#and covet every chance i get to do things with him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

minkdelovely · 2 months

Text

love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

prelude

“ask for forgiveness,

never permission.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags: acid rain wound, cannibals living their best lives in cannibal town, slow burn eventual: smut, violence, toxic themes

word count: 1.7k

hello world! i currently have alastor brain rot and felt compelled to jump back into writing fan fiction. i’m a little rusty and i’m not sure how many parts there will be; i won’t deny that this is purely self-indulgent but i hope you enjoy all the same :)

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Hell wasn’t what you had expected it to be. It was worse.

Thoughts of your grandmother rose to your mind, despite how desperately you tried to push them down. “Hell is the absence of God,” she would always say after one of her famous rants. A warning you perhaps would have heeded, had it been coming from a place of love instead of moral superiority.

You had seen her on the streets of Hell a few times now, always sure to avoid catching her attention. The warm pleasure that bloomed in your chest was too precious to give up, despite knowing how good it would feel to rub her fate in her face. A lot of good all those Sunday mornings had done her, haughty bitch! You wondered how often your grandmother laid awake at night, desperate to know how she had ended up here. A wicked grin spread across your lips, revealing milky-pink fangs.

It was hard not to imagine the look your father would have given you if you could tell him she was here. He would definitely have scolded you, but you knew a small part of him would be amused. If calling her a bad grandmother was putting it lightly, she was an even worse mother-in-law. Hopefully you would never get the chance to tell him; Mother was waiting for him in Heaven, after all. And things should be much easier for him now, all things considered. Leaving him alone hadn’t been part of the plan, so all you could do was tell yourself that it had been worth it. Someday you would believe it.

Grandmother was right though, loathe as you were to admit it, and the feeling of loss burned through you every morning when you awoke. Every night, you dreamed of rain; the sound of it, the smell of it, the feeling of it coming down on you in the middle of the family garden. Oh, how you missed the garden. The dark, wet dirt. Blue puffs of hydrangea against stark-white azaleas, your mother’s coveted yellow roses. The Spanish Moss hanging like phantom sails off the branches of the huge oak tree in the corner, where your father had placed a bench and made a small pond. You would sit under that tree for hours lost in a book, listening to the sounds of the garden.

The fire and brimstone you could endure. It was the way everything else was twisted here that was grueling. As if feeling your lament, a drop of acid rain hit your window, quickly morphing into a full-blown storm. A frustrated growl erupted from you and you rolled onto your stomach, burying your head under your pillow and said a silent prayer to whatever force would grant mercy on your roof. You couldn’t afford to get it fixed again. The prayer had been answered just a moment after the rain stopped, when a drop of it fell from the ceiling and onto your pale, unsuspecting calf, your mattress absorbing the scream of pain that tore through your chest.

As the acid made its way through your leg, and eventually your mattress, all you could do was sob. Eternity… This was eternity.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

If this morning had been good, the day could only now be considered grand.

There was really nothing quite like a post-rain stroll through Cannibal Town, witnessing the misfortune of partially-dissolved sinners who had been caught in the deluge being consumed on the streets by the lively, ever-hungry inhabitants. Alastor would never tire of this jovial bunch that called this part of the Pentagram home, reveling in the sound of screams, the crunching of bone, the almost-lewd and animalistic grunts of feasting.

Were Rosie not expecting him for tea, he might have allowed himself to join in on the fun. Alas, his only solace was that Rosie never served anything less than superb, being the excellent hostess that she is.

He was quite intrigued by her invitation to join her alone, which meant that this likely wasn’t anything to do with donating a small army of cannibals to aid in the fight against the Angels. Indeed, Charlie’s presence would be required once it was time to cash that favor in.

Not that he didn’t enjoy a casual visit (as casual a visit between Overlords could be), he couldn’t help but wonder. Thinking a few steps ahead was a must if one was going to thrive in Hell, and well, it was no secret that Alastor was doing a pretty fine job at that, all things considered. He began to whistle, earning a few gory smiles from cannibals who stopped mid-meal to enjoy the tune. A true honor.

Rosie opened the door for him before he even had the chance to knock, the “Closed for Rain” sign clattering against the glass as she cooed. “Alastorrr! Come in, come in, before it starts raining again.”

As if on queue, a roll of thunder tore through the clouds, drawing a cheer from the denizens of Cannibal Town in anticipation for round two.

“Rosie, my dear, always an honor and a privilege to be deemed worthy of your company,” Alastor said, bowing his head as Rosie feigned a blush, leading him to the parlor where they would be taking their tea.

The usual pleasantries were exchanged between sips of tea, coffee, and candied organs, which Alastor forced himself to consume through sheer courtesy. It was all part of the art of visiting, one he quite enjoyed, and he would never shame his mother’s memory with bad manners. They had just finished a plate of finger sandwiches when Rosie leaned in slightly, the conspiring grin on her face letting him know that it was, at last, time for business.

“You’re always so good to indulge me, Alastor. It doesn’t go unnoticed,” she said, grinning as she motioned to a maid to come grab their empty plates. “I’m sure you’ve been dying to know why I asked you over here this afternoon.”

“Oh, Rosie, it’s purely selfish! You know how hard it is to find good company in this godforsaken place. I’m more than grateful to receive your hospitality,” he said with a trademark smile and flick of the wrist, leaning back in his chair as the maid cleared the table.

She had just turned to leave with their plates when the smile on his face nearly faltered. Was that… almond he smelled? It had been so long, but he was fairly certain it was. There was an underlying trace of blood, though that was common enough around here. But almond? It was too pleasant for Hell.

Rosie’s eyes darkened to match her grin, not missing the twitch of Alastor’s mouth. She knew he’d have been able to smell it. It seemed that so far only Hellborn could pick it up, but what would be the fun in letting him know that?

“Divine, isn’t she? A walking pastry, but not much of a talker. I like to bring her around whenever a room needs some pizzazz! She would’ve been eaten alive had I not taken her in,” Rosie whispered cheekily, as the maid returned with a fresh kettle and a gelatin mold for dessert. Rosie, not missing a beat once the tray had been set down, turned to her with a smile. “Thank you dear, you can leave now. I’ll ring the bell if we need anything else.”

The maid gave a silent curtsy and left the room as instructed, her sweet scent clinging to the air. Since coming to Hell, he took pleasure in the taste of bloody iron, the bite of black coffee. But in life… Memories of marzipan and frangipane tarts swam in his mind. And hadn’t Mother used almonds in her cherry pie crust? It took Alastor all he had not to drool, unsettled by the sudden rush of saliva in his mouth. Ages had passed since he last thought of such sweet things. He cleared his throat with as much grace as he could muster. Rosie only grinned.

“Well, she’s certainly new, so I suppose it’s not surprising she doesn’t talk much. It’s quite easy to tell when a sinner is… adjusting. So morose! You’re very gracious to have taken her on.” Alastor took a sip of coffee, desperate to get that almond smell out of his nostrils.

“We both seem to be rather gracious these days, don’t you think?”

And there it was.

Rosie sat back in her chair and crossed her legs as she continued. “I was actually wondering if perhaps she might fare better in that hotel you’re running. Don’t get me wrong, she smells incredible, but fuck does she suck the air out of a room once the novelty wears off. She was scaring away clients, and you know it’s pretty bad if cannibals are uneasy around you for Christ’s sake, which is why I had her start working back here, but…”

Alastor had to resist gripping his knee, putting all his effort into maintaining a pleasant face. He had expected to be asked for a favor of sorts, but never did he imagine that Rosie wanted him to take on an employee. She’s had sinners sign contracts for little less than a new parasol, let alone a job. There was something more to this.

And beyond being an air freshener, what good was she for, really? He could deal with quiet, but to have to put up with yet another sulky face! What he had done to deserve it, he didn’t know.

But he knew there wasn’t really a choice other than to take the poor creature into his charge. Rosie was an alley he deeply cherished, and he was already in her debt for the help she had provided just weeks ago. This was no doubt the first part of paying that debt back, a sign of goodwill. Not every deal was beneficial from the start; still, Alastor wouldn’t outright accept the offer. That was part of the fun.

“Well we already have a maid,” Alastor said gently, “but after the recent renovation, we are anticipating more sinners to check in. Not that I doubt Niffty’s abilities, but I suppose she could do with some help when business picks up. How long were you thinking of lending her to our cause?”

Rosie waved her hand. “Lend? Oh, honey, if you’re willing to take her, she’s yours. I’ve got plenty of helping hands, but it does me no good to have such a wet blanket hanging around. There’s just the matter of…,” Rosie trailed off as she reached into her purse, retrieving what Alastor already knew she had been grabbing for, “…her contract.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fan fiction #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor x female reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #song fic #if i can’t have love i want power #love and power #x reader #slow burn #the radio demon #hazbin hotel slow burn

251 notes · View notes

beneathstarryskies · 2 years

Text

A/N: These were not at all requested, I just wanted to try a new format and I needed to take a little break from my 1k event!

Warnings: fem!reader, light daddy kink (in Jiraiya's section), smut, oral sex

How Kakashi, Itachi, Sasuke, and Naruto fuck you after a long absence. W/ BONUS Jiraiya for @actuallysaiyan

Kakashi

The longer Kakashi is away from you the needier he becomes.

Definitely uses reading Icha Icha as a coping mechanism.

When he is finally with you again, he is absolutely insatiable.

“Just one more time, princess. I know you can take it,” Kakashi coos as he slips his cock into you for the third round of the evening.

You’d been just as eager for the first round. After not seeing Kakashi for weeks that seemed to stretch into eternity you’d been almost frantic to pull him into your apartment and have his hands all over your body. Now you’re whining as he picks up a slow pace, his long cock easily brushing against your abused sweetspot.

“‘Kashi, I can’t,” you whine.

He’s already buried to the hilt and his face is pressed against your warm chest. There’s no stopping him now, but truthfully you don’t want him to. You’d let Kakashi fuck you until you can’t hold onto conciousness anymore if that’s what it would take to please him. Kakashi knows he’s pushed you past your limit, so he’s gentle this time. Soft praises falls from his lips as he makes love to you for the rest of the night.

Itachi

Itachi hides his longing for you. You’re his only weakness, but dammit if someone had the chance to exploit it he’d be ruined.

When he first arrives back to the hideout, he acts cold and cordial.

Things switch as soon as he’s alone with you. The first thing he wants to do is taste you.

“Is my pretty girl gonna cum for me again?” his hot breath hits your swollen clit. You can’t even form a coherent sentence anymore. An eager nod and a soft whine is all you can manage. It’s enough to earn you the rare sound of his soft chuckle before he leans in to drag his tongue between your folds. His sharingan flashes in the low light as he watches your face.

“I missed you so much,” you whine as he sucks on your clit.

“Hm, missed you too,” he mutters.

His hands grip onto your trembling thighs. He can feel the muscles tightening as you get close again. He could stay like this all night. It’s your taste he dreams of when he’s away from you. He lives for these moments when he has you weak for just his mouth. He drinks your juices like it’s coveted nectar.

Then again, Itachi has always had a sweet tooth.

Naruto

Naruto makes 0 attempts to play it cool when he comes back from a long mission. He missed you like crazy and its everyone’s problem.

You have to beg him to take you home instead of just pulling you into the nearest semi-empty place he can find.

Naruto is all over you the second you finally give him permission.

“Missed you so bad,” Naruto groans as he thrusts hard into you again. “So fucking bad.”

He’s not taking it easy on you at all, but you’ve come to expect that by now. Naruto is a handful on the best of days, but sexual frustration nearly drives him insane. His pace is frantic. Every moan is punctuated with the squelching of your wet cunt. His skin slaps against yours.

You have to give him credit because at least this time you made it into the apartment instead of Naruto practically undressing you in the hallway. Barely. If it had taken you a second more to unlock the door, he would’ve been pressing you against it to take you from behind. Instead you’re at least bent over the arm of the couch in the privacy of your own home.

“I fucking love you,” Naruto growls.

Sasuke

He absolutely refuses to admit he misses you, even to himself.

Sasuke prides himself on being able to go long periods of time without being overcome by longing.

He realizes how much of a lie this is when he practically crumbles as soon as he sees you.

“I know you missed me,” he growls as he presses his cock against your ass. His hand is pushed down the front of your pants and he’s bullying your swollen clit to pull another orgasm from you. “You were wet as soon as I walked through the door.”

“Of course I missed you,” you purr. Your hips grind back against him.

“Missed my sweet girl,” he finally admits.

You blush softly, and he smirks when he looks into the mirror to see how flustered you are. Sasuke always takes his time before finally fucking you. This time is no different. Your juices are dripping all over his hand before he finally pulls your pants down. He doesn’t care that you were trying to get all dolled up in anticipation of his arrival. He’ll have the mascara you so carefully applied running down your face before he’s finished with you.

“You gotta show me how bad you missed me,” he says he presses the tip of his cock to your entrance.

Jiraiya

Jiraiya makes no qualms about missing you.

The man is fucking ready to explode by the time he comes home to you.

His balls are so full and heavy. As soon as he sees you he’s rock hard.

“You really know how to make daddy feel good,” Jiraiya groans as he leans against the counter. One hand is buried in your hair while the other guides his cock deeper down your throat. He acts as though he didn’t practically push you to your knees as soon as he came in the front door. You don’t mind. After all your plan is to always greet him with a sexual situation, as that is his favorite thing in life.

“Such a good girl,” he mutters. “You love making me feel good.”

You moan in agreement, and just the vibrations are nearly enough to push Jiraiya over the edge. He ruts his hips by instinct, but is quick to make himself go still once more.

The sight of you on your knees with his thick cock between your lips has been filling his every thought for weeks now. To finally have those filthy fantasies a reality makes him feel like the luckiest man who ever lived.

You don’t mind letting him use your mouth to get his own satisfaction, because you know he’ll make it up to you tenfold.

#kakashi hatake #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #sasuke uchiha x reader #sasuke x reader #naruto x reader #itachi uchiha x reader #itachi x reader #itachi uchiha #jiraiya x reader #jiraiya smut

6K notes · View notes

sweetiecutie · 2 years

Text

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, car sex, possessiveness, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk

Possessive!Billy fucking you stupid every chance he gets just to get one thing across - you’re his his his and no one else’s but his.

He drills his cock deep into your seeping pussy, his heavy balls smacking against the bottom of your buttcheeks as his calloused hands grip tightly on your hips, holding you in place, pressing you further into the backseat in his precious Camaro

Your slicked from sweat skin sticks unpleasantly to the dark leather but the thought quickly leaves your head as Billy’s hand comes from your hip to rub your throbbing clit in tight eights. You gasp, the friction makes you clench around him, back arching off the seat towards man’s chiseled body hovering above. The sudden tightness makes the blonde hiss, he draws his hand from your cunt to rest it next to your head, leaning down so that his face is almost buried in the crook of your neck

- You like that, you fucking whore? ‘Course you do, fuck, squeezing me so tight, - his lips brush the hot skin of your ear shell as he whispers breathily, your arms snaking around his neck in a weak attempt to find some kind of stability

You feel Billy shifting, readjusting himself, and the next moment the world around you spins, making you squeal in surprise. Man has you hauled up on top of himself as he now sits in the middle of a huge backseat of his car, head thrown back against the top of a backrest

- C’mon, ride that dick, princess. Make me proud, - Billy murmurs softly, eyes half-lidded and lips stretched in his significant shit-eating grin that never fails to make your knees week

You shift around for a bit, trying to make your current position more comfortable. Your shaky hands rest on Billy’s firm shoulders and you use them for leverage as your hips begin rocking softly, impaling yourself on man’s throbbing cock

Billy’s hands, that previously were holding tightly on your hips, make their way up the curves and dips of your sides, resting on the your waist instead. He watches you with covet as you pick up your pace, bouncing yourself on his dick as most lecherous moans leave your kiss-swollen lips

He leans in, hot lips attacking the side of your neck, sucking and biting on the soft skin with clear intention of leaving bright marks in most obvious places, so that everyone can see that you’re taken, taken by him. Mild pain from his teeth only adds to your pleasure and you crane your neck to the side, allowing Billy even more access

His rough hands come up to grip on your exposed tits, fingers twisting your hard nipples meanly, causing you to yelp loudly. Billy sucks in a breath, feeling your walls clamping around his weeping cock, prickling heat starts gathering in the pit of his stomach

Each time you plop yourself down your young man’s hard length you feel the tip of his dick nudge your cervix teasingly, bringing you closer to your orgasm. Loud squelching noises your seeping cunt makes every time you take Billy’s thick cock inside turn him even further on

- Holy shit, babe. Yeah, fuck yourself on my cock, just like that. Fuuuck, - Billy rasps as he takes ahold of your waist, fingers digging into soft flesh as he thrusts his hips upwards, plunging his dick impossibly deep into your creamy cunt

You moan uncontrollably with every ferocious jerk of his cock against your plushy walls, hips stuttering to meet male’s thrusts, multiplying your shared pleasure. Billy moans as he drills himself deeper into your dripping cunt, chasing his incoming high

You claw at his sweaty nape, fingers knotting into blonde locks, tugging on your lover’s soft hair as you feel your orgasm quickly approaching, coil of pleasure getting tighter with every snap of your hips against Billy

- My slutty little cunt, only for me to use, yeah? You like it when I use you like that? Like if you’re just my cute little fucktoy, huh? - Billy asks tauntingly, eyes opened wide as he watches your flushed face scrunching up in intense pleasure greedily

- Yesyesyes, Billy, fuck, - you cry out, barely being able to proceed his words properly, head thrown back and back arching towards his touches

- C’mon, show me how much you like it. Cum on my cock, - he orders in a low breathy voice, his breathing shaky and ragged

It doesn’t take you long to do as man has told you to - your plush insides ripple around him as you cum hard, vision bursting with white temporarily. The clamping of your velvety cunt coaxes Billy into his own orgasm and with a low guttural groan he spills his heavy load deep inside of you, creaming your fluttering pussy with his seed

Your body goes completely limp as you slump against Billy’s heaving chest, your forehead resting in the crook between his shoulder and neck. Your mind is still all frizzy from the recent orgasm, not a single thought in your head; lazy post-orgasmic euphoria floods you wholly, making limbs feel immensely heavy to try to move them even an inch

Billy rests one of his hands on the small of your back, rubbing your sore muscles softly. He smiles contentedly to himself as he feels you nuzzle deeper into his neck, seeking out comfort in him

He did it once again - claimed to everyone - and most importantly to you yourself - that you belong to him and him only

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, they inspire me on creating even more content for you💖

#billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #Billy hargrove x reader smut #billy hargove smut #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #stranger things smut

2K notes · View notes

lumiconic · 1 year

Text

“ if you’d say you love me ”

✧ some way or another, every member of the global pop sensation 6REEZE has fallen head over heels for you.

✧ kunikuzushi, venti, kazuha, heizou, aether, xiao ; fluff, slight hurt comfort ; idol au ; not proofread

the first to be sucked into your irresistible gaze is kunikuzushi, known as the main dancer kuni to 6REEZE’s devoted fanbase, STORM’S EYE. it’s almost funny, considering how kuni is known for being the sharpest and most angry member of the group, who dismissively flicks his hand at fans pleading for his autograph. somehow, it was always you who was able to see past his thorny exterior to the blazing passion underneath.

as the group’s manager, you know almost everything about each of the boys, from their favorite colors to their most coveted dreams. only kuni refused at first to open up to you, calling it a waste of time because he had more important things to do than team-building. there were some tiny hints of disappointment on your face whenever he opted out of the group hangouts early, but you never forced him into anything, no matter how eager everyone else was.

yet, there was some tiny part of him, buried far beneath, that almost wanted you to make him. to be given an excuse to learn more about you, and to be known as well as you knew the other boys. he never acted on it, and so it’s by complete chance the first time you show having knowledge of him beyond what he’s voluntarily shared.

he was in the rehearsal room, packing up his bag and wiping the sweat off his brow after another long day of practice. while his singing and rapping skills were mediocre – for an idol, of course, which made them still far above average – he had been scouted solely for his skill at dancing and thus had to train much more in that area than any other. while it was his passion, he still found himself exhausted beyond belief at the end of the day.

you opened the door without looking up, talking on the phone to someone about future marketing plans (i’m sorry, but if you want heizou to model that line then you need to take aether too because he doesn’t have enough deals yet). kuni cleared his throat.

your head shot up and your eyes landed on him. “kuni!” you said, sounding surprised and ending the call with a tap of your finger. “oh, do you want this? here – ” you dug in your tote for a moment, then tossed a bottle to him. startled, he threw out his hands and almost fumbled the catch.

“ragnvindr energy?” he read the label out loud. the neon pink coloring on the plastic wrap almost hurt his tired eyes, but he was still able to discern the title. “what is this?”

“isn’t that your favorite brand?” you asked, sounding surprised.

“yeah, but – how would you know that?” he said, the usual bite in his voice gone, replaced by confusion as he stared at the bottle. you tilted your head. “well, you bring it practically every day and keep it in your bag, so,” you shrugged, “i just noticed. that one’s my favorite, so i thought i’d have you try it too. which flavor do you like best?”

there was some strange pulse of feeling through his chest at those words. that casual recognition, the easy way you stated that you had noticed something about him. that you were paying attention. He couldn’t explain why it felt so important. so heady and exhilarating in a way that almost rivaled the feeling of dancing.

“green tea,” he said, without thinking. “the more bitter it is, the better.”

you laughed, and he sucked in a breath. the sound was like – the first rays of light peeking over the horizon in the morning; like rain drumming on leaves in the midst of a storm. like music. so easily, he could be lost in that rhythm the way he gets swept into a song even in just the first few beats of an addictive melody.

“green tea, huh. you aren’t supposed to have that much caffeine, but i saw how hard xiao was pushing you today.” you lifted your shoulders in a what can you do gesture, then pressed your index finger to your lips. “maybe try to drink more water in the future, but for now you definitely deserve this. let’s keep it our secret, okay?”

“o-okay,” kuni stumbled over the word, surprise still freezing his wide-eyed expression in place, hating the choked breath lingering in his throat as you smiled back at him. a blush rose to his face at the sight, coloring the apples of his cheeks bright red. “thanks.”

“of course! once this next m/v comes out, you’ll have more room to breathe,” you said reassuringly. “just hold out til then.” he nodded, not trusting himself to speak without his voice cracking embarrassingly. what is this? [name] of all people, causing this reaction? get yourself together! they’re just your damn manager, not your –

he silenced his inner thought before it could finish that humiliating sentence.

“well, see you later,” you said, waving goodbye and leaving the room as you tugged your phone out of your bag, already returning to your itinerary of plans to make. there was silence for a long moment, his eyes still focused sightlessly towards the door. kuni looked at the bottle in his hand, turning it over multiple times before unscrewing the cap, lifting it up, and dumping the whole thing over his head.

he stood there for a moment, the smell of artificial sunsettia flavoring soaking through his hair and cool, sticky juice dripping down his cheeks, soaking into his long sleeved exercise shirt, and pooling at his feet, an speechlessly angry and dumbfounded expression on his face. the heat in his cheeks refused to dissipate. then he took a deep breath in, hoisted his bag over his shoulders, and headed for the showers.

the second person to be enchanted by you is venti, the main singer, with a pleasant, boyish voice that can go unexpectedly deep and serious. considered immature and childish, he’s also the most rebellious of the group, in a way; the one who would disappear for hours at exactly the wrong times, fetching expensive gifts for the other members and interrupting meetings with the company heads to interject his own opinions on music and production.

this was yet another day that he was spending doing the opposite of what he was meant to; visiting a local café, one of his personal favorites because of their cutely decorated cakes and lattes, wearing thick black sunglasses and a face mask.

currently, he was hurrying away from the café, holding a bag with a small box of petit fours and a caramel-apple flavored special edition coffee, trying to lay out his plans for the rest of the day. i just need to get out of here, then i’ll get right back to the company and start practicing again. it’ll only be about ten minutes to go straight home, it shouldn’t take that long…

“oh my god! is that venti?! like, from 6REEZE?!”

… damn it.

“can i please get a photo? i love 6REEZE, i know all your songs! i have, like, every single photocard released since you debuted!” the nervous babble of the girl who spotted him was admittedly somewhat flattering. “h-hey, sure, a photo’s fine!” venti said, a dazzling smile leaping to his face as he bent slightly to make a peace sign at the camera. the girl clutched her phone in both hands as she took the photo, like it was a priceless item of some kind.

“oh, me too, please! you’re my favorite!” begged her friend, bouncing excitedly; her hysterical voice reached a new pitch as venti did finger hearts in her photo. “hey, what’s going on over there?” “what, is he some kind of celebrity?” voices began to bubble through the crowd at the noise, and soon enough, there was an entire group of people shoving up against him, asking for pictures and autographs and asking questions that he could barely hear.

panic was starting to burn in his chest, flustered words of hey, excuse me, i’ve really got to go spilling from his lips, with no end in sight to the mayhem. then, he spotted a familiar figure; you, hand shielding your eyes from the sun, peering out over the crosswalk for, presumably, him. your gaze lit on the commotion, and then on him. your jaw dropped slightly in surprise at the uproar being caused simply by his presence.

he made eye contact with you through the crowd, panic sparking in his eyes, an unmistakable help me forming on his lips. there was annoyance on your face, and for a second he thought you were going to leave, but instead you opened your mouth as wide as it would go and shouted, “HEY! IS THAT CHILDE FROM DCKZ?” pointing – somewhat unkindly – at a random passerby, a tall boy with bright ginger hair.

screams rose from the crowd, the unique sound of teenagers seeing their favorite, most handsome celebrity crush, and in the following roar of sound as the poor boy was swarmed without warning, venti was able to slip away, flicking his sunglasses back down onto his face.

you met him in the center of the crosswalk, quickly starting to walk again. you chided him gently, smacking his arm with the back of your hand at his impulse to suddenly disappear, and he apologized, only sort of meaning it.

“part of me is kinda annoyed that someone like childe would get more attention than me,” venti remarked wryly, hooking his mask with one finger and pulling it back over his face, careful to tuck his two toned braids into the back of his hoodie. “with his one-note singing, he shouldn’t have half the audience i do.”

“sure, but don’t worry, that won’t last for long,” you said, your eyes sparkling with determination as you strode confidently through the streets; venti’s slightly shorter legs scrambled to keep up with your quick, assertive pace. “you’ll be a superstar someday. i’ve always been sure of it.”

there was a sudden, strange feeling of a lump in his throat; his green eyes flickered to your back, the 6REEZE tour hoodie that you were wearing and its list of sold out dates written down the smooth, high quality fabric, and strange whispers of memory fluttered into his mind. a thousand days spent practicing, the moments right before rising onto the stage, his heart pounding so hard he could barely think and sick nervousness boiling in his stomach, rendering him almost unable to speak. and you, of course, holding out a water bottle, a sheet of lyrics, a helping hand, as always.

his breath caught and a frantic whirl of thoughts spilled into his mind. the feeling that there’s something he was always overlooking before, something obvious that he never noticed even though it was right in front of his face, like he was missing something crucial, something so important that now that he had noticed its absence it was like a puzzle piece had been cut out of his still beating heart.

wind blew past his face, and time seemed to slow down in the next second; you turned, a smile flitting to your lips and the words “hey, go a bit faster!” falling into the air as your hand flashed out, connecting the space between you, and grabbed his wrist. in that moment, there was no other way to describe you than… angelic, with golden sunshine drenching your face, your fingers cool against his skin, and he struggled, suddenly, to take air into his lungs.

“anyway, what did you leave for?” you asked, abruptly breaking the spell. venti shook his head, disoriented. “w… what? oh – i,” he held up his paper bag sheepishly. “i wanted to get a coffee.”

“oh? from where?”

“just this café i like,” he said, almost embarrassed of the answer. “well, can i try something?” you asked. he fumbled in the bag for a moment before taking out a small pastry, a layered cube of strawberry shortcake. you popped it into your mouth and chewed for a moment, and he found himself holding his breath with the hope that you would like it.

“wow, that’s really good,” you said with surprise. “can i come with you next time?”

there was no excuse for the shot of adrenaline that rushed through him at the innocent question, and he was so thankful that you weren’t facing him as a giddy smile crossed his face. “sure thing!” he said, brightening, and quickened once more to continue in pace with you.

the third person to melt into your fascinating mind is kaedehara kazuha, the songwriter of the group and main rapper; a fan favorite for his calm and relaxing exterior that belies a fierier soul underneath. it helped, of course, that he wrote extremely popular and romantic songs. you had a strong friendship with him, as he was the member you had known the longest, practically since he was a trainee and you were both much younger.

right now, he was laying on the floor of your apartment and listening to a demo track of a new song, already planning the words to the sweet, delicate piano melody, while you sat on the couch scribbling in a spiral bound notebook, eyebrows knit in a concentrated expression. you heaved a sigh, ripping out a sheet of paper and crumpling it into a ball before tossing it on the floor frustratedly. kazuha paused the music. “what’s wrong?”

“i’m just – trying to figure this out,” you sighed. “the words just won’t come to me.”

“what are you writing?”

“… poetry,” you said begrudgingly. when he laughed, hiding the surprised and excited thump his heart made when he heard that word, and then the following shock at those emotions, you threw a pillow at him. “stop it! you write this kind of thing too!”

“yes, but i get paid to do it,” he pointed out, refraining to mention that it was also his main pastime outside of his idol duties. “can i see it?” you shook your head instantly, and his lips tugged downwards into a frown. so, [name] writes poetry. what a coincidence. his eyes glittered, fixing his unhappy look on you.

you closed your notebook and gave him a big smile, slightly pained in a way he could only recognize due to your years of friendship. “really, it’s just a hobby. it’s about time for dinner anyways. shall i start making something?”

“no, show me,” he requested, tilting his head, dark red eyes locked onto yours. “please?” he wanted to see them so badly, a hint of desperation seeped into his voice. he almost cringed at that sound. but why was he so curious? of course, he inexplicably loved the idea that you had one of the same hobbies as him. composing poetry and songs? it was as if you were made to be together.

he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, and tasted salt on his tongue for a second, the pain jolting him back into his right mind. partners, of course, is what he meant. friends. nothing more than that. how could he be having such stupid thoughts about you, his oldest friend?

your voice drew him into reality again. “okay, fine, just don’t judge me. it’s… really dumb,” you admitted, closing your eyes and cracking open the spine of the notebook. kazuha ran his fingertips over the paper, ridged with line after line of your cramped handwriting in thick ink. as he took in the contents of the pages, his eyes widened. this is…

“a love poem?” he said aloud. you squeezed your eyes shut as he started to read the words halfway down the page. “… lost to me like dandelion fluff / i grasp for another handful / another breath, wishing for you cupped in my hands.” he rocked backwards, clapping his hand over his mouth not soon enough to muffle the laughter.

your cheeks colored and you snatched the notebook back. “ugh, kazuha! get out of here! i didn’t even finish it yet!”

“no, no! i’m not laughing at you!” he said, though he was a bit. such a tacky way of words, and yet… “it’s just so sentimental, i never would have expected this from you. it’s, sort of sweet.”

“well, you never know,” you said, placated slightly by his words. “and anyway, i’d never show it to anyone but you. it’s just for fun.”

you’d never show it to anyone but me? logically, he knew there were a thousand reasons for you to say that, ranging from him being another poet, to him being your close friend. and yet, he latched onto the one he wanted the most.

“who’s it for?” he asked, as casually as he could, as calmly and slowly as he could. as if there was no meaning behind that question at all. as if the idea that such a poem could maybe, possibly be for him didn’t make his heart explode into fireworks of joy, without him even knowing why. no, not quite; of course, he knew why. his job was writing love songs, anyway. he had just never thought that of all people, it would be you who caused these feelings he’d sang about a thousand times yet never experienced.

“i’m not telling,” you said, sticking your tongue out childishly before looking embarrassed. his heart plummeted into his stomach. even though it was an answer to be expected. he couldn’t explain this crushing disappointment at your refusal to speak. “w-well, anyway… why don’t we go get something to eat now?”

it was unmistakably an escape from a conversation you didn’t want to continue. yet, kazuha wanted to ask you to wait, so he could see another poem of yours. even if it led to heartache, he wanted to know so badly that it almost hurt. the possibility of you writing something like that for him was something he wanted more than anything in that instant. and yet…

more than that, he wanted you to be comfortable around him. that was truly what he wanted most. so… “okay, sure,” he obliged, and you set down your precious notebook as the two of you stood to leave, him casting one more glance towards it and wondering after its tantalizing contents.

as you both stood in the elevator, waiting for its descent to the bottom floor, he turned to you. “hey, what was the name of that poem again?”

“dandelions,” you said, another embarrassed flush tinting the tips of your ears. “it’s silly, but— ”

“no, it isn’t. dandelions,” he repeated, the word tingling on his tongue. it felt like he was on the verge of something new, somehow, that familiar warm, sparking feeling he always got right before an idea for a brand new project. “i like it.”

the next single is soon released, titled wishes in the breeze, a heartfelt ode laced with sugary-sweet declarations of love for an unknown person. you find a copy of the tape– its cover plastered with an image of the boys sitting together with their backs to the camera, kazuha in the middle, one eye showing as he turns his head– outside your apartment door; in the liner notes of the tape are shreds of a poem in red ink.

the third to fall prey to your beauty is shikanoin heizou, the main visual and most outgoing, charismatic member of 6REEZE. of course, he’s quite talented as the other members, but his true strength is in his magnetic personality that draws in new fans almost every day. he always knows just what to say, a perfect comeback locked and loaded on his tongue and ready to burst no matter what the situation is.

after wishes in the breeze won ‘best new pop song’ at a prestigious teyvat awards event, you and 6REEZE were invited to a celebration dinner with many other famous artists. heizou was standing with the other members and holding small talk with a punk-pop girl band trio that recently released an album that swept the awards, golden apple.

“heya, [name] just came in,” the shortest girl said, tilting her head towards the entrance. “ain’t that ya manager, heizou?” he smiled instantly, and agreed, “ah, yes!” with a gleeful look on his face. “i wasn’t sure they were going to show up, they don’t usually like big crowds, but i guess this was too important of an opportunity to pass up.”

he swiveled to greet you, hand already raising in a wave, and as his gaze landed on you, the world seemed to stop turning for a moment, the words falling out of his mouth and disappearing.

highlighted underneath the dancing lights, there you were; in a forest green tuxedo, the silken material of your sleeves almost glowing as you rubbed the back of your neck nervously. your hair was styled in such a way that you looked like royalty, sweeping over your shoulders, and when you turned your head slightly and the bright color of your eyes was caught in the glimmer from the spotlights above, he could just feel his heart in his throat and the bittersweet taste of longing.

heizou was unable to speak for a few seconds, almost unable to breathe. it was lucky for him that kazuha caught sight of you and waved you over, because he couldn’t get a single syllable out, let alone a greeting. you crossed the room to the small group.

“how fancy,” kuni scoffed, sharp nose turned up as he jutted out his chin. “no wonder it took you so long to get here, primping like this.”

you pulled at your sharp collar. “it’s a little stifling,” you said with just a hint of sweat to betray your flustered interior underneath your calm expression. “i don’t usually get dressed up like this, but… it’s for such a special occasion, and it’s a little fun too – ”

“it looks amazing, [name]!” venti exclaimed, stars in his eyes as he grabbed your hand and pumped it up and down. “seriously, the best! you didn’t have to go so all out for us, we would have been happy with just a fancy sash or something,” he laughed. you accepted his handshake without a change of expression, as the other boys oohed and aahed dutifully.

“i mean, come on! this is so fancy, i’m shocked to see [name] all dressed up and looking sharp! i wish we could see you like this more often,” venti continued, turning to look at heizou with a smile. “right?”

the question was surely meant innocently, as a query for the other contender for flirtiest member. it was most likely that venti had expected only a oh yes, it’s quite stunning, but not as stunning as [name]’s cute face by itself. but heizou had no smart remark, instead offering only a “yeah, it’s fine,” with a flat, unchanging face, before turning on his heel and practically running for the exit. “hey!” venti said, surprised, as if trying to call him back, but it was no use; the red-head boy was already out of earshot in a matter of seconds.

“ah… ? heizou?” you said, taken aback as you watched heizou’s rapidly retreating frame. “did i… do something wrong?” a strange sadness seemed to fill your chest, and your hand fell away to rest limply by your side.

pushing through the double doors, heizou finally managed to escape. he ducked around a corner, hunching over and staring at the floor, his breathing fast with exertion and agitation. “that’s… just not fair,” he mumbled into his hand, palm pressed to his mouth and face burning red. “to suddenly show up in something like that? it’s practically playing dirty… ”

he sunk to the floor, getting dust on the legs of his suit, but he barely noticed, burying his face in his hands with only thoughts of you rushing through his head. he had no doubt the others were wondering after him, but there was no chance he could go back in his current state, barely able to think straight.

“man, [name]… you really are dreamy.”

though the mood of the celebration was dampened by heizou’s partial absence and your dejection, you managed to go to bed that night with a smile on your face due to the fun atmosphere and the others making a special effort to cheer you up. the next time you saw heizou, he presented you with a gift box tied in an intricate knot with a silk ribbon. inside, was a less formal version of that outfit, in a popular style that you could wear out on the street.

“because you said you thought it was fun,” he says, tucking his hands behind his back to conceal their shaking. “i thought you would like something like this. to wear whenever you want. but if it’s too much, or silly, i – ”

“i love it, heizou,” you say firmly, cutting him off. “thank you.” when you hesitantly pulled him into a hug, his arms came up automatically to wrap around your back, his breathing almost stopping with an nervous thrill that traveled up his spine. he wondered for a second if you could feel his heartbeat and how fast it was pounding inside his chest, before pushing the thought aside and letting himself just feel the warmth of your arms for that short moment.

the fifth person captivated by your kindness is aether, the youngest member and the least experienced, with no solid lead position. every person in 6REEZE has their fair share of fans, but he had a noticeable lack of support compared to the others; the company that managed the group, SHOGUNATE ENTERTAINMENT, just seemed to have it out for him, barely giving him any solos or spending any time marketing him.

of course, no one ever voiced their concerns at his treatment aloud, not when he seemed so truly optimistic. nobody wanted to be the person to make that grin disappear. spending all day, every day practicing, waving the others off when they asked him to take a break, every moment was dedicated to the betterment of his idol persona, never letting that golden smile drop from his face.

it felt like it was a thousand degrees on the set of their next m/v, yet aether was still practicing, the sound of their upcoming release today and tomorrow blaring through his ears. it was the only song he had heard in at least a week, but he couldn’t take a break for even a second if he wanted to remember the whole thing without one mistake.

when his twenty-third(? he lost count around number fifteen) runthrough of the song finally finished, leaving him kneeling on the floor, he shut off the music. in the silence of the empty room, there was some kind of pounding still echoing in his head, making it hard for him to think straight. as he rose to his feet, his vision blacked out for a moment.

“aether, you’re still here?” said a sudden voice, laced with surprise. he looked up to find you, apparently having just entered and in the midst of rearranging a couple of set pieces. as your gaze traveled over him, your eyes widened slightly. “are you okay? you look so pale.”

“yeah, ‘m fine, just – just tired,” he mumbled, swaying on his feet slightly. your worried expression swam before his eyes. “is it hot in here, or… ?” were his last words before he stumbled and fell, the ground rushing up to meet him faster than he could react with his exhausted, nonresponsive limbs, eyes closing and unable to think properly.

huh… ?

the world pulsed around him in blinking black dots. somehow, he hadn’t hit the ground yet. it felt wrong that he would still be falling; he forced his eyes open with great struggle, and found that you had caught him. how strange… why couldn’t i move… ?

you gently lowered yourself to the floor, allowing him to rest his head against your leg. “aether,” you said, your voice pained and worried, “how hard have you been practicing? have you taken any breaks today?”

“no, i was trying to learn the choreography without – ” the words caught in his dry throat, breath scraping painfully, and you looked even more worried as he coughed. “without pausing at all.”

a tch sound escaped your lips, expression more concerned than he’d ever seen it before. “you must be so dehydrated.” you bit your lip. “aether, you know you’re just hurting yourself this way. this level of work… it’ll hinder your progress, rather than help it.”

despite the discouraging nature of your words, it was gratitude for that acknowledgement, and some thick, warm emotion that brought a strange moisture to aether’s eyes. he tried to rub at his eyes, but his hand was shaking too hard. “no, i have to do this.”

“why?” you demanded.

he barely knew how to put it into words. “i’m just… the weak link,” he said, tears pricking for a moment before he blinked them away, one hand resting on his temples and shielding his face from your concerned gaze. “i’m not good at anything, so i have to practice and practice to make up for – ”

“you’re not the weak link, aether,” you said firmly, your voice so kind and earnest that it almost brought tears to his eyes yet again. “you’re like – the glue, you can do everything perfectly well. there’s nothing wrong with not having a specialty. you work so hard, and always go out of your way to support everyone. don’t let me hear you talking like that, okay?”

“but – ” he tried to protest, then almost melted underneath the force of your angry, anxious eyes. even with the embarrassment of being in this situation, there was some foreign ember of warmth in his chest that burned hotter with every word from you. he couldn’t explain it, but it was like hearing those things from you was rejuvenating somehow; soaking into his body and leaving him feeling looser, calmer in its wake. he didn’t know if it was because it was you specifically, and he was almost afraid to think about it.

“no buts!” you snapped. “i refuse to listen to you thinking this way about yourself. you’re incredibly capable and strong, and don’t you dare bottle this up and work yourself to the point of passing out again. i know you can do it, without punishing yourself for no reason. it’ll be okay.”

“… okay,” he nodded. you pressed your hand against his forehead and winced. “you better not be getting sick. now go home and rest up. i don’t want to see you here again until tomorrow afternoon, got it?”

you walked him to the exit, making sure he drank almost the entire contents of his water bottle, with orders to go to sleep extra early. yet, even with those directions, he tossed and turned almost all night, still feeling the force of your laser-hot gaze every time he closed his eyes.

the day filming started, there was no doubt in him that he could nail the entire choreography. even xiao commented on his movements seeming more sharp than usual, his voice more fluid as well. of course, there was a reason for that, but he would never have voiced it aloud that he wanted just one more second of your eyes on him. just one more word of praise that felt so much more real coming from you than anyone else.

there was a six-second focus on him for the second chorus, and he poured all of his saved-up energy into that moment. “i want you here, i want you with me in my arms,” he sang, throwing his entire body into the next twirling movement, and pointed straight at the camera with the unfaltering wish that you would see and know he was speaking to you. “you’re my love, the one i’m wishing for, today, tomorrow, forever!”

the sixth member of 6REEZE to love you is xiao, the center and leader of the group. though STORM’S EYE has no shortage of love for him due to his mesmerizing voice and mature good looks, he is the least social of the boys, known as ‘ice prince’ because he’s so aloof and cool at fan events. there is no one in public knowledge that he chooses to let his guard down around; even in vlogs, he barely socializes and keeps to himself, practicing or listening to music on bulky headphones.

SHOGUNATE ENTERTAINMENT works mainly out of an enormous compound filled with training rooms and facilities for all of their groups and other productions. the residence reserved for 6REEZE is attached to it. technically, it could be shared by the group, but the only people who really live there are venti and xiao, and venti is almost always out on other business (or so he claims) anyway.

the roof of the apartment has an amazing view of the entire city and the sky. it’s the perfect place to go when a break and fresh air is needed, meaning xiao can almost always be found there. and now, after an incident in which a very important standalone project where he was meant to collaborate with a girl group has been cancelled due to strong pushback from fans, he’s vanished, and you know exactly where he’s gone.

watching the door still swinging shut from his sudden exit, president miko clicked her tongue carelessly. “ah, so immature. do you remember when we were young enough to be able to throw tantrums whenever things went awry, ei, dearest?” she tilted her head at the purple haired woman, who sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “we could secure another collaboration, but apparently not with any girl group. perhaps xing/yun or LUPICAL… ?” she mused. “could someone please go after him?”

“i can – ” kuni volunteered, already raising from his seat, before you rocketed to your feet, pushing your chair in. “i’m on it! please email me your consensus later!” the other boys watched, taken aback, as you gave a hasty bow and practically sprinted out.

you found him on the roof, of course, leaning over the balcony with a stony line to his jaw. you approached, and he raised his hand without greeting. “what happened back there?” you asked tentatively.

“how can they take away an opportunity so selfishly?” he spat. you weren’t sure whether he was talking about the fans or SHOGUNATE ENTERTAINMENT, but nodded anyway. as the leader, he was naturally under the most stress, and when he got into a bad mood there was nothing to do but wait it out.

“i don’t know if i can do this anymore,” he said, feeling the smallest crack in his voice and dragging a hand down his face. “we’re always being watched, always having to obey stupid rules that don’t even make sense! this was an important collaboration, i’m not a commodity that will lower in value if i work with a girl! if our fans can’t handle us acting like normal people, they aren’t even our fans, are they?”

“i know,” you said, trying to soothe him, placing a hand on his arm only for it to be shaken off. he glared out at the city for a moment, eyes focused above the horizon. “it’s just not fair,” you continued. “but xiao, there are alternatives – ”

“i don’t want alternatives,” he interrupted, “i’m not sure if i even want to be an idol sometimes. all these rules are too much.” he turned and met your eyes. “and you know the worst one of all.”

“of course i do.” you reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “but are you serious about not wanting to be an idol? because, if you ever chose to leave the company, i… can also leave.”

“you can’t put your career in jeopardy just for this.” he gave a frustrated huff. “this stupid company is just so stifling. i didn’t think being an idol would be like this when i first signed up.”

“well, that’s why i’m here, right?” you offered. “to make your life easier. my career isn’t as important, so as your manager, i could – ”

“you’re more than my manager.” his tone was gentler, the earlier roughness somehow melting away, and the words were quiet enough that nobody could possibly hear, meant only for you as he tilted his head, golden eyes finding yours. “you know that.”

“xiao.”

“i won’t let you endanger your own job prospects if i leave.”

you stared at each other for a moment. the wind stirred your hair around your face, framing it in the most beautiful way. his heart caught in his throat. the painful look of uncertainty mixed with determination that you wore was sure to be mirrored on his own face.

“i would never stay here, without you,” you said finally, your voice tight. “i’ll go wherever you go.”

he opened his mouth, unable to form words as a response to this, and you looked at him. there was nothing in your eyes but earnestness, and he thought for the millionth time how heart-stoppingly beautiful you were. he cupped your face with both hands, and there you were in silence for a long second, the cotton candy sunset gleaming down onto you.

“[name],” was the word that finally escaped his lips, taking in your sweet scent that enveloped you like an angel’s aura. you wrapped your arms around his neck, murmuring xiao in the quietest voice, a secret that wreathed through the air, like smoke curling into a calm breeze. “i love you.”

you kissed him, then; and when your lips met, he felt his worries melt away, and the overwhelming thought that he couldn’t care less if the whole world knew about your relationship; it was like he could feel everything, like he was frozen and time only started moving again when you were together. eternity could pass in a heartbeat and he would never know, not when he was holding you.

whether 6REEZE was together or not, whether he stayed an idol, or the trifling problems of his everyday life – nothing like that seemed to matter when he was with you. it felt inconsequential. no matter what the company wanted from him, he could do it; as long as he could continue to kiss you like this, he would do anything in the world.

#<3.writing #try to guess what order these were written in lol #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi imagines #venti x reader #venti imagines #heizou x reader #heizou imagines #kazuha x reader #kazuha imagines #aether x reader #aether imagines #xiao x reader #xiao imagines

633 notes · View notes

gojos-thot-patrol · 7 months

Text

And our first one yet, no less ;) (Oh, and btw, this is the tag list!! Reply to this post if you want to be tagged as these come out.)

Good Evening, my Dearest Reader! I hope this announcement finds you well. You may have noticed my excitement for the spooky season getting the better of me, what with the Vampire! Gojo and True Form! Sukuna works being posted an entire month ahead of schedule. Alas, what can I say? I'm in a love affair with all things spooky.

So of course I simply have to participate in Kinktober this year. As it's my first, we'll be starting small. Four one shots being posted every week of October, starting on the first, and ending on the twenty second, with a special bonus being posted on Halloween, just for you Darling!

But of course, that begs the question; Just what exactly will be on the menu? I'm so glad you asked.

WEEK ONE: INTOXICATING

Synopsis: Suguru has loved you since he met you. Or maybe lust is a better word. Either way, it never really mattered. You were a good girl who would never give a dirty fuck boy like him a chance. You were smarter than that. Even now, as you sit on his lap learning how to smoke for the first time, you'd never give him a chance. Right? Kinks: Pussy Drunk, Corruption, and Intoxication

WEEK TWO: FERAL NIGHTS

Synopsis: Ryomen always got what he wanted, it was a simple rule of life. And ever since he caught your scent, you were all that he wanted- your previous bond mark be damned. And you must have wanted him too. Why else would you keep your window open during your heat? Kinks: Omegaverse, Breeding, Marking, Dub-Con, and Infidelity

WEEK THREE: WHAT'S YOURS IS MINE

Synopsis: Satoru wasn't dumb. He saw the way you looked at his best friend. He picked up on the way you were always sure to laugh at his jokes, heard the name "Suguru" catch in your throat when it should have been "Satoru." And he saw the way Suguru coveted you, not even bothering to hide it. But, that was fine. Because Satoru thought of it too. Kinks: Cuckholding, Cum Play, Double Penetration, and Dumbification

WEEK FOUR: PATIENCE

Synopsis: Nanami was always calm and composed, never losing his cool. It was a gift that became particularly handy when you were writhing on his cock, begging him to move, please. And he wanted too- God knows he wanted too. But you looks irresistible when you were this desperate, and he wanted to savor every second of it. Kinks: Cock Warming, Daddy, Degradation, Praise, and Edging

HALLOWEEN SPECIAL: THE DEVIL MADE ME DO IT (but I also kinda wanted to)

Synopsis: It was supposed to be a fun little joke, a gag you and your friends indulged at your annual Halloween Party. Of course it wasn't going to work, no way a "ritual" you found on WikiHow of all places was really going to summon an Incubus. But, if that was the case, then who was the almost angelic looking man standing in your room? Kinks: Spectrophilia, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Mirror Sex, and Dacryphilia

The tag for this will be Trick-or-Kink 23. Hope to see you there ;)

152 notes · View notes

venus-haze · 5 months

Text

Bad Ritual (Vincent Sinclair x Reader)

Summary: Some pageant queens sit on parade floats. Being crowned Miss Ambrose requires you to get your hands a little dirty. [This is an AU]

Note: Woman reader, but no other descriptors are used. Heavily inspired by The Wicker Man and Midnight Mass, as well as my own spin on St. Ambrose, who, among other things, is the patron saint of wax melters. Since this is a cult AU, please check the warnings before reading. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Emotional and spiritual manipulation, morally gray reader, religious sex negativity/sex shaming, elements of Catholicism, human sacrifice. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

The stage lights threatened to melt your carefully applied makeup off. You held a wide smile for so long your cheeks ached. Your eyes nervously flitted about the crowd of Ambrose’s residents, just barely able to fill three-quarters of the movie theater for the event. When your gaze fell on Vincent in the front row, he gave you a small nod of encouragement that manifested butterflies in your already twisted stomach. Could you help being hopelessly in love with your best friend?

“After much deliberation by myself and the other judges,” Trudy began in her soft drawl, harsh on the edges from her decades-long smoking habit, “we agree without a doubt, the winner of the third Miss Ambrose contest is—“

The microphone screeched when Trudy spoke your name, and the dam broke, bringing about uncontrollable tears of joy and relief. The sound of cheers and applause filled the theater, almost dictating the rhythm of your heartbeat. You weren’t sure what you would’ve done if you lost. In the weeks prior to the competition, you craved victory so badly that it filled the marrow of your bones.

With tears blurring your vision, you made your way over to Trudy. She smiled, placing the ornate wax tiara on your head and satin sash reading ‘Miss Ambrose’ in glittering crimson lettering over your shoulder. She wrapped her arms around you in an unexpected hug.

“Congratulations,” she whispered. “You deserve it.”

Hardly able to utter your thanks, you attempted to compose yourself while she addressed the crowd again.

“I believe we can all agree that this young woman here exemplifies the qualities this community holds dear,” she said, her gaze shifting to you with pride evident in her features, leaving you overwhelmed at the praise of your community’s leader. “If you’d like to share a few words, honey, now’s your chance.”

You nodded, trembling as you stood in front of the microphone. “First, I wanna thank the judges, Ms. Trudy, Father Julian, and Ms. Louann for giving me such a great honor. I also wanna thank my parents for believing in me as much as they believe in this town. Most of all, I wanna say that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than Ambrose, and I just—“ the tears began to flow again, and you managed to get a hold of yourself long enough to add, “I’m so grateful to St. Ambrose for everything he’s done for us. I don’t feel worthy to represent him on his feast day, but I’ll do my best. Thank you.”

Taking a step back from the microphone, you smiled as Louann handed you a bouquet of flowers. Louann was the previous Miss Ambrose and as such had the privilege of serving on the judge’s panel to decide who her successor would be. You were sure she would’ve preferred her own daughter, but she wasn’t interested in competing, an oddly reclusive girl around your age you’d long since given up befriending. Since there were so few people in Ambrose, the pool of young women eligible for the coveted crown was small, and therefore the competition could only be held once every seven or so years. Besides the feast day of your town’s namesake patron saint, the Miss Ambrose competition was one of the most highly anticipated events around.

Being Miss Ambrose was a commitment, but one you’d taken on with pride. Besides helping lead the usual procession through town, you’d serve as an ambassador to the hundreds of tourists who flooded your small town to view the spectacle. Most importantly, you’d finally be allowed to attend the celebratory mass held the night of the Feast of St. Ambrose. You weren’t sure what exactly the criteria for attendance was, but being Miss Ambrose surely meant you were worthy enough to finally go.

You were too young to remember Ambrose being on the verge of ruin when the sugar mill shut down, but your parents never failed to remind you how Trudy convinced them and the other families that comprised your close-knit community to stay. Her unorthodox ideas of shifting the town’s economy to reflect that of its patron saint was risky, but it worked, and Ambrose had carved out a niche for itself in beekeeping, wax-melting, and the artistry associated with it. As such, she was the person everyone deferred to for just about everything. Her word uncontested law. And why not? You all had it pretty good in Ambrose compared to the horrors you’d heard of going on outside the town’s limits.

The festival’s celebrations brought in abundant tourists who would patronize your small town’s shops and businesses en masse. While you understood the importance of the tourism during the festival, you found the raucous way they acted almost disrespectful to St. Ambrose and the reverence he deserved for providing so much for you.

At the very least, photography wasn’t allowed in the church. It was there that the town’s offering to St. Ambrose was displayed, a wax figure, always carefully detailed to look almost indistinguishable from a real person. Tourists could marvel at the statue, but not document it. You didn’t care for them and how they seemed to regard you all as sideshow freaks for being so insular. It especially bothered you that Vincent had to wear his mask whenever they were around. You’d hear them whisper about it, speculating why he wore it. They had no idea it was because of them.

Otherwise, he presented his bare face to your community who regarded it with normalcy. When your family would join the Sinclairs in the pew at mass, you’d occasionally end up sitting next to Vincent. You’d feel his hands, strong and soft from his work, holding the one next to you a little tighter than you normally would during the Our Father. For the sign of peace, in which you’d exchange blessings between clasped hands and chaste kisses on the cheek, he presented the unscarred half of his face to you. Still, you silently wondered what the other half would feel like against your lips.

It felt like you blinked, and you were surrounded by the people you’d grown up with, all looking at you with an unfamiliar yet welcome respect. You basked in the attention like a sunbathing snake, each compliment and affirmation filling your chest with a warm pride.

“Congratulations, sweetheart,” your mother said, giving you a hug with tears in her eyes.

Your father agreed, giving you a pat on the back. “You earned it! We’re so proud of you.”

“Y’all did a great job with this one,” Trudy said.

Your family was one of the dozen or so original families that stayed in Ambrose at Trudy’s urging. She never forgot your family’s loyalty and trust in her, and it wasn’t uncommon for you to sit with them at mass or be invited to their house for a meal or a holiday. You reveled in any extra time you got to spend with Vincent, although being in the presence of your town’s savior always left you in awe.

“C’mon, a lot of that’s thanks to you, Trudy, mentoring the kids and teaching catechism on top of everything else you do,” your mother said.

While Father Julian was the parish’s pastor, most spiritual matters went to Trudy, and her decision was final. She taught catechism and set the standards for receiving sacraments. It caused friction with the larger diocese, and not long after you made your first communion, St. Ambrose’s parish split from the Vatican. Trudy had explained they lost their way, and that Ambrose was the only place practicing real Catholicism. That was why new families moved in, looking for the truth. You felt lucky to live in such a place.

“I’ve got big plans for you, girl,” Trudy said. “‘Specially with the festival coming up.”

You nodded. “Of course, Ms. Trudy. Whatever you need.”

She walked away, and you noticed Vincent subtly motioning toward the service exit behind the stage.

“Ready to head home?” your mother asked.

“I’ll catch up. There are a few people I want to talk to first,” you said.

Your father nodded. “Alright, well, don’t stay out too late.”

Once they had left, you didn’t see Vincent in the theater anymore, and managed to slip outside undetected a few minutes later, fending off your horde of admirers. There was only one person whose attention you really wanted, anyway.

He stood outside, waiting for you in the shadows of the building. Your heels clicked against the asphalt as you walked over to him.

“Congrats, Miss Ambrose,” Vincent signed. He smiled, reaching up to adjust the tiara atop your head.

“I don’t look ridiculous, do I?”

He shook his head. Your face heated up when his hands made gentle contact with your skin. He traced your gestures with the pads of his thumbs, brushing your forehead, down to your cheeks, and finally to your lips. Vincent cradled your face in his hands for a moment longer before kissing you.

Without hesitation, you kissed him back, taking in the texture of his lips, the warmth of his body. His hands fell to your hips, pulling you closer. Steadying yourself on his bicep, you silently marveled at his strength, gasping into the kiss and allowing his tongue access to your mouth.

Despite having heard homilies at mass and ramblings from Trudy about the sin of fornication outside of marriage, you didn’t know what exactly they were talking about until the summer after you started high school. Bo had taken pleasure in explaining the dirty details, offering to give you a demonstration. You rejected him in disgust at how lewd he made the act sound, and until then, in Vincent’s arms, you didn’t understand how anyone could fall into that trap.

You whined softly when he pulled away from the kiss.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he signed.

“Why did you wait?”

He nodded toward the door. His mother. For how similar he and Trudy were, they always seemed to butt heads. Still, he was the son she spoke most highly of. Vincent, the focused, dutiful son who’d inherited his mother’s artistic ability and connection to the spiritual core of the town. Her feelings on Bo changed with the weather, though it seemed he was poised to become the public face of Ambrose. A good fit, he could talk his way in or out of almost anything. Lester kept a lower profile, but he was always around to help whenever someone needed a hand. If you were being honest with yourself, you thought he was the best fit to take over Trudy’s leadership duties in Ambrose, but she always had a clear preference for the twins.

With Vincent being Trudy’s favorite, she’d be incredibly selective about who his potential partner would be. All relationships in town had to be cleared by her. She’d shut people’s requests down for petty reasons. Now that you were Miss Ambrose, there was no reasonable way she could object to you being with Vincent.

“Maybe after the festival, we can ask her,” you whispered hopefully.

He nodded, though he practically jumped away from you when the door outside swung open, clanging against the brick wall behind it.

Bo stood in the doorway, a knowing grin on his face, partially obscured by the shadows. “Lookit you. Bagged Miss Ambrose herself. Never thought you had it in ya, Vinny.”

“What?” Vincent signed.

“Mama’s lookin’ for y’all. I can tell her you’re busy.”

Vincent rolled his eye at Bo, “We’ll be right there.”

When the door slammed shut, Vincent kissed you again, more quickly this time, and the two of you set off to find Trudy.

Still backstage, socializing of course, her time was a precious resource nearly everyone in town was vying for. The Miss Ambrose contest was as good of a time as any for people to catch a few minutes with her, bring up concerns or ask for advice while she was available. Her eyes lit up when she saw you and Vincent together.

“Just the people I wanted to see,” she said, as if she hadn’t sent Bo searching for you. “Vincent’s gonna be making the offering for the festival this year, some other things too to help his old mama out. Can’t do as much as I used to. You’ll help around too, won’t you?”

“I’d love to. Anything you need, just tell me.”

“You got a good head on your shoulders. Wouldn’t’ve dreamed of crownin’ those other two. Daphne had some nerve even competing after that stupid stunt she pulled last year,” Trudy spat.

The previous year, Daphne had publicly challenged Trudy on a new directive regarding new families that moved into town and their church attendance. It was an innocent enough remark, but the principle of the thing got to Trudy. She was spiteful and vindictive, one to hold a mean grudge, but you supposed those traits were necessary to be a leader like she was.

“Then that Christine’s a hussy. Tried to make my Bo stumble.”

You had a sinking feeling it was the other way around, and Bo had sold his mama some backwards story after his advances were spurned. You once heard someone say he could flirt the panties off of a nun. Not entirely untrue, but he was too impatient and entitled to accept anything other than complete compliance with his sexual desires.

“I’m sure you’re not surprised Louann’s daughter didn’t bother. Might’ve given you a run for your money,” she said, looking almost unimpressed by you for a split second.

“Well, I guess we’ll never know,” you said. “I can’t tell you enough how much this means to me.”

“You deserved it, honey. Gonna be a lot of work for you the next few weeks, but I think you can handle it.”

She shooed you away, telling you to go home before it got too dark. You almost laughed. In your small community, everyone knew each other. You were just as safe walking around at 2pm as 2am. Nothing bad ever happened in Ambrose. At least, not like the horrors of the outside world you’d gleaned from the few times you bothered to watch the nightly news. All it did was confirm how lucky you were to live in a place like Ambrose, where you wanted for nothing and had few worries, didn’t have to fear what could be lurking in the dark.

“I’ll walk her home,” Vincent volunteered.

Trudy nodded. “Good. You give my parents my best, now.”

“Of course, have a good night,” you said.

When you were a safe distance from the movie theater, far from wandering eyes, Vincent took your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the top of it. The walk to your house would be short, but you wished for miles more to spend walking alongside him. Alone. He stole half a dozen more kisses from you while the two of you dragged out the walk to your front porch. If not a kiss, then his hands would be on you–the small of your back to guide you along or intertwined with yours as his thumb brushed soft circles on the top of your hand.

“I’m not going to see much of you for a while, am I?” you asked softly as your house finally came into view.

He shook his head. From what you understood, the offering was the most important part of the Feast of St. Ambrose. He’d already gotten lost in his work, whether additions to the wax museum or personal projects, but something so crucial would be sure to consume him until the day arrived.

A sad smile spread across your lips, though you understood.

The next few days, you didn’t see much of Trudy or Vincent, instead helping around town with the various preparations for the Feast of St. Ambrose. You decorated the statue in the middle of town, an elaborate wax effigy of the patron saint, created by Trudy herself. As you covered it with carefully crafted floral wreaths and vines, people already began leaving small offerings at the base of the statue.

Just before the festival, you found time to visit Vincent, basking in the warmth of his studio, practically a furnace. Opera music grew louder as you approached. You’d spent time with him down there before, able to find your way from any of the subterranean entrances throughout town.

Either the music was too loud, or he was too entranced in his work to notice you enter. His broad back was turned to you as he leaned over a work table in deep focus. A woman. Nude, bound to the table yet seemingly unable to move otherwise. Still you heard them through her gag. Her moans. Vincent’s hands were all over her body, caressing her curves with care, fingers tracing her features. A blinding envy flashed through you.

“Vincent,” you snapped.

He turned around, shock that quickly twisted to rage. “What are you doing here?” he signed. “Get out!”

“No! Who is she?”

“It’s not what you think—“

“I’m Miss Ambrose!” you shouted. “Me! What does she have that I—“

“She’s the offering,” he signed.

You froze, your gaze shifting to the bound woman once more. “That’s not–you’re lying.”

“Why would I lie?”

“You’re going to kill her?”

He nodded. Her muffled screams grew louder. “The offering is killed and then encased in wax for St. Ambrose.”

No wonder photos weren’t allowed in the church during the festival. He eyed you cautiously, expecting you to run away screaming.

“Can I watch you do it?”

He hesitated.

“Please, Vincent?” you asked softly.

“I just don’t want you to think of me any differently.”

“For doing what’s right? For making sure we’re provided for? We’re not messed up. The rest of the world is.”

With a newfound confidence, he grabbed the knife on the tray next to the bound woman, and you watched in awe as he lifted his arm above her chest and swiftly plunged it perfectly through her heart. Before he could pull the knife from her still warm flesh, you placed your hand over his and dug the blade in a little deeper.

#vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #slasher x reader #slasher community #slasher fandom

80 notes · View notes

iconocon · 2 years

Text

storytelling | verstappen

summary: maxsplaining

warnings: fluffy talkative max

type: oneshot | word count: 1k | ✧ fluff

when max is excited or surprised or happy or mad or even when max feels anything at all nothing can stop him from talking the nearest person in his proximities ear off. it’s almost like a reflex that he just can’t seem to help himself to tell whoever's closest to him the most recent stream of thoughts in his head so he can rationalize it to himself. most people would find this annoying but you couldn’t help but love the quirky little details that made max- well max.

usually, during race weekends you barely saw each other as he had a huge itinerary down to when he could even use the bathrooms and you just happily inserted yourself in whenever you were given the chance to. this weekend was no exception to that schedule. It was qualification day in montreal, a place where most of the grid hasn’t raced in years or even for some not at all and if there was one thing you knew for certain it was that your boyfriend wasn’t nervous to be back in the territory. however, that being said you also did know about his apprehensions from the three prior free practices that did not go entirely as he would of liked. the weekend was entirely his to lose as charles, his newest championship rival unfortunately had to take a grid penalty from the prior race so even when the weekend wasn’t a huge sacrifice the championship still seemingly loomed over his head.

the rain did nothing to calm your own nerves as you opted to sit in the driver's room instead of the garage due to the cold wet weather to wait for it all to be over in comfort. your boyfriend was insane in wet conditions, you never understood how or why he just was so in tune with the car but you couldn’t stop the awe on your face as you watched him lap after lap on the tiny screen.

Q1 - P1

Q2 - P1

with one lap to go you thought the streak was finally over and then he did it. once again he earned himself pole position, the most coveted spot on the whole grid.

Q3- P1

every single round he topped the charts each time battling it out amongst hamilton, alonso, sainz, beating each one to set a faster time for pole. the little dance you did in the driver's room was equally as embarrassing as the shout that you were sure the cooking staff on the opposite end probably heard in the kitchen as your heart swelled with pride for your dutch boyfriend.

speaking of the first thing max did when he saw you brought you in for a short kiss and then you guessed it not even 5 seconds later he started spewing every single thought that came out of his mouth. the routine almost happened like clockwork down to the millisecond.

“did you see in Q2 when i set the time on the last lap? i was fucking losing my mind” he was almost pacing as he started storytelling using his hands to show you as he went around kerbs and corners. as much as you were just as excited as he was to hear every single detail or thought in each corner of his brain you knew he had to quickly get dressed to go back out for interviews so you took it into your own hands. continuing to nod at his own dramatic version of his teammates crash using his own fingers as what you could only assume as a miniature version of checo you pull at the velcro around his neck pulling the zipper down to his waist.

finally, even he starts to get the idea of what you're doing deciding to join in to help you undress him pulling off his fireproof top to replace it with a familiar logo-filled polo. the goofy grin that you love so much even makes an appearance as you whistle at the shirtless show even making him stop his rant once again for a second to throw a flirty comment about “how there’s more where that came from”. that too came quicker than it started as his mind drifted to now tire strategy as you searched for the same chinos he wears every single day he has the chance.

“we were so much faster on inters- at least i think- did i look faster?"

you knew by the tone that even though it sounded like a question to you it was more a question to his inner monologue a quick "thanks babe” followed as he now changed into the fresh clothes you jointly dressed him in. knowing what was next on the agenda and hated having to be left alone in the motorhome again you find yourself setting his flat-brimmed navy redbull hat on your own head sighing loudly sitting beside him to catch his attention as he laces up his puma sponsored shoes. hearing even the traces of discontent in your response to his theory he looks at you frowning, “ok so maybe i won’t ask for that strat god schatje” the concern etched on his face immediately disappeared as you pulled his face towards yours, both hands gripping his jaw to kiss him harshly forcing him to actually focus all his attention on you. with that all words were soon going out the window as the room now swelled with groans replacing them. hands now roomed as they went searching to find your thighs to guide them onto either side of his own hips to slot you in like a puzzle piece. the swipe of his tongue on your bottom lip almost made you forget about the time until the knock on the door with the shout of 30 seconds that follows causes you to peck his own bottom lip before pulling yourself off the star of the show.

“duty calls verstappen” another kiss lands on your head as he goes to pull the fabric brim off of it to place it on its final destination on top of his own. “I’ll be back before you know it”

“yeah yeah shoo shoo” finding yourself back to occupying yourself with your phone you wave him off towards the white door of the room knowing that when he eventually does come back he will have another story to share with you that you can’t wait to hear all over again.

⏤

small and nothing tooooo exciting but hope you guys enjoyed! i have been writing part 3 for the monaco series but im not set on a date so i wanted to give you something else in the mean time!

#f1 x oc #f1 drabble #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #f1 one shot #driver x reader #formula one x reader #📗

1K notes · View notes

yutaholic · 2 years

Text

the middle blocker (M)

PAIRING: Johnny (NCT) + reader (female)

YOU: overnight you have become the scorn of your peers. you can’t sleep and you sure as hell can’t write. you can feel the promotion slipping through your fingers. then a helping hand comes from where you least expect it followed by another anonymous text, which steers you in the direction of Johnny Suh, the most coveted boy on campus.

HIM: Johnny thought he found the person he would spend the rest of his life with. then she dumped him. rather than working through his feelings, Johnny keeps on a happy face for everyone to see, because to him, injured pride is much worse than a broken heart. then, he meets you and in helping you move on, Johnny realizes maybe he can too.

WARNINGS: mild language; marijuana use; mentions of cyber bullying and slut shaming; explicit sexual content

NOTES: 8k words; this is part three of smashing the six

You decided to avoid Mark rather than give him the chance to avoid you.

In the days that followed your hookup with Yuta becoming common knowledge around campus, neonet was absolutely brutal. You almost deleted the app from your phone.

Almost.

Unfortunately you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. There was too much pull, too much sway over you. You were the bloodhound on a scent. All you needed was a tiny crumb, the smallest clue, but the leads had gone cold.

You descended into madness at an alarming rate. While sleeping with Jeno had provided amusement to the campus at your expense, having sex with Yuta upped the ante. Dirty looks and sarcastic taunts escalated to downright disgust and cruelty.

Neither of which you were prepared for.

Whore. Every post about you had that word in it.

At first, you fought tears to the brink of exhaustion. I’m better than this, you would tell yourself. Your peers were vicious. You knew all along they were capable of that, you had seen it firsthand, but you had never been on the receiving end.

You made too many enemies and not enough allies in your climb toward the editor’s chair and that ratio had come back to bite you in the ass. The wolves had been salivating at a chance to cut you down for good measure, but mostly out of spite.

The vast majority of your classmates gave a round of applause to karma for doing her job.

After a week of the torment, you thought maybe things would start to cool down. Then, you came home to the dorms and found slut written in red ink on your door.

That was when the dam broke. You wept until your eyes couldn’t possible make any more tears. And then and there, you decided you would never leave your room again. With a steady internet connection, it’s not like you had to.

You sent off an email to Doyoung, letting him know you would be writing and submitting all of your articles remotely until further notice, but your blood ran cold the moment you hit send.

It dawned on you - you didn’t have any other articles prepared. For the first time in your career at the NCTU newspaper, your pride and joy, you had nothing to publish.

“I fucked up,” you groaned, running your hands through your messy hair.

This damned story of smashing the six and trying to taunt neonet into exposing even the slightest hint of a trail for you to follow had blown up spectacularly in your face.

First, no anonymous texts came after your hookup with Yuta. You overplayed your hand. If anything would have earned you a passive aggressive text, a romp in the shower should have. But nothing came.

To add insult to injury, your growing paranoia and demands for isolation had driven off what few friends you had. Winter tried getting through to you, to no avail. And Mark, well, there were no words for what you had done to that relationship. Even Giselle wouldn’t come near you. Not when all eyes were on you with such scrutiny.

And now, on top of it all, this would be the first issue of the paper that you didn’t have a story to contribute since joining the team. It was unacceptable.

You could feel the promotion to editor-in-chief slipping through your fingers. All the bullying and slut shaming you endured was for nothing if you didn’t end up in that coveted chair.

Doyoung wasn’t having it. He had noticed the abrupt change in you, perfectly coinciding with all the posts on neonet. The moment he finished reading your email, he called you into his office. Immediately.

You knew better than to ignore his summons. You rushed into his office like a whirlwind, because you had just sprinted across campus and the newspaper hub to lessen the chance Mark would catch a glimpse of you.

The very second you plopped down heavily into the chair in front of Doyoung’s desk, he kicked off the conversation by saying, “You look like hell.”

You were tempted to roll your eyes, but you had come to expect nothing less from Kim Doyoung. “Thanks, boss,” you replied dryly.

It’s not like he was wrong. Your hair was in a tangled knot on the top of your head. Not the cute messy buns on insta models. No, this was the tied-up knot of someone who wasn’t getting any sleep and had substituted most - if not all - of the blood in her veins with coffee.

Doyoung glanced you over again. From your bloodshot eyes, the lack of makeup, and your outfit of baggy sweatpants and wrinkly hoodie, you were a far cry from the person he had come to know. And admire.

Seeing you obviously fragile and stressed, he chose his words carefully. “Look, I’ve made a habit in my years here to never give any time or attention to neonet.”

You met his eyes, preparing for judgment. And a well-deserved scolding. Though you said nothing, the look on your face screamed, please be gentle with me.

Doyoung definitely noticed and began, “If I have driven you to do something based on our last conversation…”

You desperately wanted to cling to some control and so you interjected, “You haven’t, boss. I make my own decisions. I am my own person.”

“Who are you trying to convince?” Doyoung countered.

You folded your arms, sinking a little deeper into the chair.

Doyoung never gave an inch. And maybe that was exactly what you needed right now.

You had been so fucking hellbent on keeping your eyes on the prize, you didn’t give enough consideration to the rocky road it took to get there. Now, you had to look down and acknowledge the bloodied and bruised state your body was in.

Words were damaging. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were wounded. They had cut you to pieces.

Doyoung sighed at the defeat on your face. For the first time in your professional relationship, he showed compassion. “Need I remind you, we are all stupid kids. No one knows who they are at this stage in their life.”

You snorted back a laugh. He was never one to mince words and you really liked that about him. Then, you frowned and said, “I think I deal with things in very unhealthy ways.”

“At least you’re self-aware,” Doyoung quipped. “The first step is admitting you have a problem. Now, you can tackle it.”

“I also have really intense tunnel vision.”

Doyoung chuckled. “That’s putting it mildly.”

You heaved a sigh. It wasn’t that you had a problem with loveless sex - it was that you had ulterior motives behind it. You were having to confront the reality of using people for your own gains. Keeping in mind you had already made a career out of peddling people’s secrets, but using them for their bodies felt like you had violated some sacred unspoken rule.

Chatting with Doyoung proved to be oddly cathartic. You didn’t give him any information, but he gave you more than enough sage words of wisdom.

“I’m giving you the next two weeks off,” Doyoung told you sternly. “Don’t write anything for the paper in that time. Just focus on… getting your shit together.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

Doyoung clocked you a glance. “I’m serious. If I hear you’re working on stuff after I told you to take time off, I’ll extend that to a whole month.”

“I promise, I’ll take it easy.”

“Good.”

You stood to leave. “Thanks for… this,” you said, hesitant, because you could feel yourself on the verge of tears at his kindness.

Doyoung was the last person you expected to come to your defense and certainly the last person you ever expected to help dig you out of the hole you’d buried yourself in.

“You’re welcome,” Doyoung replied, flashing a rare smile. “Also, I know people tend to avoid them like the plague - myself included - but there are some really great counselors over at the student center.”

There was no way in hell you could give a rundown of your current situation to a counselor, but you appreciated his advice regardless. “Got it, boss. Thanks again.”

“Take care of yourself. The paper isn’t the same without your stories.”

That compliment made you genuinely grin from ear to ear. It was exactly the little push you needed to get some motivation again.

Stepping out of his office, you looked around, checking to see if the coast was clear. You knew you were a coward, but considering the state of your heart, it was necessary.

Mark, to your surprise, wasn’t at his desk. It was a sight that made you sad. His station was empty and so was yours beside it.

How fitting.

You shook your head. You’re such a loser, you told yourself, heading for the door. Mark wasn’t pining after you. He was probably out living his best life while you were trying desperately not to think about him and his dumb cute face.

When you slipped out into the hallway, thinking you’d made a clean getaway, you jolted when a familiar voice called your name.

There stood Mark.

“Hey,” you said, voice audibly trembling. Your heart was already going insane, beating against your chest and threatening to claw its way into your throat.

Mark was leaning against the wall. He had been not so subtly waiting for you to come out.

It’s not that he was following you. He was on his way to the paper headquarters when he saw you practically sprinting into the building. It was obvious you were avoiding him; you didn’t answer any of his texts, and Mark wanted to clear the air.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly.

You were suddenly very self-conscious of how you looked at the moment. Mark had never seen you at anything less than the top of your game. Well, aside from when he caught you visibly wet and disheveled after having sex with Yuta in the boys’ locker room.

Mark called your name again.

You realized you hadn’t answered and you quickly told him, “Yeah. No, I’m fine. I just haven’t been sleeping well.”

Mark frowned at that. He had seen the endless posts and comments about you on neonet. You were the new campus slut. The girls were flinging insults left and right, while the boys were talking about all the angles they’d like to hit it.

It made Mark sick. It made him angry. But most of all, it made him feel totally helpless.

You let out a noise of surprise when Mark wrapped you in a hug. Then, you closed your eyes and let yourself melt into him.

Mark felt all of the tension in your body as he held you close and maybe, just maybe, he could feel you relaxing in his arms. You held him as tightly as he hugged you and Mark let his cheek rest on your head, wishing he could be what you needed.

Everything you needed.

Even though you looked like a wreck, you still had that signature scent on you he’d come to expect. Mark always wanted to ask what it was, but that would be too weird asking you about perfume.

I’m such a fucking coward, he reminded himself yet again. Terrified of the most harmless shit.

“You smell like flowers,” Mark blurted out. Finally trying to be brave for once.

You chuckled a little, face buried in his shoulder. What a random thought, but that was so in character for Mark Lee. “Sweet Peony and Lilac,” you replied softly. “I mix them together. They’re my favorite.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mark whispered before he could stop himself.

You winched your eyes shut even more to fight back the tears. I’ll keep that in mind. Now, you were thinking about Mark buying you flowers. Which only made you think about Mark taking you on a date.

Dangerous thoughts. Forbidden thoughts.

Though you wanted to stay in that hug with Mark forever, until enough time had passed to mend all of your wounds, you pulled back and rubbed at your cheeks with a clenched fist, hoping to wipe away the damning evidence of your tears before Mark could see.

Proof that you weren’t as strong as you pretended to be.

Mark cradled your face in his hands and wiped your cheek with his thumb. He hated seeing you cry, knowing you were in pain, but at the same time, it felt good to know you were comfortable enough to cry in front of him.

Which couldn’t have been farther from the truth. You wanted to be nothing short of perfect in front of Mark. You didn’t want him to see you at your worst, your lowest.

What if he did and loved you anyway?

Mark was losing himself in your eyes. You were gravity dragging him closer. Closer and closer until you could feel his breath on your lips.

He was going to kiss you.

You panicked. How could you look the way you did and he wanted you? How in the hell could you be the most ridiculed person on campus and Mark still looked at you the way he always did?

Like you were what he wanted more than anything else in the world.

You couldn’t deny it anymore, but you weren’t ready to accept it. You let your hands fall from his waist. “Mark, I…,” you started, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I have to go.”

Mark seemed to come back to his senses. He took a respectable step back, giving you space, and forced a smile that crushed you into the floor. “Okay.”

You turned and left, heading for the dorms. Your heart was throwing a tantrum, telling you to go back there and kiss the boy you liked. The boy that clearly cared about you. Why was that so goddamn hard for you?

Why were you so adamantly against accepting someone’s love?

Because you knew a time would come when they took it back.

You breathed a little easier in relief when you reached the hallway of your dorm room. Forcing away thoughts of Mark was once again a battle you were having in your own head. Your mind and your heart were at war again and there was never a clear winner.

Your thoughts pivoted back to what Doyoung had said. You let his encouragement send warmth through your icy shell, the one that was supposed to defend you but melted whenever you were near Mark.

Don’t think like that. Doyoung gave you two weeks to get your head straight, you reminded yourself. It was time to formulate a plan.

Winter, you thought. You planned to call Winter, to apologize to your best friend for going off-grid and being so goddamn crabby. God knows she had been more than patient with you.

Just shy of your door, you got a text.

Baby girl, you look a hot mess. I hope the pressure isn’t getting to you.

It was from an unknown number. You immediately looked around, but the hallway was empty. Still, you had just made the long trek across campus. Anyone could have seen you and the state you were in.

Reading the text again, your eyes were fixated to your phone as you retreated into your dorm room, sitting on the edge of the bed and replying, I’m out of leads.

I have a suggestion. But it will cost you.

You read the text again and again. It felt like making a deal with the devil. Your fingers hovered over the screen until finally you texted, I’m down.

The response came almost immediately, like they knew you would agree. Johnny Suh. Look him up.

You knew who Johnny was, but you had never crossed paths with him. Nerves tickled up your spine as you asked, What does that cost me?

There was no answer. For a minute or two, you simply stared at your phone. Waiting. All you could hear in the silence of your room was the steady thump of your heartbeat in your ears.

Then, another text came, Go to tomorrow’s volleyball game. A little birdie will be sent to help you.

You couldn’t imagine neonet sending someone to help you score Johnny Suh, but you had a feeling it wasn’t the worst thing they’d ever done. Matter of fact, the idea made a light bulb switch on above your head. You could grill this little birdie for information.

Got it, you texted back. Anything else I should I know?

You owe me a favor now. When I call it in, you will do as we ask or we will ruin you. Understand how this works?

Your hands were shaking as you typed, Yes. I understand.

Good girl.

You didn’t sleep a wink that night, like all the other nights before. Your pulse was pounding so roughly you could feel it throughout your entire body.

To pass the time, you opened neonet. You scrolled through posts. There were still plenty of you on the feed. You didn’t even check your DMs anymore. Girls sent you messages telling you to stay away from their boyfriends. Guys straight up propositioned you for sex.

And way too many of them were in relationships with those aforementioned girls.

Relationships that seemed happy and committed by looking at their profiles. It made your skin crawl. You sank into those thoughts about the nature of humans. Were we ever meant to be monogamous in the first place or are we no better than animals?

You thought back to your relationship, the only one you’d ever had. Tears filled your eyes. It had been nothing short of perfect, by most standards. Then, one day, he changed his mind.

He wasn’t in love with you anymore.

Rolling up in your blanket, you curled on your side and tried not to think about the boy that had broken your heart. He was across campus somewhere, undoubtedly reading the posts about how easy you had become.

And on that note, exhaustion finally hit its peak and your brain forcibly shut down. Thank God.

In the morning, you decided to make amends with Winter first. She was seated outside the mess hall, tucking her short hair behind her ear as the breeze swept over her face. Her notebook was open beside a big textbook and she jotted notes at a furious pace in usual Winter fashion.

You sat down next to her and said, “I’m sorry.”

Winter looked up, smiling at you sweetly. “For what?”

You sighed.

Winter didn’t hesitate to take your face in both hands and press a loud, affectionate kiss to your cheek. After turning back to her studies, she asked offhandedly, “Want to tell me what you’ve been up to?”

You grimaced. “I’m not sure you wanna know.”

“Fine. Keep your secrets,” she teased, then she turned stern on a dime. “Just promise you’ll talk to me if you’re in a bad place. Okay?”

You nodded and ran a hand through your hair. You spoke under your breath, like someone was listening in, “I don’t want to drag you into anything, Winter. I have a feeling I’m flirting with danger.”

“Your favorite hobby,” she retorted.

“I’m serious.”

Winter set down her pen, turning to you squarely. Her eyes locked with yours. “You’re a smart girl. You know when to quit.”

“I sure hope so,” you grumbled. Nowadays, you weren’t entirely sure.

Winter asked coyly, “All this for that editor position?”

“I don’t know anymore,” you groaned, overlapping your arms on the table and laying your head on them. You hid your face, mumbling, “This brought out a side of me I don’t like.”

Winter reached over, smoothing back your hair with a gentle hand. “I think this whole thing has made you confront that you can’t keep going through life like this. You have to face the music sooner or later.”

“I don’t want to,” you whined, words muffled by your arms.

Winter snickered. “People drown their sorrows with drugs or liquor or sex. Or they hyperfixate on a goal to the point of obsession when they realize it helps them forget about their broken heart.”

You lifted your head sharply. “I’m in this picture and I don’t like it.”

Winter was somber which was a rarity. “So am I.”

“You like sex. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Oh, I know, but I would still like to come home to the same person every night. I would like to believe that maybe there’s someone out there that could love me and all of my flaws.”

You touched her arm and said, “There is. I know there is.”

Winter smiled and her eyes glistened with unshed tears, tears she had kept buried for a long time. Squeezing your hand, she said, “I think we’re in different boats, you and I, but our storm is the same.”

You quipped to lighten the tension, “Then, let’s just park in a harbor until the storm passes.”

Winter tilted her head, giving you a look. “Babe, we both know the storm never passes.”

You exhaled loudly and leaned your head on her shoulder when she pulled you close for a hug. You felt better, knowing you weren’t alone.

That evening, you entered the gym and the endless noise bouncing off the walls was enough to make your ears ring. It was hard finding a seat on the bleachers, but you managed to spot an empty patch a few rows up.

A few students gave you nasty looks, and you glared right back at them, but no one hurled insults. You were already becoming last week’s news. There was juicier stuff to salivate over. There always was, courtesy of neonet.

You sat down by yourself, searching the boys on the court who were warming up for the match.

It wasn’t hard to spot Johnny Suh.

Devilishly handsome, obscenely tall and bulging with muscle, Johnny stood out from the crowd. He was the dream, the pick of the litter. Girls would line up for a chance to bring him home to meet their mamas.

You watched him hit the ball back and forth. A tiny tap from his broad hand sent the ball rocketing over the net. Your eyes drifted down to your phone before scanning the room. They had promised you a little birdie. You wanted to know if that bird would sing.

Checking your phone again, you forced yourself to put it down. Part of you knew you wouldn’t be getting any more anonymous texts at the moment, but you still hoped for another crumb.

Switching to your camera, you eyed yourself for the hundredth time. Not bad. Your hair was done and you were dolled up with makeup. It felt good to clean yourself up. The hot bath you took had turned cold before you finally made yourself get out. After talking to Winter, you even had enough motivation to fix your messy dorm room.

You were starting to feel like yourself again.

This was a little setback. That’s all, you told yourself. You were not going to let this defeat you.

The gym snapped you from your thoughts, the roar of the crowd getting louder as the game began. You pretended to be interested, but sports had never been your forte. Johnny was nice to look at though. For his size, he moved so smooth and spry. To say nothing of how much power he had.

You thought about his profile on neonet. It was common knowledge on campus that Johnny had been in a serious long-term relationship until recently. Per the rumors, he planned to propose to her when they graduated next semester, but she dumped him over the summer for another guy. A much older guy.

Regardless, people didn’t taunt or ridicule Johnny. They were scared shitless of him. Johnny had been in only a few fights, according to neonet, but his lesser opponents had been sent straight to the infirmary while he had barely a scratch on him.

Your peers were smart enough to kept their mouths shut where Johnny Suh was concerned.

You were nervous as hell to approach him. What should you even say to him? It’s not like you could be upfront about smashing the six like you were with Jeno and Yuta. Johnny would have never been your choice of target, but the anonymous number had handed him to you on a silver platter.

There was no doubt in your mind that the anonymous texts were from neonet and refusing a gift from neonet would undoubtedly result in punishment.

Movement at the bottom of the bleachers caught your eye. A latecomer had arrived. You blinked in surprise when you realized it was Ten.

Ten didn’t hesitate to climb the bleachers and sit right beside you. “Chirp. Chirp,” he greeted in a mocking tone.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you hissed.

Ten retorted, “Don’t look so surprised.”

You lowered your voice and spat, “Of course, you’re an admin.”

Ten leaned in close, whispering vehemently, “I’m not. I already told you. I just have a really bad habit of picking the wrong people to sleep with.”

“Fuck’s sake,” you groaned, grateful that the cheers of the crowd drowned out your conversation. After a moment, you turned to him and asked, “So, what are you doing here?”

“I’m under strict instructions to introduce you to Johnny. He’s one of my best friends,” Ten replied, eyes on Johnny as he blocked a spike from the opposing team.

“Orders from who?”

“Save it,” Ten snapped. “I’ll never tell. They have way too much dirt on me.”

You shook your head. “Jesus, Ten. This is too much.”

Ten turned to you curiously, seeing you waver with indecision, and said, “You’re still early in the game. You can back out, if you want. But you should know, they are very interested in you.”

Your brows stitched, but that tidbit of information had scratched your ego in exactly the right place. “Why me?”

Ten shrugged, but instinct told you he knew more than he said. “I’m guessing because you’re really good at exposing people? You’re a dog with a goddamn bone.”

“I thought I was the dragon slayer?”

“Yeah, no. I changed my mind,” Ten said with a scoff, shaking his head. “This is a dragon that never should have been fucked with.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and asked in a small voice, “You pissed them off. Didn’t you?”

“Yep.”

You shivered.

The two of you sat in silence for the rest of the game. It wasn’t until the match came to a close that Ten grabbed your arm and whispered, “I’m not supposed to say this, but be nice to Johnny. He’s my best friend and he just got out of a serious relationship.”

You were taken aback. Giving him a little nod, you said, “Okay.”

Ten stood, waving you forward to join him. You waited in the hallway between the gym and the locker rooms, passing the time on your phones because there was nothing else you could talk about with each other.

Finally, the players came out, gym bags slung over their shoulders. A few eyed you, probably recognizing you from the posts on neonet. Johnny was nearly last, fresh from a shower, and he perked up at the sight of Ten.

“Hey, John,” Ten greeted, putting away his phone.

“What’s up, Ten?”

“Good game,” Ten cheered, pretending to care, and reached around to give Johnny a gratuitous slap on the ass.

Johnny just chuckled while you stood there awkwardly.

Ten gave him your name and said, “She’s a newish friend of mine. She’s working on a story for the school paper and could use your expertise.”

Johnny seemed intrigued by that and asked, “Oh, yeah? What’s the story about?”

“Sex positions,” Ten lied with a big grin on his face.

“Ten,” you exclaimed incredulously. Way to break the fucking ice, you little shit.

“I’m kidding. Or am I? Ask her and find out.” And with that, Ten had done his part and left you to it, strutting away.

You and Johnny exchanged glances. Damn, he towered over you. You had never felt so small. Your cheeks were hot and you quickly apologized, “God, I’m sorry. That was messy.”

Johnny merely shrugged and said, “That’s Ten and he can get away with it. How can I help you with your story?”

“I, um, well,” you stammered, thinking about the anonymous text messages. Summoning your courage, you told him, “There’s no story. Well, not one you could help me with.”

Johnny arched a brow, immediately turning suspicious. “Okay?”

“I just wanted to meet you and I didn’t really have a chance to.”

“Ah. I see,” Johnny said, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Do you find me intimidating?”

“Have you seen yourself?” you shot back, a combination of nervous and playful.

“It’s just the height. I’m a total pushover.”

“Good to know.”

“How about we try this again?” Johnny flirted, holding out his hand. “I’m Johnny.”

You shook his hand and gave him your name again, resisting a giggle. He was more laid back than you expected.

Johnny let go of your hand and adjusted the bag on his shoulder. “Let’s skip the bullshit and go to my room. Shall we?”

Straight to the point. You nodded. “Sounds good.”

Johnny’s room was not what you expected from a jock with wealthy parents.

It took all of five seconds to notice Johnny had a penchant for photography. Various cameras, some new and some old, were lined on his dresser. Pictures were everywhere. Literally. He had them mounted on the walls. Some were framed. Others were clipped with pins. Raw prints were scattered on the small coffee table against the wall.

Speaking of coffee, Johnny seemed to like that too. He had an entire brewing station in the corner of his room. You had never seen such an assortment of mugs of different sizes, shapes and colors. Not to mention the host of bags of coffee, all varying brands and blends.

“Wow,” was all you said.

Johnny was over by the bed, gathering clothes scattered on top. He obviously hadn’t been expecting company. “Yeah, I made the mistake once of mentioning I can’t live without coffee. Now, every birthday and holiday, I get mugs and coffee as gifts.”

You giggled, setting down a mug made in the shape of a very overweight bear.

Tossing the small pile of clothes into a nearby hamper, Johnny said, “So, you are next in a long line of girls trying to shoot their shot at the boy who got dumped. The only difference is Ten vouched for you and he never does that.”

You frowned. You felt guilt wash over you like a bucket of ice water. If only Johnny knew his best friend was being blackmailed into buttering him up for your meal.

When you didn’t deny it, Johnny shot you a glance as he took off his shirt. “Am I wrong?”

Tension in the room was building like invisible clouds, making it harder to breathe. Your eyes were on his naked chest and abs, then his thick arms and wide shoulders, because how could you not? He was gorgeous.

But he wasn’t Mark.

“You’re not wrong,” you answered softly. “But it’s a little more complicated than that.”

Johnny almost chuckled. You were standing at the other end of the room. Your hesitation was obvious. He fished around the top drawer of his nightstand and replied, “It doesn’t have to be complicated. If you wanna fuck, I’m down. But that’s all I’m down for right now. Don’t expect date night on Friday.”

You felt a twisting sensation in your chest. It sounded so cut and dry, but you knew it was anything but.

Johnny finally found what he was looking for in the drawer, putting the joint to his lips and flicking the lighter. You watched the smoke pour from his mouth and wished you could take a hit to settle your nerves, because your nerves were absolutely shot.

Neonet was on your mind. Why did they want you to get Johnny? It seemed odd that they would help you in your stupid little quest, if the whole point of smashing the six was to prove yourself worthy. Handing you a target defeated the purpose. Was there some ulterior motive here, something nefarious at work?

Johnny crawled onto his bed, leaning back on the pillows piled against the headboard, and patted the empty spot beside him. He knew more than he let on, he always did. Johnny never showed his cards until he knew he had a winning hand.

He had read some of the posts about you. You didn’t become the infamous campus slut overnight. Something must have set you off.

You walked over to his bed, but you didn’t sit down yet. “Can I ask you something?”

Johnny bobbed his head as he blew out another pillar of smoke. “Sure.”

“I got out of a serious relationship.”

Johnny’s tone was unnerving and critical, almost like he didn’t believe you and assumed you were giving him a line. “How serious?”

“I thought he was the person I would spend the rest of my life with,” you said sadly.

Above all else, Johnny protected his wounded pride. More so than his broken heart. He was not keen on discussing it whatsoever, least of all with someone he just fucking met. But hearing you say that with the same look in your eyes that haunted him every morning when he looked in the mirror, Johnny allowed it. “Go on,” he said.

“How do you… I guess,” you trailed, searching for the words, but they wouldn’t come. “Have you…”

Johnny felt nothing but pity for you in that moment. You weren’t the little temptress coming to steal what was left of his heart. You were just as lost and empty as he was. “You’re still fucked up over it,” he said bluntly.

You nodded and lowered your head in shame.

“I am too,” Johnny confessed, sighing heavily. “Maybe I’m just better at hiding it.”

You finally lowered to the bed, muttering a small thank you when Johnny handed over the joint. You took a hit, blowing out the smoke. Your eyes drifted to the far wall as you tried to let the high seep in, pretending to look at the pictures he had mounted, but you were already losing focus.

Johnny reached for the joint, slipping it from your fingers so he could take another hit. The scent of marijuana was heavy in the room now.

You turned to him and asked, “Does it get any better?”

“You tell me.”

You shook your head. “It’s been two years and I’m still hurt.”

“Damn,” Johnny huffed.

“Yeah,” you said, taking the joint from his outstretched hand and putting it to your lips again.

Johnny pried, “Have you tried dating since then?”

“God, no,” you said with a wince. The idea alone left a bitter taste on your tongue. “I avoid it like hell.”

Johnny snorted. You were already opening up to each other. Nothing like shared heartache and weed to bring two people together. “That’s part of the problem,” he chided.

You shot back, “Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

“Just for now. I feel like if I jumped right into dating again, I would settle for the wrong person. I gotta get my shit together first. Then, I’ll be ready.”

A perfectly sound and rational argument, and yet you hated hearing it. “You seem like you know yourself,” you mumbled, bitter.

“And you don’t?”

Your eyes fell, landing on your hands. You didn’t even realize you were wringing them in your lap. The cloudy haze of being stoned had wrapped around you. You were relaxed, totally content to spill your guts to a complete stranger, but also coherent and well aware of your feelings.

“I thought I did,” you eventually said. Shame. That was all you felt. At what point had you replaced all of your shame with strength, only to revert back under the first moment of pressure?

Johnny stubbed out the joint in an ash tray on top of his nightstand before coming toward you. “I read a little about you,” he spoke softly. “For years, you haven’t been with anybody. Now, I know the full story. You got dumped.”

You swallowed back the horrible taste in your mouth and listened to him intently.

“You’re desperate for a human connection, because you went so long without one. Were you trying to convince yourself you didn’t need it?”

You were surprised and touched when he reached out and tucked your hair behind your ear. His lips were only a breath away from yours. Everything was warm and cozy, courtesy of your high, but maybe some of that was also Johnny.

There was no doubt he understood what you had gone through.

“Maybe,” you answered. “I just didn’t want to feel that pain again.”

Johnny sighed. “I think being scared to death of loving someone is a sad way to live your life.”

“You’re not scared?”

“No. Pain is the price we pay for love.”

You shook your head, thinking of Mark and his adorable laugh. “It’s too high.”

“No, it’s not,” Johnny said firmly. “One day you’ll meet someone and it will last forever.”

“You believe that?”

“I have to. If not, then what’s the fucking point of any of this?”

Your lips broke into a smile. “Johnny Suh, the hopeless romantic.”

Johnny was relieved to see he’d cheered you up. “If you spend your life avoiding getting hurt, you’ll never have any joy either. At least, that’s what my mom says. She knows everything.”

You laughed.

Johnny leaned forward, his nose brushing yours. Tension settled over the room all over again. “I’m looking for a connection too,” he whispered, lips hovering closer to yours. “I was with someone for so long. Someone I thought would never leave. Now, I’m alone. It’s not an easy change to get used to.”

“I know,” you said, closing what little distance remained, and kissed him.

Johnny smirked against your mouth, cupping your cheek in his hand. He let you lead for a little while, meeting his lips to yours gently at first before slipping his tongue into your mouth. You moved onto his lap, straddling his hips, and draped your arms around his shoulders.

If you didn’t know any better, you would think the room was full of haze and smoke. You were too relaxed, not a shred of tension left in your body as Johnny roamed his hands across your waist and back. When he gathered you in his arms and lowered you to the bed underneath him, you didn’t care. You just kept kissing him, threading your fingers into his hair.

But you were thinking about Mark. You couldn’t help it. Johnny was kissing you with abandon and you were sinking deeper into the mattress beneath his weight, and yet none of that compared to how you had felt when Mark hugged you.

There was a little catch in your breath and Johnny broke from your kisses, peering down at you. With your legs hooked on his hips, you could feel something hard in his pants.

“You’re thinking about someone else when you kiss me,” Johnny said lowly.

You swallowed to wet your dry throat. “Am I?”

He nodded. “Mm-hm. I can feel it.”

You didn’t have the heart to lie to him nor did you have any lies at your disposal considering the happy fog your brain had become under the influence of arousal and marijuana. “I’m sorry,” was all you said.

Johnny nipped at your lips before pressing another kiss to your neck. “Don’t apologize, baby,” he purred, proceeding to drag his lips down your chest.

He was thinking of someone else too.

You stripped out of your shirt when Johnny hiked it up around your ribs, kissing his way down your stomach and across your hips. You quickly took your phone out of your back pocket when Johnny proceeded to strip you out of your jeans.

Courtesy of your high, you unlocked your phone, opened your camera, and said, “Say cheese.”

Johnny, who was also very fucking high, had just finished getting your jeans off and didn’t bat an eye. He held your bare leg in his hand and brought it to his mouth, leaving a kiss on your ankle. Which was captured in the photo.

With that out of the way, you tossed your phone onto the mattress. Mission accomplished. Now you could just have fun.

When Johnny gathered your hips in his hands, you reached down to press your fingers into his bulging biceps. And when he kissed your sex over your damp panties, you gasped.

Johnny hooked a thumb in your underwear, tugging them to the side and not wasting any time in lapping his tongue through your folds. You cried out when his lips latched to your clit, hands flying into his dark hair.

You couldn’t believe the wet slick sounds coming from between your legs. It was almost as embarrassing as the sounds spilling from your mouth. Both of which were filling the dorm room in a matter of minutes.

Johnny knew exactly what to do. He was expert with his tongue, out to suck you dry. He would linger on your clit until you almost tapped out before returning to pump his tongue in your pulsing cunt.

You gripped the blanket beneath you until your knuckles ached. There was a heavy rise and fall of your breasts as you gasped in air. You were so sensitive; every touch from him was a torturous drag to the edge, testing your limits.

Johnny glanced up to see your face tensing with pleasure and that only made his hard cock twitch even more. “You’re dangerous, baby,” Johnny teased with a devilish grin. “I could fuck this pussy with my tongue all day and night.”

“Fuck,” you groaned, arching on the mattress. You raked your fingers through his hair, gripping the strands for dear life every time he sucked on your clit.

Johnny chuckled against your sex when your thighs clamped tightly on his head. He roamed his hands down your soft thighs, getting a good grip on your hips. “Are you close?” he asked nonchalantly, as if his face wasn’t currently buried in your pussy.

“Yes,” you wheezed, squirming underneath him.

“What do you need to get you there?”

“I don’t know,” you whimpered and that was the truth. You were stuck in some ungodly place between the high from marijuana and the high you were being dragged to by his tongue.

Both tore you farther away from thoughts of Mark.

Johnny chuckled at your answer. You were downright adorable.

You moaned when a hand palmed your breast over your bra. His other hand snuck to your folds and two long digits pressed into your heat without much resistance. Your hips started to buck into his face, chasing release like you had lost all self-control.

Johnny sucked and tongued your clit, driving his fingers in and out of your soaked pussy, hooking them against your sweet spot. He loved your soft moans and wandering hands, like you felt bad for tugging on his hair, but you desperately needed something to cling to.

You were panting now, cries pitching higher as you finally hit your peak and spilled over. Your body went taut with orgasm, mouth open in a silent scream.

Johnny only went harder as you came, fucking you with his fingers and toying with your clit even more when your hands frantically tried to push him back. He chuckled darkly when you curled away from the stimulation, but finally withdrew his hands when you stopped shaking.

You blinked through blurry vision, watching his ceiling fan whip around so fast you thought it would go flying through the air at any moment. “Holy shit,” you finally said.

“You’re welcome,” Johnny retorted, smoothing a hand over your inner thigh as he sat up and leaned back against the wall. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, wet with your release, and fought off reaching down to grab his cock.

You lifted your head, brows furrowed. “Why are you stopping?”

Johnny, for the record, had every intention of sleeping with you. He knew that was why you were there and his friends had been telling him he needed to get back in the saddle. But now, actually presented with the opportunity to have sex, Johnny realized he wasn’t ready.

“If I fuck you, I’ll think of her,” Johnny replied bluntly. “You’ll be thinking of whoever you’re thinking about. I don’t think we should do that to ourselves.”

You admired him for that, but you felt a little greedy. “You should finish though. It’s only fair.”

“Finish me then,” Johnny purred.

You locked eyes with him and sat up, reaching for his cock. You palmed him over his pants, making a noise in the back of your throat at just how big he was, and started unfastening his jeans.

Johnny moved back between your thighs again at your guidance and popped your legs around his waist. You kept stroking him, only his boxers left between your hand and his hard length, but Johnny finally tugged them down with his pants.

You gawked when his dick came free, long and curving toward his abs. You were - oddly enough - relieved he wouldn’t be sticking it in you. With both hands, you started to work him, focusing your fingers around the head when he sucked in a loud breath through his teeth.

Johnny tipped his head back, eyes fluttering closed. You licked your hands in between strokes until he was lubed up with your saliva, making your hands glide up and down his cock like silk.

After weeks of only having his own hands to get himself off, it felt so good to have someone else doing it.

You clenched your thighs on his hips a little, because it was too goddamn arousing - the sounds he made. You could feel how wound up he was, how tense, and you eagerly jerked him with your hands, hoping to give him the same needed release he gave you.

Johnny glanced down again. The erotic sight of his cock over your stomach made him twitch when he realized that’s how fucking deep he could go inside you. But he knew he would close his eyes and pretend you were her. And no matter how much pleasure he gave you, you would be thinking about the boy you loved.

You stroked him faster and faster, pumping his length, teasing the head. His hips started to move in heat-seeking thrusts and you knew he was close.

“Take your bra off,” Johnny huffed. He sounded winded, panting.

You reached around behind you with both hands, fumbling with the clasp of your bra. Johnny immediately took over, fisting his cock at a pace you could never match as he kneeled closer to you.

“Fuck,” Johnny groaned just as you tossed your bra away, a mangled groan leaving his lips as he pumped his cock fast.

You watched his cum land on your breasts, coyly mumbling little sweet nothings as he came, reaching as best you could to scrape your nails over his thick, trembling thighs.

Johnny propped himself on hands and knees over you once he had milked the last drop out of his cock. “Goddamn,” he sighed, catching his breath.

You laid there, overlapping your arms behind your head, letting him get a good look at his handiwork of his release painted on your naked breasts. There was a steady ache between your thighs, but you were satisfied.

Johnny pressed a parting kiss to your lips. “Don’t move,” he ordered softly, getting up and disappearing into the attached bathroom. He returned with a cloth and cleaned you up.

You thanked him and crawled out of his bed, glancing around to spot your clothes. His room was dark; they weren’t easy to find.

Johnny dressed in some sweatpants and got back into bed. He watched you scoop up your clothes, fighting with his pride, and called your name, asking, “Will you stay the night here?”

You turned around, surprised. “You want me to?”

“Yeah, I just… it would be nice not to sleep alone for a change.”

You smiled warmly and promptly dropped your clothes at your feet. After borrowing one of Johnny’s big t-shirts, which fit you like an oversized dress, you curled up in bed with him, his head nestled on your chest. You held him tight and ran your fingers through his hair.

Johnny fell asleep in a matter of seconds. You envied him. Instead of joining him in sleep, you were staring up at the ceiling.

You were thinking about Mark. Damn your traitorous heart. Those wretched feelings were bubbling in your chest, growing and growing until you were about to explode.

Here you were, in the arms of another man, longing for Mark. It was festering inside you.

At some point, you finally drifted off. Exhaustion always won in the end.

When morning came, Johnny woke you up gingerly, asking if you had a class to get to. Even though he had been adamant about this being strictly sexual, he was still a gentleman at his core.

You found yourself smiling at him more than once.

He made you coffee and let you use the chunky bear mug, and he told you that if you ever needed to talk - just come find him.

That feeling of having made a connection, as he so aptly put it, made you smile. And made you feel a little brave.

“That boy you’re thinking about,” Johnny called after you as you started to leave his dorm room. “You should tell him how you feel.”

You lingered your eyes on Johnny, giving him a nod. You wished nothing but the best for him and hoped there was endless love waiting for him in the near future.

Tell him how you feel. Johnny’s words were echoing in your ears. Soon, you could hear them in your own voice. Your mind was made up. You repeated the words over and over until at long last you decided to do it.

You were going to confess your feelings to Mark.

#nct #nct smut #johnny #johnny smut #johnny x reader

1K notes · View notes

terrence-silver · 27 days

Note

Is Terry the type to baby trap his beloved or would he just let it happen

---

Depends vastly of the circumstances.

He adapts.

Ideally, I feel Terry would, much like anyone else under the sun pretty much, deeply want for his partner to want to have his children more than anything else. To thank him for the opportunity. To be grateful. To look forward to it with every ounce of their being. Heck, to even beg, if possible, so he can relish the act, the attention and the supremacy he has over another living person being so enamored with him. He wants to draw that out of them. Incentify them. Inspire them. Be the only man they'd ever conceive having offspring with. But, if push came to shove, and they were hesitating, showing signs of being willing to slip away from his grasp somewhere in the near or distant future (ha-ha, nice try), giving out mixed signals, being hot and then cold? Not being dedicated enough to him and a future legacy? Hey, extreme situations require extreme measures, right? And this extreme situation calls upon him to do just do what he wants to do and simply impregnate beloved and ensure they're tied to him permanently, one way or another, seeing as how he ain't willing to relinquish something he desires and covets. He's gonna secure beloved one way or another, morality flying out the window. He relishes in either outcome, you see --- be it consensual in nature or of more dubious circumstances, because it's all sport either ways and whatever the method, however dark, however disturbed, he'll come out victorious. On top.

The ends justify the means, after all.

Of course, he can very easily use the oldest trick in the book and humbly state that a slip up happened and that --- boom --- beloved ended up pregnant seeing as how they weren't diligent enough to mutually take good care; simply something that happens in the heat of the moment and the height of passion and beloved does makes him oh so passionate, he might say (something that isn't a lie whatsoever, nonetheless, it's a serviceable tool to sell this story believably) --- still, it's hilarious that a control oriented perfectionist and micromanager like Terry would ever subscribe to accidents and overlooking something so crucial, regardless, he'll gaslight, he'll sweetly manipulate, he'll convince, he'll blame the fact that beloved makes him so horny that contraceptives just became an afterthought for a moment there and it's all a big part of his baby trapping scheme. To hide the fact this wasn't an innocent slip up and that he very much planned this all along; a need that only gets stronger and more pronounced as Terry Silver ages, I feel. He might think he's old and that as such, he's willing to lie, cheat and scam if it means securing himself at least an ounce of happiness by any means necessary as fast as possible, because time's running out and he's back is against the wall and that's bullshit. He doesn't like his back against the wall. He bites when he's against the wall. It's now or never. All the stars aligned. Love and desire and that one chance he's not gonna let go, becoming more insidious and unpredictable than ever.

But that is, he's just as willing to gloat over what he's done.

I think he cannot resist gloating (which is often this man's downfall).

It's in his nature to highlight the perverse and evil things he's done.

Enjoy himself while doing it.

Beloved might be there with their newborn and Terry could very well be barely containing himself from just looking them straight in the eye and telling them that he's done what he's done because it was pre-planned that it would pan out like this all along because he always gets what he wants the way he wants it. Heck, the idea alone makes him hard with absolute rotten glee.

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #tw; baby trapping #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #pregnancy #tw; morally dubious behaviour #tw; dubious consent

33 notes · View notes

shitpostingkats · 3 months

Note

What are your Twewy reaper headcanons?

NORMAL, I HAVE A NORMAL AMOUNT OF REAPER HEADCANONS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING

Okay so if you count Def March (which I absolutely do) there's twelve named Shibuya reapers. Which fits with the fact that every reaper corresponds to an animal of the chinese zodiac.

I'm just guessing with BJ and Tenho, according to Nomura every reaper has a hidden kanji in their names representing their animal, but I can't read japanese so I took a shot in the dark. Also, fun fact, Minamimoto can't rearrange the radicals in his name to spell boar, like he can with lion, his true noise form. But he's got a lot of boar symbolism, being found in Pork City, and his Leo Cantus Armo form having tusks, which ties into the fact that the Shinjuku reapers all have motifs based on hanafuda suits. MORE ON THAT LATER I AM VERY NORMAL ABOUT HIM.

Ahem. So awhile back I was considering writing a fic on all the Shibuya reapers and how they came to have their current jobs, what their games were like, etc. (Might still write this. I've been busy)

So I sat down to try and come up with headcanons for EVERY named Shibuya reaper, and now I hold every one of them near and dear to my heart.

Kariya is mentioned in game as the oldest reaper, probably having been around for longer than anyone else. I like to imagine there's a huge gap between him and any other current reaper, which drives Mitsuki CRAZY, this chill dude just hangs around and eats candy but also has seniority???? Also he's more powerful than any other reaper save maybe the composer?

The thing that did him in was lung cancer. The lollipop's a replacement cigarette, in much the same way people recommend chewing on hard candy if you're trying to quite smoking. Why did he decide to quit after he died, and he no longer had anything to worry about? Listen the Game's all about growth, and Kariya is possibly the strongest because he is so capable of change, of going with the flow, and learning from his mistakes.

Like every ex-Player, he had a partner when he won his game, and I don't have a whole lot of headcanons for them except 1) they chose to return to life, and 2) Uzuki reminds him of them a lot.

Mitsuki was a woman working her ass off to try and make it in male-led office, until she literally worked herself to death. As you might expect, this royally pissed her off. She was desperate to return to life, but unfortunately, her entry fee came as a pair. What her partner, a simple farmwoman from out of town, valued most was the ability to go unnoticed and unremarked on, while Mitsuki deeply coveted every scrap and morsel of recognition she could get.

So their partnership was cursed so no matter what they did, people's eyes would skate over Mitsuki, dismiss her, and Mitsuki's partner would be lauded with the credit. Mitsuki became almost invisible, while her partner was forced to step up and do most of the talking.

This led her partner feeling more comfortable with being seen, with taking up space, so when the chance came to return to life, she took it with grace. Mitsuki, on the other hand, came to realize she liked working from the shadows. And besides, she could have more power as a reaper than anything a stupid company of the living could offer her...

Higashizawa is pretty simple, both in the game and in my headcanons. He's a cook. Maybe an army cook, but the point is he values food as a part of life, and had to cope with entry fee in the game being unable to eat, despite all the other players, including his partner, being able to.

I picture his partner on the younger side, maybe a cadet, maybe not. They had a very sweet dynamic, very paternal. Even though he couldn't eat, Higashizawa would break into restaurants that didn't have a reaper decal, and "commandeer" their kitchens to make dishes, which, despite only one of them eating them, saved them enough yen and gave enough stat boosts for them to win the game. And led to a spiked increase in reports in "haunted kitchens" for the week they were playing.

Kitanji is TRANS. I know this for a fact. Mr. Square Enix himself told me.

"Megumi" is technically a unisex name but much more commonly a feminine one, something that is actually brought up in the manga, when my dumb cat son tries to nickname Kitanji and Kitanji snaps back that he's very sensitive about his name and was bullied as a kid. This is a trans guy.

He ran a record store in life that unfortunately fell victim to an armed robbery, and Kitanji was killed. His most important thing, his name, was taken from him as his entry fee. This further parallels him to Neku, who woke up in the game knowing nothing but his name. It could also explain why he's so distrusting of Shibuya and thinks the world would simply be better if everyone conformed; after being on the end of transphobic bullying in life, the idea of standing out and embracing the chaos of being a unique soul terrifies him.

MINAMIMOTO is my dumb stupid goth catboy son and I am INSUFFERABLE about him. I have SO many headcanons it's insane.

First off, he died of general exposure, as he was homeless for most of his life. This nicely ties into his habit of collecting garbage, making trash into something brash and artistic, and his general attitude of making himself heard and assertive, while still being so in tune with the flow of the city and people that he has powers unseen in any other reaper. Minamimoto was ignored by the city in life so in death HE IS GOING TO KILL GOD AND TAKE HIS PLACE. WHILE BEING EXTREMELY LOUD ABOUT IT.

So it stands to reason that his entry fee, upon entering the game, was his voice. For the entire game, he was completely mute.

(One of the first things he did as a reaper, was get his megaphone.)

His partner was a diver from the coast who's entry fee was her memories of her home. She knew she had one, she just couldn't remember where, and who was waiting for her in the living world. They developed a series of hand signs for Sho to communicate with, both having a rough grasp of JSL, Sho from some fellow homeless people who were deaf and her from her experience as a diver.

My other big, big headcanon for him is, about 3/4s of the way through the week, she died. Sho, knowing about the seven minutes rule because he picks things up quickly, knew he didn't have long to live if he let her soul energy dissipate and that she would never find out where he home was, but it was MOSTLY about his own survival, shut up, collected up her soul data and tried balancing her equation and a bunch of other Minamimoto nonsense I am not smart enough to write. x = acos(t) and y = asin(t) over root 2 and all that.

He turned her into a noise.

After all, transformation is kinda his thing, and he's notably skilled at manipulating Soul and giving it new forms. He was the one who discovered the loophole that Beat would use to save his sister in week 1. It's what originally put him on Hanekoma's radar as someone to keep an eye on. Hanekoma also made note of the process in case he ever needed it.

After that, Minamimoto went on to win the game, have his partner restored to life, and was now far too curious about studying Soul and Noise to even think of doing anything else but staying in the UG.

His noise form, while originally a boar, he managed to by complete force of will shape into a lion, just because he wanted to be a lion.

He had a short tenure as a wall reaper, where he would ask impossibly long math questions of the "A train leaves Philadelphia at 8:00am traveling 90 mph" variety. This caused him to be promoted to an Officer just to stop him from being a Harrier, and some rules to be laid down regarding what can and can't be a viable quiz for the wall questions.

Def March was a real band before they died, probably in some hilarious way, that killed all three of them. Being Shibuya's only instance of a rare three person pact, their collective entry fee was their memories of knowing each other in life, but they decided to stick together anyways despite having no idea who these random two other guys they woke up in the afterlife with were. Cue clown music as they proceed to become best friends and vow to start a band together once they win the game.

They decided to stay as reapers once they won because none of them could think of anything cooler than a metal band that was actually dead.

Although still very passionate about music, most of their memories of being a band getting erased meant they had some space to explore new hobbies. BJ and Tenho decided to combine their newfound loves of bar trivia and local history into a new method of Harrying, known as the Reaper Review.

Coco wasn't able to see much of the city when she was alive, being hospital bound for most of her life before losing the fight to a chronic illness at a young age. So she took to being a reaper with gusto, diving in to the local trends and culture like she was starving for it. Her entry fee might be considered a paltry thing to most, the ability to see color, but it truly was the thing about herself she valued most. After a life of drab grey walls and sterile surfaces, color was deeply important to her, none moreso than the colors she chose for herself.

She's also the most adventurous of the Shibuya reapers, being the one to actually leave the district and travel to other places in the city, which is how she and Tsugumi became friends.

Uzuki is the second newest reaper, having died recently of a heart attack (see the sprites where she clutches her chest when taken off guard) Like Mitsuki, she was originally deeply annoyed by her life being cut short, but adapted quickly to the new structure of the reapers and is aiming high after realizing how much more being a reaper can offer her. I genuinely have no idea what her entry fee might have been so I am currently in the market for a good headcanon there.

Joshua is the most recent addition to the Shibuya reapers

Okay, hear me out.

First off, I am obsessed with the fanon that Joshua and Fret knew each other in life. Joshua is heavily implied in the first game to have taken his own life, while Fret speaks in the second about losing a friend to what is heavily implied to be suicide. The idea that the loss that set Fret down the path of repression and insincerity was Joshua scratches my brain in such a satisfying way.

Second, he's a prodigy in all things UG related, but has the general attitude and personality of someone actually the age he appears to be. Boy is chronically 15. I think it's much more likely he died a little more than a year or two ago before the start of twewy and rose through the ranks quickly, rather than being some eternally 15 twerp whose been around for years.

It is mentioned he knew Hanekoma in life, and would visit CAT street frequently to talk about the UG, which is something he could see even before he died. He killed himself knowing where he would go, and how he was special.

So I think his entry fee is he got to the UG and couldn't see anything.

No noise, no reapers, no players. Hanekoma was waiting for him, being just enough of a non-game-related entity to at least give him a heads up and see he got a Pact. Joshua himself doesn't know much about his partner, being unable to see them for the entire game. But he did rely on them. Trust your partner. In Josh's case, he had to.

Also, think about the blood vessel Uzuki would pop if she learned that the all powerful composer who wields the power of the entire city with a mysterious anonymity had actually been with the UG shorter than she has.

41 notes · View notes

jakeyt · 7 months

Text

Covet: Chapter 7 (Part 2) (Sneak Peek)

a/n: a little peek into the beginning of next chapter to tide you over as you wait for the rest of the chapter..... <3 (this is possibly the longest sneak peek i've posted yet...)

You were correct in assuming the boys would come in and take over the machine at the bowling alley; fingers flew over the touchscreen panel and ridiculous pictures were taken to accompany their player names.

Elsie only sat back and watched Josh in nothing short of amazement, laughing at every single thing he’d say or do. And he’d look back at her and send secret smiles, shooting winks and long glances when he wasn’t looking at the machine.

They were fucking adorable.

But they could have the relationship.

You weren’t interested in something like that.

Though, you couldn’t help the way you watched Jake’s ass as he bent over the chair to put his name in, along with his own picture. His eyes crossed and tongue sticking out.

You really couldn’t help the smirk and tiny giggle that bubbled out of you when he’d set it up.

Also, his ass was looking fucking round and delicious in his jeans.

Fuck.

When he’d taken the initiative to get the guys’ shoes for them at the counter, you took the opportunity to do the same for your sister and you.

This could be your chance to talk to him about rules.

Following behind him a few healthy steps, you saw him bent at the waist, arms crossed on the shoe counter as he talked to the girl working it. What was he doing? He was only up there to get fucking shoes.

Despite being annoyed, you did openly take the opportunity to admire his ass while you could. It was too tempting not to. Firm as hell, and poking out yet again from this position he was leaning into.

You didn’t waste time, though, as you met him at the counter. There was shit to do and he was already taking too long.

You sidled up next to him, without another thought, as the girl across the counter continued to flirt openly with him.

You rolled your eyes at her, glancing at him as he did the same back. He had a shit eating grin on his face the whole time, as if he knew she was lapping up every bit of it all.

Stupid. You guys needed to get your shoes and get back to start the game. None of you had time for the little game he and this girl were playing.

And she needed to focus on her job.

“I need some shoes, too, if you don’t mind,” you butted in, pressing your arm into Jake’s. She looked annoyed, but you didn’t care. You were too. Looking down at your roommate, you narrowed your eyes at him. He was already looking at you, a raised brow and a smirk on his lips. Your panties got the slightest bit wet. Dumb. “Did you at least give her your fucking sizes?”

He rolled his eyes, but quickly changed his face to a knowing sort of thing that made you want to punch him and kiss him all at once. He uncrossed his arms from the counter, standing up to look down at you.

“Yes,” he said, voice dripping with irritation, and a mix of something else you couldn’t put your finger to. “Would you like to give her yours, ma’am?”

“Shut the fuck up, Jake,” you gritted in response. You looked back at her, as she continued to size Jake up. “Excuse me, I still need shoes. A woman’s size 6 and a size 8.”

And just as she begrudgingly left to get them all, you made eye contact with him again. He was already looking at you.

The apples of his cheeks were round with a big smile, pearly white teeth gleaming in the neon lighting of the place as he chuckled lowly.

“What, Cheshire fucking Cat?”

“You’re silly,” he said cutely. “And you’ve got a filthy fuckin’ mouth on you tonight, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

Your heart leapt at him calling you that. You really liked how it sounded when he called you pet names— like sweetheart and baby. . . It sounded so, so nice falling from his pretty lips.

Blinking back at him, you refocused. “I’m silly? What the fuck does that mean?”

“You just are. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s cute. You’re cute,” he leaned his butt against the front of the counter, and he reached out to toy with the halter top you’d worn tonight. “And you look fucking sexy tonight. Why didn’t you stand closer to the stage for me to see you while I played?”

You flushed, and felt the slightest bit sad when he let his hand fall from your shirt to tuck back into his front pocket.

“Wanted to show Elsie another vantage point of the show,” you replied, not wanting to tell him that you weren’t sure you could’ve handled being that close to him, watching him ruthlessly fuck his guitar. It would’ve made you fall victim to him before you were able to discuss your rules with him. “But that doesn’t matter. We need to talk about something.”

He let out a breath and then responded, “Well I know what this is going to be about,” he started, his eyes locking with yours. You lifted a brow, encouraging him to continue. “You don’t think us having sex is the best idea, hm? Can’t let yourself have too much of a good thing.”

Scoffing, you crossed your arms.

You uncrossed them.

Then, with a huff, you crossed them again.

You were starting to realize when you did this, it made you feel guarded, emotions not on full display. Jake brought out so many different emotions in you— made you feel exposed. Crossing your arms to hide what pieces of yourself you could cover was all you could do. You just weren’t sure if it was healthy to constantly be on guard like you so often were.

But it was just what you did. Especially with him.

“You think it’s that good?” You sassed, trying to disguise how wonderful you knew it to be, your pussy still in the slightest bit of pain from just how good he’d given it to you not even twenty-four hours ago.

His eyes bore into yours, challenging you. “Oh, you’re saying it wasn’t?” He turned towards you. “Is that why I had to cover your mouth to keep you from getting all loud? You didn’t seem to think it was so bad when—.”

“Here are your shoes!” The girl was back, sliding all six pairs Jake’s way. You scooted yours and Elsie’s over to you, eying the girl and judging how she was holding eyes with Jake.

“These were mine,” you reminded as you held onto the backs of the shoes, clicking them against the counter.

As you went to hold them in your arms, you waited for her to look up at you. And when she threw you a disgusted glance, you didn’t let her look away, pinning her there. And as if on cue, customers were showing up behind you and Jake.

“Better get to work,” you remarked at her, throwing a thumb back to point at the next people in line. You then tapped the other boys’ shoes to remind Jake to get them. He grabbed them just in time for you to take him by his sleeve. He chuckled under his breath as he let you drag the two of you over a few feet.

Why was he laughing?

You released him as soon as you were far enough away from the girl that she’d leave you alone.

“You like her?” You questioned hotly (for literally no reason at all, really just genuine curiosity). “She definitely likes you.”

“I don’t know,” he smirked, raising an eyebrow at you. “Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t.”

“You’re the one who asked.”

“I just think it’s a good idea for you to be careful where you’re sticking your dick,” you chided, assuming to yourself that was the reason you asked in the first place. There was no other reason to care. “I’ll make you fucking wrap that shit.”

“I always do,” he challenged, stepping towards you a bit. It made your heart thump in your chest.

“No you don’t,” you challenged back, crinkling a brow with a shake of your head. “You’ve never—.”

“Not with you I don't. Other girls, always. It’s fucking nasty not to,” he reasoned. His voice went impossibly lower, deeper with his next words. “I’ve never given a flying fuck about truly feeling the shape of a girl’s pussy until yours. I wasn’t going to miss out on that.”

Your cheeks heated, becoming red at his words. You could not be that special.

“That’s a fucking lie,” you hushed back, leveling with him. You pushed your chest out to fake a sort of sanity you were beginning to lack. “What about your ex-girlfrie—?”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’, his hand coming up to gently hold your bicep. His calloused thumb smoothed over your skin, drawing mindless shapes. You shivered. “Always used protection with her, too.”

You blinked. You were at a loss for words.

His eyes scanned your body. The outfit of black skinny jeans that showcased your ass and your striped halter top that gave you incredible cleavage. He watched the curves of your breasts as your chest heaved at him watching you.

Your eyes floated to his lips, full and pink and kissable. Fuck. You just wanted to kiss him so bad.

It seemed he wanted it, too.

His were getting nearer and nearer to yours.

And you were leaning into it. . . So close to what you were learning was a constant craving.

“Y/n!” Elsie’s voice from across the way brought you out of your momentary daze.

You shoved Jake back.

Dammit, you hated being cut off from him like that.

But you were currently way too close for outside onlookers.

Your eyes were as wide as a deer in headlights as you scanned the alley for her. You’d lost your party entirely, your mind being wrapped up in only Jake for the past fifteen minutes.

She whistled to gain your attention. And when you finally saw her, she was still on the bench from earlier, Josh right next to her. Their thighs were touching and his arm was over the back of her chair, facing away from you.

Thank fuck. He hadn’t seen.

But you had the sneakiest suspicion Elsie had seen too much. The quirk of her lips said so.

You could deal with her later.

“Shoooooes!” She sang, Josh harmonizing with her momentarily as if to mock. She giggled at him, shoving his shoulder. Now looking at him as she spoke, “I’m ready to kick Josh’s ass and I need my shoes to do it!”

You looked back over at Jake for a split second, seeing the same disappointment in his eyes that you were feeling in the pit of your stomach.

But you just couldn’t chance all of them seeing you two like that.

You were still looking at him when you called back with a, “Coming!”

And as you walked back to your friends, Jake followed closely behind. You could feel him staring at your ass as you swayed it in front of him. With the smallest secret grin on your lips, you pressed the back of your hand to your cheeks to tame your blush.

The throbbing between your legs was begging for him.

You had to get these stupid (albeit necessary) rules out of the way quick so you could sneak off and let him fuck you.

-🌼🌼🌼-

“Ah! Another fucking strike!” Sammy punched the air in triumph, elbowing Danny in the side. “Try to beat my fuckin’ score, Daniel! Betcha can’t.”

The four of you that sat back at the booth to watch applauded Sam’s score, but urged Danny on to “kick his ass, Danny!”

“Don’t let him have the upper hand,” you shouted at Daniel, who sent a wink back at you.

And as Danny took his first shot, you heard Jake pipe up from across the table. “Who wants something to drink? Or maybe some fuckin’ chicken tenders or something. ‘M starving.”

Everyone yelled back “me!” except for you, who watched him lazily from your side of the booth. You’d been admiring him any chance you’d gotten from your spot all evening. He was sitting next to Josh and you were next to Elsie. Perfect view of him across the booth.

“Jacob, I volunteer you to get the booze and food,” Josh decided, clapping a hand against Jake’s shoulder. “I’ll play in your spot while you’re gone. We’re basically the same person, so it counts.”

Elsie joined in with her own two cents. “And I think you should help him carry it all back, sis, so I don’t let Josh get the upper hand with too much playing.” She added, “Let me play for you, too, and I’ll stay on the same page as him. Keep things fair.”

They laughed with each other like two little obnoxious love birds. And you couldn’t even care about it as you met eyes with your roommate, a glint in his eye at the prospect of you two escaping.

He got out, and you watched his body unfold, and then as he stretched from sitting. You averted your gaze when you heard the telling sign of a strike, and the sounds of Danny rubbing it in Sammy’s face.

“Sure,” you replied, trying to act irritated that she was making you leave. When you were actually anything but. She looked at Jake, then back at you, throwing you a wiggle of her brows as you got out. Bitch knew what she was doing.

Jake waited for you, and you quickly joined him in walking to the bar.

---

a/n: i'm sorry to make us all wait on this update 😩 this chapter is important, so i am taking my time in writing it. i'm also in the process of writing a couple of other fics, as well as battling extreme fatigue when i get home from teaching all day (beginning of the year tiredness is the worst).

please send in any and all thoughts you have!! what are you looking forward to most as of now? what do you hope happens? what do you think is going to happen for our beloved y/n and Jake??? love you guys so much <3

#i hope you are ready for a LOT of angst #......and smut #ily guys <3 #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake fic #my fics #covet

59 notes · View notes

onelocket · 1 year

Text

Words heavier than guns

Fyodor Dostoevsky + GN Reader

involves -- harm/violence, quotes from the real fyodor d., mentions of religion

kinda just sat down and started aggressively typing so yeah. might delete tomorrow

⚘

You wanted to show him the better world.

That’s all you wanted to do, all you had to live for. Neither your future nor dreams were above it. You wanted to show Fyodor Dostoevsky the better world that was already here, because he doesn’t seem to realize it himself.

"A better world?" Nikolai repeats your mumble, eyes slightly wide with amusement.

"My, what a brave one you are. Do you perhaps think similar as I? To indulge your emotions… for a guy who shows none."

Gogol’s words should be enough to eat you whole, but it failed to kill that wrecking force.

The days went on with fail to be numbered since you had your life dedicated to a guy like Dostoevsky, who you never actually knew your feelings to. Was it hatred, jealousy, or a love concerning for what he seems to show as his ideals and desires?

But even if you did find attraction to this man… to fall in love does not mean to love. One can still fall and still hate.

And you felt as if all three gutting emotions twisted you. Twisted your once logical heart — twisted your once stable mind. All twisted to melt to pure covetous.

His ideals of ‘changing’ this world to a better place left a bitter tune on your ears, disagreeing on every single word he had his beautiful voice sing out. How utterly wasteful.

"He is playing fools," You replied to Gogol, a finger of yours tapping on the table. "Dostoevsky is a fool with brains but no heart."

"Mhm? How would you define somebody who has a heart, then?" The clown in front of you smiled, his eyes near to squint with that entertained decoration.

"…Anybody but Dostoevsky is."

⚘

"I’d say you played yourself to who you call the fool," Fyodor smiled, "but to let mind realize something — If I’m what you call a fool with brains but no heart, then you are a fool with a heart but no brains."

You coughed out a pungent hatred for him, body sat on the floor with your palms supporting your heavy chest. Your eyes glare over his purple ones, never seemingly giving you a chance to find any peeked door to his true emotions.

His display was too good, even for the mind of yours.

Hand on your mouth, you slowly let it fall, eyes leaving his gaze to turn to the gun beside you. The gun you relied on to use if things got unsolvable.

It’s not even the situation that held that word at this point — Fyodor himself carried it.

You swore your own mind could kill as you can’t seem to discard that Gogol obviously told Fyodor about you and his conversation earlier this day. How else would Fyodor suddenly bring up a point you only made to the clown today?

The thought didn’t help, leading your mind to keep this… rather tense conversation going.

"Then that just makes the both of us fools, doesn’t it? We’re both unhappy, and we both suffer." You say.

"Knowing that, you’d still live in a fool’s paradise?" Fyodor replied, a smirk contorting on his face as if finding your reply entertaining.

"But never in yours, that’s for sure."

You asserted, lifting your hand up as a familiar sound of clicking comes out from the gun — now aimed at the man in front of you. Fyodor’s now faint smile remains untouched by your threat, his eyes narrowing down to examine yours. "Being shot in a church isn’t really in my ideal." Fyodor hummed out, as if situation was but a small talk for you and him.

"I’ve been trying to get rid - to burn those thoughts of yours that only bring death and punishment to this world. I fail to see the ‘better’ in there, yet you don’t think the same." You explained, as if trying to deny you were aiming a gun at his chest. Of course, you never plan to shoot him right now, but you can’t afford him to move either, so excuses are ought to be made.

"I wouldn’t just shoot the guy I’ve been trying to change his view even after so long, would I?" You finished with a chuckle, as if all was just a playful banter.

Yet to Fyodor — it played like a tinkle of bells with roses being thrown to a wedding aisle, but accompanied to thorns that could send even the angels from above bleeding.

Your voice and noise, words and mien was always patterned like the Devil instructed you itself, but with God planning every breath you took with it.

And as if you couldn’t get any better, your dedication to change his unmoved mind was nothing but entertainment. You disliked his side of beliefs, but you clearly had a reason to all be pressing onto this manner as if you were an ability user in threat.

You challenged the embodiment God and the Devil both sculpted for this world; now gotten sucked up by it. First committed to change his mind, being human second.

And to Fyodor, that was nothing but beautiful. A beautiful that isn’t boring for once. A beautiful that he didn’t need to change — a beautiful he can both consume or get destroyed in; depending on his desire.

Fyodor gifts you a low hum, "Ah, but of course. Love in action is harsh and dreadful compared to love in dreams, isn’t it?" peppering that sense with another question that leaves your stare more intense.

Love? Dreams?

"Tell me, milaya. What am I to you?"

What is he to you — that makes you want to even betray your own soul to make me see the world the way you see it?

You left him unanswered, your fingers gripping tighter on the metal while you look at him intently. For once, you didn’t think of an immediate reply to fight back. Not that you could — with you leaving your conflicted thoughts untainted, it was hard to reply calmly; no matter how collected you acted yourself out.

Lover, acquaintance and enemy — he was like all at once.

But Fyodor doesn’t wear any disappointed anticipation in his face as he just stares at you, to which… you weren’t sure if you could’ve done the same.

Instead, your eyes meet the overly large window behind him, lighting the whole church with an amethyst dark and elegant. Nothing was behind him but the window illuminating light, however you couldn’t help but feel as if God Himself was behind Fyodor, glaring at you with contempt Fyodor couldn’t show himself.

It accompanied Fyodor’s figure all too well — that irritating gaze of beauty making your mind twitch as you huffed out a soft noise, fixing your eyes back at him.

"What you want isn’t better. Killing others that have an ability like you isn’t going to bring forth any better." You cut the uncharacteristic silence, your body copying it in the process as you brought your knees to stand, gun still aimed at him.

"Being told so by a non-ability user brings me different." He spoke calmly, albeit his action turns otherwise as Fyodor steps forward to you, making your actions pause while your ears register that harsh, loud step on the wooden flooring of the empty church.

"All I want you is to follow what I see in this world. You just need to let me show it to you."

"And so do I want a better world to be seen… to be understood by all." He replied like your words were a question.

As if finding no acknowledgement to the gun aimed at him, you soon see Fyodor reach down, his fingers all gliding up to rest delicately on your forehead — feeling them tighten its grip on your hair in the process.

Your breath hitches, your intense stare on the guy in front of you creaking into something unfamiliar instead as his eyes follow your lips instead. The light fails to support you, your vision unable to see the true emotion in his eyes as your body froze, unresponsive to anything.

"But if a begging rat like you wants it so bad to be bringing guns to me," Fyodor rasped before properly speaking; the words sharpening themselves while he gently pulls your hair for you to look up, "Then destroy my desires. Eradicate my ideals, show me something better, and only then will I follow you."

#krei promptfics #bsd dostoevsky #bsd imagines #bsd x y/n #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor imagines #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd fyodor #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd x you #fyodor x reader #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor x y/n #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x you #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader

132 notes · View notes

witheringwidgetwrites · 8 months

Text

Covetous; Leviathan

Out of ALL the days for him to go to in person school, this is what he hears? He's quick to excuse himself, heart pounding and hands slightly shaky. He hand glides across the hallway ways as he makes his way to the bathroom. He mumbles to himself, "I might be sick." He enters the bathroom, locking the door and closing the lid on the toilet before sitting down.

He leans his head back against the cool tile of the wall, breathing deeply through his nostrils. He can feel his eyes getting glossy, tears starting to blur his vision. All over you, a normie.

He thought he had a chance. He thought he saw meaningful glances, smiles reserved only for him when he helped you beat game levels. He thought you enjoyed being around him, he had so much hope that those anime cuddle sessions weren't just platonic. He felt so close to you, much closer than he ever had to anyone. He loved holding you, even when he was red in the face, shaking, and stuttering. He loved every moment of your affection, he left alive for the first time in history.

He let the sting of salty tears roll down his cheeks for a moment, before blinking them away, rubbing his cheeks with his sleeve, and heading home. It was thankfully the last class of the day anyway.

He arrived home, quickly getting his online homework out of the way. He had just picked up the controller when a knock rang at the door, "Levi! Hey, are you feeling okay? I heard you left early."

He sat there, debating on ignoring you, or opening it. On one hand, you were still his best friend. And you might not even go away, so stubborn! But he's not ready to face you. He can feel his heart beating out of his chest, tears starting to well back up as he thinks about your time with Solomon. Do you guys hold hands? Does he kiss you? Does he hold you? Does he cuddle with you? He probably gives you all the things Levi couldn't. Solomon's attractive, athletic, powerful, charming, witty, everything he can't be. How could he ever think you'd want him in the first place? He hears you mumble, "guess he's not home yet." He frowns, slightly disappointed you gave up so easily. He turns back to his computer, DDD buzzing as you walk away.

Henry🐠: Hey Levi!! Are we watching 'The Whole World Is Petrified And Only I, A Genius High-Schooler Can Save Us From The Stone Age' tonight? :)'

Lord of Shadows: Sure, see you at 5.

He responds before he can help it, he's desperate to spend time with you. He shakes his head as he sets his phone down.

You frown as you read his response. He feels standoffish? Maybe he's just having an off day, hopefully extra cuddling can fix it!

It's already 4:30. He wonders what you're doing spending time with him, why aren't you hanging out with Solomon? Or even one of his brothers? He wonders if you'll still sit between his legs, or if you'll lean your head on his shoulder. But maybe it would be too much to handle if you did, too much to hope for.

He's at the door before you knock, your hand raised and the other holding a blanket and a bag of snacks. You smile at him, he gives you a half hearted smile back, and it doesn't meet his eyes.

"What's up Levi? Are you having a rough day?" You frown at him, setting the bag down and situating the normal cot that you both cuddle on.

"I guess you could say that," he trails off for a moment, "are you sure you even want to hang out with me? I mean you could be with Beel, Satan, even Solomon would probably be better company th-"

"Leviathan. Knock it off." You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him. He feels tense under your arms, more than usual. "There is no where else in the world I'd rather be than with you. I swear."

He smiles softly, hesitantly wrapping his arms around you and barely touching his cheek to the top of your head.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Your voice is slightly muffled from shoving your face into his chest.

"Not really, maybe later." He's the first to pull away, which is a little unusual. He's typically touch starved and loves the affection. Maybe today just isn't the best day for him?

You sit down, coaxing him to sit beside you. He's quick to play the anime, and you notice exactly how upset he seems to be. He's not pausing the story to share his theories, he's still tense as you lean onto him, and he's back to when you first started hanging out, barely able to touch you. Even so, spending time with him is easy. He relaxes into your touch as the episodes go on, and before you know it, you're dozed off onto his lap.

The next week passes by quickly. Levi loosens up a little, but he still won't share whats got him so upset. He's quieter around you, and it feels almost like your friendship is back to square one. You decide to give him his space, maybe he's more uncomfortable with you than you thought.

Leviathan's day of in-person school comes up quickly, he avoids Solomon like the plague, and, coincidentally, you, as Solomon is tutoring you for the lunch hour. He's almost halfway through the day as he heads to his Seductive Speechcraft class to take his 2nd exam. He stops quickly as he hears you, "What rumor?"

Asmodeus giggles, "that you're dating Solomon! I almost really believed it at first, there was something about a janitors closet, and I was like, omg so scandalous!"

He feels his stomach turn, turning around to head away before he hears you again.

You laugh, "absolutely not. I don't think I could ever date Solomon. He's cool and all, but kind of old school."

Relief floods his chest. Like a weight is lifted off his shoulders. He decides, as of now, he needs to confess before it's absolutely too late. He scrambles past the door, hiding until you and Asmodeus exit the classroom.

He's been contemplating for what feels like hours, fingers barely ghosting above the send button. How was he supposed to really ask you on a date? I mean, what did he have to offer? Besides those late night gaming sessions where you seem oh so happy. He could have sworn, he thought you might have liked him too. And now, while he sits here imaging how much you must dislike him, he starts to think about the small chance that you MIGHT like him. The dates you could go on, all the late night gaming sessions you could spend together, the duo cosplays? And-

Lord of Shadows: Will you go on a date with me?

Oh no. His fingers accidentally hit the send button! He panics for a moment, heart jumping to his throat, and fingers trembling. He starts to type another message, backpedaling for a moment, before he realizes that it might seem like a joke, and you'd be so hurt! He can't have that, but-

Henry: I would be honored to a date with the great Lord or Shadows :) Thought you'd never ask.

He feels a blush light up his cheeks. There's no way this is real! MC accepting his invitation on a date? Absolutely not! And despite his protests, he reads the message, over and over. It's real.

Mission success!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me leviathan #leviathan x reader #leviathan fluff #hurt comfort #hurt/comfort #jealousy

92 notes · View notes

heartkyeom · 1 year

Text

election

politician!boo seungkwan x campaign manager!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: light political talk but nothing too complicated (fuck capitalism), choking, fingering, descriptions of female anatomy, hate sex (!!!!)

notes: once again got a random idea in the middle of the night and wanted to run with it! thanks to @junhui-recs and @flowerwonu for beta reading <3 hope you all enjoy it!

taglist: @weakforsvt @junhui-recs @rasparagus @just-here-to-read-01 @baekhyunstruly @enhacolor (join my taglist here!)

“I didn't think you could do it, actually.”

“Why doesn’t my campaign manager believe in me?”

“Because your pre election polls were fucking abysmal- shit!” He smacks your clit unexpectedly at your comment and your voice goes up an octave.

Over the past few months, you’ve learned Boo Seungkwan is a glutton for punishment. You assume that’s why you keep having sex with him despite how horribly wrong it could all go, seeing as you’re both in extremely visible positions.

With him running for an extremely coveted city council position with you as his right hand, all eyes were on the both of you.

Yet, his fellow candidates were far more experienced so you thought there’s no chance in hell he could make it to the runoff election.

However, that sickeningly sweet charm of his landed him in 3rd place amongst voters. It’s been an impressive rise to say the least, but now you have to face the consequences.

You lost the bet that he couldn’t make it this far, hence why he was torturing you with open mouth kisses against your pussy, moving his tongue torturously slowly into your entrance.

You could feel the pulsing of your clit in your ears at this point, internally fighting off the urge to push him to go faster. The sight of him between your thighs is equally disgusting and perfect, seeing as how you shouldn’t even entertain him as a sexual partner but you can’t resist it.

He’s more often frustrating than not, especially now when he decides to move at such a nonchalant pace with your orgasm hanging in the balance.

“What is it gonna take for you to shut the fuck up and enjoy what I’m giving you?” He lifts his head to tell you off, face glistening from your juices.

“Start by making me cum first, mister third place,” You knew it wasn’t nice, but you wanted to.

He sucks his teeth and sighs against your skin, making your cheeks burn from the warmth.

“That’s not how you ask, peach,” He reminds you gently. He knows calling you peach makes you cave every single time, no matter how much you hate being compliant with him.

“Please make me cum, shithead,” You offer a biting smile that gets you a knowing look from him, but he accepts it anyways.

He returns to his previous motions but with a stronger sense of urgency. The sound of your arousal on his lips is driving you insane, and his tongue prodding against your entrance every two seconds just reinforces how badly you need him to fuck you.

“Fuck,” You moan out in frustration. He’s always good at this, but tonight your desperation requires a bit more than he’s giving.

“Seungkwan,” You try to call his attention.

“Hmm?”

“Need you to fuck me instead, please,” You admit.

“Oh? What’s with the sudden change of heart?” He stops to climb up the bed to meet you. He lazily grazes his fingers across your belly. You don’t want to think about how his touches make you feel so relaxed.

“As much as I love you eating my pussy for an entire hour, I’d like to cum before the sun rises if that’s okay with you,” You find the bite in your voice again and he chuckles.

“That didn’t take too long,” He smiles and pinches your nipple. “Now don’t talk about my poll results again or you’re not gonna cum. You’re not supposed to be thinking about work,” He continues to work his fingers against your nipple, rolling it slowly with the occasional pinch. You don’t want to whimper, but it’s making you internally melt.

“That’s hard to do when I’m having sex with my boss, but sure,” You attempt to free your mind of the million different things that take up your daily life, including the hassle of trying to keep this campaign in one piece.

He’s a handful and he knows he is, but you suppose that’s the allure of him.

He moves his hand from your nipple to your neck, slowly pressing his fingertips into your skin. The slight restriction of your breathing makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Well, try harder,” He whispers into your ear, pressing a kiss against your cheek without a second thought. He removes his hand from your neck to place his mouth there instead.

You feel his teeth begin to sink into your skin and you curse.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” You breathe out shakily.

“You lost the bet, remember?” He fully sucks against your skin and you hesitantly accept your fate. His kisses soon become feverish and he attempts to cover as much skin as possible, leaving you with red marks that go across the expanse of your neck.

He was a dick for that, considering how long it’d take for you to cover it with makeup.

His cock has been torturing you this entire time. It’s been pressed against your abdomen for the past few minutes and you can practically feel yourself drip onto the sheets.

“Think I’ll let you have what you want now,” He finally sits up and settles between your thighs again. He doesn’t need to stretch you out from how wet you are, and you’d probably kill him if he tried to do more foreplay at this point.

He slides into you without warning and the impact has you moaning far too loud for your own good.

“You’re always so fucking tight for me, peach,” He reminds you, his strokes gradually wind up faster until you’re shaking underneath him.

He pushes your leg up to hit you deeper than before, and the sudden movement springs tears up to your eyes.

You can’t hold back your whining anymore, but how could you when he’s practically ramming into you?

“Shit, Kwan,” He knows he has you in the palm of his hand when you call him that, the name you only use for him in the bedroom.

You finally look up to see his face and he’s a goner. He’s so concentrated on you that his eyes have gone completely black, lust overtaking anything else. You almost want to pull him closer until you hear your phone vibrate.

Your mind is broken out of the trance instantly.

“For fuck’s sake,” You look at your phone before looking at him again.

“Answer it,” He hasn’t slowed down his movements and you think you’re imagining his response.

“What?”

“You heard me,” He raises his eyebrows.

You eye him again before picking up the phone and bringing it up to your ear.

“Hello?” You turn your head to the side to avoid his glance. It’s his secretary, calling you for god knows what reason.

It was after 6 pm at this point, and it was definitely something that could’ve waited for the next business day, so you can’t hide your disdain.

“Look at me,” He whispers. You glare at him and he smirks. You’ve been murmuring your way through the call, hoping that she doesn’t pick up on the sound of his skin slapping against yours.

“Yeah, I’ll let him know,” You breathe out gently, trying to hold your composure. You notice him moving his hands to your chest, palming your breasts in his grip. It forces a small moan out of you and he bites back a smile.

She doesn’t seem to notice though, as she continues with her train of thought.

“Just email me everything and I’ll take a look at it when I can,” You can’t believe you’re functioning halfway normally with his relentless pace. You can feel your orgasm approaching and it’s almost pathetic how hard you’re trying to fight it off on this call.

You screw your eyes shut and Seungkwan leans down, placing his head in the crook of your neck. It forces you to hold your arm up with your phone still pressed precariously against your ear.

He starts pressing kisses against your neck that she can almost certainly hear on the other line.

You could kill him.

“Okay, thank you, bye,” You rush through your words and hang up, throwing your phone onto the floor instantly.

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” You whimper. He laughs against your skin and moves to your mouth. You’re both still shaking from how hard he’s slamming into you, and you’re dangerously close to cumming around him.

“That kind of focus is what I pay you for,” He knows you’re close and it’s his version of praising you, in a backhanded sort of way.

“You don’t pay me enough,” You whine pathetically, you grab onto his hair to ground yourself.

“I’ll see what I can do about that,” He kisses you so deeply, knowing that you could cum at any moment.

“I bet you wanna cum, huh?” He teases.

“Please, please I can’t take it anymore,” You beg and he finally grants you mercy.

“Cum for me,” He whispers into your ear, he finally lets you go and the coil inside you snaps instantly.

You let your head tilt against the headboard as you flood around him, you can’t tell how much you’ve cum until you feel the wetness seep out underneath you.

He doesn’t stop moving, forcing you into overstimulation as he fills you with his cum moments later. His moans sound strangled against your skin, but he’s satisfied by the way he sighs.

After a few minutes, he finally leans up to kiss you on the mouth. It’s far more passionate and sloppy than earlier, but you’re not complaining.

“Clean me up, now,” You let him have it as you try to regain your energy. He laughs at you and leaves one last kiss against your lips before getting off the bed.

“Anything for my favorite campaign manager,” He calls out as he disappears into the bathroom.

—

You wake up to the sight of Seungkwan’s face against your shoulder. His cheeks are slightly fuller than normal, and you chalk it up to morning puffiness. He’s quite pretty when you don’t let yourself think about the technicalities of this.

You almost think you missed it, but you feel a slight movement against your leg.

“Are you fucking humping me?”

“Maybe,” He rasps out. His length is hard against you and you sigh.

“Are you gonna do something about that?” You retort.

“I wanna finger you before you run out of here, at least. I can handle the other part,” You picture him jerking off and promptly regain focus before you get too horny for your own good.

“It’s the weekend, where would I even go?”

“Well, you don’t ever linger,” He kisses your cheek and the realization hits your chest. You always get away before you can consider the weight of all this, making your hookups with him just fleeting memories amongst the hustle of your everyday life.

You think you can afford this, just once.

“Fine. Don’t get greedy,” You face him and give a peck on his lips. He wastes no time before slipping two fingers into your core. You can’t deny how good it feels, how wet you are for him already with no prep.

You suck his fingers in instantly and you both let out quiet moans.

“Does that feel good, peach? Do you like it when I make you fall apart like this?”

“Yeah,” You moan against his mouth before capturing his lips in a kiss. You’re deliberately sweet with it, cupping his face with your hand.

You hook your leg across his hip to trap him further into your hold. You’re too tired to be mean, too tired to come up with some witty comeback. His fingers curled inside of you so precisely that it made you want to cry from pleasure.

He knows your body well, and you wanted to enjoy it.

Your hips start to rut against him and you highly doubt that you’ll make it out of his apartment without being split open again.

He starts to move faster after you make your desperation known. He uses his free hand to grab your ass, gently kneading his fingers against your flesh.

With all of this stimulation, you press yourself against his lips and he swallows your moan with a long kiss.

“Just let go, okay? Let me take care of you,” He breathes gently against your lips.

You’re done for, cumming around his fingers the moment he finishes speaking. It takes a moment for you to come to your senses, but you feel him plugging your cum back inside you.

It’s terrible how good he is to you, how enamored you are with him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” He mutters with a smile.

“Like what?”

“Like you wanna kiss me again, or else you’re not leaving this bed,” He turns away from you with a gentle pat on the head.

He’s awful, you’re sure of it, but you know the butterflies will be fluttering inside your stomach long after you make it back home.

#svthub #seungkwan smut #boo seungkwan smut #seventeen smut #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt smut #loooooved doing this one #seungkwan just deserves more smut writing. point blank period

266 notes · View notes

yesloverboy · 2 years

Text

hot for teacher (eddie munson x reader) pt. 1: failing history

SUMMARY: Eddie Munson is determined to snatch his diploma and run like hell out of Hawkins High. The only thing standing in the way is his failing history grade...and winning over the heart of his smoking hot tutor.

word count: 5.5k

[content warnings: swearing, smoking, drug use, hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining, idiots to lovers.]

NOTE: Hello everyone! I’m back from retirement and ready to dig back into writing. Eddie is special to me (and all of us) for obvious reasons, but he reminds me so much of my friends from when I was a kid that I’m determined to give him as many happy endings as possible. I hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think! I’m a little rusty, so any feedback is appreciated.

tag list: @captinkirc

“Fuck!”

Eddie Munson’s screech could be heard from across the cafeteria, plastic lunch trays trembling in its wake. Dozens of eyes watched as he crumpled to his usual table where members of the Hellfire Club waited with mouths agape. In a ring-clad fist he gripped a single piece of paper with white knuckles. As the club members and onlookers waited for another explosion of anger, Dustin Henderson was the first to notice a bright red F peeking through the folds.

“Holy shit, Eddie,” Dustin gulped. “Is that your–”

“History test?” Eddie snapped, pulling his head back up and slamming the sheet down on the table. “Astute observation, Henderson.”

Dustin gulped and sent Mike a nervous glance, immediately regretting that he said anything at all.

Vibrating with anger, Eddie recalled every bloody red F that had been pushed face down on his desk that year. He gnawed absentmindedly on a fingernail, watching the diploma he’d coveted for two senior years straight slipping from his view. This wasn’t any normal failing test grade, it was an omen–a promise that his end of semester history final was going to be his undoing once again.

“I can’t fucking do it this anymore man,” Eddie sprung to his feet, pacing animatedly by the windows as anyone within earshot watched. “This school, this town, these people–it’s going to be the death of me. No resurrections, no second chances, just death.”

“Look at me! You need to calm down.” Mike Wheeler chimed in, doing whatever damage control he could to prevent the prying eyes of Jason and his hive minded crew from coming their way. He already had his bike tires slashed twice this month, and he was not about to beg on his hands and knees for Nancy to make up another lie for him again. Besides, if Eddie was suffering their D&D campaign would surely suffer with him.

“Calm down???” Eddie howled, “How can I be calm when this is my future?” He gestured dramatically to the rest of the lunch room for everyone to see. Mike tensed, not wanting to know if Jason and his goons saw or not.

Dustin groaned, “Eddie, please stop losing your shit or we’re all going to die with you.”

It took Mike physically getting up and grabbing the taller boy by the shoulders before Eddie would look at him and actually listen to what he had to say.

“Munson, listen. There’s a girl we know–”

“You know a girl?” Eddie jeered, his failing grade still very much tainting his usual happy-go-lucky mood.

“Shut up! This girl could potentially save your ass, okay?” Mike huffed, “She’s one of Robin Buckley’s friends–you know, the girl from band that works at Family Video–and I heard she helped Robin pass her AP history exam last year.”

Dustin piped up, “Um, excuse me, but there’s one little problem you’ve failed to mention, Mike!”

“What are you talking about?”

“That girl is my sister, asshole,” Dustin hissed, giving Mike a swift smack to the chest. “She’s never going to go for this, and even if she did I wouldn’t want you dorks around her anyway.”

Mike raised his hands protectively over his chest, a deep set scowl twisted on his face. “You just don’t want the rest of the club to know that your sister is secretly super hot.”

“Ew, don’t be gross!” Dustin audibly gagged, shoving against Mike’s shoulder. “She’s too smart for you guys anyways…”

Eddie pondered this for a moment, turning on his heel away from Mike and tapping at his chin contemplatively. “So what you’re saying is all I have to do is convince your nerdy sister to help me out because she successfully tutored a girl named…Robert?”

Mike rolled his eyes, “Close enough.”

“You do realize my sister charges money, right? Like actual money, none of that Monopoly shit you try to pass off to other people.”

Unfazed by another one of Dustin’s attempted deterrents, Mike is already prepared with a solution. “I’ve been to your house, idiot. I know your sister likes that same bizarro headbanger stuff that Eddie does. He just has to….” Wheeler chooses his next words carefully, “...charm her.”

“Charm her,” Eddie repeats, staring off into the distance as if he can see the vision of his long coveted diploma coming back into view.

“And, she's hot,” An impish grin spread across Eddie’s face as he ruffled invisible dust off his tattered denim vest. Maybe there was hope after all. “Looks like my army crawl to a D in Ms. O’Donnell’s is gonna be a sprint, boys.”

Eddie Munson was going to make it out of Hawkins if it killed him.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Okay, picture this: you’re about to die and you can only pick one final horror flick as a last supper before your impending doom. Who are you picking, Re-Animator or Fright Night?” Robin swings her long legs over the video store counter, shoving two tapes in front of your face.

You wrinkle your nose and shoo her hands away, swatting as if a gnat were circling your head. “Jesus Christ, Robin, I asked you to help me pick a movie for this weekend, not give me an existential crisis.”

Steve chuckles from his seat behind the counter, feet propped up as he munched on a crinkled pack of Red Vines. His chocolate hair is swooped perfectly into place and you wonder how anyone could make that obnoxious polyester vest look cool. As a matter of fact, you wondered how anyone managed to look cool at all. If someone would have told you a few years ago that you would be having semi-regular conversations with King Steve of Hawkins High, you would have laughed in their face.

Thanks to Steve’s unconventional friendship with your baby brother and Robin’s desperate need to pass AP European history to stay in band, the pair now tolerated your presence from time to time. This typically took form in your weekly tradition of picking a horror flick or two for the weekend while Robin occasionally included you in her and Steve’s endless stream of banter.

Granted, you were still basically a nobody in the grand scheme of the Hawkins social hierarchy, but it was nice to have something to do other than pouring over textbooks and flipping records in your room. You hoped one day you could have a friendship as rock solid as theirs, but it was wishful thinking at best.

“Just pick already!” Robin insists, “Sexy vampires or gooey nasty, sci-fi madness?”

You chew on your lip, contemplating which film would serve better as a reward for a long weekend of studying. While you had been dying to finally see Re-Animator, your stubborn desire to stay on top of the honor roll had turned your brain into mush over the course of the semester. You needed more fun in your life, not to keep thinking.

“Sexy vampires,” you decide, eliciting a broad grin from Robin and a distant groan from Steve.

“Take that, Harrington!” Robin cheers victoriously as she runs up behind Steve and musses his perfect hair out of place. He tries fighting her off, but she’s too busy parading the Fright Night tape around the store victoriously. A few patrons stare, but Robin pays them no mind. “You owe me ten bucks!”

“What the hell are you two dweebs on about now?” you scoff, seizing the tape out of Robin's hands. You slide it across the counter, waiting expectantly for Steve to scan it as he desperately tries to mold his hair back into place.

Steve tried to open his mouth, but Robin immediately bulldozed him. “So when we got our shipment on Monday Harrington here bet me that I couldn’t get anyone to rent a–and I quote– ‘cheesy vampire movie’ by the end of the week, but I knew that you’d go for it over Re-Animator–”

“Which I told her was cheating!” Steve interjects, sliding the tape back to you.

You quirk an eyebrow, “And why, might I ask, would that be cheating?”

Robin rolls her eyes and begins chewing on a stolen Red Vine, “Oh please, Henderson, we all know that you’re secretly into all that dark and broody shit, I’ve seen the band posters on your walls. You’ve got a classic case of closet weird girl syndrome, which I did not see coming.”

Closet weird girl, your face went pale at the accusation, even if Robin didn’t necessarily mean it to be an insult. You were about to protest that the band and movie posters on your walls were actually quite cerebral compared to any of that Brat Pack, new wave bullshit Robin and Steve entertained when the bell above the door chimed.

“Speaking of dark and broody shit,” Steve muttered flatly, eyes focused behind you.

Following Steve’s stern gaze your eyes fell on a tall and willowy boy with wild, shaggy hair. Chains around his belt loops jingled as he passed through the door, his dirty white sneakers taking tentative steps across the threshold. He looked very out of place.

At first his back was to you, allowing you to scan the various pins and patches stuck to his denim vest. Smiling softly you realized they mirrored some of the pins you had on your tote bag. It wasn’t until he turned that you understood who exactly you were looking at. Hellfire Club was printed in bold, black letters above the face of some kind of toothy, red devil–an exact match to the shirts your sweet little brother and his dorky friends donned at school every Friday.

Eddie Munson, you thought, no wonder why Harrington is all squirrely.

“What do you want, Munson?” Steve sighed, not exactly thrilled to see the town freak stumble into his video store. You knew Steve was always cordial enough to Eddie for the sake of Dustin and the kids, but you and Robin had spent many a Friday evening listening to everything that could go wrong if Eddie influenced the younger boys to step out of line. Wherever Eddie Munson went, trouble seemed to follow.

You didn’t live under a rock, rumors about Eddie and his little club were constantly swirling around the halls at school. Hushed voices would hiss that he was a serial killer in the making as various papers and magazines blamed fantasy games and rock and roll for corrupting today’s youth. However, being the older sister of Dustin Henderson gave you a much different impression of the boy standing in the doorway. Dustin had gushed about Eddie at any possible chance that he could; the car ride to school, watching television at home, or even at the dinner table– much to your mother’s dismay–all the while describing how cool and funny his new, older friend was. Even if the rumors made you a little apprehensive of Eddie’s intentions, you couldn’t help but be grateful that he had given your baby brother a place to fit in when you couldn’t. You were nobody, and sometimes that felt worse than being a freak.

“Sweet W.A.S.P. pin,” you remark to Eddie, taking both Robin and Steve by surprise.

Eddie opened his mouth to speak when your brother and Mike Wheeler came crashing through the door, sending Eddie stumbling towards you. You caught Eddie’s shoulders, letting out a little yelp as you felt his weight tumble against your frame. Stiffening your body, you held him steady, saving the both of you from knocking over a carousel of discount tapes and concessions beside the counter. Instantly, you were hit with the scent of Irish Spring and cigarettes, mingling with a twinge of motor oil and leather. Looking up, your eyes locked with two deep pools of brown staring back at you, soft and warm. His face was turning pink, an embarrassed blush quickly peppering his face and neck as he started back, his lips parted like he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

Despite being in the same grade that year, this was the first time that you had been close to the dungeon master himself. Judging by the vicious rumors and his notoriously erratic behavior, most kids from Hawkins would be shaking in their sneakers. In that moment, you couldn’t help but think that he was different than you expected, and the longer you locked eyes with him the more you could see a flustered little boy hiding beneath the surface. You didn’t want to look away.

Eddie pulled away suddenly, leaving your grip as if you’d burned him. You couldn’t explain why, but a flush of your own started spreading to your cheeks.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Shit, sorry,” Eddie muttered, rubbing at his arm awkwardly before shooting the younger boys behind him a glare.

“Goddammit guys, is it possible for the both of you to come in here without nearly destroying the place?” Steve scolded, separating Mike and Dustin as if keeping them together would initiate mutually assured destruction.

Turning to Dustin you distract yourself by adjusting his hat, which now sat sideways on his fluffy nest of curls. You don’t doubt it had inevitably been knocked to the side from his sudden impact into Wheeler. “Seriously, Dust, what’s the rush for?”

“Eddie has something to ask you!” Mike blurted out, determined not to let Dustin’s protectiveness over his sister ruin their plan. Eddie had to graduate, otherwise their D&D club would be on the fritz for the remainder of the semester.

“Eddie?” you and Robin locked eyes, the both of you suspecting that the boys were up to another elaborate stunt.

Dustin practically growled in frustration. You didn’t know it yet, but he had been planning on beating Mike and Eddie to the video store after school to try and persuade you not to tutor his socially ostracized dungeon master. “Y/N, you don’t have to listen to these buttheads okay, Eddie was just leaving–”

“Uhhh, yeah actually! I do have something to ask you” Eddie admitted abruptly, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “Do you think we could maybe go somewhere and, um, talk?” He tried giving you a sheepish smile, his usual bravado that you’d observed in the school halls slipping away.

Steve tried to shoot you a warning glance, but you were too enveloped in your own confusion to pay him any mind. What could Eddie Munson, the freak and metalhead of Hawkins High possibly want with you?

“This isn’t some kind of joke, is it?” Robin contended, eyes narrowing. “Because if it is, someone’s ass is getting kicked. Isn’t that right, Harrington?”

Steve put a hand on his hip, “Yeah someone’s ass is getting–wait, what?”

You chewed on your lip, not even considering that your kindhearted brother would be roped into a plot to trick you just for a quick laugh. Memories from your middle school years flooded back, reminding you of the relentless bullying that made you a loner in the first place. Even Robin and Steve took enough pity on you to try and shield you from that possibility. They wouldn’t, you decide, shaking the thought.

“Me, a joker? A trickster, even?” Eddie replied, raising up both hands and feigning offense. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You huffed, becoming impatient that your solitary movie night was most likely going to be interrupted by whatever antics your brother and his friends had actually gotten into. “Then what is it, Munson?”

Eddie sucked in a breath, “Easy there, sweetheart. Just hop in my van and all will be revealed soon.”

Sweetheart. People didn’t call you that, your semi-neurotic mother maybe, but certainly not boys in your senior class. Frustrated, you hoped it was just your overloaded brain needlessly spinning its wheels again making your cheeks heat up once more.

“You do realize how that sounds, right? Like, we all heard that?” Steve raised an incredulous eyebrow at you, “You’re not seriously going to go.”

“Please?” Mike begs, nudging your brother with a snappy kick to the shin. “It’s important–right, Dustin?”

“I guess,” He grumbles, staring down at his shoes as his toes dig into the carpet.

“Fine, whatever,” you decide, pushing past Steve to collect your video and throw it into the tote slung across your shoulder. It may be a stupid idea to go anywhere with the town pariah, but you chose to believe if Dustin and Mike were rushing to his aid it must be important.

Looking Eddie directly in his eyes, you point a finger at the three boys “But Robin’s right, if this is some kind of bullshit joke I’ll kick all three of your asses–especially yours, Dustin.”

“No fair!”

If your middle school years had taught you one thing, it was how to stand up for yourself. Hopefully, you wouldn’t have to.

_______________________________________________________________________

Eddie pulled into the now abandoned parking lot of the old Starcourt Mall, its charred remains leveled completely flat. If it weren’t for the leftover strands of caution tape fraying in the you would think the structure had never been there in the first place. His van screeched to a halt, clunking violently as he put it in park. You held your tote bag tightly to your chest, the arms of your old flannel barely covering the chipped maroon polish on your fingertips.

Neither of you had said a word on the way, and you couldn’t recall a time when you hadn’t seen Eddie passing through the halls blabbering animatedly about fictional wars and the dangers of conformity. Instead, he popped in a Venom cassette and turned up the volume, the metallic guitar sounds garbling out any thoughts you may have had about the very bizarre circumstance you found yourself in.

Impatiently, you cranked down the radio until the thundering melody became a low rumble in the background. “Remind me again why we’re in the middle of the abandoned Starcourt parking lot?”

“So, W.A.S.P., huh?” Eddie asks, completely ignoring your question.

“Excuse me?”

He taps a finger on the tarnished W.A.S.P pin nestled beneath his lapel, around his knuckle you watch a steel cross ring with skulls nestled in the corners glimmer in the dipping afternoon light.

“Um, yeah,” you answer, running a hand through your hair. “You know..I Wanna Be Somebody, and all that. Definitely on my list of favorites.”

Eddie suddenly erupts into motion, thrashing his head wildly from side to side. “I wanna be somebody, be somebody too!” He howls, doing his best to imitate the singer's rasp as he moves in a flurry of black leather and untamed curls. You can’t help but laugh at his display, delighted to have at least one person act as excited about music as you felt on the inside.

You were far too reserved to have an outburst of passion like that, but that didn’t keep you from daydreaming about moshing in a crowd of concert-goers far, far away from a town so small it was choking you.

“Hey, hey!” you chuckle, “Cool it, Munson, this isn’t the Vogue Theatre.”

Eddie stops singing, but all the excitement from reenacting a W.A.S.P performance was bubbling beneath the surface. “Wait, have you ever actually been to the Vogue in Bloomington? I’ve heard the Ramones played there once.”

“No…I mean it’s not that I’ve never wanted to, but I–I mean we–we’ve never been outside of Hawkins. Our mom is kind of a worrier.” Embarrassment suddenly crept hotly up your shirt collar. Here was Eddie, looking like the closest thing Hawkins had seen to a rockstar while you were complaining about how your mommy won’t even let you outside the city limits. “I’ve, uh, collected some of their concert fliers though, for my room.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed a little as he observed the way you wilted at the mention of your family. “Well, Henderson, it seems that the same evil curse has befallen the both of us.”

Noticing the confusion on your face he clarified, “I haven’t left either.”

“Then how did you get so…so…” In spite of your grade point average, you found yourself struggling to find the right words–a problem that hadn’t existed before Eddie Munson decided to invade the dawning of another weekend you planned to spend alone. Always the logician, it didn’t compute that Eddie could be from the same bland city limits as you and still look like he walked out of Creem magazine.

“Fucked up?” He quips.

“Oh god,” you balked, “That’s not what I–”

Eddie just laughs, completely unperturbed. “Listen, even if you did, the whole town certainly believes I’m here to open a portal to hell–which would be bitchin’, by the way. If only Satan would throw me a fucking bone.”

Not knowing what to say, you fumble with a Mötley Crüe pin on your bag and hope that the ground of Hawkins, Indiana would open its gaping maw once again and swallow you whole.

“Alas, fair maiden, do not fret,” Eddie remarked with a flair of his hand, “I didn’t bring you here to sacrifice you to Satan, or whatever those single-celled organisms at school are saying about me these days.”

Eddie chuckled to himself, fishing for a pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket and carefully pulling one out with his teeth. He kicked a leg up on the dashboard, seeming more relaxed now that he was in his own space instead of in front of the prying eyes of Family Video. You scan the length of his leg absentmindedly, flushing when you realize his chain link belt was handcuffed around the front of his slender waist.

“Well I wasn’t worried but now I’m starting to think it may be a possibility,” you mumble, immediately trying to redirect the conversation before your nerves can take over again. “Listen, I don’t know what you could possibly want to discuss with me, but if my brother is in trouble or something like that I need to know, okay?”

Eddie let out a heavy sigh, “As I’m sure you’re aware, this is my third attempt at escaping the evil clutches of Principal Higgins, yet victory has always evaded me due to one grade and one grade only–Ms. O’Donnell’s history final.”

Lighting the cigarette absentmindedly, Eddie took a deep drag, careful to blow the smoke out of the broken driver’s side window. Your skeptical heart softened at the small gesture of politeness. “Looks like today’s your lucky day Henderson. As it would turn out, I’m the damsel who’s in need of rescuing.”

“Rescuing?”

You shifted uncomfortably in the torn leather seat of Eddie’s van, rustling various items of scattered trash in your wake. “And what does that have to do with me?”

“A little birdie by the name of Mike Wheeler told me you’ve got a pretty steady tutoring gig, being top of our class and all.” Eddie grinned. “And I need you to help this bottom-tier, lowlife get the fuck up out of here. They won’t hold me down again, not this time–’86 is gonna be my year.”

Heat traveled to your cheeks at the mention of your class rank. All this time you assumed this talk would be about your brother, yet the freak Eddie Munson brought you here because somehow you managed to out-nerd him and all of his friends.

“You do realize you didn’t have to kidnap me from the video store, right? I have fliers with my phone number, like, all over the hallways.”

“Come on sweetheart, where’s the fun in that?” Eddie winks, “Besides, I had to see for myself.”

There it was again, your heart thuds, that pet name.

“See what for yourself?”

Flicking his cigarette out the window, Eddie turns to you, leaning in close with both hands on his ripped up knees. You suck in a breath, freezing as he closes the space between you. Cigarette smoke tendrils tickle your face as Eddie exhales, his breath warm against your cheek as his doe eyes search your face. Heart hammering in your chest, and you can’t tell if you want him to come closer or if you should push him away entirely.

“I had to see if you were as hot as Dustin’s little friends say,” he breathes, eyes never leaving yours.

Hot? Realization suddenly hits you like a brick to the face.

“Oh fuck off,” you growl, shoving Eddie back into his seat.

Robin and Steve were right, this had been a joke, just one big prank to pull on the only girl in Hawkins that no one even takes so much as a second glance at. Angrily, you yank the car door open and hop onto the pavement, not caring that you’re essentially miles away from the nearest populated establishment. The lot was still vacant for as far as the eye could see, and you nervously hoped there wasn’t some kind of audience to your humiliation crouching in the tree line.

Panicked, Eddie tumbles out of the van after you, practically tripping over his own feet. “Henderson, wait!”

Suddenly he felt very stupid for thinking he could flirt his way into getting a few tutoring sessions with you. Wheeler was right, Dustin’s sister was hot. In fact, he was surprised to find that he found her beautiful, a thought that made his brain fuzzy with static electricity. Eddie should have known any girl who would willingly agree to speak to him of all people–alone–based solely on the good faith of her brother’s friends, was too far out of his league. So above him, that she had even run away in disgust. No matter how hard Eddie tried not to, he repelled other people. Just because you were Dustin’s sister shouldn’t have made him think it would be any different this time.

You stick up a single middle finger and bound forward, not knowing or caring where you were going as long as you were far away from this mortifying experience.

“Henderson, please,” Eddie panted, his long legs quickly enabling him to catch up with you. “It-it’s not what you think, okay? It’s not what it looks like!”

Fed up, you stop to face him again, brow knitted into a deep scowl. “Then what is it then, Munson? Because to me it looks like my brother and his stupid friends decided to play a shitty prank on me just like Robin said they might.”

“Prank?” Eddie asked, a look of genuine confusion washing over his pale face, “Look, when that, uh, girl back at the video store asked if we were playing a joke I thought she meant like a Carrie type of prank or whatever.”

“Pig’s blood, really? Wow you really are dumber than you look,” you spat. “Not even you knew my name until today. Do you honestly expect me to buy into your bullshit? I’m not my brother.”

No you certainly are not, Eddie thought, trying not to physically wince at your insult.

Luckily, Eddie was used to devising strategies and decided to play your harsh words to his advantage. “Exactly! That’s the problem, I am dumb and–look!” Animatedly, he pulls a wad of teal paper out of his leather jacket pocket and thrusts it in your direction. “I did have your flier, see?”

You snatch it from his hands, unfurling the well-worn sheet.

TUTORING:

All subjects, $10 an hour.

Please call (Y/N) Henderson at (317) 544-8343

Serious Inquiries only.

Well, he at least wasn’t lying about that. “Then what was the point of all of this? You could have just called and spared both of us the grief.”

Eddie looked down at his raggedy sneakers, shifting back and forth like a child being scolded by their mother. “Well…” Eddie begins timidly, “I don’t exactly, um, have the money to afford a tutor at this time.”

Your mouth went dry, “Oh.” Heart sinking, you could feel the anger and embarrassment that had been pulsating through your veins slowing to a shrieking halt.

“Look,” Eddie starts, hands tugging at his wild hair. “It was a dumb idea, anyways. Please, at least let me take you home, alright? I know you’re mad and all, but weird shit happens around here and you’d be crazier than me to walk back into town by yourself.”

Mouth clamped shut, you follow Eddie wordlessly to his van, not knowing what you could possibly do to salvage the situation. Next to Eddie’s defeated form you felt so incredibly small. If it weren’t for the occasional jingle of pins on Eddie’s vest, you could’ve convinced yourself he was just a ghost–a figment of your imagination. After a few moments of unbearable silence, Eddie climbs inside his van, the engine turning and sputtering violently into hesitant motion. You sit beside him, shifting your weight carefully.

“Eddie I–,” you begin, “I’m sorry I overreacted. It’s just that I’m not used to people talking to me like that, and knowing you did it because you wanted something from me didn’t make it feel any better.”

Eddie’s deep eyes sink with worry as he navigates the now darkened road. Corn fields and trees rush by as the sun falls, the dark orange sky now fading into rich blues and purples. His knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel, a pang of guilt ringing in your chest knowing that you caused it. “You don’t have to be nice, I know my place here, and I’m just sorry I was so blinded by wanting to run away that I thought things could be different,” he smiles sadly. “Turns out you can’t cheat fate, huh?”

Fate.

At the mention of the inevitable, you were reminded of all the nights you spent by yourself thinking about how you must be destined to be alone, worried that even if you made it out of Hawkins alive, you’d still be the same nobody anywhere else. You didn’t want to believe it but deep down you always felt that only your achievements made you valuable, not actually the person you were to others or the nonexistent role you played in their lives. Stealing a glance at Eddie, you recognized the same bitter emptiness you’d felt so many times before. An emptiness that you once believed was foreign to everyone around you. Maybe this was your opportunity to change something, to help someone else escape even if you weren’t sure you could do it for yourself.

“Fuck that.”

“Wait, what?” Eddie’s eyes darted nervously between you and the road as he pulled up to the side of your house, careful to stay idling on the street rather than risk your mom seeing his van in the driveway.

“You heard me,” you huff, digging around in your bag for a spare flier, “Fuck that fate stuff, fuck this town, and fuck what people expect from us.”

“Henderson, you’re scaring me.”

Ignoring him, you stick a brand new flier in his direction. When he doesn’t immediately take it, you grab him by the ring-clad hand and shove it into his palm. You do your best to conceal the shiver that runs down your spine as your fingertips gently ghost against the warmth of his.

“You’re going to pass that history final if it’s the last thing I do,” you insist.

Eddie stares at you blankly, mouth slack in disbelief. “Didn’t you just hear what I said back there? I don’t have any money, I can’t–”

“Eddie,” you assert, trying to channel the same firmness you reserved for Dustin when he wasn’t listening. “Don’t worry about that, I just need you to promise me something, okay?”

“Anything,” he breathes, awakening butterflies in your stomach that you didn’t even know you had.

“Promise me that we’ll both get out of here,” you give him your best wavering smile, and extend your hand forward for him to shake.

Eddie grips it tightly, a stupid grin now plastered across his face. He nearly yanks your arm out of socket with his enthusiasm, but you don’t protest. It was nice to see him happy again, and for a moment you wished you could always be the source of that goofy smile.

“You have my word, fair maiden,” he nods furiously, “On my uncle’s grave, I will not disappoint you. I’ll follow you straight in to hell if that’s what it takes.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you laugh, “Save it for your nerd session.”

Once Eddie finally releases his grip you grab your tote, stepping out of the van and onto the lamp-lit asphalt, arm still feeling like jelly. Trudging up the steep driveway, you almost make it to the doorstep when Eddie’s voice calls out from his parking spot at the curb.

“Wheeler was wrong!” he shouts, torso half hanging out of where the driver’s side window should be.

“About what?” you hiss, hoping to God your mother didn’t recognize Eddie’s voice.

Eddie grinned devilishly, “You’re way hotter.”

Before you could spit out a rebuttal, Eddie revved the van’s corroded engine and sped down the block, tires letting out a shrill screech as they tore through your quiet slice of suburbia. Stupefied, you shook your head and stepped inside knowing that your mother would be waiting for you in the kitchen. Sauntering down the hall, you found her alone at the dining table with a cup of chamomile in one hand and her daily crossword puzzle in the other.

“Hey honey,” she beams, peeking over the top of her paper. “Looks like someone had a good day.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, hanging your bag on the back of an old wooden chair.

“You’re smiling, silly.”

Eddie fucking Munson, you groan internally.

That boy was going to be the death of you.

#don't worry ya'll this will be happy endings only #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson cult #stranger things #stranger things s4 #joe quinn #robin buckley #steve harrington #mike wheeler #dustin henderson #fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #joseph quinn

554 notes · View notes