after a shared shower and rapid fire questions, Bakugou is coming down the stairs, he's got some ugly ass jean jorts you gifted him as a gag for his birthday two years ago before giving him his real gift and one of his dad's old white tees he tucked into the waist band of the shorts and of course his new white new balance shoes.

"You look ridiculous." You giggle in your sundress, somehow he made the outfit a little hot. You were sure Bakugou could make anything look hot and here was living proof.

"Better get used to it Sweetheart, this is how I'm gonna look when I put another one in ya." He puffs his chest out, smoothing his big palms over his shirt as you roll your eyes.

"I've made a monster." The door bell rings, when you go to rise, Katsuki gently presses you back into the couch by your shoulder as he gets the door for his parents. He opens the door with a sense of pride that comes with being the cocky pro hero, looking much larger than life.

His mother is unphased.

"Oi, I brought that stuff you- Why are you dressed like a fuckin dad from the 90s?" Mitsuki makes a face before she processes what he's wearing, "Oh my fucking GOD OH MY FUCKING GOD MASARU! WE'RE GONNA BE GRANDPARENTS. YER GONNA BE A GRANDPA! RIGHT RIGHT?"

She pushes past her son, a quick squeeze to his forearm before she's honing in on the daughter in law she already adored and now even more.

Masaru quirks his brow and Katsuki nods.

"I'm so happy for you son." He hugs Katsuki the way men do, a quick tight squeeze before a clap on the back, Masaru tries not to let the tears slip past his eyes as Katsuki's life plays on fast forward in Masaru's mind. He remembers how Mitsuki told him they were expecting, remembers holding him for the first time and thought his whole world view shattered and changed. Remembers his first words and steps. Remembers his first mishap with his quirk and how Katsuki had blown the coffee table sky high. He remembers him growing taller and taller, going to UA, figuring out how to be a better person as he grew in size. How Katsuki called him and his ma in the middle of the night the first time he hit the top ten rankings. And again when he was number one.

How he took his dad out to lunch, wiping his palms on his pants like he did when he was nervous to ask his dad how he asked Mitsuki to marry him. He smiles, tears slip past anyway as he stares at his broad shouldered son adding one final comment that makes Katsuki's throat close up in the best way.

"I can't wait to watch them grow up to be as great as their parents and more."

#katsuki fluff #bakugou fluff #kitten writes bakugou 🖤🐈‍⬛ 🖋️ #father bakugou #fathers day bakugou 🖤🐈‍⬛ #kitten soft hours #bakugou soft hours #just a silly thought

[volensnolenss]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒

𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂: You and your parents decided to visit the Gojo family, but no one knows that you were in a relationship.

𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽: nsfw!mdni, exes to lovers, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, clothed sex, biting, dirty talk, creampie;

You are standing at a huge window and looking at the evening sky, gradually covered with starry sand. You can't entertain yourself in any way—being on a visit with your parents in your ex's family, although they don't even know about your past relationship with him, you don't find a place for yourself.

You were not at all uncomfortable here, on the contrary, you were amused by the whole situation, that fate forced you to meet again.

You chuckle softly, replaying his face in your thoughts when he saw you and the wary look cast in your direction. You know that he looked you up and down and watched your every move—Gojo misses you, but he doesn't want to admit this feeling in any way.

A creak and you instantly return to reality, your breathing quickens, a familiar energy approaches you.

His palm rested on your neck, turning your head sideways, “What are you doing here?” Gojo narrowed his eyes, glinting in the light of the fading sun.

“A counter question to you. Do you really miss me?” But he's quietly silent, running his thumbs over your lips.

Satoru has been thinking about you too much lately. He tried to find your image in every girl, but in vain, because none of them will ever become the one that he loves so far.

“Do you want to feel how much I missed you?” He purred to you, squeezing your waist and you deliberately cling to him, feeling how hard his cock has become, “Ah, sorry, Sato.” You're smiling at the way you bit your lower lip and lowered your head.

“You haven't changed at all.” You laugh when he picks you up and you disappear into the darkness together, hiding in some room

“You don't want to be heard, mmm?” His hard cock pushes into you, stretching your tight pussy, leaving behind only booming claps. Satoru holds your elbow, pulling you towards him, without removing the harshness in his movements. “Baby, I've missed you so much. You have no idea how much I wanted you the moment you stepped over the threshold.” Gojo pulled down your kimono and he squeezed your chest, “What else were you thinking?” You moan at how nice his cock makes its way into your cunt.

He chuckled and slammed his hips against your ass as hard as possible, pressing his nose against the back of your head, “I was thinking about how you would moan for me like this and how I would put pressure on your sensitive spots, destroying you in such a way that you begged me to continue.”

You just sigh heavily, letting his veiny cock do its job—to press his flushed tip against your pussy.

A pleasant feeling inside you begins to grow, when suddenly Satoru claps his hand over your mouth and his movement stops. He groans in displeasure, but immediately falls silent. You start squirming, trying to figure out what's wrong, but he holds you back, “Fuck, don't twitch” Gojo swallows hard when you touch his sensitive cock. When you calm down, you hear someone's footsteps and voices-apparently these are the maids who were given an assignment.

Satoru suddenly turns you around and presses you against a cold wall, “Let me finish.” He languidly ran his tip over your entrance, “Stop doing that and just- Ah- Satoru!” He roughly sinked his cock into your needy pussy, moving his hips, “Gonna fuck you so you'll walk out of here with shaky legs.” Satoru buried his face in your neck, leaving purple marks on it, without stopping hitting his length against your sweet and sensitive spots.

As much as he's an asshole, you can't but agree that he's good at everything, especially when it comes to sex. He knows how to be both rude and caring at the same time—bites you wherever possible, and then kisses you in these places, as if he heals these marks.

“Keep going, Satoru, keep going.” You moan, feeling the knot in the bottom of your stomach tighten, bringing you closer to orgasm. Your head is spinning from how amazing his cock is moving inside you, “I love feeling you, my sweet. You'll be so cute when I fill you up with my cum.”

His speed became too aggressive, “No, wait!” His cock was making its way through your wet walls, “Come on, cum for me, pretty.” Your body, obeying Satoru's words, dropped a heavy load and you experienced a pleasantly stabbing sensation. Your clouded mind no longer reacted to the way Gojo filled you to the brim, cursing under his breath, “Shit- Yes, baby, take it all.”

Satoru puts you down on the floor and adjusts his clothes, you try to catch the air and pull up your kimono with shaking hands, Gojo's gaze involuntarily falls on your inner thigh down which his cum was flowing.

“Wow, girl, stop.” If it wasn't for him, you would have fallen to the floor, “It looks like you're staying in my room. ” He lifted you up in his arms, “But first you need to get yourself cleaned up, right, baby?” You lazily shake your head, causing laughter in your chest.

You woke up and hysterically covered your neck with concealer, “Satoru! I'm gonna-” you paused when your mother came in, leaving the door open. “Good morning!” You stood up and greeted her the same way. She walked over to you and sat down on the bed.

“Did you hear any noise late last night? It was like someone roaring and making strange noises...” you made a straight face, “I don't understand what you're talking about,” you caught a glimpse of Satoru, who winked at you and blew you a kiss and walked quickly. You frowned, alerting your mother, “What happened?” You waved your hand, “I just didn't get enough sleep.”

#jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo headcanons #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader

[blakeswritingimagines]

Wanna make a baby? *Smut*

A/N: Breeding kink, female anatomy, comes off as both of you are switches. And shit this took forever, so enjoy!

18+ coming up if you're uncomfortable or underage, please don't read. Thank you!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Aegon realizes as he's holding you close one night, cum still oozing out of your swollen pussy, and it hits harder than his wine could day or night as his thoughts finally settle down. That he wishes he was stroking your stomach that was full of cum, that it was seeping into your womb and taking and having a babe with you. The very thought sends arousal straight through his veins, cock hardening against your thighs again for the third time that night. And he's terrified at first and already overthinking before he even decides to bring it up to you. He's worried that you know, and you'll leave him because he's got such a gross fascination. It freaks him out to the point he's scared of touching you, which prompts you to sit him down and talk it out or try to corner him anywhere where nobody else is at, or, him apologizing profusely as you're just trying to figure this out and make sense of his sudden change.

That was until he was balls deep in you the first time. He had chalked the overwhelming urge to cum inside as possessive male instincts, at first. But then he started running off at the mouth in the heat of the moment, about pumping you full, giving you a tummy full of cum, you giving him so many sweet heirs either boy or girl. Then it works into his foreplay, his body worship focusing on your chest, your hips, kissing all over your stomach as he fantasizes about you carrying his kids.

"Baby, what are you talking about? Where is that coming from?," you point out after you both finished, holding onto his hands as he looks anywhere, but your eyes until you force him to.

"Well, you know it's just..." he tries to speak as quietly as he could before blurting a mix of random words as he tried explaining what you can't decipher. Your face said it all before he took one look at you before taking a deep breath, lacing your fingers together, and squeezing gently as he closed his eyes and spoke quietly.

"Because I believe i have a... a um.. I think I have a breeding kink," he finally says, feeling the disgust fill his body at the thought of you now saying what his mind said came up with different scenarios, "And I totally get if you think something is wrong me, I-I know it's gross, disgusting even, and I don't even know where it changed for me". his eyes are glued to the ceiling, still not wanting to look at you, unable to keep eye contact with you as he told you. Which means he misses your eyes darkening and your own flustered expression.

"You want that?" You ask quietly, pussy already throbbing. He nodded sheepishly, eyes on the verge of tears as his mind continued to torment him and overthink every reaction you would be having now that you knew just not the reaction you were about to give him. "Aegon, love, look at me," you gently command, watching as he hesitates but looks away from the ceiling and meets your eyes that he adores.

"You wanna knock me up, honey?" You ask him, watching as his eyes widen, shock lining his features looking up at you as you ease yourself into his lap. "Do you?" You ask teasingly with a wide grin on your face, grabbing at the hair on the back of his neck to tug his head up. He groans, hands latching onto your hips tightly as he practically left fingerprints onto your skin.

"Gods yes, so fucking bad," he roughly speaks against your lips, practically whining at your sadistic smile knowing you held all the cards right now. "Wanna pump every load I've got into that pussy, please."

"Oh, that's good, my king. Keep begging, and i might just let you have it," you chide, pressing your lips to his, "we've got all night long for it. And tomorrow, and the day after. Gotta make sure it takes, don't we?" You spoke before kissing him.

#aegon targaryen imagine #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen smut #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon #house of the dragon smut #smut

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

hi i love your work a lot i've been reading it a lot during this difficult blood moon time. i have a request if you don't mind tackling it!! this is gonna be very specific, but yandere! stalker x reader, BUT the yandere is not stalking reader -- the yandere is stalking a popular girl the reader knows in passing, and reader figures "well, i could use some extra cash", so reader approaches stalker and offers to sell phone numbers of popular girl, hangs out with stalker, and unintentionally ends up becoming the new target of stalker. surprised pikachu face on reader's end that her plan has backfired. bonus points if popular girl that same morning is like "i think stalker guy has finally stopped following me" before the reveal. thank you for reading :)

Based on your post, Imma assume she/her pronouns for our darling (you know what, I relate, gimme the money lmaoooo)

(Reader) slammed her hand down onto the cafe's table, startling the nervous looking man hiding behind his long, shaggy hair. He had been so focused on staring at Jenny (❤️), the angel of campus, and his unrequited love (of three months). Axle fumbled with his camera, nearly dropping it on the floor as he scurried to hide it in his lap.

"Um.. hi?" His exhausted eyes darted around the coffee shop, too nervous to look directly at the woman standing above him. "May I help you?"

"So you're Jenny's stalker." (Reader) smiled coyly, pulling a chair closer towards Axle so she could sit uncomfortably close to him.

His pasty skin flushed deep maroon, sweating under the harsh accusation . "No, you're wrong, I-I'm not-"

The poor hooded man was cut off by (Reader) grabbing his camera, too horrified by the situation to make a scene in the packed area. (Reader) flipped through the pictures, her smile fading as her eyebrows knit into a disappointed scowl.

"Damn, these pictures... suuuuck."

Axle was shocked, not expecting that response. "What?" His face went slack like a fish, unable to compute the young woman's critique.

"They're all... blurry. And, off center? Out of focus..." She handed back his camera, now with a look of mild pity. "Dude.."

With shaky hands, Axle yanked the camera back, not knowing if he should still be scared that he was caught, or offended.

"When Jenny was talking about how nervous she felt, having a stalker, I thought.. I thought you would be different." (Reader) cupped her chin in her hands, leaning in further, forcing Axle to lean awkwardly to the side, away from the strange woman. She seemed to be debating something, carefully contemplating her next steps. "Are you going to kill her?"

Axle gasped, mortified. "No! No, I would never!" He denied, a little louder than he had meant to. Axle sat stiff, fiddling with his camera. "I just.. really like her." A cute little blush dusted his cheeks, making (Reader) pray she wasn't being a fool.

She slipped a hand into her jacket pocket, and pulled out a picture of Jenny, one not from her social media. Axle grabbed it, admiring how the sunlight looked like a halo illuminating Jenny's hair. "Where did you get this?" Axle asked, full of awe as he stroked the image.

"I took it." (Reader) replied smugly. "Do you want it?"

Axle nodded, unable to pry his eyes away from the image. (Reader) pulled the picture back out of his hands, watching him whimper with a cold, unamused expression on her face.

"Twenty bucks."

"Huh?"

"Twenty bucks, and this is yours." (Reader) sat back in her seat like a mob boss, legs spread wide and head cocked to the side.

Axle yanked his wallet out, and fished out a twenty, absolutely giddy over receiving such a wonderful picture of his beloved.

"Pleasure making business." (Reader) smiled, pleased with how easy it was to trap Axle in her web. "Of course, with how awful you are at stalking, will you be okay with just that little picture?"

The young man froze. Of course, she was right. He was clumsy and skittish, often getting noticed while following Jenny, getting chased by campus police. Even the pictures he took of her were rubbish. "What do you mean?" Axle asked only to be sure he wasn't misunderstanding the situation.

"I'll help you out. I'll continue taking pictures for you, get you private information on Jenny, whatever you want. And you pay me."

He smiled oddly. "Pay? What you're doing is a crime, and you're fine with that?"

(Reader) grinned back childishly. "As long as you pay me."

Despite how uncomfortable Axle was with the strange young woman who hadn't even introduced herself, he couldn't pass up this opportunity.

~ 1 week later ~

Axle waited behind a dumpster, not quite sure how X had gotten his phone number. He still hadn't learned the mystery woman's name, only that she was eccentric, and possibly watched too many crime thrillers. (Reader) had told him to call her X, thinking it best that he didn't know her true identity.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when (Reader) popped up behind him. "You got the cash?" Axle squeaked, grabbing his heart.

"You scared me!" Axle stuttered out, looking better than he had the first time they met. His hair was no longer greasy, and the bags under his eyes had lightened up.

'Looks like he's had more time to take care of himself, now that I'm doing the dirty work for him.' (Reader) thought, staring daggers at Axle. He became flustered under her gaze, shifting anxiously.

"What are you looking at?"

"Just wondering why you're stalking Jenny in the first place." Axle pouted, thinking that maybe this was just a set up to bully him. "You're actually pretty handsome when you've showered."

"Huh?"

"Like, conventionally speaking, by societal standards, you are attractive. Maybe stop slouching and find a better jacket? But yeah, pretty sure if you took care of yourself and just approached Jenny like a normal human being she would have liked you."

His ears became warm at (Reader's) words, trying not to smile at the image of Jenny calling him handsome.

"But, better for me that you're a weirdo." (Reader) smiled playfully, holding out a manila envelope full of pictures she had printed out. "Money!" She said it like a question, empty hand opened expectantly.

Axle grumbled, plopping a wad of cash into her hand as he grabbed the envelope, heart palpitating as he saw more exquisite pictures of Jenny. Each one was amazing, with a sense of professionalism in their quality.

"These are incredible."

"Yeah, yeah. She's, like, super hot, I know." (Reader) absentmindedly responded while counting her earnings.

"I meant the pictures, dick."

(Reader) then did something unexpectedly, she stopped counting, and it looked like a little blush bloomed ever so faintly, genuinely surprised by the compliment. "Oh. Uh, thanks."

Axle noticed the way her back went rigid and the way she averted her eyes. It was.. kinda cute. His brain short circuited. Did I just think she's cute?

~ 2 weeks later ~

Axle's door knocked insistently, rousing him from his slumber. No one ever visited his apartment, not even his parents, so Axle was suspicious of who it could be. "I'm coming!"

He unlocked the door to find X, standing their with a shit eating grin on her face. "I never want to hear you say that again."

(Reader) brushed past the blushing mess, barging into his dark and creepy apartment. "How - why - how??" Axle was almost on the verge of tears, zipping around his apartment faster than the Flash to try and clean up, scooping up arms full of dirty underpants and pizza boxes, and just throwing them into a closet.

"Because I'm actually good at my job, that's how." She smiled triumphantly, flopping onto his bed while taking off her bag. "You know, it was really easy making friends with Jenny. She's so sweet.. it makes me feel a little guilty." (Reader) faked a sniffle, pretending to be torn up. "Maybe we should end this.."

"What? No!" Axle panicked, immediately regretting acting like a fool, as "X" removed her hands from her face, revealing dry eyes and a sarcastic smirk.

"Maybe I'll stay.. if you give me a raise."

Axle looked shocked, like he had actually believed (Reader). It was cute. "Fine.. whatever." He groaned, still standing with his arms cross.

"Aren't you going to sit down? I've got some things to show ya." (Reader) patted the bed.

"No!" Axle replied way too quickly, embarrassed about sitting with a girl in his bed. "I mean.. I'm fine standing." He rubbed his neck, avoiding eye contact as usual.

"You know, I know I'm not Jenny levels of hot, but it hurts that you never even look at me." (Reader) deadpanned, pulling out a pad of paper from her backpack, along with another envelope of pictures. "In this little notebook I have Jenny's phone number, her mom's phone number, her dad's phone number, I have her dorm address, I have her family's home address, I have the contact info for her past three exes, and I also wrote down some stuff I learned from talking to her, like the kind of guy she likes, her favorite food, her allergies, a bunch of stuff."

Axle was shocked, and kind of startled, by how thorough (Reader) was. He enjoyed following Jenny between classes, making sure she got where she needed to go, and yeah he liked climbing up the side of the dormitory to try and watch her sleeping, but this was beyond anything he ever could have hoped for.

"Wow. Maybe you do deserve that raise." He opened the envelope, ignoring (Reader) as she bragged about how she got all that information, overwhelmed yet again by (Reader's) photography skills. "Have you ever thought about becoming a photographer?"

(Reader) paused her rambling, nervously shifting her gaze away. Axle was beginning to suspect that she didn't receive compliments all that often, which was a shame, because she certainly was talented. Axle felt his heart thump heavily again.

"I, uh, never thought about it.." (Reader) lied. "Why, you think I should?"

Why did she look so cute right now, nervously asking a creep who was paying her to stalk someone if he approved of her talents?

As he was about to answer, he found a selfie of Jenny and (Reader) together. "What's this?"

"Oh, sorry that wasn't supposed to be in there. Jenny saw my camera and asked if we could take a pic together." (Reader) made a move to grab it, but Axle held it up out of her reach. Strangely, he realized that he had never seen the two side by side, and for some reason in the picture of the two of them together Ms. X was way cuter.

"I'll keep this one too."

"Huh? Why?"

"I like it."

~ 1 month later ~

Axle stared into the bright blue light of his laptop, looking at (Reader's) face. It was difficult to find her, as she didn't have much of a social media presence, and Axle didn't know her name, but he finally found her. He kept telling himself that he was just curious in what kind of lunatic agreed to work as a professional stalker, and why the hell was she so good at it? But as he lost track of time staring at the terrible family photos her mother posted online, he started to question why he never seemed to notice her before.

It felt even worse, since she noticed him.

The pictures she took were all neatly packed in a drawer except for the selfie she took with Jenny. Axle kept arguing with himself, insisting that that was simply the best picture of Jenny by far. But he knew deep down it wasn't the truth.

He had started to lose sleep again, trying to dig up information on his partner on crime. Partners in crime. Axle smacked himself in the head, pulling his hoodie down over his mop of hair. Unfortunately, he was a college student, and had classes to attend.

Out in the corridor, he heard the most wonderful sound in the world. (Reader's) maniacal laughter. Even when out with normal people, (Reader) didn't mask who she was. She was walking with a group of popular students, all cracking up over something one of them had said, and Axle was jealous.

(Reader) looked so natural with that crowd, hanging out like she wasn't a loser like him, glowing so brightly that Axle didn't see Jenny right away. He knew (Reader) said that she had "infiltrated their ranks" in order to learn more about Jenny for him, but it was still incredible to see. Axle wondered if he would look just as natural by their side, after all, (Reader) had said that Axle was "handsome". He suddenly became self conscious, regretting not showering before he left his apartment. When was the last time he washed this coat? Why hadn't he bought a new one when (Reader) suggested it?

It was almost like he had to remind himself to look at Jenny. She didn't look as angelic as he remembered.

~ 2 months later ~

"What made you like Jenny?" (Reader) asked, scrolling on her phone while lounging on Axle's bed. Axle was watching (Reader) while pretending to look at the pictures she had taken. She was so exposed, lying there as though this was just a friend's place, not a man's bed. Axle tried not to feel excitement seeing (Reader) so comfortable in his presence.

"I'm, um, not sure." And that was the truth. Why did he like Jenny? The way she smiled? Was it simply how beautiful she was?

The more he grew to know (Reader) as a person, the more beautiful he found her to be. Jenny paled in comparison to (Reader).

It was too embarrassing to tell (Reader) the truth, that the woman he loved so much that he couldn't stop thinking about her 24/7, now simply didn't interest him. Not like (Reader) did. If I take a picture of her, would she hate me?

"You should take more selfies." Axle stated, out of the blue.

"Why?" (Reader) snorted.

"Because you're pretty.." He blushed softly, smiling at the picture of (Reader) he kept on his desk.

~ 4 months later ~

(Reader) smiled wide eyed, almost unable to contain her surprise. "What?"

"Yeah, he's just, disappeared." Jenny took a sip from her coffee, confused but not complaining. "I haven't noticed that creepy fuck following me around, like, at all lately."

Many thoughts passed through (Reader's) mind like rapid fire. Was everything okay with Axle? Did he lose interest in his beloved? And if he did, was she no longer going to get paid?!

(Reader) ran to Axle's apartment as soon as the coast was clear. Partially worried for his well being, mostly worried for her pay check.

She didn't bother knocking, instead throwing open the door like she owned the place. Axle stood in the middle of his room, confused, and pink in the face. He had a fresh hair cut, showing off his dark eyes, and he had a new outfit on, one that fit him better than his oversized stained hoodie. "(Reader)? What are you doing here?"

"I was just-" she stuttered, blushing violently. He was incredibly attractive, towering over her now that he was standing with better posture. "Wait, how did you know my name?!"

An ominous feeling crept over her, as she thought about how many times she laid in his bed, not knowing that he was falling out of love with his target. He smiled sweetly at (Reader), behind him was a new camera he had bought for her, as a gift. Axle had meant to propose a new deal with (Reader), requesting pictures of her instead, but she had caught him dressing up in the clothes he bought to impress her. He pulled her into his room.

(Reader) only noticed the pictures of her scattered across the floor as Axle locked the door.

#yandere #yandere stalker #yandere stalker x reader #fem reader #college aged reader #tw stalking #thanks for the ask! #writing requests #i hope you like it #not proofread #bad writing

[ghostlygraphist]

ai generated mushroom guides could get people killed

'i'm not going to link any of them here, for a variety of reasons, but please be aware of what is probably the deadliest AI scam i've ever heard of: plant and fungi foraging guide books. the authors are invented, their credentials are invented, and their species IDs will kill you"

"update: i keep getting annoyed that the QTs are like "if this is true, it's horrifying" ..but you're right, you don't know me from a hole in the ground and you SHOULD worry about the veracity of anything you find online."

thread source

so i went looking

the full description:

How to quickly become a confident mushroom forager without fear of misidentifying poisonous lookalikes!

Have you dreamt about becoming more self-sufficient and sourcing your own fresh, local ingredients?

Do you want to start sustainably foraging so you can become healthier and happier?

Have you thought about harvesting wild mushrooms but afraid you won’t be able to tell the edible and poisonous species apart?

Then this book is for you!

Save money and enjoy the delicacies that nature has to offer. Mushroom hunting is easier than you think, and less dangerous than everyone assumes.

Wild plant foraging is increasing in popularity with celebrity chefs and small cafes jumping on the bandwagon and using locally foraged produce in their food.

There are so many benefits of foraging to your health (physical and mental) and even the environment!

In Fearless Foraging in the Rocky Mountains, you’ll discover:

Over 40 species of mushroom you can harvest all year round

Complimentary access to the mobile-friendly Digital Field Guide that includes high-resolution photos and descriptions of all edible mushrooms and any toxic lookalikes so you don’t have to worry about misidentifying species

How to correctly create (and use) spore prints to help you figure out what’s what

An annual mushroom calendar so you can keep track of the mushrooms by season and make the most of each foraging season

Detailed descriptions of the anatomical properties of fungi - gain the essential knowledge you need to correctly identify species

Tips on sustainable foraging - and ways to increase the natural mushroom count for next time you visit!

And much more!

Foraging is a tradition upheld for centuries by indigenous people who used ancient, respectful principles to live off the land. Connect with that history by embracing the artful skills and knowledge to confidently collect food for your meals.

Even if you're still worried about toxic mushrooms, let this guide reassure you. Included are incredibly high-level descriptions and details to use so you don’t get it wrong. NOTE: To keep it economically prices, our paperback version is printed in black and white. Premium color is available in our hardcover version. Both will provide the quality necessary to identify wild mushrooms and plants and both come with access to the full color, high-resolution Digital Field Guide.

If you want to learn the skillful art of foraging mushrooms and enjoy nature's nutritious bounties then scroll up and click the “Add to Cart” button now.

end description

wild harvest publications... no named author? i n t e r e s t i n g

"To keep it economically prices" hmm *the design is very human meme*

this book that promises highly detailed descriptions doesn't even have color images unless you pay a premium

"Mushroom hunting is easier than you think, and less dangerous than everyone assumes." hmm. hmmmmm. yeah the government definitely put out those 'if you don't know what it is don't put it in your mouth' PSAs for no reason

tldr don't buy foraging guides off amazon if you can't locate a human author and verify their credentials yourself

#mushrooms #fungi #fungus #ai #amazon #foraging #we live in the worst timeline #incorrect foraging guides is like something a hostile government would distribute to kill dissidents about to go into hiding in the woods #but no its idiots who want to make money #mushroom identification #mushrooming

[oliver-quick-ens-my-pulse]

I Hate to Ask

Ominis Gaunt x f!reader

Summary - Anon request for “Would you please write either some HC or a scenario where female MC is just really horny so she sneaks up on Ominis and says she has something to ask him and then she basically begs him to rail her. And of course how Ominis would react to such a lewd ask ♥️”

Word Count - 1,856

Warnings - 18+ smut

You had Ominis on your mind for quite a while now. Not just for hours or minutes, but for days. You had always been much closer with him than Sebastian, but as you neared the end of your 7th year, your thoughts had gotten out of control. He had grown into a handsome man and had no idea how achingly beautiful he was. He had shot up to over six feet tall and filled out his slender frame with more muscle tone beneath his robes. He was always particular about the feel and fit of his clothes and unaware of how delicious they looked hugging his calves and thighs. His manhood.

It wasn't like he was walking around exposed, but as trained as you were on him you had imagined too many times what was beneath the straining fabric. You'd decided today was the day you would finally swallow your pride and beg him to relieve you of your suffering. You didn't even care whether it meant anything at this point, but you were desperately clenching your thighs together anytime you so much as passed him in the hallway.

You caught him coming out of transfiguration, so you hoped he would be in a good mood. You knew he didn't have this class with Sebastian so you watched as he shared some parting words with a few people before starting down the stairs by himself. You walked up to him, grazing your arm with his shoulder. He directed his wands towards you and a smile spread out on his face.

"Y/N, how are you? How was your free period?"

You swallowed hard, thinking about the answer to that question. Well, I spent the entire first half of it pining after you and driving myself mad because my own hands aren't good enough anymore.

You settled for laughing softly and pushing your hair back against your head, "It was fairly boring. I was hoping you could join me for the start of yours. I had something I wanted to ask you, but not here."

Though the halls around you weren't crowded, there were still plenty of students milling about having just left class themselves. Ominis turned towards you and gave you a strange look, wondering what you could possibly have to ask him. "Sure," he placed an arm around your back and guided you to the entrance of the undercroft. You both stepped in and the gates closed behind you. He utilized some quick spells to create a comfortable couch and escorted you over.

Your nerves were buzzing and your face was already heating up as realized what it was you were about to do. Ominis guided you to your seat before sitting close beside you, keeping you tucked beneath his arm. "What is it you needed? There isn't anything wrong is there?" His eyebrows furrowed together with worry as he looked down at you.

You swallowed hard, turmoil brewing in your head over whether to let your anxieties or impulses win. "I, erm, I've been feeling kind of strange lately, and I...I may need your help to figure it out."

You were annoyed with yourself for not coming outright with it, but his concern seemed to lessen as he responded to you, resting his wand between his legs.

"Alright. What do you mean by strange? How d'you think I can help you?" His earnest expression, ready to help his friend in need, almost made you come up with some other excuse so you didn't feel as if you were taking advantage of him. You inhaled a deep breath, drawing your knees up on the sofa, ready to spit the whole embarrassing truth out. "Ominis...I've always found you to be quite comely. And lately, I can't stop thinking about you. Lewd images keep running through my mind and I want to know if you'll help me extinguish them."

You fidgeted with your own hands, unable to face him. You felt him shift beside you, noticing the way he opened his legs and tugged slightly at his trousers. He used the same hand to find your chin and force you to look up at him.

A devilish smirk was on his lips, "I fear I can't extinguish them without knowing more about these thoughts."

You hadn't anticipated a reaction where he wanted to know more; where he steered the conversation so that he had total control. You stumbled over a few words, attempting to describe a scene before you adjusted yourself to be in his lap.

You gasped when you felt how hard he was beneath you, which made him laugh at you softly. He dragged both hands down to your hips to hold you in place.

"Just like this? Are you too worked up to use words?" His fingers tugged at your blouse, untucking it from your skirt to find your warm flesh beneath. "Y-yes," you stuttered, shivering from his touch and already arching into his palms. You felt helpless against him, you knew he must be able to feel the dampness from between your legs.

He was intoxicating as you looked up at him. A picture of confidence and lust as he was clearly toying with you. "Well, I'll agree to help you, but if you can't tell me what you want, you'll have to show me," he shrugged, "otherwise, I wouldn't know what to do, princess."

You couldn't figure out how he managed to remain so commanding even whilst essentially giving you control over the situation. He was getting off on the power he held over you.

You let out a whine as you rubbed yourself up against the stiffness in his pants, he let out a deep sigh in response. You tossed your robe off and quickly started to undo the buttons on your shirt to create a pile of clothes on the floor.

You reached to the edge of your camisole just below your ribs and pulled it over your head, leaving your top half entirely exposed. You groaned in frustration when he didn't make a move to touch you at all, his expression amused. You guided his hands up your sides and over the soft warmth of your breasts.

You yelped in surprise when he began kneading at them and pinching at your stiff nipples, "I can work with this if you continue being a good girl."

You bit your lip, surrendering yourself to his assault while you used your hands to unfasten his pants. He hoists you forward without warning, crushing his lips to yours. The kisses are hot and wet as he holds a fistful of your hair. He allows you to pull back to breathe and rests his forehead against yours. "I didn't think it was right for us to start this without getting that out of the way first."

As you took in the sheen of saliva on his lips you had to agree, but you were hungry for so much more. You brought your mouth back to his with more passion, hands now fumbling with his pants to pull out his member.

When you peeled his underwear back just right his thick cock sat up at attention just between your legs, causing you to rut helplessly against it. You pulled back from him, resting your hands behind your body as you rocked your hips against him, the thin fabric of your underwear no longer hiding much of anything.

"I want more of you Ominis. Can you — do you think you could help me get ready for you?"

He brought a hand down to your thigh, a little more harshly than he initially intended, squeezing tightly. "How should I do that? Will your thighs suffice?" You groaned in protest as he was so close to where you wanted him, but clearly teasing you. You grabbed his hand and slid it upwards so he could follow the trail of your juices from your thighs and up to your underwear. Ominis applied pressure where he could feel your sensitive bundle of nerves, making you squirm in his lap. It was his turn to gasp when you wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, giving him a gentle stroke while you tried to ground yourself. "Fuck," he murmured, "You want me here? Your cunt does seem very wet. You think if we fill it up it'll stop?"

You moaned out a pathic 'yes' before he pushed your underwear to the side. He forcefully added two fingers that went in with ease as he pumped them in and out of you, curling them to hit the perfect spot. His name continued to spill off of your lips.

"I can see how this has been a problem," he mused, "but, darling, I don't think you need any help getting ready. You're taking my fingers so well and I know my cock was made for you."

He removed his fingers from you and grabbed your hips, helping you lift yourself to line your entrance up with his dripping head. He kept a tight grip on you to allow you to sit down on him at your own pace. His moans mixed with yours and his fingers dug into your waist. He was breathing heavily alongside you by the time you took all of him, "Y/N, I hope you can forgive me."

Before you had time to question what he meant or adjust to his size he was hitting the deepest parts of you. He held you in position and pulled out as much as he could before slamming back into you with force. He kept rotating his hips until he felt your walls clench indicating he found your g-spot.

"More, Ominis, please, it's too slow," you rested your arms against his chest as he took control and found a steady rhythm to please the both of you.

"You're so tight and perfect, I — agh — I'll have to have you again and again Y/N. You have no idea what you've gotten us into."

You bucked your hips in response to meet his every thrust until your legs started to quiver and your thighs were clenched around his.

"Ominis, I'm, I'm cumming," you bit into his shoulder to contain your whimpers as you came hard around his cock. You felt like you were floating as he continued to fuck you until he released his own ropes of cum inside of you. He was panting and clawing at your back, finally at a loss for words. You collapsed against him, breasts pressed up against his chest as you felt him softening up inside of you. Your clit had been neglected this round, but it was still incredibly sensitive resting against his pelvis, making you flinch every now and again. Ominis traced shapes on your back and spoke up much softer than before, "I helped you with your problem, yes? And well...you helped me with mine, but I wasn't brave enough to ask you on my own."

It made you laugh that after all of that, he was getting sheepish on you now, "I think we can help each other regularly don't you?"

#ominis gaunt #ominis #ominis gaunt smut #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy smut #ominis smut #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x reader #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis x mc

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Break it first

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 2

Prompt: Came back wrong

Rated: M

CW: Mind control/brainwashing; Possessive behavior; Referenced character death; Aftermath of trauma; Aftermath of injury; Kidnapping

Tags: Kas!Eddie Munson; Dark Eddie Munson

Notes: So, I already had a fill for this prompt, but then @house-of-the-moving-image showed me this stunning piece of art and my brain broke like Steve's. We both have a bunch of other fills coming up for this challenge, quite a few of them collabs, and I'm so, so stoked to share!!! ❤️

He still remembers how fragile Steve looked. 

They were in the boat house, Steve and Eddie. The others had gone out for supplies, but Steve had insisted on hanging back. Eddie hadn’t protested, even though the thought made his heart rabbit. 

The second they were alone, Steve let himself slide down the wall and curled into a ball on the floor, face hidden between hunched knees, shaking hands clawing at his own temples. 

“Hey, man!” Eddie jumped in alarm. “You okay?” 

Steve took a while to reply. 

“Fine,” he claimed, but his smile was a tense thing in a too-pale face. “Just headaches. Been getting them a lot. Robin thinks it's 'cause I got knocked around a few times too many." 

Eddie quirked an eyebrow, pulled a strand of hair in front of his face. "That … happen often in your line of business?" 

And Steve told him. 

About fighting monsters with nothing but a nail bat. About Billy Hargrove. About Russian torture chambers and the headaches and the nightmares and the ringing in his right ear that never really went away. He looked so young, so beautiful, so broken. Eddie wanted to scoop him up and put him back together and hold him close so that nothing would ever hurt him again. 

But he didn't. 

Instead, he watched. 

Watched how Steve squared his shoulders and put on a brave face for the kids. Watched as Steve threw himself to the front lines so that others wouldn’t have to. Watched as Steve got choked and torn apart, that golden skin painted in new scars, and told everyone not to worry, he was fine.

Eddie watched and Eddie didn't do a thing. 

Because Eddie was weak. 

Eddie was a coward.

It's a good thing he's dead. 

*

Steve is still the one to throw himself into danger first. That's good. It makes it easy to catch him alone. 

"You still have the scar on your neck …" 

A flick of his wrist and the bats scatter into the clouds. Steve curses, scrambles to his knees, gropes for his fallen weapon- and freezes as he cradles his face in both hands, tilting his head up. 

"... Eddie?" 

"Not quite," he hums, sharp claws carding through soft hair. "I have his body and his memories, that's all. The name's Kas. I've been dying to meet you, sweet thing." 

Those caramel eyes go wide. Steve tenses under his hands, tries to scramble away. That's okay, to be expected. He tightens his grip. Steve gasps as the vines on the ground wrap around his wrists and ankles. 

"What are you-?" 

"Sssh…" he brings their foreheads together, softly, slowly. Lets his mind wiggle inside the boy's, just a sliver at first, so he won't notice. Finds a crack, fine as a hairline, slips inside. Waits. "He was so in love with you, y'know that? It ate him alive, watching you sacrifice yourself over and over again. Seeing you suffer. Being unable to help, being unable to fix it." 

Steve's mind flutters like a frightened bird as he encases it with his, gently, carefully. His arms twitch in their restraints, trying to break free.

He smiles. Always the fighter, his sweet boy.

"Dont worry," he coos. “I’ve got it all figured out now sweetheart. I’ll fix everything, promise." 

"Eddie, wait-" Steve's mind flails. Realizes it's trapped, panicks, tries to break free- 

And he pounces. 

Steve struggles, briefly, but he doesn’t stand the ghost of a chance. He's human, and humans are weak. All it takes is a little pressure, and the tiny crack opens wide, welcoming him in. 

Steve screams.

"I know, sweet thing, I know," he coos, curls himself around the boy's spasming body as he digs in deeper. "It'll only hurt for a moment. You'll feel so much better after."

He sees them now, the scars on that beautiful mind, the traces left by years and years of hurt. Sees how to fix them, sees what Eddie could never have seen. What Eddie was too soft, too cowardly to understand.

Sometimes, to fix something, you need to break it first. 

And he does.

Tears at the cracks of that mind until it comes apart at the seams, shatters the fragments into so many tiny shards, grinds what is left into fine, fine dust. Steve screams and sobs and begs him to stop until his voice breaks. By the time the dust is ready to be molded back into shape, he is silent, bar for the occasional whimper.

He tells the vines to release their hold, cradles the limp body against his chest. He hums softly and kisses the tears from under the boy's unblinking eyes while he completes his work. He takes his time. This needs to be perfect. 

"You with me, darling?" 

Steve hums against the crook of his neck, so softly he nearly misses it. 

When he looks down, those pretty eyes are blinking up at him, wide and wondrous like those of a newborn. 

He chuckles. It's true in a way. 

"Feeling all better?" he asks, claws softly tracing the shell of his boy's right ear. "Ringing should be gone?" 

Steve doesn’t reply, just slips his eyes shut and nuzzles closer, every movement slow and sluggish. 

He coos.

"Aw, sweetheart. You must be exhausted, that was a lot to take." He gently scratches at Steve's scalp, revels in the little sigh it gets him. "Don't worry. From now on, nothing's gonna hurt you ever again. I'll make sure of it." 

Steve stirs a little at the soft press of lips against his forehead. His lids flutter, but they don’t open.

"That's it, honey, you rest. Let's take you home now." 

By the time he has adjusted Steve's weight so that he can stand and start walking, his boy is fast asleep. 

All of my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles