#im terribly concerned that i will never be able to actually make him the asshole he was born to be

[july-19th-club]

how to make a character who sucks so bad and nobody likes him but he is genuinely a good protagonist (good as in interesting, maybe on a rare day good as in decent but also, just like, an incredible jackass) . i need to make him worse i need to make him MEANER!

#i think the key to getting this kind of character right is that he can't try to be anybody's boss #that's not the fun and engaging kind of jackass that's just reminding the reader of all the bosses they've hated in their time #the engaging and likeable Guy Who Sucks So Bad is a loner who might CLAIM that he will take over the group or whatever and lead #but never actually has any intentions of doing so because part of the things he sucks re: is responsibility of any kind #he does however know that leaders dont like other people horning in on their territory so he will say things like #i'm gonna wreck your shit and then all your lackeys will follow ME! ouahahahahaha . despite having zero plans to follow up with that #the ideal engaging asshole protagonist is a rebel without a good cause: maybe he has a sad backstory; maybe he's just a dick #but if there's one thing about him you can count on it's that he is Opposed To Shit. doesnt matter what it is his primary entertainment #is picking a fight with it for no reason and then saying what the fuck ever i didn't care about it anyway (he didn't) #ideally this is all done in such a way that he is SEXY . but you'd never want to hang with him because he is deeply obnoxious #he is not bossy. he is not controlling. he is maybe even a bit of a wife guy except he hates everyone else and wants to make their day wors #because making someone else's day worse makes HIS day better . the ideal wife for him is the one from ordinary day with peanuts #by shirley jackson #and i have GOT to figure out a way to engineer this guy without copying examples of my favorite versions of him wholesale #i have the scaffolding. but because of my own confrontation-averse tendencies #im terribly concerned that i will never be able to actually make him the asshole he was born to be #q

[saltyr3mix]

context post / tags i'm responding to here

HI i'm coming in here with an ask since i have a lot of thoughts but this is a continuation of the whole split personality / headcanoning c!Owen with DID (or any other dissociative disorder that fits that thread)

he's a guy that has complicated morals and ALSO i still don't understand where the whole separation of him into the Pre-maze & Maze started. Like... he's the same guy he's always been, just with a very skewed judgement that really is more to be blamed on STARR than anything! I'm firmly of the belief that STARR controlled when/if people remembered things, and I still think they weaponized him remembering his past fully.

see also: the scene with magic leaving him to die. like. did people seriously fall for that? it was basically textbook trying to get somebody to believe what you want them to. hell! he tried to do the same thing to c!redd only for it to backfire. like...

as somebody with a dissociative disorder, i genuinely don't see it? it just ticks me off, lol

people are just afraid of liking a character they don't agree with. which is just dumb. c!owen is an irredeemable asshole as far as i'm concerned, but does that stop people from writing him as trying to be good / trying to be a good person? no! you're allowed to just backpedal and say "i don't agree with canon" without some bs poorly thought through headcanon that just hurts people.

((( none of any hostile tone here is directed at you btw salty!! i just have Thoughts and Emotions and i didn't feel like trying to put it all in tags pfndkjl ;; i'm a huge advocate for writing c!owen being terrible because people don't seem to like the concept of him not being secretly a good person... he was protecting the demons because he subconsciously wanted to be the one to kill them, man. i'm 99% sure that's literally canon )))

YES YES YES YES YES

AGAIN 100% AGREE WITH YOU HERE

THERE ARE SO MANY BETTER WAYS TO MAKE THING BETTER WITH OUT HAVING TO RESORT TO DID.

LITERALLY JUST HAVE A CHARACTER TALK TO HIM AND IT WOULD BE MORE UNDERSTANBLE

ALSO THE SCENE WITH MAGIC, THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN SAYING LIKE. I COULD WRITE AN ENTIRE 5 PAGE ESSAY ON HOW HE IS VERY CLEARLY LYING. You can tell by the tone of his voice, where he pauses and what he choices to emphasize , he repeats himself to make the same point, he weaponizes magics guilt, he holds eye contact with the knife for FAR to long, and if he WAS SOMEHOW ACTUALLY BEING TRUE i think he wouldn't be all that upset at dyeing and understand that he was protecting his friends in doing so. it just doesn't line up.

AND IT WAS ALWAYS THERE TOO!

of course there was everything with Fruit trio. He was called militaristic during the elections. the first thing he asks Krow is if it knows how to fight. first interaction with Krow in clearing a is asking to get a closer look at its horns. he was really the only one to ever draw that distinction between the human and demons. no one else ever brought it up. everything with the weapons. the first thing he calls himself after making the bow is a "hunter" which isn't wrong. he just didn't realize what exactly he was hunting. HE WOKE UP WITH RASBI IN THE ELEVATOR. LIKE THERE IS SO MUCH FORESHADOWING. IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN APART OF HIM.

Im also sure the whole STARR controlling when they get memories back is cannon. along with he whole protecting demons thing, its part of his monologue when he kills Rasbi.

i never liked that head cannon and im glad to finally be able to talk about it with someone who understands what im saying when i rant about it.

#salt answers! #outsiders smp

[dessarious]

Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt88

AO3   Beginning   Previous   Next

By the time Selina exited the bathroom in her street clothes Chloe had tucked Mari in, sent Damian a ‘thanks for the heads up asshole’ text, fed the Kwami, notified Luka and the Kwami that they’d be dealing with any issues for the next few days, and was currently calmly filing her nails waiting for the front desk to send up the room key. She didn’t look up as the woman walked back in the room but could feel her eyes on her.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot. I shouldn’t have just shown up in costume without making sure you were aware I was coming and I shouldn’t have made assumptions about who you were outside of being a hero. Apparently Bruce left out a few things when he explained the situation to me. And he most likely didn’t mention to the boys that I could be showing up early.” Chloe glanced up at the woman and saw real sincerity. She looked at Marinette’s sleeping form and could practically hear the girl’s voice in her head telling her to be nice.

“It’s fine. I’m used to it.” And she was. Everyone expected her to be someone else. Her parents expected the perfect daughter. Her class expected a first class bitch. The public only saw a spoiled little rich girl. She’d always played to people’s expectations rather than herself to the point that if you asked Chloe wouldn’t be able to tell you who she was. Marinette was changing all that, but she still didn’t have a clue who she was under all the bluster and snobbery. “It’s not your fault either and Mari would kick my ass if I were less than civil. We can start over tomorrow when tensions aren’t so high and we’re all rested.”

“That… sounds like a good idea.” Chloe watched as the woman frowned thoughtfully at Marinette. “She’s very observant.” Chloe let out an amused snort.

“You have no idea. It’s worse when she’s awake because you know she sees more than everyone else but she keeps it to herself. It’s maddening wondering what she saw that you didn’t.” It had absolutely nothing to do with her being Ladybug either. Marinette had seen and heard more than everyone else for as long as Chloe could remember. Honestly it might have been the look of pity the girl gave her the first time her parents didn’t show up for something that started Chloe on her vendetta when they were little. Everyone else believed her when she said her parents were too busy to attend some tiny school assembly. Somehow, Marinette knew she was lying. Every time Marinette looked at her after that she’d felt like she was under a microscope.

“I live with ‘the world’s greatest detective’ so I’m used to that feeling. Granted Tim’s worse in that regard but Bruce is so uncommunicative you know he’s got things in his head you’ll never be able to pry out.” Chloe gave a non committal hum. She hadn’t been that impressed with the man during their encounter, but he had been squaring off against Mari so both that comparison and the fact she was in protection mode may very well have colored her perception. Okay, it definitely colored her perception.

“That will help. Plus Mari’s gotten a lot better at hiding it when she figures things out. That comment about why Damian doesn’t like you would never have come out, she just would have started subtly nudging the pair of you into some form of tolerance without you noticing. She probably still will actually.” Definitely with Damian. His obvious intolerance of someone so important to his father was bound to make her do it even if Selina was the most obnoxious person alive. Mari couldn’t help herself. If she thought it was broken, she fixed it, and Damian had become her pet project.

“I’m not that easy to manipulate.” Chloe could only smirk at the woman.

“I assure it won’t matter. With no planning she got Bruce to agree to leave Damian in Paris. Trust me, when she decides something needs to change, it does. I’m a prime example of that.” That was probably not the best way to say that. Mari had a tendency to push people towards what would make them happy. With Chloe it had changed over the years and she hadn’t even realized what was happening. Mari was the one who got her to think about running for class representative originally. At the time her father was in the middle of a reelection campaign and she’d wanted to be just like him. Mari was also indirectly responsible for her push to get Adrien out of homeschooling. All it had taken was a few well placed comments. It was honestly scary how easily she could manipulate people. And it was amazing that she actively tried to only help people when she could do so much damage.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Honestly if she can get Damian in anyway on board with my relationship with his father it would be a tremendous relief. I know we’ve had a… fairly rocky relationship for a long time, but we’re both finally at the point where we can accept each other for who we are. But if Damian is completely set against it, I don’t think Bruce will risk alienating him to stay with me. It hurts knowing that, but I understand. Especially given all they’ve gone through. Bruce won’t risk losing a child that way.” Chloe could help but frown at that. She couldn’t imagine either one of her parents denying themselves something just to keep her from leaving. She was actually pretty sure her mother would auction her off to the highest bidder for an exclusive on the next hottest thing in fashion. Her father would sell his own soul to stay in office so she didn’t imagine he’d flinch at tossing her out if she became a liability.

“He sounds like a decent man.” Bruce Wayne’s public image was terrible but she knew better than most how deceptive that could be. Selina was giving her a concerned look. Crap, her thoughts must have shown on her face. She really was tired if she was having trouble keeping a neutral expression.

“He is, no matter how hard he tries to pretend otherwise. He wouldn’t have given me so many chances if he weren’t.” She glanced at Mari. “I have a feeling you’ll understand what I mean.” Chloe just nodded. Mari had given her chance after chance, as both herself and Ladybug. If she hadn’t who knows where she’d be right now. “People like that are rare, but they also don’t stick with lost causes. If you or I were a hopeless case they wouldn’t have put the effort in.”

“She’s right you know.” Tikki flew over from the bed to land on Chloe’s shoulder. “There was always a hero in you. You just needed to know it was okay to be that person instead of who you were raised to be.” That got an even more concerned look from Selina.

AO3   Beginning   Previous    Next

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#maribat #bffmaridami #marinette dupen chang #chloe bourgeois #Selina Kyle

[anythingandeverything1d]

Cheating

You walked in the front door, tripping over shoes and silently cursing. Harry always left his shoes right in the door for you to trip on. You reached down to pick them up but were surprised when you noticed they were a pair of heels, and not your pair of heels. You set the bag of food down on the counter before walking into the bedroom, shoes in hand. “Harry who’s shoes are-” your voice stopped. Harry looked up, panicked, and guilty. The girl in your bed rolled off the side, pulling her pants up and throwing her shirt on. You dropped the shoes and stared. She grabbed them and ran out the front door while Harry got up, walking towards you with his arms in the air.

“(y/n) wait, just please..I can explain.” You didn't say anything, you looked at the red hickey plastered on his neck and turned around walking out. “Baby wait.” He grabbed your wrist and you smacked him across the cheek, tears falling from your eyes.

“Get out. GET OUT HARRY!” you screamed. He stood in front of you shocked. You pushed your hands into his chest. “Harry get out.” You pushed him towards the door.

“Baby-”

“Dont do that. Don't you dare call me baby.”

“(y/n)...” You looked at him, tears falling down your cheeks. 

“You need to leave Harry.” You grabbed his keys off the counter and threw them at him. “I don't care where you go but it needs to be somewhere far away from here.” You turned away from him, walking into the bedroom and locking the door. You collapsed against the door, holding back your sobs in until you heard the front door close. You got up and reached for the bed, freezing when you saw her bra laying in the sheets. You knew you couldn't stay here, you knew thinking about what just happened in YOUR bed would actually make you sick. You also knew that driving was not an option seeing as the tears were clouding your vision and you could barely breathe between the sobs escaping your mouth. You grabbed your phone. There was only one person who lived close enough and wouldn't judge the situation. “Gemma..” you cried into the phone.

“Oh god. What did the idiot do now?”

“Can you come get me? I just don't think I can stay here...”

“Say no more sister, I’ll be there soon.” You quickly threw some clothes into a bag, grabbed your toothbrush, phone charger, and hairbrush. Gemma pulled up, walked in and hugged you. She grabbed your bag and carried it to the car as you locked the door behind you. Thankfully Gemma didn't ask too many questions, she made you a cup of tea and wrapped a blanket around your shoulders. You quietly thanked her and sipped the tea, trying not to think about what had happened. She sat across from you and waited for your breathing to return to normal before talking. “So what do I need to kill Harry for?”

You took a shaky breath, tears returning to your eyes. “He- he” you were crying again and Gemma scooted closer placing her hand on yours. “There was another girl-”

“You don't have to talk about it (y/n)...” Gemma softly smiled at you. “Not until you're ready.. and I won't mention to Harry that youre here or that I know what happened. Stay as long as you need. I really mean it when I say that, you are my sister whether youre with Harry or not.” That made you cry more. You hugged her tightly and smiled.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too girl. Forget my brother, he's an asshole anyway.” You laughed and she smiled. “You can have the guest room, its the door on the left. Make yourself at home, seriously.”

You told her you would as she walked away answering her phone that had been ringing. You grabbed your bag off the floor and dropped it on the bed in the room. You were exhausted at this point, your eyes were so puffy from crying they felt as if they weren't able to stay open. Your throat hurt, your nose was so stuffy you couldn't breathe, and you had a killer headache. You sat on the edge of the bed, tossing your phone on the floor. Harry and texted and called more times than you could count. The door cracked open and you looked up confused, but Olivia ran in jumping on the bed and laying on your lap. Olivia was Gemma’s cat. You and Harry had watched her a few weeks ago when Gemma went out of town, and clearly she remembered you. You scratched her ears before getting up, changing into pjs, and climbing under the covers. Olivia rejoined you, purring slightly as she snuggled with you. You were grateful for the distraction, the soft purr, and the feeling of something snuggled next to you. You didn’t do well sleeping apart from Harry, in fact when he wasnt with you, you barely slept at all. Having Olivia was helping a little though, you were able to fall into a distracted and restless sleep. 

When you woke up the next morning, you felt worse than you had the night before. You felt hungover even though you hadn't had a sip of alcohol. You stumbled into the kitchen where you found Gemma eating a bowl of cereal and scrolling through her phone. “Morning.” you mumbled grabbing a bowl for yourself.

“You look like shit dude.” she said looking up from her phone.

“Well I’m glad because that pretty much how I feel.”

She frowned and held up her phone. “This might cheer you up..” You looked at the article of Harry. He was in his boxers standing on the street, tears streaking down his face, and getting into a car. You just shrugged and sat down. “Come on (y/n) perk up we are doing something fun today.”

“We are?”

“Yes. We are not letting you sulk around the house questioning my brothers dumb life decisions. We are going shopping.”

“In public?”

“Well that's where shops are so yes.”

“I don't think I’m ready.”

“Oh I know you aren't ready. Thats why we are going. Youre not about to feel sorry for yourself all day. Nope. You are going to get Harry off your mind, which is why we will no longer be talking about him, reading about, or thinking about him okay?”

You ate another bite of cereal and nodded. “Fine.” you grudgingly said. She grinned. 

“Good, go get dressed then and wear something cute. You can borrow clothes if you need too.” You finished off your bowl and jumped into the shower. You took a nice long shower, soaking in the hot water and letting your mind relax. You quickly got dressed, applied some makeup and fixed your hair. Gemma was waiting for you in the living room and she smiled when you walked in. “Now that is what I’m talking about. You look like a person!” You laughed and rolled your eyes.

“Whatever.”

“No whatevers. Now, hand me your phone.”

“What? Why?”

“Because Harry has been calling and texting you all morning and all night. Today is a no Harry day. Your phone can stay here.”

“But-”

“(y/n) youre never going to focus on shopping with him calling and texting. Take a break from the media, the rumors, the-”

“The rumors? There are rumors about this now?”

“Technically they are the truth but obviously no one has confirmed it which is why they are rumors still. But anyways everyone is on your side of the argument.” She shook her head “no no, this is a no Harry kind of day. We are not talking about this right now. Now leave the phone.” You followed her instructions, a girls only day is what you needed and you were definitely not ready to think about or talk about Harry. You tossed the phone into the couch and followed her out the door.

You and Gemma spent all day shopping and were finishing the day off with dinner. You had a really great day. Your mind hadn't wandered to Harry once and you hadn't even had the urge to cry once either. It was a winning day. Gemma had ordered you a bottle of wine and the two of you were going to town, laughing and singing at the table. It really was the perfect end to a perfect day. Until in walked Harry’s hoe. You wouldve recognized her anywhere, the fake eyelashes, the dead dying hair, the slutty composure. You stopped laughing and frowned. Gemma followed your gaze and shook her head. “Is that her?”

“Yeah.”

“What a prick. She's not even cute.”

“Im cute, she's ugly, and yet she still slept with Harry.”

“Harry’s a real disappointment. We should talk to her.”

“What? No.”

“Come on (y/n). Go tell her off.”

You stood up. “Youre right. She ruined everything.”

“There ya go.” You took a step forward, your breath catching in your throat. Tears falling down your cheeks. You turned and sat back down. “Im proud of you.”

“Its not her fault. Its Harry’s.”

“Damn right it is.”

“Im not ready to talk to him Gem”

“You don't have to..you need to heal a little before you talk to him. Otherwise youre just going to cry when you see him.”

“Ugh...give me the bottle.” you said reaching your hand out. It was safe to say that you and Gemma were wine drunk by the end of the night. You had finished almost 3 bottles of wine by the time dessert came out and you were having a great time. Gemma had called an uber and the two of you could barely control your laughter at the fact you were wine wasted. When you got home, the two of you were stumbling up the stairs together, leaning on each other and laughing at each others laugh. You opened the front door stepped in and smiled at Olivia. “Olivia!” you shouted through a laugh, Gemma following suit.

“(y/n)..” Harry’s voice whispered. You and Gemma stopped laughing. Harry stepped out from the kitchen, he looked terrible at least from what you could tell. He looked a little blurry, but his face was very red. Gemma stepped forward.

“Harry..you need to go.”

“No what I need is to talk to my girlfriend.”

You started laughing again, earning a confused look from Gemma and Harry. “Girlfriend? Is that what you think we are?”

“Baby..”

“I’m not that dumb. I wouldn't date someone who cheated on me.”

Gemma seemed to have sobered up real quick. She grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him towards the door. “Harry you need to leave.”

“Yeah.” you said stumbling forward. “Leave.”

“Are you drunk?” Harry asked leaning in closer to you.

“I’m wine wasted.” you laughed looking at Gemma who smiled.

“You like rarely even drink though.”

“Clearly not, she had almost 2 bottles at dinner.”

“2 bottles?” Harry look concerned.

“You've driven the girl to drink.”

“(y/n)” Harry’s tone had changed. He seemed to be very concerned.

Youre expression changed. You looked at him closer, you remembered the previous night. Tears formed in your eyes, sobs starting to echo through your chest. Gemma pushed Harry towards the door again, coming to your side. “Harry go. Cant you see you being here is upsetting her.”

“I just want to talk.”

“You can't talk your way out of this one little brother. She needs time.” You dropped to your knees, looking up at him. You were crying again, you couldn't tell if it was because you were drunk or because it had clicked again that Harry had cheated on you, and that he wasnt even yours anymore. Harry watched with a pained expression on his face. “Harry youre upsetting her, just please leave. We were having a great time until you showed up.”

“A great time?” Harry asked turning to her. “You got my girlfriend wasted Gemma.”

“She’s not your girlfriend Harry. You ruined this one. Im trying to fix it, to fix her. But you had to go and screw it up like always.” That made you cry harder. You didn't want them to fight just because of you.

Harry turned and stormed out not saying anything and Gemma kneeled at your side. “Its okay...shhh (y/n) breathe.” You tried breathing but were struggling. Gemma pulled you to your feet and escorted you to your room. She set pjs out and told you change while she was getting some tea. A few minutes later she returned, placing a cup of tea on the bedside table. You had changed and were sitting with your knees to your chest in bed, tears still falling. She sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. “I’m sorry (y/n)...I really didn't think he would shoe up.”

“Its not your fault. He probably tracked my phone and anyways it was bound to happen eventually.”

“It shouldn't have happened tonight. You said you weren't ready.”

“I don't know I ever will be.” Gemma looked at you surprised. “I love him Gemma. I love him more than I love anything else. But he broke the one promise he swore on. He broke my trust. He killed everything we had. I don't know how to forgive that..”

“You just have to give it time. Time will make it hurt less.” You nodded and yawned. Gemma yawned in response, standing up and saying goodnight. For the first time ever, you picked up your phone scrolling through his texts, listening to his voicemails, reading tweets and catching up. Turns out Harry had made a statement. He had admitted the whole truth to his millions of followers on twitter. Management probably loved that, you thought. He had tagged you in apology tweets, photos, and then of course fan accounts had stepped in. There was a hashtag associated with everything too. Of course, the thing that got you was his last voicemail. He was barely speaking clearly, tears clouding his voice. You could hear the snot in his voice. 

“(y/n)..I’m so sorry. I can't- I can't even apologize enough but baby I love you so much. That was a mistake, a drunken mistake. I broke your trust, I hurt you, but (y/n)...I can't live without you. I don't think I can go on without you. I-I don't know what I need to do to help you forgive me...I don't know if you ever will but baby I won't live in this world without you. I know what I did was screwed up. I know I’m a terrible person. I deserve to put in hell for what I did but just tell me-just tell me theres hope. That theres hope one day I’ll have you back..that one day you could love me again.”

You couldn't breathe. The pain in his voice killed you. You missed him, you wanted to comfort him, and yet you also wanted to kill him for what he did. Your phone buzzed again and you looked down reading the text from Harry. *Just know that I will NEVER stop loving you baby, you will always be my person. Sleep tight, don't let the monsters bite.* You dropped the phone and groaned. Of course he had to tuck you in..he had to be cute. You wiped the tears from your eyes, washed your face, brushed your teeth, of course you spilled water all down the front of your shirt so you also searched for pjs. You couldn't find any. You rummaged through the dresser and came across a large white tshirt. When you unfold it the familiar font caught your eye. It was Harry’s tshirt. It had the heart with his name inside, the album cover on the edge and an arrow going through the heart. You put the shirt to your nose, breathing in his smell. You quickly threw the shirt on, climbing in bed, and falling into a peaceful sleep, Harry on your mind.

---

Let me know what you think :)

Cheated (part 2)

Message me requests! And as always thanks for being awesome with all the support and love! You guys are the best! xoxo

#one direction #directioners #one direction fanfiction #one direction imagines #Harry Styles #harrystyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #imagine #cheating

[munamania]

the promise (ch. 1)

a/n: hi yes i wrote for the clown gays like a year ago and im deciding to post this now sjdghfg pls be kind

pair: richie tozier/eddie kaspbrak

word count: 8.5k

warnings: swearing, blood ment, homophobic slurs, abuse mentions, psychological trickery, richie’s parents start out a lil absent but they get better i promise

excerpt:   “You’re gonna miss curfew, Rich,” Eddie mumbles, leaning out the window on his elbows. And Richie hears it: you’re alone, you know what could happen. Stay safe.

“I’m not afraid, Eds.” He means it. Richie can’t draw up what fear even feels like right then. With a flick of an eyebrow, he nods toward the door. “Mother is waiting.” 

“I know.”

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 No, it’s not that Richie is gay. It’s not like he daydreams about taking it up the ass all fucking day.

 Henry Bowers and his dipshit crew might have a different opinion, but they can honestly, truly suck his dick (in the non-homo way - he has taste). The fact that they took joy in throwing him and his friends around, calling them names, and threatening their whole lives never mattered before; the losers took care of each other, and most of the time it was easy to forget about those other assholes.

 Being called four-eyes when he needed glasses in the second grade never got to him that bad - they were saving him from having to see their ugly faces when they knocked them off, so really, he should have thanked them - and he didn’t care when they shoved him around for being short before his growth spurt, and it didn’t even bother him that much when they mocked his totally refined voices. He knew his own talent, and what he could do with it if he could just focus.

 But the first time they singled him out as the fag of the group, well, it stung.

 He never told the others about that day. He never told them how long he cried, how broken he felt sobbing on that park bench. He never worked up the nerve to tell them why he couldn’t face Paul Bunyan anymore, no, he simply breezed past without lifting his eyes, without missing a beat of conversation.

 At least it got easier with time.

 All things considered, his home life isn’t terrible.

 Richie has his own room, a roof, and usually a decently-stocked fridge. Enough to get by.

 He’s left alone a lot. His parents are always at work, and when they’re not, they take on the personalities of monotonous robots sitting in front of the TV, so he spends a lot of time skimming through comics or jacking off when he’s not running around with his friends.

 But, that’s just the thing. Somehow, Richie, life of every conversation, King of Comedy, Trashmouth, funny-man Tozier, was born to the most boring people of all time. They never engage with his jokes; on a good day, he receives a breezy, “That’s nice, sweetie,” from his mom, or, “Okay, that’s enough, son,” from his dad. Blank stares. Pasty, purple-tinted white eyes. Never a hug, never much past a ‘goodnight.’ Not even a simple, “How was school?” when they got home.

 Richie vividly remembers the day that he bounced in his seat at the end-of-the-year ceremony at school, a bustling bundle of nerves prepared to brag and boast to his parents about his awards in science and, surprisingly (his teacher hated him) English - he took to the dramatics of Shakespeare quite well. He practiced his entrance to them several times over in his head, perhaps overly, unconvincingly modest or Shakespeare wants what I have. Anything to get a laugh. A ruffle of his hair from his dad. A forehead kiss from his mom, like when he was little.

 They didn’t show. He still doesn’t know where he went wrong.

 In a stark, bubbling contrast to his parents, there’s this kid in his group of friends. He remembers one of the first times they met, the boy approaching him, all sweet apple-cheeked and neat polo and ironed khaki shorts; Richie had flicked an eyebrow upward, a not-so-subtle really?, because he never figured that clean-freak Eddie Kaspbrak would be able to handle more than three seconds in Trashmouth Tozier’s presence.

 But boy, was he a lot of fun.

 Eddie was loud and super easily wound-up, screaming about fucking UTIs and do not fucking push me man all the piss on the walls of this city could fill the lake and despite his good-boy appearance, he shot back with just as much fire as Richie threw at him.

 And fuck, Richie loves it. He loves the ease with which they bounce back and forth. He loves the fury in the boy’s eyes when Richie pisses him off, the laughter that always comes about between them once they settle. The crossing arms and pouting Eddie, who he theorizes secretly loves it when Richie calls him pet names (not that he’d ever admit it); the loud and greatly-gesticulating Eddie who yells louder and pushes harder when Richie coos at him; the one who quietly accepts Richie’s affection, and offers it back in subtle ways: simply holding Richie’s arm when he slings his arms around Eddie’s neck from behind, allowing him to sit next to him thigh-to-thigh, and overall not completely cringing and pushing him off. He took it as a compliment, though they’d never mention it out loud.

 On an unfortunate night, his comfortable little world comes crashing down.

 His parents are out for some sort of conference weekend trip or whatever, and they’ve called in his deadbeat uncle to ‘watch over the house.’ Not necessarily him (probably because he isn’t home that much), but the house obviously can’t stand up by itself—and, well, maybe they didn’t trust Richie to not accidentally leave the door open, or leave the stove on, or some other stupidly irresponsible little thing. So, the crusty old guy shows up with his greasy, oiled hair and his lack of deodorant and his wilting knees. It makes Richie miss Eddie so, so much when they part, because a.) he smells a lot better, and b.) it would be fucking hilarious for him to see what Richie has to put up with. Like, he’s really not the most rodent-like of his family.

 Anyway, Richie doesn’t remember what he says. Something slightly instigative, about the lack of any gourmet-level food in the house (he claimed calmly while wasting away on microwave tater tots and bread, even though his parents had left behind plenty of money to keep him alive), and then suddenly hands were on him.

 It stings like a bitch.

 His uncle gets up, with a quiet mumble that Richie makes out to be, “Well, let’s see…” and when he finally gets in the kitchen, facing Richie with eyes rung red and shaking fists, he grabs his nephew by a fistful of t-shirt and shoves him against the counter.

 At that moment, he really wants his mom. Why the fuck did she and dad leave him with this guy?

 “I don’t see you fucking working, or doing much of anything around here, kiddo.”

 “Funny, I was gonna say the same to you.”

 A blow to his mouth. Richie resists the urge to lift trembling fingers to the spot that he can feel swelling.

 “Don’t talk to me like that, asshole! You think you’re so fucking funny, huh?” His uncle drags him forward and shoves him back with conviction, and this time Richie doesn’t answer.

 He should have known to stay quiet when he saw his uncle drinking and smoking incessantly in the house, even though his mother had requested that he stay outside for that. It must have been a rough day at the bar, or wherever the fuck he spent his time.

 “You need to learn when to be quiet, dipshit. Have some fucking respect.”

 For the guy who ignored him for years, didn’t stay in touch, and wasted his existence away on the couch.

 Right.

 But Richie is snapped from his indignant, grounding thoughts when his uncle lowers his voice. “Do I make myself clear?”

 Richie frowns in his face, utterly confused from the swell of attention, still limply holding a bag of bread in his left hand.

 “Do I make myself clear?”

 “Y-yes sir.”

 The wretched man makes a point to push him into the corner of the cupboards with such a force that he collapses to his knees and can just feel the bruises forming. And he sits there for a minute, all sorts of betrayal and anger and sadness suffocating him.

 But he stands up.

 And with stinging eyes, a stuffy nose, and shaking hands, he makes himself a simple peanut butter sandwich.

 And he stays upstairs for the remainder of the night

 It’s a warm, soothing day outside; the sun glows and birds are chirping like some kind of fucking cartoon. In the tall grass the losers sit in frogs croak and crickets chirp and they make a mess of themselves in the circle they form.

 “Damn, Rich, what happened to you?” comes Stan’s voice, concerned eyes flashing down to his now royally fucked-up mouth.

 “Yeah, dude, what the fuck?” says Bev through a sandwich, truly a charmer.

 Richie grins at Bev but answers to Stan, ignoring the sting in the corner of his lips. “Guess I’m a fighter at heart.”

 “Richie—“

 Bev chimes in once again, a bright, snarky grin on her face, “Richie, you can tell us if it was another accident, we won’t judge. Promise.”

 Bev has a way about her; he knows she’s not genuinely the largest, most gaping asshole on earth, and that she actually cared a lot and cried over her friends in the darkest nights, but she also knew how to make light of something dark (even the worst). She probably knew. She probably just had his back in her own funny way, like taking the pressure off the reality.

 “Bev, I’ve really, truly, always appreciated your charm, but as my dearest favorite person on earth, fuck off.”

 “Richie,” Bill says, then hesitates. In that time, Bev flips Richie the bird, which he answers with an air kiss. “What really h-ah-happened?” He looks him over with a frown, clear blue eyes swallowing him in concern and maybe love.

 Richie offers a simple smirk before settling against the trunk of a tree. “Don’t worry about it, Billiam. I’ve got it under control.”

 “Whatever you say,” Bev says. She tosses a baggie over to him with his favorite sandwich.

 Stan isn’t so easily convinced, eyeing Richie up carefully, but he sits with Bev on the boulder she’s settled on when Richie doesn’t falter in his casual disposition.

 It takes a lot of work, as always.

 Ben shows up moments later, with a calm and tender, “You alright, Rich?” and when Richie goes off on a stupid tough-guy spiel, he simply lays at the foot of the boulder and flicks open a book, meeting Richie with one of his melting smiles, a gentle invitation, a sweet If you ever need it, I’m there, but allowing him the space to go on as normal. Which is nice.

 Richie knows they all care. He knows he could tell them, could pour all of the terror and tragedy he felt the night before into the air and they’d fill up the space; Mike would give him the tightest hug in the world, one to combat the most heinous of things; Stan would sit with him as long as he needed it, Bev would come through with a smoke and the best advice in the world, and Ben would tell him stories or just hang out with him until everything felt a bit lighter, and Bill would give him anything in the world because Richie would do it back. That’s the way they were.

 But he can’t do it.

 “Sorry I’m late guys,” comes a nasally voice, huffing and puffing, new pressure leaning against the tree, and Richie grins. Eddie.

 “It’s okay, Eds,” he says, reaching over a few fingers to tickle Eddie’s knee, giggling when the boy smacks at his hand and doubles over with an exclamatory, Richie!  

 The others offer a few sleepy greetings, all soaked up in their own forms of entertainment for the quiet afternoon: Bev and Ben, heads close enough to share his walkman; Stan, reading some lengthy oath to birds or something; Mike snoozing lightly on Bill’s shoulder while Bill pores over some adventure map from a fantasy novel.

 They had all agreed that it was too tiresome to go swimming today, as the previous night was spent out at Stan’s with a bonfire, and for a few of them, some stolen booze (not very much, but enough that they could pretend to be drunk and giggle profusely). But they still wanted to hang out, so this was the middle ground. An afternoon picnic in the shade.

 Eddie quickly notices his lip and drops down to his side. “Richie, what happened to you? Was it Bowers again? I swear to god, I will fucking kill that guy--”

 Richie smiles softly at the protective words, and tries to turn it into a smirk. “Eddie, baby, don’t worry,” he says. “It’s just a little bump.”

 Surprisingly, Eddie sidles up next to him, using the pad of his thumb to press at the sides of Richie’s mouth, apparently assessing some sort of damage. “Don’t call me that.” He scowls. “What did you do? Did you ice it? Clean this cut at all? Cause you could get an infection, you know, you really should clean it.”

 Richie bats his eyes. “Clean it for me, sweets?”

 “Fuck off. Forget I cared.”

 “Ah, come on, Spaghettio. I didn’t mean it.” He pulls Eddie down with a simple gesture, pressing his palm to the boy’s shoulder and dragging. The boy rests against the trunk, nestled in Richie’s side.

 But that’s the complicated thing. He sorta wishes he could mean it. In a small, poking-at-the-back-of-his-head-always kind of way.

 “Just—tell me what happened,” Eddie pipes up quietly from his side.

 When Richie glances down, he takes to heart how disgruntled Eddie still looks, crossing his arms and almost pouting.

 He shrugs. “Your mother was simply affronted by how good I am with my mouth, Eds, she couldn’t take it anymore.”

 Eddie presses his mouth into a line, rolls his eyes at the stupid British voice Richie had developed, and busies himself with a thrilling edition of The Lancet

 Later, as dusk settles in and pale purple skies replace the bright blue, and the club leaves with simple ‘goodbye’s and promises to do something fun tomorrow, Eddie shifts from his nap. He’d passed out with his head slammed back against Richie’s arm (he’d caught it just before he fell to the ground, avoiding a lengthy rant about potential concussions and medical bills), curled in the opposite direction from Richie’s abdomen. As he wakes, through, he rolls over, elbow digging into Richie’s side.

 “Ah-ow,” Richie groans, sitting up from his cataconic state of reading Ben’s stolen comics and avoiding moving and waking Eddie. But he’d just dug the pointiest part of his entire firecracker body into Richie’s ribs, where Richie had attempted and failed to nurse a bruise he’d accrued from a vicious cupboard corner. It was at an awkward angle, and he refused to go down to get more ice packs once they melted, so he slept unsoundly and laid uncomfortably.

 “Sorry,” Eddie mumbles, voice muddled with sleep. “Shit, it’s late. When did I fall asleep? My mom’s gonna kill me.”

 Even in that gurgly, world upside-down state of post-nap consciousness, the boy freaks out about his mother. Richie sighs and rubs his shoulder.

 “You’re all good, Eddie boy,” he attempts for a creaky, witchy voice, but it’s half-assed because he gets so tired of this lady. Not Eddie ranting, that was fine, and he knew the kid needed to get it out of his system; but he was fucking tired of Mrs. K hurting his boy. “You took your meds on time, fell asleep shortly after. Might need to amputate my arm now, though.”

His boy.

 Eddie sits up, and Richie stares at his back, illuminated in the dusk, because he wore a fun yellow today, resting prettily against his tanned, freckled skin.

 (Maybe Richie had looked over, amused, for a few moments, as Eddie snored and twitched his nose in his sleep; and he counted the freckles on Eddie’s arm, his cheek, whatever he could see for entertainment.)

 Eddie glances back at him, and Richie distracts himself with his bag, shifting his eyes awkwardly from the boy’s gaze.

 “Well, well, good sir, shall I walk you home on this fine night?”

 Eddie’s brow furrows. “Richie, what’s that?”

 His eyes are trained intently on the aforementioned bruise, and its cousins that pepper his hips, only exposed because he slipped and let his shirt ride up when he bent over.

 He clears his throat, scrambling for some dumbass answer, wholeheartedly unprepared for the severity of this conversation. “You know how the ladies throw themselves—“

 “Okay, you know what, fine.” Eddie stands quickly, stumbling slightly, and braces himself against the tree. “You don't have to fucking tell me. Just come home with me, okay?”

 “A night with Eddie Kaspbrak? Why, you’re really a dream-come-true kind of guy.”

 “Your lip is bleeding again,” he responds simply, apparently not one for      fun    at this very moment. “I can clean it.”

 Richie pops up from the ground, feeling quite pip pip, tally ho about the whole thing. “Righty-o, Eddie boy.

 That’s how he ends up sitting on the edge of Eddie’s porcelain-white bathtub, dirtying it with his messy jeans and dirt-coated nails.

 It takes a lot of strategic planning, lots of sneaking past Mrs. K, and then sweet-talking and kisses from Eddie once she wakes up freaking out about how late he was. But, after about fifteen minutes of contest-worthy screeching from the woman, Eddie stomps up the stairs, slams the door with a very I’m gonna pull my hair out look, and has to take about three extra minutes to compose himself, ranting under his breath.

 Richie just stares at his distorted reflection in the shining silvery faucet, the violet under his eyes and the renewed puffiness of his lip, Hawaiian pattern of his shirt disheveled in the odd mirror.

 He knows not to engage unless Eddie actually speaks up to him, meaning this run-in was probably just overly grating and mentally draining, considering, well, how his mother is. He just needs a second to get it out, not any kind of heartfelt talk (which Richie sucks at anyway) or even a lighthearted joke. The boy paces and growls into a fist. Then, eventually, he breathes, “Okay.”

 Eighteen minutes. Eighteen minutes of sitting around and waiting for Eddie, just for him to kneel in front of Richie, doe eyes clear and focused, dabbing so, so gently at his battered lip.

 In a way, it’s heaven.

 “I take it your mom can’t wait for me to buy dinner, eh?”

 Eddie sighs. “Apparently this time I’m gonna contract malaria, Rich, didn’t you know? There’s an incredible outbreak this time of year and I’m obviously not prepared to avoid fucking mosquitoes, what with my fifteen bottles of bug spray and essential oils. I’ll probably die tomorrow!”

 “I will make sure that your funeral is a fucking rager dude, don’t you worry. Booze on me.”

 A ghost of a smile.

 “Richie…” he breathes out in a long winded way, saying nothing and everything for way too long. “Why don’t you stay here tonight?”

 Richie raises an eyebrow. “Man, I thought you were gonna back out on your previous offer, but I guess the call for a night with Richie Tozier is too much to back away from. I get it.” He smiles painfully at the way Eddie’s face crumples with something like boredom. “Christ, dude, what’s your poison?” He makes a face at the antiseptic substance that trickles into his mouth.

 “Maybe if you kept your mouth shut for once, this wouldn’t be an issue.”

 Richie beams, which just causes Eddie to huff even more.

 “Please, just stay still!

 “It was my uncle,” Richie finally says, forcing a bored expression onto his face as he flips through a rather dull magazine, sprawled on Eddie’s bed. “And it wasn’t a big deal.”

 Panic flashes across Eddie’s face. His cheeks burn red, and his leg jitters anxiously against Richie’s, but his voice remains level, which Richie thanks dear lordy Jesus for. “Your uncle? He hit you?”

 “Well,” Richie pauses. “Uh, kinda. He was just really drunk, Eds, and he got mad and I was in the way.”

 “In the way?”

 He shrugs, a small smile quirking his lip up. “Am I not usually?”

 “Rich.” Eddie’s voice is really soft in that moment, gentler and quieter than anything Richie has heard from him in all the time he’s known his fellow loudmouth. It simultaneously terrifies and thrills him. Eds. Eddie brings his knees to his chest, leaning back against the headboard. “You say a lot of dumb shit, but that doesn’t mean you should be hurt.” He must notice Richie’s uncomfortable look, because he adds lightly, “Most of the time, anyway.”

 “Woah, Eddie, don’t go overboard with the kindness or anything--”

 “Damn it, Richie.” He casts his eyes downward. “I’m just trying to say - um - thanks for telling me. Sorry if that’s fucked up to say, but I know you didn’t want to, so, yeah. We don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

 Richie swallows deeply with a slow nod, focusing his eyes on the blurry words in front of him. “Well, if there’s anyone I’d tell, it’s Dr. K. He’s gonna be the one to save my life, right?”

 Eddie rolls his eyes. “Right.” He kicks at Richie’s foot, a subtle way of telling him to move over so he can get under the covers.

 “Night, toots.”

 “Goodnight, Richie.

 Richie thinks he knows everything possible about Eddie thus far.

 He knows when he needs to take his meds, an internal clock he recently developed; he knows that the boy is not nearly as fragile as he sometimes seems, and if he really tried, he could pack a punch; he knows that he loves fervently and he’ll always take care of his friends, even if it’s in a way that would usually disgust him.

 Case in point: he didn’t seem to freak out at Richie’s bleeding lip, even when a steady stream of blood started dripping down his chin from the contact of trying to clean it out, though he usually cringed if he got so much as a scratch from a twig. Somehow, some way, he simply held pressure on the wound and told Richie to hold some ice on it (“Ordering me around now, hot stuff? I can work with that,”), and washed his own hands thoroughly in the sink.

 What he doesn’t know until that night, is that Eddie is a cuddler. At least, half-asleep, groggy Eddie is. Like, this kid must be more starved for affection than he is. Richie had curled himself in a ball toward the edge of the mattress, willing himself not to do so much as even press his back against Eddie’s, way too afraid of the ease with which two people can tangle themselves together in the night, terrified of what would happen if he woke up with Eddie’s hands on him, wrapped up in Eddie, Eddie’s terrible morning breath against his cheek, Eddie Eddie Eddie. But while Richie had stressed himself into falling halfway off the bed, Eddie had flopped over in his sleep, slung an arm across Richie’s waist and, seeming to sense that he had something to hold, pulled him in tight to his chest. Though Richie’s breath caught in his throat, he figured, well, no one could really see them then, so what was the harm in passing out like that? No one had to know. He could pass it off like he’d been sleeping the whole time.

 But he cherishes every fucking minute of it

 Richie wakes to the sound of something pounding, a steady beat, and in that state of slowly waking from a dream he thinks it’s some old drum, playing lowly in the corner by some restless figure. When he comes to, his eyes creaking open slowly, he sees the gentle orange-ish hue of the morning sky, the neat room around him, the scent of detergent and soothing fabric softener wafting near his face. And he realizes his head is tucked into Eddie’s side, the boy’s slowed heartbeat thumping softly against his ear.

 Normally, he’d just let Eddie sleep, as he’s usually only the asshole waking everyone up when it’s the whole gang. He doesn’t mind spending a few hours by himself in the morning. In fact, he enjoys the opportunity to try to fall back asleep (even though he never does).

 But with a sudden impulse, he lays a palm on Eddie’s ribcage and pushes himself up onto his elbows, then shakes the boy.

 “Eddie.”

 A muffled, “Mmph?”

 “Eds, wake up.”

 The boy drags a pillow over his ears for all of two seconds before Richie tickles his stomach. Then he crankily sits up and lets out a gruff, “What?”

 Richie grins. “The sunrise, Eds! Look, it’s so pretty, you have to believe me.”

 Eddie responds by laying his cheek on Richie’s shoulder blade, slumping forward with his eyes still closed. “You do know,” he breathes, “that if the sun is just rising, it’s like, six a.m.?”

 “Hmm, 5:49, but close enough, I suppose.”

 The most huffy breath that Eddie can manage at this hour tickles the hairs on the back of Richie’s neck. “Did you know that people who don’t sleep enough die a lot younger? There are serious health consequences.” It doesn’t come out in his usual fiery, punctuated tone; it’s soft and filled with a yawn and he’s pretty sure Eddie might fall back asleep just like that. “You can’t die early on me, Richie. And I don’t want to. Go back to sleep.” He peeks one eye open at the window, squinting at the glow of the sun. “It is pretty, though.” With that, he falls back against the pillow and curls into a ball against the wall.

 And Richie’s pretty damn sure in that moment that he’s, like, in love

 And, sure, that’s terrifying.

 He has no one to talk to about it and nothing could convince him it’s normal, so he shrugs it off and pretends it isn’t there.

 Cause that’s a good way to cope, right?

 It doesn’t matter that Eddie is so easily comfortable with him—he’s a low-pressure person, is all. And no one had called out the way pet names rolled off Richie’s tongue so easily, because that was just a part of his joke. Normal. Easy.

 Until it wasn’t

 You see, there’s this bitch Pennywise. This idiot clown terrorizes his friends, kills people, haunts their nights and days, and fucks with their minds. Tries to turn them against each other. And they can’t even throw a jest back! It’s a sick system.

 Well, anyway, the losers end up in some crickety, wooden, falling-apart-at-the-seams murder house on Neibolt, because Bill wants to find his brother and none of them are willing to abandon him. Instead, Richie gets to see himself dead, face off with a monstrous fucking clown, and hear heart-wrenching screams from Eddie that he can’t even help, because he can’t get out.

 When he does, he reunites with Stan and Bill, using the few seconds he has to catch his breath.

 Just as quickly, he loses it.

 In front of him lies Eddie, arm twisted at the ugliest, most heinous angle, and not only is he probably in pain and freaking out about the arm, but a 7-foot tall clown is sauntering towards him with a stupid swaggering gait, like it knows that they can’t do anything to save Eddie.

Eddie.

 The boy cowers against dust and fallen wood that must be itching to give him splinters; tears streak down his dirty face and his chest rises and falls rapidly, as Pennywise taunts him. Fucking horses around, making stupid noises and joking while Eddie falls apart, and Richie doesn’t know how to save him, even after everything Eddie’s done for him. Richie is vaguely aware of Stan grasping his shoulder, trying to ground him, and he silently thanks him as he glances around for fucking anything to use as a weapon, because he certainly can’t jump into this blindly--

 Then Beverly busts into the room and stabs the bitch in the head, and Richie can’t think but his feet are moving and he lands in front of Eddie in the few seconds’ time he has to play catch-up. He reminds himself to remind Bev of just how much he loves her later.

 For now, though, his focus is Eddie. His ears are ringing and he’s noted the commotion going on behind him, he even realizes that Bill ends up at his side, but his gaze is right on his Eds, grasping at his face, trying to do anything to help him.

 “Eds. No, no, no! Look at me! It’s okay. Please be okay.” He steadies his voice and tries really hard not to think about how much he sucks as a caretaker, how he has no fucking clue what to do, but he’s scared and he desperately just wants to take Eddie from the room and keep him safe, forever and ever.

 Terror-filled eyes find him as the clown continues toward the three of them, flexing horrendous claws; Richie kneels in front of Eddie and Bill’s at his back, and Richie knows Eddie acknowledges him but he’s whimpering and shaking and staring back at the clown. And Pennywise is thriving.

 “Eds,” he says, louder, grabbing Eddie’s chin and forcing it in his direction. “Please just - fuck the clown, okay? Fuck everything. It’s me and you. I’ve got you.” And he’d probably be much more convincing if he weren’t shouting and clinging to Eddie’s shoulders like it means death.

But, he seems to capture the boy’s attention, as he keeps his eyes steadily on Richie and blinks a few times. “My arm!” he cries. “Fuck, I can’t fucking move. I’m gonna die. It hurts, Rich.”

 “Hey, you’re not gonna die. I don’t die early on you, you don’t die early on me. That’s the deal.”

 “Some deals are made to be broken.”

 Eddie is just staring at him, blank eyes staring through him with a grin, a stark contrast to the screaming that was going on just moments before. A surge of panic rises in Richie’s chest, like a freezing wind knocking through his stupid little preteen body. He shakes his head in confusion.

 “Eddie, shut up. It’s just your arm. You’re gonna be fine!”

 A shrug. “Who’s to say?” And then he sits up, arm convulsing at his side like some dying snake, and Richie flinches and flies back into Bill’s chest. He can’t do this. He can’t help Eddie like he should, he can’t take care of him like he wants to. He’s a coward.

 “Rich.” Bill is a million miles away.

 Right here, right now, is that thing in Eddie’s place, body rattling like a rag doll. “They’ll find out.” Eddie’s voice is fucked up, scratchy, and his eyes are all wrong; the way he’s staring at him is fucking uncanny. “Get too touchy, Rich, and you know what’ll happen.”

 “Stop, please, fucking stop!”

 “Richie!” Bill is finally right there, shaking both of his shoulders from behind. “S-stop. You’re f-f-fine. It’s just fucking with your head.”

 It takes a few deep breaths, but Richie turns to him and says a quick, ‘Thanks,’ before turning back to real-Eddie, who is now dry-heaving and wailing at the sight of his arm.

 Eddie’s chest thrusts forward and back rapidly, and he keeps trying to back further from the bedlam in front of them. His face contorts into an absolutely heart-wrenching cry, and as he looks at Richie, gripping his hand with an iron fist, Richie’s heart splits in two. It’s hard, it’s way too hard not to say I love you, after all that. And it’s hard not to run.

 “I don’t wanna die - ”

 Richie crawls closer to cradle Eddie’s head. “Eddie, if you die I’ll kill you.” He wants to go home, he wants to cry, he wants to sleep for about three days and pretend this never happened. But he can’t. He has to be here for Eddie, as much as he wants to flee right now. “You’re not going to, you know that? I still owe you ice cream. And I’m gonna get you inside the arcade—“

 “Fuck the arcade!”

 Somehow, in all of the fuckery going on, Richie laughs. “That’s the spirit!” Eddie, in a scramble to back away from the startle of Pennywise running away, shifts into Richie’s lap. “Okay, Eddie, breathe.” Richie gulps down a breath himself. “I’m gonna snap your arm back into place.”

Eddie’s eyes light up, completely on fire, spitting poison at Richie. “Rich! Do not fucking touch me!”

 Richie winces at the words but he hears Bev screaming, “Richie, his arm!” and uses the moment of yelling to just do it, to get Eddie’s arm back to a relatively normal shape, and then he’s screaming and it’s like he wants Richie to cry in front of everyone.

 “Okay okay okay, it’s done. No more.” Richie, awkward and lost at what to do, brushes back sweaty hair from Eddie’s forehead, because he’s pretty sure the boy would hate how sticky everything had gotten, and if he could help even one thing, well, it’s something.

 He wishes he could help carry Eddie home, sit with him in the hospital, anything to cheer him up.

 But he doesn’t get the chance. Mrs. K is outside and snatches Eddie from the losers in the flash of an eye, talking like they broke his fucking arm or something.

 That’s when it all goes downhill

 Richie storms away from his stupid feud with Bill, the fucking dumbass who punched him in the face because he said he didn’t want a clown to kill him and his friends. He thinks it’s the most reasonable thing he’s ever said, objectively, but whatever. He doesn’t want to lose his friends. But in that moment, he doesn’t see many other options.

 When he trudges back home after his third day alone at the arcade, following newly-formed muscle memory to avoid his uncle (close the door slowly, shift weight and run upstairs, wait at least twenty minutes to go back down for food in case he stirs), he notices another car. Immediately, Richie throws open the doors, calling out, “Mom!” and finds her in the kitchen, with his uncle.

 “Hey sweetie, I just got home—“ she startles at the sight of him.

 “Jeez, that bad?” he jokes, running a hand through his hair. “Just remember, mom, half of this is ‘cause of you.”

 She approaches him quickly, summer blazer flowing behind her from the speed, and crouches down just slightly to be at eye-level. “Richie, honey, what did you do to your lip?” she asks. He doesn’t realize right away, but he tilts his head into her touch, and she strokes his cheek gently.

 Richie had forgotten about the whole ordeal—his friends almost dying at the hands of a killer clown was pretty damn distracting from his low-life uncle—but now, he sets a spitting glare on the man leaning back and manspreading at their kitchen table.

 “Uncle Alan had a few kind words to say over dinner the other night.”

 Her tender touch to his face is lost when she whips around to face his uncle, and Richie feels like a little kid again, standing behind his mom and clutching at her coat while she takes care of everything.

 “You hit him?” she says, her voice threatening in a low mumble, teeth clenched together. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You touched my kid?” She holds back a hand as though to shield Richie as she slams her other fist on the table.

 “How do you know it wasn’t one of his faggy friends? Or maybe some other kid with common fucking sense?”

 She leans down and takes him by the front of his shirt. “Don’t you dare, Alan. What the fuck were you thinking?”

 Uncle Alan yells back in her face, spit flying, and Richie would jump forward to defend her if she weren’t holding him back so protectively (with one hand!). “Listen, Maggie, if he’s gonna act like that, I’m just preparing him for the real world.”

 “You absolute shit! You don’t get to make that decision!” Richie has never, ever seen his mother so angry. “You battered a twelve year old boy! What, do you feel really big now, you pathetic piece of shit? Get the fuck out of my house!” At this point, she’s shaken him and thrown him back against the chair so he falls, catching himself just in time as it cascades to the ground.

 “Fuck you, Maggie!”

 She follows him down the hall.

 “Fuck you!” Richie calls out at his retreating back, before his mother screams about pressing charges and slams the door behind him.

 Richie’s mom rushes back into the kitchen to face him. She’s red in the face, eyes on fire, but she softens at the sight of him.

 “Richie, sweetheart, I’m sorry we left you.” She cradles his face again. “Hey.” She holds him with both hands. “Listen. If anyone ever hurts you, you call me. If anyone ever so much as threatens you, Rich - ”

 Richie, choked up, interjects, “I didn’t know the number, mom. I don’t know where the little paper you wrote it on is, I’m sorry—“

 “It’s okay.” She looks at him for a few more moments, then swaddles him up in a big, mama bear hug. “I love you, kid. I hope you know that.”

 “I love you too.”

 For a few minutes, she just holds him, stroking his back while silent tears fall down his face and onto the chest of her shirt. She doesn’t seem to mind

 It’s late. Richie doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he’s on top of the world.

 He ends up at Eddie’s house, even though he knows they’re not talking and Eddie’s mom might kill him on sight, he has to see him. Mrs. K can go fuck herself.

 Outside the boy’s bedroom window, he raps quietly with his knuckles, just about buzzing with a high, high feeling toward life. He can see Eddie lying in bed, struggling to prop up a book to read, lamplight cascading onto his skin - that is, until he hears Richie, and flies toward the window with a crazed look.

 “What are you doing here?” Eddie asks, brows knitting together. “My mom will kill you if she hears you.”

 That doesn’t matter so much to him at that moment. “Eddie!” He swings his legs over the banister and jumps into the room, adrenaline and something like love pushing him to lift Eddie to his chest and spin. “Eds, my mom came home early and she kicked that motherfucker out of my house!”

 Eddie’s eyes are crazed from the spinning and he clings to Richie’s shoulder with his good hand; and he grins, a giggle caught in his lips. “That’s great, Richie. Fuck that guy.”

 “Yeah, fuck him! And god Eddie, she - she protected me, and we just spent hours together, watching movies and making dinner like old times, and it was amazing, and - god, I know I sound like a dork, but I - ”

 He pauses, mostly because he’s out of breath from machine-gunning a paragraph out of nowhere; but also because in his flustered state he didn’t register the sweet-cheeked smile that Eddie is currently melting him with.

 But when he does, Richie thinks to himself: sure, blue eyes are great; they can be compared to the sky or the ocean or whatever other cheesy nature bit all goddamn day. But Eddie’s eyes - hell, he doesn’t care if he sounds like a cornball - they’re fucking amazing. They usurp all of that bullshit. He’s used to them when they’re blown wide in surprise, or holding him in a steely glare for some dumb joke, and he loves them then; but right now he catches a kind of tenderness hidden in the dark. Something that envelops him in warmth and pinks his cheeks.

 Eddie takes the opportunity to pipe up. “Richie,” he says, “I’m really happy for you.”

 He means it. Richie knows he means it, because for the last several days, he’s heard Eddie mumbling to himself somewhat privately about ‘that piece of shit,’ and right now he’s clutching Richie’s sleeve and smiling without a trace of mockery.

 And he’s perfect.

 His tousled hair that’s rustled from what looks to have been a constant stream of fingers, stressed over the book or his mom or god-knows-what; the oversized t-shirt he’s drowning in and short shorts and perfectly matched socks; and those shining eyes and friendly smile and soft fucking hands that hold all the electricity of Richie’s excitement - all perfect.

 And Richie, Richie could just kiss him.

 He doesn’t.

 Mrs. K knocks at the door.

 “Eddie bear, it’s time for your nighttime oils!”

 Richie cracks a wise-ass smile. “Eddie bear, if I’d known you needed      nighttime oils, well, I would have come prepared.”

 “Get the fuck out,” Eddie says. The laughter catching on his lips tells another story.

 Richie throws an utterly charming wink in his direction and crouches in the window, preparing to jump out and make his escape.

 “Wait!” Eddie grabs the back of Richie’s t-shirt. “It’s cool that you stopped by. It’s - it’s been lonely in this hellhole. I might have gone insane if I thought you guys forgot about me.”

 “Aw, I’d never forget you, cutie.” Richie, stomach twisting and turning, supports himself with his forearm on the outside of the window. “And, anyway, I gotta practice my Romeo somewhere, right?”

 Eddie lets out a characteristic huff. “Whatever.”

 It’s quiet, save for the distant tweeting crickets, and the scent wafting through the nighttime is intoxicating, and for the following moments the world reminds them to just breathe.

 “You’re gonna miss curfew, Rich,” Eddie mumbles, leaning out the window on his elbows. And Richie hears it: you’re alone, you know what could happen. Stay safe.

 “I’m not afraid, Eds.” He means it. Richie can’t draw up what fear even feels like right then. With a flick of an eyebrow, he nods toward the door. “Mother is waiting.”

 “I know.” He smiles. “I’ll see you, Tozier.”

 Richie, without any reservations (until he thinks back on it later), reaches out as though to pinch Eddie’s cheek, but instead, runs his thumb along Eddie’s cheekbone. “See ya, Eds.” He smiles. “I’m gonna get you out of here someday.”

 Eddie shakes his head as Richie takes his hand away from Eddie’s newly red cheeks and makes his way back to the ground, muttering, “My hero.”

 And Richie looks back with a grin at the silhouette of the dork in the window, saluting before taking off

 It sucks when Beverly leaves.

 It’s an early morning, red and orange hues breaking across the skyline like a cracked egg, and Richie, Stan, and Ben all gather around to watch her disappear off to the nearest airport, and then disappear from them forever. Though it’s not nearly as mopey and depressing as it could have been, it’s hard to watch her go; a warm energy follows her as she hugs them all goodbye, looking at them with her all-knowing, crooked little smile, rolling her eyes but expressing more love than any of them had ever known, and Richie knows she means every word of loving and missing that she says. And he knows he’ll miss her more than anything.

 He does. Not much helps with the pain of missing someone, but as the days go by, pieces of her slowly slip from his mind, until finally she’s all gone

 New Years offers promises of ‘new me’s and resolutions and maybe some kind of peace. And considering everything, it’s the saving grace Richie thinks he needs.

 A chance to forget his uncle, the murderous clown that haunts his dreams, and his personal revelation that he loves Eddie Kaspbrak.

 It didn’t ruin their friendship by any means, just made his cheeks flush and heart throb and his rebuttals come back stutter-y when Eddie merely smiled at him. It was stupid textbook puppy love. He never thought he’d fall for that.

 And, he’s not gay. He can’t be, or he’ll have to pay the price.

 It's just that Eddie is his best friend. They’re all best friends, but Eddie never really stopped engaging with his exhausting jokes like the others, when it was finally too much. Eddie always bickered back, he took the bait and bit back. Eddie took him home when he got hurt and cared for him and then went right back to fighting.

 He loves Eddie the way he should love someone like Bev.

 But it’s nothing.

 The night is cutting, crisp with a fresh wintery bitterness, biting at Richie’s nose until it’s practically bleeding. To be fair, he’d opted to only wear one of his lighter jackets and some gloves, so it’s his own fault that his scalp is freezing over and he’s shaking on his way to the loser’s little spot in the meadow.

 At least his friends are smart.

 Stan sports a matching tartan hat and scarf, bundled up around his face so only the pinkish tip of his nose is poking out; Bill has a nice puffy coat and a hat with a bauble rested atop his head; Ben’s ushanka hat is wrapped tightly under his chin, and he waves at Richie with mittens keeping his hands warm; Mike is representing a lot of fleece, and he grins at Richie, shaking his head when he sees his lack of winter clothes; and then there’s Eddie, wearing a coat that has to be at least an extra large, and a knitted cap, bundled up so only his fussy eyes and nose are squinting out at Richie.

 In Richie’s defense, he was running late, and he had sprouted a little bit in the last few months, so his previously comfortable winter coat was now tight and painful in the shoulders and chest. This jacket was his best option in the 30-second long window he had to get dressed and run out the door to attempt to be on time.

 Stan levels a look at him, thoroughly appreciating his idiocy, and obviously not pitying his shaking form more than a quick flash of sympathy in his eyes; he cares, but Richie obviously brought this upon himself. The ensuing cold would be his own fault, and he’d call Stan to complain, just to grin quietly as the boy went on the calmest rant about how stupid he is and then hang up. It’s just how they worked.

 Richie wonders if he’d tell a potential partner that they should have brought a coat to a date if they complained of the temperature. It’s beside the point, but amusing.

 “C’mon man, you didn’t think about a scarf at least?” Mike says as a greeting, laughing a little bit as he removes his own and wraps it messily around Richie’s neck. In that moment, Richie would give up his life for this kid. The body heat/fleece combo immediately brings him back from the brink of a nosebleed.

 “Richie doesn’t think, period.” Stan sticks his hands in his pockets and stares at him, ghosts of amusement playing on his cheeks.

 Richie flashes his teeth in a big ol’ grin. “That’s pretty accurate, actually, I just wanted to be with you guys on time so badly, you know.”

 Bill lets out a small, unenthused, “Aww.”

 Richie simply chuckles and tries to wrap his fingers in Mike’s scarf to help with the inevitable hypothermia. Eddie winds up next to him in their gathering, sucking in a big breath through his nostrils and huffing out shortly.

 He bumps Eddie’s arm with his elbow and says, “What’s up with you, Eds?”

 Eddie nearly topples over from the size of the coat weighing him down, and he curses under his breath before standing back up and glaring at Richie. “You really didn’t wear a bigger coat, dumbass?”

 “As you can see, no,” Richie chuckles.

 Eddie presses his tongue into his cheek. “Well, you can share mine. It’s more than big enough.”

 Oh.

 Right, sharing a coat. That’s fine. No pressure or anything.

 Richie aims for a cool response, some funny voice or smooth and subtle, and lands on, “Yeah, cool. Thanks.”

 So, they share. And it’s pretty great.

 Eddie unzips it and pulls Richie in, and they collaborate to pull it up and then Richie is pressed up against Eddie’s side, in public, already sweating even though he’s still cold because he doesn’t know if he can handle this.

 Fortunately, they’re hidden by the dark, so maybe the boy or their friends won’t notice his red cheeks (or they’ll chalk it up to the cold) and the extra focus he has to place on acting normal. Because Eddie smells nicer than most boys their age, and he’s got a heart too big for his body, and Richie’s sure that Eddie loves him back in at least some way. It’s not just anyone that would get to be this close, squeezed into a coat with him.

 Richie feels sick.

 But the fireworks are starting, and they might be sparse and lackluster in the hell that is Derry, but each loser looks to the sky with love, with appreciation, in awe of the fact that something beautiful can apparently come from hell.

 Barely, just barely, Eddie’s head falls against Richie’s shoulder as they gaze up into the inky black sky illuminated by cakes of fireworks, and he whispers, “Wow,” under his breath right next to Richie’s ear, and now Richie’s contemplating between the two possible causes of his death: he combusts, or he stops breathing - to be determined.

 Richie begs the universe for advice in the ultimate predicament. And to his great relief, memories seep back into his brain; those of freckled cheeks, teeth balancing a cig as a mouth talks, and bundles of ginger curls bouncing as her head turns in his direction.

 “Bev would love this.”

 Riche catches the way Ben looks over at him pretty much immediately - at them, sharing body heat in Eddie’s coat - and then how the boy stares at the ground and mumbles a soft, “Yeah.” He looks back at Richie, holds his eye contact for a sweet, lingering moment, then gazes back at the sky, hopefully thinking of love as much as Richie is.

 Bill, Mike, and Stan all follow, tearing their eyes away briefly to make quick eye contact with each other, and then Richie, and Eddie even shifts to look up at him, and they all smile wistfully as though the girl is there with them, snarky remarks and toothy smiles keeping them all afloat. Richie feels like he’s going to break open and cry enough to fill the whole universe, so he sniffles and looks back up at the sky, breaking the moment of magic.

 But it remains with them.

 It remains as they share this together, as they enter the new year together, promising hope for a happier future as long as they stick with each other.

 And it remains as Eddie Kaspbrak takes his hand under the coat and murmurs, “Happy new year, Richie.”

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it 2017 #fanfiction #fluff #angst #sharing a bed #pining #new years #summer #mine #gosh i hope this isnt too dorky sfhdgjhsdfg

[fantastic-rambles]

Here's a lil input on the discussion about Reki.

I do get what you're saying about "got it" being more of a consideration than a promise(tho i perceived it as more of a promise at first), i don't think that actually matters because the reason behind Reki's behavior isn't Langa breaking his promise(and nor it is him being jealous of Langa's abilities). All of that stems from him losing his sense of self-worth. He was aware of Langa's potential before, and was absolutely ecstatic about it. Also i think he would've been pretty chill if Langa "broke" his promise to him if he wasn't doubting himself so much. Reki making Langa promise him not to skate against Adam is out of pure concern at first. Like, as much as it can be infuriating to the receiving party, if a person thought that doing X would make smb dear to them potentially harm themselves, they sure as hell would do anything to prevent that, even if it's smth that that smb wants. Later tho I believe Reki thought that Langa breaking his promise served as further proof of him not having any worth as a skater, and he's not angry at Langa but rather at himself(him yelling at langa not to apologize to him during their fight) for being so upset with Langa (and at this point wanting him to stick to that promise is sorta Reki's attempt at trying not to get left behind. He thinks that Langa deciding to skate against Adam means that he doesn't need Reki anymore).

As to him avoiding Langa at all cost and breaking his own promise to Miya of not disappearing on him, I also think that that kind of behavior is a given considering how he feels about himself. Interacting with a group of people(especially Langa) phenomenally good at what he himself loves so much but can't be as good at is straight up painful, so naturally he'd try to avoid them as much as possible. He does realize it's a shitty thing to do tho, based on how he ponders about what to say to Langa("how i acted so terribly against him") when he goes to meet him. Him not being able to apologize out loud is another thing lol. But i think Langa at that point already had an idea on what was going on with him, so Reki actually hearing all the truths from him that he himself had forgotten was much more important. That being said im actually pretty satisfied with their reunion :D I just really hope Reki apologizes to Miya later.

Anyway i hope this makes sense at least a bit, cuz Reki's character is written so well too imo. Him eventually breaking despite his happy-go-lucky personality and then finding himself again is GOOD stuff lol :D

So... I’m not opposed to justifying Reki being a jerk as long as you’re not opposed to justifying Adam being an asshole. -blink-

I’ve been trying to keep my content in line with the majority fandom (anti-Adam) argument that problematic behavior is problematic behavior regardless of the reason for it since I don’t want to deal with hater drama for my love of Adam, but that means I’ll look at all the characters with the same critical eye, which is why I can’t gloss over how problematic Shadow is either. But I’m not going to be hypocritical and apply one lens to characters I like and a different one to characters I dislike. (Or at least, as much as I can, I try not to, though I obviously have my own preferences and biases.)

So if we’re gonna talk on the premise that people’s backstories/traumas/mental states are valid reasons for the way that they act, then yes, Reki’s actions are understandable (if extremely obnoxious, to me, because again, I don’t generally like child/teen characters).

Reki obviously loves skating, and from the start, he has an inflated sense of ego, such as when he’s bragging to Langa about how he learned how to do an ollie faster than average. So it’s all the more crushing when he sees how fast Langa picks up skateboarding and when he completely loses against Adam, who didn’t even take him seriously. He legitimately thought that he was a “good” skater, but after Adam shows up, in addition to the appearance of Cherry and Joe, as well as a parade of others including Miya, Shadow, etc., his confidence is entirely shattered. Yeah, he’s probably a bit better than the average skater, but he’s clearly not at the level of the top skaters: Adam doesn’t even remember who he is because he’s so unremarkable. xD

And like any angsty teen who can’t deal with the reality that he’s not special, he lashes out at others and blames them for his failings. And that’s why he ends up being such a jerkass towards Langa and Miya. He is entirely selfish, not caring about what Langa wants, just to try to keep up his feeling of self-importance that’s crashing around him. He’s afraid of losing his new friend: not to injury (though that was part of it, when he first tried to persuade Langa not to race against Adam), but to more skilled competitors, and of being left behind, as you said. In school, at least, it doesn’t seem like there’s anyone else who is really interested in skating, so Langa’s the only one he can really talk to, share videos with, etc. But when he feels that Langa is slipping away and striving for a higher level, he gets jealous and tries to issue an ultimatum “me or Adam” and also tries to guilt-trip/gaslight Langa by accusing him of breaking a promise he never made (imo). And that has the exact opposite effect of driving a wedge between them. Again, highly obnoxious and toxic, but understandable.

And no, he’s definitely jealous that Langa and Miya are better than him. The whole reason he has his whole angsty “go hang out with your cooler friends” thing is because he’s not a top skater, even though he wants to be. And he struggles to accept that he’ll never be at that level, especially when he really did think he was special, so instead of confronting the problem, he chose to run away from it, no matter how much it hurt other people. It’s also not an uncommon reaction for people in general, to avoid things that make them uncomfortable.

But even though I understand all of this, I still don’t like him as a character. I don’t hate him as much as I did pre-episode 10, but he’s still not “likeable” to me because the way the situation was resolved was so superficial. I agree that he probably has the second-most characterization/development after Adam, and I am glad that he’s made up with Langa (and will probably make up with Miya), but he’s just such an... ordinary character. A typical, obnoxious teen who needed a smack in the face with reality more than Cherry. xD

Adam is a far more terrible person, yes, but I enjoy him because he’s entirely open about who he is and owns his actions. He doesn’t apologize for the things that he does--in part because he has no moral compass, at least currently--but also because he is absolutely truthful with himself and with others, at least when it comes to skating.

#sk8 #sk8 the infinity #skate the infinity #sk8 reki #kyan reki #reki kyan #analysis #long post #mine

[lovesickjoon]

bad religion - jjk (m)

pairing: jungkook/reader

rating: NSFW (18+)

genre: SMUT, hunter!reader au, kingofhell!jungkook (yes this was highkey inspired by spn)

words: 6.7k

desc.: it was a bad religion to fall for someone who could never love you. but, thankfully you hadn't fallen yet. and who knows? maybe he could learn how to love. or namjoon, your dumbass witchy friend ends up possessed by a demon. on halloween night, you make a deal with the devil to try and get him back.

warnings: dirty talk, unprotected sex, oral, dom!jungkook, tiny bit of breathplay, possessive jungkook, probably forgetting something

notes: im sick so this is super unedited! also this is my p late submission for the BTS Smut Club Halloween Smut Fest: Prompt #77 “You can’t sell me your soul, when you don’t have one to begin with.”

The warmth of Summer was long gone. The air felt sticky, despite the chilly breeze. The moon was abnormally bright, casting a silver glow upon the Earth. It was unsettling, being able to only see the moon, and not a single star. The inky clouds that occasionally floated in front of the hanging, luminous pearl, never once caused it to dim. Your stomach churns and twists in protests. Your subconscious continuously beckoned to you, begging for you to turn back. It had been a long drive to find the secluded crossroads, and it was too late to turn back.

You had parked your car several blocks away and were now on foot. Driving this far into the countryside was new to you. Hopefully, you wouldn't have to drive this far here again. It never failed, Namjoon always managed to fuck something up.

There wasn't a shred of doubt in your mind. You knew this would work. It had taken hours of relentless searching to find the proper incantation. You had to dig through the witch's files for days before you found anything remotely close to what you needed.

Witchcraft was something you had promised yourself to avoid messing with. You always left it to Namjoon. You did the stabbing and he did the casting. You were on your own, and you were the only person willing to help your poor fuck up of a best friend.

You glanced around the road, eyeing the sides carefully. You gathered several decent sized rocks. You dropped the bag cautiously onto the dirt and kneeled. You adjusted each rock until they formed a somewhat circular shape. You drew each ingredient out of your bag and placed them in the middle of the circle, one by one. You grabbed a pebble and used it to sketch out the sigil into the dirt. You had to sketch delicately around the rock formation, the last thing you wanted was to mess up the ceremony.

Next, you brought out six onyx colored candles. You pulled the lighter from your jacket, the dirt crunching beneath your weight as you moved. The flame flickered to life, nearly fading out because of the howling wind. You lit the first candle, using your body to block the wind. The candles were specifically created for summoning. They endlessly burn, and are entirely unaffected by nature, unlike your lighter. You returned the lighter back to its place and used the one candle you had burning to light the others.

Next was the picture of you.

You pricked yourself with the needle, squeezing and massaging your finger to try and make the blood flow out easier. The drop landed directly onto the picture of you, and you felt more queasy than ever.

You cleared your throat, staring down at the dancing flames of the candles. The energy is already coursing through the pages, waiting to be unleashed. You can feel it humming through the thick leather. A shaky sigh escapes you when you tightly grasp the book and yank it from the confines of your bag. The book practically leaps into your arms and flings itself open. It violently splits open, the pages hastily whirl by on their own. It was as if the book had a mind of its own.

It seemed... eager... to be used.

The howling wind and the tossing of the grass seemed to still when the first words parted from your lips. You inhaled deeply, trying to focus. The words were familiar, you had repeated them to yourself for hours on end, trying to learn the spell. Though you spoke in broken Latin, you knew the words were transmitting. The text began to glow, and the book grew hotter with each sentence you finished.

The ground began to rumble, and you knew the creature was being torn from its throne. Your throat tightened, and you felt tears begin to poke from the corners of your eyes. It was so much worse being the individual to actually summon a demon. Rarely, when you were observing Namjoon complete a ritual, did you get sick. You always knew that, watching Namjoon get sick. You never realized entirely how sickening the process really was though. It was draining, mentally and physically. It felt as if you were right on the brink of death.

You choked out the last word and threw the book from your hands. The feeling of your skin sizzling and melting away made you hiss. You grabbed your arm, desperate to stop the pain. The book was entirely illuminated, glowing painfully bright. You wrench your eyes closed, the wind was roaring now, and you were convinced the entire planet was rocking back and forth.

Then it was calm.

The book dimmed, the candles simultaneously blew out, and the wind blew away the sketch in the dirt. Your picture was entirely singed, along with the ingredients. The rocks had sunk into the ground at some point during the ritual. The only thing that was left was burnt ashes. More importantly, your skin hadn't dissolved away. You stand and dust yourself off. You glance around, expecting to see someone standing around, watching you with curiosity.

You contemplated leaving, going and finding a place where you could have a couple of drinks... Or maybe a nest full of vamps you could stake.

Anything to get your mind off of this.

You pluck up the book and your bag. Everything felt different, but not in ways that you could name. It was such a slight shift in the atmosphere it was almost unnoticeable. For a fleeting moment, you worried if you had pronounced something wrong and unleashed something terrible out into the world.

You waited.

Unlike the person you were summoning, you were not immortal. You couldn't sit here and stare blankly at the sky until he showed up. At this rate, you were going to die before he arrived.

You persisted anyway.

You were determined to fix Namjoon's mess, even though he was the one to dig his own grave. You stood there like the ugly girl at prom, waiting for the guy who promised to be her date to show up.

"Sorry, I was running late. It's not often someone calls me directly from my throne."

You twirl around, nearly tripping over your own feet as you try and turn. Features scrunching up in confusion, you examine the man head to toe. How the fuck had you managed to summon an angel? The dark, doe eyes twinkle in amusement, and he grins.

"What? Were you expecting my horns to be larger? I didn't want to frighten you, delicate mortal."

You froze, and your heart lurched. It was finally settling in. You had just summoned the fucking King of Hell. His tall, lean figure didn't intimidate you. Not in the slightest. If it wasn't for the horns and the occasional shifting of his eye color, he could pass as someone your age. In no way, shape, or form did he appear to even be an ancient demon. The power, raw and unadulterated, radiating off of him was the off-putting part. The demon glanced towards the ashes, eyeing them carefully. He reaches towards the ashes and pinches a bit of the ash between his fingers.

He blows the dust from his fingers and raises his eyebrows. "A deal?" he asks. He eyes you suspiciously and wipes away the smear of ash off. "You waited specifically until Hallows' Eve to do this. Didn't you?"

As if you were a video, someone had taken the remote and stopped you from moving or speaking. You were on pause. You didn't know how to answer, should you lie? Should you tell the truth? The demon takes a step towards you, coming closer than you were comfortable with. You catch a glimpse of red in his eyes, and then it's gone.

He smirks, "I see. You purposely waited, just to summon little old me. This must not be a regular deal then. Oh. Don't bother trying to lie to me, because it obviously won't work."

You mentally give yourself a good shake and try to focus on your objective. You could probably knife this bastard just as easily as any other demon.

He rolls his eyes, "Mortals, all of you are so feeble-minded. Tell me, what is it you want? True love? Fortune? An extra cup size? Go ahead, sweetheart. This is always the busiest night in Hell."

"I want you to stop whichever one of your little minions it is from wearing my best friend. I only want him sane, completely alive, and back where he belongs," you hiss.

The worst thing is having someone incredibly powerful laughing directly in your face.

Which is exactly what he did. The King cackles until he doubles over, appearing to be in pain from laughing so hard. You internally cringe, and the repulsive feeling returns to your gut. He really found you.. amusing. You were concerned about the well being of your friend. Yet, this asshole was laughing.

You have to really resist the urge to whip your knife from your side and gank him right then and there.

"Not a problem, sweetheart," he raises his head, the grin still on his lips. He circles around you like a vulture, inspecting every inch of you. "Before we talk payment... Tell me, how did he end up as a vessel for a demon of mine?"

Truth be told, you weren't entirely sure. Namjoon wouldn't let some demon merely hop in his body and take it for a ride. Also, he hated messing with demons in the first place. You had kind of came to the conclusion that he had somehow been tricked, or forced. The last time you barged into his house, he had black eyes and threw you against a wall with simply a wave of his hand. He didn't answer a single question and only rummaged through his files. Maybe the demons wanted information? There was no way for you to be entirely sure.

He hums almost inaudibly, seemingly thinking. He had read your thoughts again.

"Have you considered the idea that maybe your friend wanted to be a vessel?"

Before he even finished the sentence, you were already shaking your head. "Why? Why would he want to ride backseat while someone else controls his body? That doesn't make sense."

He crosses his arms and shrugs. "How will you pay me?" his tone lowers, and he stops in front of you once more. You hold your breath as he nears you again. From this angle, you can see that innocent glimmer even better.

You frown, "Well, my soul. That's usually the price, correct?"

"Indeed," he hums. "But you can't sell me your soul when you don't have one, to begin with."

The metal jewelry glinted just enough to catch your attention. You focus your attention on the silver adorning his wrist, mulling over his words. You never played around with this kind of thing. Unless someone appeared in the middle of the night and siphoned it from you, he was lying. It wouldn't surprise you in the slightest if he really was lying. He was the King of Hell, and lying was what he did best. He tilts his head to the side, pouting.

"You don't believe me?" He asks.

He sighs and then the pout drops from his features. "The names Jungkook, by the way. Constantly referring to me as the King gets annoying after a while," he snorts.

You go silent, unsure of what to do, or what to believe. You were already low on cash, so you definitely weren't going to be able to give him a regular payment. Besides, a part in the back of your mind knew he wouldn't want it anyway. "How am I alive if I don't have a soul? How did I lose my soul?" you demand. Surprise flashes across his features, and it vanishes as quickly as it arrived.

"You think it's a big contract, just like every other mortal on Earth, don't you?" He asks in a mocking manner. "Technically, yes. You can lose your soul due to a big contract, similar to a contract that would be made here."

He pauses and steps away. He places his hand underneath his chin, trying to formulate a better way to explain his thoughts.

"It's a series of little agreements and every little fuck up counts. As for the how you're alive part, you can live a perfectly normal life even if your soul is gone. You're not unique, you're just the same as any other regular mortal. Until you die, that is. Then you're destined to fall straight into the pit."

You reflect on the haunting words, trying to think of every single thing you had done wrong. The list was honestly quite long at this point. You had done several horrible things in the past, trying to save your own ass from the fire. Only to learn that you were destined to fall right into it anyway. You never harmed animals, you never hurt anyone that didn't deserve to be hurt. You thought you were doing the moral thing.

"The devil has a thousand faces, sweetheart. Sorry to break the news this way," he mutters, not looking sorry in the slightest.

"If that's the case, then how do any souls get sold at all?"

The corner of his mouth twists in irritation. He clearly didn't appreciate the number of questions you had for him.

"Not everyone fucks up as easily as you have. Some souls simply are worth more than others, but most others just make fewer mistakes. Even if their essence is close to being fully corrupted, we usually will accept it. That is... if the deal is over something minor. You though, you're asking me to bother one of my own, and there's pretty much nothing to gain from you. No profit."

"Pathetic," he sneers condescendingly. "It's been years since I've seen a mortal completely corrupt themselves all on their own. You're lucky, though. I'm willing to fetch your little friend if you're willing to pay a different price."

Jungkook takes a confident stride towards you. You fought the urge to take a step back and start sprinting in the other direction. Jungkook cupped your face, gently brushing his thumbs against your cheekbones. Your cheeks scorched with embarrassment. Your mind clouded, and it became hard to think with him so near. Your face feels frozen, but burns where he caresses you gently. It took a moment before you could form a coherent thought.

"What's the price?" you ask, your stomach in knots.

He grins, "I get to fuck you. Since I've laid eyes on you, I've had an overwhelming desire to pin you down and whisper the filthiest things into your ear. I want to hear you whine and whimper until the pleasure becomes too much for you to handle. I think that's a fair deal, don't you?"

You felt lightheaded. The slightest breeze could come along and tip you over with ease. "Right now?" you murmur,  voice failing you. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog surrounding your mind and vision.

"No, Y/N. I will come to collect my payment soon."

You want to ask how he knows your name, but you figure it's a demon thing. Besides, you probably couldn't force the words out of your mouth at the moment anyway. His fingers remain on your face, and he didn't break eye contact. He was probably doing this on purpose, trying to lure you into a contract. Too bad for him, he was only wasting his energy. You were going to say yes either way. It was the eye contact, or scent, or.. something! It was him, he was the culprit making you feel this way.

"Yes," you spit out, finding it to be a struggle to make your voice go louder than a whisper.

The urge to throw yourself in his arms and let him care for you for the rest of eternity burns strongly inside of you, but you suppress it. It was his energy, you didn't even know him or anything about him. He presses his body into you eagerly, lips closing in on yours. His figure was so much warmer, compared to your mortal frame. It was thrilling, but terrifying considering you were so close to something that could easily snap you in two. Warmth spreads from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.

There was a swirl of indescribable emotions in your chest when the two of you broke apart. The kiss didn't last near as long as you wished it had. He stepped away from you, and you knew the deal was sealed.

He turns on his heel and marches away. The fog dissipates, the more distance there is between the two of you. There's another strange warmth, and it's creeping it's way up your arm. You roll up your sleeve with slightly cloudy vision, searching for the cause of the feeling. Right below the bend of your elbow is a mark. It materializes into a branded mark, and the symbol is easily recognizable. It's the sigil you drew to summon him. He had stuck a claim on you.

Your head darts up when you hear a violent cough. On the ground, a few feet away from you, is Namjoon. The sigil etched into your skin and every thought of Jungkook disappeared from your mind.

It had been a week since that night, and Namjoon was still pissed. He wouldn't admit it, but his actions spoke volumes. There had been no sign of Jungkook, leaving you regularly on edge. The mark scorched into your skin was obnoxious. At night, you would wake up, convinced someone had put your arm in a boiling pot of water.

"What's next?" Namjoon asked, reaching for one of the flasks on the bottom shelf. He shifts the basket on his arm and starts to stroll along again. You followed behind Namjoon like a lost puppy. "Oil of Abramelin," you responded, eyeing the list carefully.

When Namjoon didn't acknowledge you, you tried to pry once more.

"You can get that here?"

Namjoon kept his back turned to you, but you knew he was rolling his eyes. The building was like a maze, and the fluorescent lights above probably gave away every skin imperfection you had. There was a moment of silence, and then Namjoon sighed. "Humans who want to meddle in the dark arts can't buy anything here."

You frowned, definitely still pissed. You bite your lip, wanting to make a snide remark back, but also not wanting to see a Namjoon meltdown in public. Everything in the store seemed antique. Each item seemed crammed onto the shelf rather than place artistically. The painted text on the aisle directory signs was peeling away.  

Only chunks of words were recognizable, but it didn't help in the slightest. All of the products appeared to be scattered throughout the store carelessly. So, the signs wouldn't have been much help regardless.

Namjoon led you further into the shop, and you could tell the rear of this place rarely was used. Dust had gathered on pretty much every surface available. Even the spiders had abandoned the back of the shop. Their silk webs were now another collector of dust and pollen. Namjoon ignored the cobwebs, plucking thing randomly off of the shelves as he passed them.

"Next?" Namjoon asked, stopping abruptly. You fling your arms out in front of you, trying to avoid crashing into him. You stabilize and fumble with the list.

"Fulgurite," you read, squinting at the word in confusion. "Whatever that is."

Before Namjoon could completely twist around again, you lightly hooked your fingers into the back of his shirt. He studied you with a puzzled expression, "What?"

Feeling awkward, you release his shirt and let your hand drop to your side. "How many times have I apologized already?"

The question comes off slightly harsh, although you don't intend for it to sound that way. You didn't care though, Namjoon would be way too willing to hold this grudge against you for as long as he could. Namjoon glanced around as if he was expecting to see other customers nearby. It's deserted except for the ancient cashier. She was most likely hard of hearing anyhow.

"We've already been through this," he retorted, dropping his voice low.

"Yeah, but-"

You swallowed, trying to force the words to come out of your throat. It became hard to make out the details of the room, and the features of Namjoon. A wave of heat coursed through your veins, starting with the mark. Your ears popped, and the deep voice calling your name went muffled. Through blurred vision, you could see Joon wave his hand in front of your face. Nothing you did stopped the warmth rising in your chest. You buckle over, and you feel cool hands grab you by your shoulders. Namjoon does his best to guide you to the floor as safely as possible.

Then Namjoon's soothing hands disappear. You're drifting. There's no floor underneath you, nothing you can grab onto, and the weight of your clothes is missing. The fear, the worry, it has departed too. You feel abnormally calm, despite what had just happened. You unclench your eyes, startled to see an unfamiliar sky above you. You raised yourself from the bed, breath hitching in your throat.

Jungkook sat, perched right beside you on the bed. His mouth erupts into a sinister grin, and he greets you. "Welcome to Hell."

You were in a room, not outside, you concluded. The ceiling above resembled a night sky. There was something about the way the lights twinkled that made you feel as if it wasn't real. After a few more moments of gazing at the faux sky, your eyes drifted to Jungkook. Jungkook, the reality you didn't want to face. "Hello," you murmur, almost inaudibly.

"You don't sound very happy to see me," he remarks.

Namjoon comes to mind, you envision him on his knees in the shop. He was probably baffled by how you managed to vanish right from his arms. You had absolutely no reason to be happy to see Jungkook. Jungkook shifting on the bed catches your attention. He smirks and crosses his arms, "Oh, I see. You're upset because I interrupted the fight between you and your little boy-toy."

You scoffed, "Namjoon's like a brother to me, it's not like that. Besides, he's obviously not interested, and neither am I."

"Oh, Y/N..." he trails off, shaking his head. At some point, Jungkook had moved closer to you. He snakes his fingers up your arm and to the bend of your elbow. Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment you can't breathe. Jungkook brushes his thumb over the mark, and you swear little sparks shoot up your arm. "How does Namjoon feel about you selling your body to me?"

You lower your eyes, and the deafening silence answers the question. Jungkook tilts your chin up, so you are no longer looking away from him. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

He already knew the answer, but he wanted you to confirm it. You hesitantly shook your head, "Not what I sold."

The arm he was tracing over the mark with slipped itself around your waist. The grip around your waist tightened, and you could feel Jungkook's energy shift. "Y/N, if you genuinely don't want to do this, I won't force you. Tell me now, though, and I'll leave you alone."

You disregarded the sound of your heart beating tensely, trying to think through this carefully. Jungkook called to you softly, "Y/N, I hope you realize I am a very selfish and greedy person. This can be a one-time thing, or we can do it often. Know that I have no plans to share you with someone else though."

This was your chance to say no. From past experiences, you knew you were prone to desiring a relationship, craving the romantic things. Casual sex in the past never really stayed that for you. He could never love you back if you were to fall for him. Yes, Jungkook had the decency to ask you if you wanted this or not. That didn't mean he knew how to love another.

The easy solution was just to say no. Why would you take that route though? You could decide later if you were going to take a gamble at doing this again... For now, you were not going to miss this opportunity. Overcome with desire, you breathe out a faint 'yes.'

Jungkook dipped his head down and kissed you deeply. Your eyes fell closed, and all you could feel was warmth. The warmth of his mouth on yours, the heat from the mark, and the warmth of just his very being. The intoxication that Jungkook had brought upon you last time returned. There wasn't a doubt about it, the King of Hell already had you wrapped around his finger.

You whimper when Jungkook pushes your lips apart with his tongue. He explored your mouth with the intent to claim. He was conveying his message from earlier to you again, he was not going to be willing to share your body with another. Every inch of you was now his.

He broke the kiss, allowing you to catch your breath. Jungkook went for your jaw, sloppily trailing kisses down to your neck. It took a few moments before you realized Jungkook was simultaneously pushing you down onto the bed while marking your neck. He removed himself from your neck with a frustrated growl. Jungkook raised his hand, and the tip of his finger began to glow. With a single touch to your shirt, the material crumbled and dissolved into thin air.

You gasped, shocked by the sudden actions. Jungkook didn't merely stop at your shirt. He proceeded until you were completely exposed and on display for him. His palm found your breast, his fingers massaging it in a way that had your core throbbing. The wet heat between your thighs was growing more and more with each action. He reached for your nipple, gently tugging and rubbing it between his fingertips. This provokes a whine out of you, and he hums contently. His concentration turned to the other breast, and he repeated the same steps.

"You're so fucking pretty," Jungkook uttered, nipping at your sensitive chest once more.  The kisses return, but this time, they're much more rushed. His attention trails lower, down past your ribs and all the way to your thighs. Jungkook parts your legs and moves between them. He resumes his path of kisses, now that your legs are parted.

Although you should expect it, you don't. A sharp moan rips itself from your throat when Jungkook finds your clit. He takes the tender nub into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it in different patterns. You withered underneath his touch, panting wildly. This feeling was so much different compared to your previous partner's attempts. Jungkook had a skilled, very well practiced tongue. He undoubtedly knew what he was doing. Jungkook brings his hands to your hips, striving to still your trembling form.

Jungkook licks a stripe up your slit, and you mindlessly let your hand drift to his hair. You wind your fingers into his hair, and the angle he looks up at you from exposes his glistening forehead. His furrowed eyebrows and the look of concentration on his face made you ecstatic. "Does this feel good, baby?"

"F-Fuck, yes," you whimpered. A squeak escaped you when Jungkook slipped a finger inside of you. He slowly starts to work you open. Your fingers tightened in Jungkook's hair, causing him to groan. He dipped another finger into your wet heat, producing a loud noise from you. You do your best to silence your cries, but with such a cloudy mind, it's a struggle.

Jungkook seems to sense that you're holding back, so he doubles his efforts. "Such a tight little slut, you're taking my fingers so well," he smirks, knowing damn well what his words do to you. He sinks his fingers in and out of you repeatedly, working them faster than before.  "...I can't wait to see how you take my cock."

Not being able to hold back any longer, you let your hips roll to meet the thrusts of his fingers. You were so slick and soaked, at this point there was no way the sheets weren't tainted. Jungkook went back to lapping at your clit, slamming his fingers in and curling them. Your back arched from the bed, sharp pleasure shooting up your spine. Jungkook had hit the sweet spot inside of you, but your brain was so muddled it took you a moment to figure out what he was doing.

His tongue circling and twirling around your sensitive clit grew faster. Jungkook added a third finger, making sure you were nice and fucked out for him. It was beginning to be too much, you didn't know how much longer you could last. You try to cry out Jungkook's name, try to warn him your about to tip over the edge, but you can't. It's too late. You clenched around his fingers, rolling your hips and wailing out his name.

He helps you ride out your orgasm, before drawing himself away from your soaked core. You expected the fogginess to lessen, instead of growing worse. You struggle, trying to scramble upwards. You're so, so tired, but you're dying to continue.

"What are you doing?" Jungkook queries, confusion written all over his features.

"Returning the favor-"

Jungkook puts a hand in front of you, motioning for you to slow down. He stands, letting his clothes disintegrate and disappear. He shakes his head, "You don't seem to understand who makes the decisions around here, but okay. You want me? You'll get me."

You peel yourself from the bed and drop to your knees obediently. Your face was perfectly level to Jungkook's long, throbbing cock. It was standing proudly, a thick vein wrapped from the top to the underside. The way Jungkook was glaring down at you had you feeling eager and more submissive than ever.  You scooted closer, opening your mouth for him. "Good girl," he hums.  

He slid himself over your lips a couple of times in a teasing manner. After a few moments, he finally pushes himself into your mouth. He moved slowly, not stopping until he hit the back of your throat.

You linked your hands behind your back, letting Jungkook have full control of the pace. His fingers met the back of your head, guiding you up and down his length.

"You little slut, you've had plenty of practice, hm? You're taking me pretty well," he grunted, drawing himself out of you until his head was back at your lips. You ignored the ache in your knees, knowing damn well you were going to have a horrible carpet burn later.  Jungkook hisses in pleasure, "Is this how you tainted your soul? By sucking as many dicks as you could so you could become a pro?"

The words made your insides burn once more, just when you thought you were sated.

You were anxious to please, so you hollowed your cheeks against him. You went to bob your head, but Jungkook held you still. You gazed up and met his eyes, causing him to groan. A thick band of sweat was developing on his forehead. His hair was beginning to stick to his forehead. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on breathing. You hear him murmur something along the lines of, 'fucking gorgeous.' You can't make out the rest of the sentence, too concentrated on controlling your breath.

Your throat tightened around him, and for the first time in the session, you gagged. Jungkook yanked you off of him, and you gasped for air. You opened your mouth again, despite your aching jaw. He slid into your mouth with ease, meeting the back of your throat again. This time he was rougher, thrusting quicker and quicker. You knew he was getting close, and he did too. He gave a few more thrusts and then slipped out from between your lips.

You craved Jungkook more than ever now. Lust surged in you, loins stirring. His tone and his harsh words triggered something inside of you that you didn't really understand.  Without speaking, you knew what Jungkook craved from you. You rose and crawled onto the bed. You were correct, your knees were fucked. You didn't pay any more attention to it, needing all of your focus to go to Jungkook.

Jungkook chuckled darkly, a knowing look in his eyes. His voice grows closer and soon enough, he's right behind you. "You're this excited to be fucked by a demon, I can't believe it. I'm a monster. I'm the fucking King of Hell, and yet here you are. You're presenting yourself to me, practically begging for it."

He planted a gentle kiss on your shoulder before rearing his hand back and slapping your ass. You glanced back in shock. One of his hands were busy, pumping up and down his cock. The other hand cracked against your skin, extracting a yelp from you. Jungkook positioned himself over you, and you arched your back into him.

"Please," you whine quietly. Your voice was unsteady, and there was nothing you could do to control it. Jungkook doesn't reply at first, deliberating on his next move. "Are you this eager for all cock, or am I just special?" he growls, delivering another smack to your ass.

"Yours! Only your cock!" you cry out, feeling tears begin to build up. His free hand roamed from your ass to your flooded heat. He cupped your core gently, and you jerked lightly. You were still a bit sensitive from the earlier orgasm. His fingers find your clit, and he flicks his wrists in a circular motion a few times. Just as quickly as the touches came, they disappeared. Your walls uncontrollably grasped and tensed around nothing.

You need him to fill you to the brim already. You needed him to fuck you until you couldn't walk or see straight. Right when your patience started running out, he puts his cock to your entrance. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, you won't be able to think of any other dick than mine. Your poor little boyfriend will never be able to make you feel this way."

You were so worked up, at this point you didn't bother to argue that Namjoon wasn't your boyfriend. He moved his cock up your slit, brushing against your clit. You wiggled excitedly, stomach in knots. The head of his cock found your entrance again. He leans his weight onto you and enters you.

"I'm going to ruin you," he barks, bringing his hand down on your backside. The initial thrusts are slow like he's testing how far your depths go. He was also most likely giving your walls time to adjust to his size. You don't hold back your noises now, letting them spring wildly from your lips. You're glad you had already orgasmed once, so you were slick. This made the glide and stretch so much better.

Then, Jungkook yanks himself from you almost entirely. When he thrusts back in,  it's with nearly enough strength to knock you into the headboard. Your arms trembled, trying to hold yourself up. Jungkook slams into you again, and for a split second, you think you're going to fall face first into the silk sheets. Jungkook's hand travels up to your shoulder, and he helps hold you steady.

"Fuck," you spit out, heavily heaving. Jungkook keeps his promise, each thrust was going to ruin you. He snaps his hips up into you at a ruthless speed. Eventually, your arms do fail on you. Your face was buried into the sheets, along with your fingers twisted into them. "I don't think I've ever felt a pussy as tight as yours, fuck," he rumbles.

Jungkook places his other hand on your shoulder. He uses both arms to yank you up, and to his chest. You're lifted off the bed now, and your legs are thrown over Jungkook's thick thighs. Jungkook never stops pounding into you, although you're pretty much sitting in his lap. His hand travels from his shoulder, past your collarbones, and to your throat.

He wraps his hand gently around it, ever so slightly constricting your breathing. You snap your hips down onto him the best you can. Your tits bounce lewdly, and you can do nothing but helplessly moan. Jungkook seemed to like this angle, not wanting to release you or your throat. You rotated your hips and did your best to grind down onto him with equal passion. He releases your throat but decides to hook his arms under your own. He lets you lean forwards slightly, so the only thing keeping you from smacking your face onto the bed is his arms hooked around your shoulders.

The coil in your tummy was threatening to snap, but you urged it away. There was a tiny sense of control you had before, but now there was none. Jungkook had inhuman strength and could toss you around as he pleased. Jungkook is close to your ear, panting heavily. Somehow, he knows. "That's right, baby. You don't come until I tell you that you can. You're fucking mine."

Jungkook knew your body so well. He knew how to press your buttons and how to play with you flawlessly. He found the spot inside of you that he had previously discovered with his fingers. He angled his body so he could repeatedly jab his cock into that place. A scream erupts from your sore throat, and you try to find something to grasp onto.

You find nothing, though, and let your hands fall limply to your sides. Your limbs came back to life though when the pads of Jungkook's fingers find your clit. You nearly come on the spot but manage to choke it back. Your hands clamped around his wrist, trying to make him stop circling your sensitive nub. There was no way, you weren't going to last. There wasn't a single sign he was planning to slow down, either.

"I'm close, baby. Don't worry," Jungkook snarls. His words come off as harsh, but also endearing. His thrusts turned sloppy, and you knew he was telling the truth. No matter how messy, he was still more skilled than any other man you had ever been with.

"Come, come for me like the good girl you are," he orders, hips giving their final few jerks. You couldn't deny him even if you wanted to. The blistering, white-hot heat courses through you. He fills you immediately, and you were slightly surprised by the unfamiliar feeling. Never had someone stuffed you so full. Or filled you at all. Jungkook goes to pull out, and most of the liquid flows out from your walls.

He positions you carefully on the bed. You blink slowly, entirely spent. "You did so well for me, Y/N. Thank you," Jungkook coos. You can't see his facial expression, because you're too tired to open your eyes. Jungkook cleaned you up the best he could, and soon enough you passed out with him realizing it.

You crack your eyes open, yawning contently. There was no alarm obnoxiously beeping, forcing you to wake up. It was merely sunlight seeping through your curtains and the sound of the birds outside chirping. Jungkook must have brought you home while you were resting. Jungkook, wait? What?

Memories of last night flood you, and you raise straight up. The memories were slightly blurry, almost like you had been drunk. You frown, and after a minute or so, it becomes clear. You had held up your end of the deal.

Something still seems wrong though. You drag yourself from your bed and glance in the mirror. There are no visible bruises on you or your neck. You notice you're wearing the exact same clothes you were before Jungkook had destroyed them. After a minute or two of staring at yourself, you think you know what's wrong.

You roll up your sleeve, the mark was still there.

Jungkook had forgotten to remove it. Fuck.

#btssmutclub #BSCproject #hyunglinenetwork #jeon jungkook #jungkook/reader #smut #bts smut #bts #jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts oneshot #jungkook oneshot #dom jungkook #demons #demon jungkook #imagines #bts imagine #jimin #taehyung #yoongi #hoseok #namjoon #seokjin

[kapseglander]

Temporary Fix

Summary: You’ve been best friends with Tyler for two years, could one night and a terrible ex-boyfriend change that?

Warnings: just cursing 

Word Count: 2033

It was him. It was always him. Whenever something went wrong in your life you ran to him. He felt like home, even though he shouldn't.

You had met Tyler two years ago. You were working at a restaurant in downtown Dallas. It was a regular busy saturday afternoon when two recognizable faces walked in, Tyler Seguin and Jamie Benn, the franchise faces of the Dallas Stars. Since you grew up in Dallas you were a born and raised Stars fans and loved going to their games but never in a million years did you think that the two of the most popular players on that team would walk into the restaurant that you worked at for there pregame meal. And just your luck, you were up to take the table. So now you had to keep your composure and try to not fangirl over these two idiots. You made it through taking their drink orders okay, up until Tyler looked at you with that signature toothy grin. Your entire body almost hit the ground. After that you just tried to be as professional as possible while giving them the best service. Tyler had talked to you a little bit every time you went over there, but you didn't think much of it, you just thought he was being friendly. That was until you picked up the checkbook after they left. They had a left you a more than generous tip and a message at the bottom that you were not expecting, the note read:

“Thanks for the great service beautiful, text me sometime?”

His number was attached underneath and your initial reaction was to laugh because you knew his reputation but this wasn't an opportunity you were going to miss out on. However, you were going to do this your way which was to just be friends.

You told him you didn't want anything fancy hoping to get your intentions across, so Tyler took you to his favorite diner in town which he swore no one knew about. And he was nothing that you expected. He was sweet, down to earth and was willing to listen to everything you said. He asked you if you knew who he was and you didn't want to lie so you explained to him that you grew up a fan and he told you that he loved that you didn't freak out when you saw him and wanted to actually get to know him and not just get with him because of who he was.

After that night your friendship flourished into everything you wanted it to be. Movie nights at Tyler's when he was home, pizza and ice cream and hanging out with his dogs, which might of been your favorite part. But you had both agreed that you just wanted to be friends and thought it was better for the both of you. So Tyler would tell you about his girl troubles, but you did the same with your boy troubles to him. Tyler was like a big brother to you and that was something that you never had before and you loved every second of it.

That was until one night, you had been seeing a guy for a few months and Tyler had expressed that he wasn't a fan, but you thought that was just him being protective. However, there was multiple instances that you found your self comparing this guy to Tyler and everything that he wasnt that Tyler was and you hated yourself for it. Until the unthinkable happened, you went to your boyfriends house for the night and you knew that Tyler would be getting back from his road trip soon and you were excited to see him tomorrow. You were getting into bed when you felt something in the sheets so you felt around until you were able to get whatever it was. You pulled out a pair of womens underwear that you knew, for sure were yours. They couldn't be yours, the last time you had even done anything with your boyfriend was two weeks ago, at your house. You immediately burst into tears trying hard to find words.

“What the fuck are these” you screamed at your boyfriend who was clearly caught very off guard. He knew that he couldn't lie so he just stood there staring at you. “Your always so busy with work and school, you barely even pay attention to me, i'm sorry” that was his sorry excuse. “So you go cheat on me instead of talking to me about you?” you were pretty much hyperventilating at this point not even sure how your getting these words out. You didn't want to know what he was going to say next so you gathered up all your stuff and ran to the door. The only person you could even think of to call was Tyler, you didn't even know if he was back from his road trip or if he was going to be sleeping since you just noticed it was already after one in the morning. But at this point it was worth a shot. After two short rings you heard the voice you didn't know you needed to hear so bad.

“Hello?” it was clear now that you woke him up as his tired voice came through the phone. Hearing his voice made all the walls you were trying to keep up come tumbling down and you were just crying into the phone.

“(Y/N), what's wrong, why are you crying, are you okay?” he sounded so concerned

Through your sobs your were only able to get out a few words “he cheated on me tyler”

Immediately you heard rustling on the other end of the phone “(Y/N) where are you, i'm coming to get you”

You told tyler the address and but he wouldn't let you hang up he wanted to make sure you were okay, even if it was only a ten minute drive.

When you saw the headlights of his car you felt yourself become more vulnerable. He opened the car door and jumped out embracing you into a hug and you sobbed into his chest. He kissed the top of your head and did not move until you were ready to pull away. He didn't say anything as he helped you into the car.

“Im not letting you go home alone your coming back with me tonight”

If there was one thing you knew about Tyler was that once his mind was made up, you were not changing it and you didn't have the effort to fight him. So you just nodded and you did agree that you needed company, especially his company.

The rest of the ride was silent just the sound of the music playing in the background and Tyler occasionally running his hand over your and giving you a look just to make sure you were doing okay. You walked into his house and laid on his couch and marshall, gerry and cash not far behind which in this moment you were thankful for. Tyler went into the bathroom and you decided to get settled on the couch and figured you would wait to ask him where he has extra blankets. You heard the bathroom door open but before you were able to speak you heard him say something to you.

“Come on, lets go to bed” is that really what he just said is all you could think to yourself

“What?” you barely got out

He walked over to you and sat down and there was only a small distance between you and him so you just decided to look down. He put his hand under your chin and lifted your head so that your eyes matched with his.

“I said lets go to bed, did you really think I was going to let you go to bed by yourself”

“Tyler I-” but he cut you off before you could finish your thought

“Lets go im tired” he was started to whine

So you followed him, you had no idea what you were doing or what was going through your head but it all felt strange, but it also felt very right

“Do you have a side preference?” he asked you in a semi-serious tone

You almost giggled at his silly question “um no, whatever you want”

He took off his shirt and you were almost taken back, it's not like you haven't seen him shirtless but with the way your mind was right now you were almost surprised. You crawled into bed with your best friend and you started to cry again thinking about what your now ex-boyfriend did to you and how bad it hurt.

“Hey, hey no more tears, come here” Tyler said and he pulled you against it this time you were crying into his bare chest.

“You know that asshole didn't deserve you anyway, you’re way to good for him and I never liked him anyway, he didn't treat you right”

When you pulled yourself together from your tears, you looked up at him and you locked eyes with him

“Thank you Tyler”

“For what” he looked at you with his eyebrow lifted which made you smile

“Everything, for being here when I need you, for saying the right things, for supporting me when I do stupid shit”

He separated the two of you and you instantly has chills go down your spine when he looked at you. You both just stared at each other, not knowing what to say next.

“Everything I've ever said about you is true, you're beautiful, smart, funny and the most amazing person to be around. I know you don't always believe me but it's true. Whatever guy gets to have you is the luckiest guy in the world” he said this in almost a whisper but each word was said with passion and love. You wouldn't believe what your hearing and it was suddenly coming clear to you. You also compared your boyfriend to Tyler, when he annoyed you, you would ignore him and complain to Tyler about him. Nothing he ever did was Tyler enough and it was right there with his eyes locked on you after what you thought was the worst night everything became clear. You reclosed the gap between the two of you and he embraced it. He kissed the top of your head again and has rubbing your back. You looked at him and you both had the same look in your eyes.

“(Y/N) I don't know if this is the right time to say this, but I hate seeing you like this, it breaks my heart, but it also breaks my heart seeing you with guys that don't deserve you, and I-”

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his. You both pulled away and you spoke first.

‘Tyler, i'm so sorry I've put you through all of this you deserve so much better than me”

“(Y/N) I told you that I meant what I said before, you are the most amazing person to be around and I want you to be around you all the time, forever.”

Your only response was to kiss him again and you felt fireworks, something that haven't felt with anyone since you met Tyler two years ago. He was the one to pull away and it got you nervous

“I don't want to be your temporary fix (Y/N) I want to be the one that's always here and always gets to love you”

“ I love you Tyler Paul and I’m a complete idiot for not not realizing it earlier and i'm sorry”

“Having you now and forever on is all that matters (Y/N) I love you”

You kissed each other until you were both drifting off to sleep. He pulled you in one more time and whispered into your ear “I'm so lucky im the one who gets to love you now”

And what you thought was the one of the worst nights was all okay because you were in love with your best friend and your piece of shit ex-boyfriend didn't matter anymore.

#nhl #nhlimagine #tyler seguin #tyler seguin fluff #hockey #hockeyimagine #dallas stars

[writebythenight]

The Silence

Chapter Twelve

Rose was sharpening her knife. It had started to drag the last time she used it when Rick approached her for what she knew was going to be one of the worst conversations of her life.

"Ya alright?" He asked her when he came to a stop.

"Cut the shit... please?" She said sadly. "I know you think I fucked up but nothing bad happened."

"It could have."

"I was armed. He wasn't" Rose shrugged. "I saw the proof that he was sick spilling out of that bucket! You really think I didn't think about it logically? He was sick, unarmed and if he managed to get past me then Eddie was outside..."

"And what if he got past Eddie too?" He growled. "What if he had gotten to Judith?"

"He would never...!" She stopped herself before defending Negan but the look on Rick's face told her he already knew what she was going to say.

"He's gotten to you." Rick looked at her with the look he saved for the times he really needed it, she called it his cop face.

"No..." As much as she tried to hide the uncertainty in her voice she knew it was pointless. "I let a sick man be more comfortable, that's all there is to it Rick. If I really thought anybody could have come to any harm I wouldn't have done it."

The man just stared back at her for a long time looking for any part of her expression that might give away her true feelings. Rick was sure she was starting to soften to the man he wanted kept away from everybody and he couldn't help but feel slightly responsible for it, he had asked her to do just that. How could he be angry at her?

"Shit..." He said under his breath. "Okay." He knelt down in front of her and placed his hand over the one that held her knife. "I trust you, Rose." The sincerity in her eyes told him he could.

"I would never do anything I thought would put Judith in danger." She told him quietly. "Any of you... I fought alongside you!"

"I know." He nodded to her, feeling stupid that he would ever doubt her, she was a strong and capable woman. That was exactly why he trusted her to do it in the first place.

XX

"Rick came to see me yesterday." Was the first thing Negan told Rose.

"Oh yeah?" She asked sitting back in her chair.

"Told me about his day like I'm his fuckin' wife or somethin'.'" He made a sound of disgust. "Kept talkin' about the future you're all creatin' out there." Rose noticed something different in his voice. It wasn't the usual warm tone but empty and her stomach dropped, already knowing what was coming having seen it so many times before. People always ended up here.

He had done so well so far. She stayed silent knowing by now that if he started a conversation he wouldn't need much coaxing.

"I got to thinking' how I'll never be a part of that." He stayed sat on his cot, leaning up against the hard wall one of his long legs bent and the fact that he hadn't come right up to the bars like usual bothered Rose to no end. "I'll never get to just sit outside with a beer, watch people do stupid shit." He paused but it was a heavy one. "I'll never get to have you." He finished.

"Negan..." She started quietly as she stood up at the bars but she just didn't know what to say.

"That day with you..." Negan said softly. "It fuckin' broke me." His voice cracked with the strain of the emotion he was holding in. "The second I got back in this cell I just felt cold, alone... fuckin' hopeless. The silence... it's too much for me, Rose."

"Come here..." She said quietly, not having anything else to say while her heart broke for him. The only thing she could think of doing was touching him, that always made him feel better right? If she could just...

"Im no good for ya." He spoke in the same monotonous way he had when he began this conversation. "Just like I wasn't for Lucille."

"You need to let go Negan. You've been beating yourself up over that stuff for too long."

"I don't want you comin' in here anymore, ya hear me?" He rasped still looking at the wall.

"What?"

"I don't deserve you spendin' all your time in here. You can deny it all you want but I know you got feelin's for me." He laughed slowly, maliciously. "I've always had the worst luck. So meetin' the girl of my fuckin' dreams in the god damned apocalypse while I'm locked up with no chance of a future with her... that sounds just like fuckin' like me."

"Negan you're bound to feel like this! The worst thing would be to be alone... I'm not leavin' you alone to rot in here."

"So what you gonna do spend the rest of your life pining over me like one of them desperate, lonely, ugly fucks who fall in love with people on death row?" He lazily rolled his head to look at me now. "Cos' that's what I am sweetheart. I'm gonna die here. I give it the big fuck you to Rick and everybody but I know I'm not gettin' out."

"Whether you like it or not Negan... I'll be coming to see you everyday."

"Oh shit! You really are desperate aren't you."

"Stop being an asshole cos you think you can push me away." She said not taking anything he said to heart.

"Go find some normal, boring fuck and stop botherin' me would ya?"

"Funny you should say that... Gabriel's started to look real good."

"I'm fuckin' serious, Rose." She had stupidly thought making a joke would perk him up alittle, the fact that he didn't come back with some snark remark worried her. He was right, this was serious. "I can't give you what you deserve. I'll never be able to."

XX

It went pretty much the same way every single time Rose went to see Negan. He wouldn't eat, she got no reaction from him even when she offered to flash him and she as being serious. No matter what she did he stayed in that deep dark pit of depression she has seen so many others in before, had even helped people get out of. This time she felt helpless.

XX

"He's not eating." Michonne seemed to be making a habit out of searching Rose out and begging her to clean up her and Ricks mess. Rose threw down the trowel she was using and stood up to face her.

"You know what Michonne. Neither am I!

He's depressed! Of course he's fuckin depressed! It's fucking cruel. What do you want me to do for him? Give him a prescription!"

"I don't... I just thought..."

"You thought I have some kind of connection with him right? That's what Rick asked me to do! Make a connection with a imprisoned man but get the third degree off you both when I actually try to help him."

"I get it." Although Michonne looked like she wanted to rip Rose's head off she just walked off.

XX

"You've been talkin' to Michonne." Rose's voice echoed in the cell which felt completely empty. No reply.

"You had a lot to say to her apparently." Rose sighed.

"It's been a week. Are you gonna give up?"

Nothing.

"I miss you."

Silence. Rose squeezed her eyes shut feeling stupid in a hundred different ways for having said that.

"You asked me once... what the worst thing I've ever done is?"

She heard him shuffle and hoped she'd finally got his attention.

"Ask me again again and I'll tell you."

"What's the worst thing you've ever done?" His voice was still flat but at least it was words.

"It was a while after this whole thing started... I was with two other women and there was these guys, four of them." The same dread that always filled her whenever she thought about it came in floods and she had to take a deep breath. "We joined up with them, safety in numbers and all that. One night they were talking to themselves, laughing about stuff and kept looking over at us. I knew straight away something was off, men have that certain look when they're thinking about doing terrible things. I told the other two, Erin and Abi." There name made her eyes fill with tears. "To keep hold of their weapons and I remember thinking first thing in the morning and we're gone."

She looked up to see Negan had turned to face her now.

"But it was already too late. They came over one with a gun and the other three grabbed us. Pinned us down and I fought, I fought so god damn hard and I was lucky. That's all it was. I wasn't any stronger than the others and the guy who came to me was a little smaller. I got away just before he... I stabbed the sick fuck. There I was running away, half naked lucky it was dark so the shots the guy fired after me, missed." She began crying now and she knew it was an accumulation of everything... the loneliness, her unwanted feelings for Negan, the hostility from certain members of the group but most of all the shame and guilt. "I just ran off. I didn't help them!"

All that could be heard was her soft sobs as she tried to control herself. "I got out of the place we were holed up and kept moving until morning. I've no idea how I survived any of it. I was just lucky. That's the only difference between them and me."

"You did what you had to do." His voice made her jump. "I'm so sorry that happened Rose."

"Don't!" She snapped. "Don't feel sorry for me. It's those poor women..."

"I don't know what the hell you hoped would happen by tellin' me that. All it's made me do is get angry that I can't hold you! That it could happen to you again and I'd be locked up in this FUCKING SHIT HOLE!" He raged worse than she'd ever seen him before. "Yeah you stand there like a fuckin' deer in the headlights darlin' cos there's nothing I can do for ya! So just fuckin' leave!"

Rose hesitated, not knowing what to do until she came to a harsh conclusion. "You're right. There's nothin' either of us can do for each other." She said quietly, in defeat. "I thought I could help you. That was so naive of me."

And then she left.

"Rose.." Negan said so quietly she didn't even hear. "Fuckin' shit!" He shouted, enraged that she was carrying around guilt because of some sick fucks and just as angry that he couldn't do anything about it.

XX

Later that day Rose had been doing paroles around the walls having needed to get out. Walking back to her house she was intercepted by Scott, his warm friendly eyes looking concerned.

"Is it all sorted?" He asked.

"What?"

"Maggie..."

"What about her?" Rose asked getting frustrated.

"I thought you'd have been told... Maggie turned up at here about ten, fifteen minutes ago... I told Michonne..."

He didn't even finish his sentence before Rose was racing off to the place she knew Maggie would be. The panic pushed her to run even faster knowing all too well what the only reason the woman would have stepped foot in Alexandria.

Chapter Thirteen

A/N

So sorry for the cliffhanger but this is close to 2000 words and I don't know if anyone would want a chapter that long.

Thanks as always to anyone who has followed or left comments. It means so much!

#twd negan #negan fanfiction #negan x oc #neganxoc #negan x rose #the silence #the walking dead fanfiction

[seungcheolsthighsss]

hola can i have a DK imagine where me meets your ex boyfriend and he gets mad??? cuz likE THAT SHIT WOULD BE HOT ASF

Genre: fluff? kinda

Summary: Dk sees your ex boyfriend with you and being a little on the touchy side and doesn’t like it at all keep reading to see a very hot protective side of dk protecting you.

Today has been the worst day you could ever possibly have. It all started this morning, you woke up wait for school so you ended up rushing to the bus only to miss it, you had to walk to school and then walk in to class late. You didn’t get much sleep last night either due to an essay that was due today, which you then realized you forgot at home. Then when school was done you had to go to work. At work you also had a terrible shift with customers complaining the whole time and then you had to work later then expected so you had to walk home in the cold because you alsoooo forgot your sweater so yeah your day was going absolutely great. The only thing you were looking forward to was coming home to your amazing and caring boyfriend.

You walked all the way home and as soon as you saw a glimpse of your front door you were instantly happy because you could finally escape all the bad things that happened today. You walked in and called for dk “ dokyum” you called and instantly heard footsteps “hello baby how was your day?” as soon as he asked you that question you felt like breaking down but you held it in because dk has never seen you cry before and you really did not want him to see you cry right now. But as soon as dk saw that sad expression on your face he would say “baby come here” and pull you into his chest hugging you tight. He would carry you to the couch and lay with you just holding you and waiting till you were ready to talk.

You would finally be able to talk to him and tell him everything that had gone wrong starting for the moment you woke up, to the moment you got home. You had made it through half of what you were saying without crying and then you couldn’t hold it in anymore you just broke down. Dk felt terrible that you had such a bad day and he also did not like the sight of seeing you crying. He would pull you closer into him and hug you tighter then before and rub your back saying sweet things in your ears to try and calm you down. When you were finally calmed down he would brush your hair from your face and kiss your forehead then cheeks then lips “ i don’t like seeing you cry, your to pretty to cry” and this would cause you to blush and look down but he would lift your head up while u were smiling and say “that’s much better”

Dk would then jump up which at first scared you but then what he said made you extremely happy. “lets go somewhere with all the members i am sure they will come, will make a day out of it to make you happy again” and of course you would agree because who wouldn’t want to spend a day with seventeen. So as you were getting ready Dk was calling seventeen and seeing who could come and all of seventeen agreed to coming with you and Dk. You also tried to ask Dk what you were doing  and where you were goingbut he said “im not telling you baby its a surprise” and this made you both happy but also nervous. Dk picked up the members and just started driving to the unknown destination.

The drive felt like forever so you ended falling asleep. and then you woke up to Seugkwan screaming “ OH LADIESSSSS THIS IS YOUR STORYYYY” and you started to laugh, you took in where ypu were and realized you were at a beach which Dk knew was your favorite. But then you remembered u didn’t have bathing suits or towels or really any of the things u needed for the beach and it kinda made you a little bummed out, But then each member had stuff with them and Dk had packed things for both you and him and then you hugged him and he started to smile knowing that you were not focused on the bad things from earlier today.

You guys set everything up and then you went to go get change into your bathing suit that way you could go swimming with Dk and the rest of seventeen. You couldn’t help but think about how lucky you were, to have such an amazing caring boyfriend. Like he planned a day on the spot just for you, you truly did have the best boyfriend in the world. And not only that but the other member’s also cared about you. You wondered how you got so lucky to have 13 lovely boys care about you

As you were starting to walk back to where dk and the members were sitting you ran into someone “oh my god i am sorry i didn’t mean to-” when you looked up at the person you bumped into you realized it was your ex boyfriend. Your first thought was to run straight to Dk and avoid him at all costs but he was standing in front of you blocking your way to run even if you wanted to. “hello beautiful” you would still be in shock to actually comprehend what was going on “ do not call me that”. He would just look you up and down “so you here all alone gorgeous”. You could absolutely not stand him, “ no, actually i am here with my boyfriend” you emphasized the boyfriend part making sure he knew.

“oh i see well just know that i miss you and your super hot body” he said while putting his hand on your bare waist due to your bathing suit and this sent chills down your body and not the good kinda of chills. You tried to pull away and push his dirty hands of you but he was a lot stronger then you were. He pulled your face near his and you looked down trying to pull your body away from his “if your here with your boyfriend then where is he?” In your head you were screaming for Dk but you knew he would not be able to hear you even if you actually tried screaming because the members and him were very far from the change rooms.

You were extremely uncomfortable right now and honestly felt like crying. As you were still fighting your Ex’s grip he just kept talking to you “why don’t u just get back together with me baby? don’t you miss me?”. You were trying to block out his stupid voice when you saw a familiar figure it was s.coups and Mingyu. At this point you knew you had nothing to lose so you screamed “ MINGYU, SEUNGCHEOL HELP!! MINGYU GO GET DOKYUM”. Mingyu started to run to get your boyfriend and s.coups came to try and help that way dk would be able to help later. Your ex looked at you with mad eyes and grabbed your wrist so u could not run and this just made you more scared then you already were.

As s.coups was walking towards you Dk had already pasted him as he ran super fast knowing his baby was in danger. But he was also not the only one the rest of seventeen ran with him to help you as they all cared about you as much as Dk does. “hey asshole” Dk yelled while tapping you on the shoulder as soon as your ex turned around Junghan and Joshua grabbed you hugging you as you shed some tears as you were in shock still of the way he was holding your wrist and touching your waist and because you hated his guts it made everything 10x worse. Jeonghan was rubbing your back saying its okay. And Joshua was trying to calm u down also.

Dk punched your ex right in the jaw and you did not expect this as Dk didn’t seem like an aggressive person. When your ex tried to hit him back he dogged it and then hit him again and again until he was on the floor “walk away before i do something i’ll regret AND DON’T EVER TOUCH MY GIRLFRIEND AGAIN BETTER YET DONT EVEN COME NEAR HER OR I WILL HIT YOU WORSE THEN I ALREADY HAVE” your Ex got up and walked away with bleeding lips. Dk ran to you and pulled you tightly into his arms and rubbing your back “baby its okay, listen to me its okay hes never gonna come near you again” he kept comforting you until you had calmed down

“thank you Dokyum, for everything for caring about me and doing what you did” he smiled “baby its because i love you” you smiled and kissed him “ i love you” Dk said “i love you too, oh my god DK BABY YOUR HAND” he laughed at how concerned you were about him “babe its okay trust me” you and the rest of seventeen started to walk back to where you were sitting and could finally have an amazing day with your boyfriend and your 12 best friends. The night ended with a campfire and you and Dk cuddled up and telling stories and laughing at all of the members.

———————————————————————————

first requested imagine done,  please feel free to request anytime!!! i would love to write imagines for you guys 

#seventeen #seventeensmut #seventeenmtl #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seungcheol #s.coups #s.coups imagines #wonwoo #wonwoo imagines #mingyu imagines #mingyu #vernon #vernon imagines #hoshi #hoshi imagines

[choisgirls]

ok so there's ton of HCs of the RFA protecting MC but what if the tables were turned? How about some HCs of MC protecting the RFA + Saeran from harassment/being hit on by other people? (in all honesty if someone hit on my S/O they would experience hell)

A/N: honestly i’d liketo say i’d be the same but like i’m too shy and just yeah with my personalityi’d just let it happen unless my s/o is uncomfortable ^^;;; (also loOK I TRIEDTO MAKE IT NON VIOLENT FOR THE MOST PART BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE DON’T LIKE VIOLENCEBUT I MEAN I’M THE TYPE TO THROW PUNCHES SOOOO) ~Admin 404

 *YOOSUNG:

           -I’ve discussed before that he isvery oblivious

           -So he wouldn’t even really noticewhen people hit on him?

           -But you sure did, and you didn’tenjoy it one bit

           -Don’T HIT ON MY OBLIVIOUS LIL BABY

           -He never really acknowledges ituntil he sees the disapproving face you’re giving the other person

           -Then he starts getting a littleuncomfortable because wow he finally started to think about what the person wassaying, and that’s where you step in

           -You’re a nice person, you neverreally get physical with the person, you just…. use your facial expressionsto communicate.

           -So when you gave the person hittingon your boyfriend a death glare that could almost rival Saeran’s…. thenimmediately replace it with a smile…. needless to say, they froze.

           -In a sweet, innocent voice, yougreet them, introducing yourself as his s/o, and watch as they (usually)nervously take their leave

           -He actually really appreciates itthough? Like, you love and appreciate him enough to get jealous like that? Notto mention you’ve gotten him out of a few awkward situations where he was toonice to just walk away. WOW MC LOVES ME, THAT’S AMAZING please take chargemore often mc, wink wonk

*ZEN:

           -ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE

           -But at the same time he’s concernedbecause some of his fans….. tend to be a little…. adherent

           -You never get physical or hurtanyone, mind you

           -But you’re very open with youremotions

           -So if someone is hitting on him,you immediately voice your opinion

           -You place yourself in betweenwhoever is flirting with your Zenny and himself, and look them in the eye

           -“Hi there, I’m MC, Zen’s s/o.It’s nice to meet you. You think he’s handsome? That’s so funny, I think thattoo!”

           -Sounds nice, right? WRONG- yourvoice has a hint of disapproval in it, not to mention dripping with sarcasm andover-exaggerating your words

           -You’re never MEAN though becauseyou couldn’t do that. But you make it obvious enough that, hey, this is my man,please stop hitting on him. And he’s actually just so surprised that this sweetlittle person can lowkey scARE HIM WITH JUST A CERTAIN TONE OF VOICE, WHAT THE

           -He can’t really… judge though?Because he gets the same way no you get way worse, zenny, so as long asthe two of you show each other there’s nothing to worry about, you’re all okay!

*JAEHEE:

           -Baehee takes care of her damn self,okay

           -But she appreciates when you stepin like her hero and save the day

           -Like if someone’s too close for hercomfort, you’re there in a flash to gently drag her in the other direction

           -You’re more of a quiet pouter- ifsomeone’s flirting with her and she doesn’t seem uncomfortable, you stand withyour arms crossed and a pout across your face

           -stOP TRYING TO GIVE HER YOURNUMBER, PEOPLE, SHE DOESN’T WANT IT

           -She tries to be polite but, hey, atthis point, you aren’t because??? Why don’t they get the hint??? No means no??

           -So you’re constantly taking theslip of paper and promptly throwing it away or you wait until she hands you herphone and delete their number. Right in front of them. Show no mercy.

           -Do you feel bad? Yeah sometimes. Doesshe appreciate what you do though? Oh yes, very much

           -You always get a kiss on the cheekwhen you help her out of situations like that SCORE

           - threatened to punch one guythough when he tried touching her hair. doNT DO THAT. THATS MY JAEHEE, YOU STOPTHAT

*JUMIN:

           -He doesn’t even pay attention topeople flirting with him

           -Why should he? He has who he wants,and that’s you. No one else matters???

           -Why do you get so upset over it??? idkjumin why do YOU get so upset over it

           -Takes it as the highest form ofcompliment and profession of love, because that means you want him all toyourself- just like he does with you

           -But MC please don’t get physicalwith these people that’s not professional

           -HE ALMOST HAD TO PRY YOU OFF OFTHIS WOMAN ONCE BECAUSE YOU LITERALLY CLUNG TO HER AS YOU THREATENED BODILYINJURY

           -MC DONT DO THAT YOU CAN GET INSERIOUS TROUBLE

           -Loves when you cling, though. Hangoff his arm, lay your head against his chest, like yES MC DO THAT SHIT, SHOWPEOPLE I’M YOURS

           -He was talking to a guest once, andin mid-sentence, he watched you cover the guest’s eyes with your hand.“You stop that, don’t give him those eyes, you can’t have him” mCPLS

           -Overall, your demeanor stops peoplein their tracks before they even attempt to flirt with him. You radiate thissort of aura that says “back off this is my boyfriend”. Only thestrong-willed attempt, but they always fail. Though, Jumin has to kiss the sideof your head to remind you he isn’t going anywhere, there’s no need to get soworked up

*SAEYOUNG:

           - “why are people flirtingwith me im terrible” (same saeyoung, same)

           -He’s just confused all the time byit

           -And since he��s confused, he doesn’tknow how to really…react. So he just accepts it

           -But??? You don’t like that?? Don’ttouch my nerd boy

           -You like to take the “Jokinglyinsult them but lowkey mean the insult” route to get your point across

           -When I say “insult” idon’t mean you belittle them or anything, mind you. Kind of more along thelines of saying “leave him the fuck alone” without saying itoutright- you say it more in ways like “yeah he does like pizza- hisfavourite is when he’s getting it with me” ya know, that kind of thing

           -And he can’t help but laugh?? Likeit’s kind of mean and the both of you know it is but?? They don’t get the hintto leave him alone??

           -Until you get tired of the personand just grab Saeyoung’s glasses off his face, and plant a kiss straight to hislips

           -Which hey he isn’t gonna complain.He actually takes advantage of the situation and puts his hand on your lowerback, dips you slightly, and just hardcore kisses you because maybe then theperson will get the hint???

           -YOU’RE SUCH AN ASSHOLE THOUGH youwink at the person before you take Saeyoung in the other direction

*V:

           -Don’t even breathe in the directionof my cinnamon roll

           -HE’S SO NICE HE CAN’T BE MEAN TOPEOPLE EVEN WHEN HE’S UNCOMFORTABLE

           -But you can. So when someone’sflirting and asks for his number, you casually walk up and just straight denythem

           -“I was wondering if you’d liketo go grab some dinner some ti-” “No” “Who are you?”“No”

           -YOU DON’T EVEN SAY ANYTHING ELSE.JUST NO.

           -And he just smiles the whole timebecause!!! He’s glad you showed up!!! He loves you so much!!! And you’re ableto say no, unlike him

           -And for the ones who are more…persistent,despite the “no”, your persona flips like a light switch

           -You can walk up, happy andcarefree, and the moment they touch your boyfriend in a more than friendly way,you’re as cold as ice

           -That’s usually his cue that heneeds to excuse the two of you. You’d never say anything harsh, mind you, butyou would sort of keep that personality for the rest of the day. He’d have tofind a way to cheer you up so you don’t feel bad!

           -He always jokes that your face isgonna get stuck in a pout, pinches your cheeks, and waits for you to smile.INTENSE CUDDLING FOR THE REST OF THE DAY because hey MC, he’s yours and no oneis gonna threaten that

*SAERAN:

           -vioLENT

           -i can see why the two of you area couple

           -you perfected the death glarefrom him as well

           -He’s uncomfortable in almost anysituation so someone hitting on him, and that someone NOT being you, makes himVERY UNCOMFORTABLE

           -And he’s not quiet about it, either.He voices that he isn’t interested, and that they should just back off but forsome reason people take that as a challenge?

           -So you warn them with a deathglare, then by reminding them that he said he isn’t interested, then your angergets the better of you

           -There are times that you get apunch or two in, but most of the time, the furthest you get to go is grabbingthem by the front of their shirt, and pulling them real close to your face

           -There’s always threats, and neverclean language

           -But Saeran doesn’t want you to getviolent like he can be so he usually has to physically carry you away from theother person

           -BUT YOU’RE GETTING BETTER! Now youtend to just push the person away, grab Saeran’s hand while giving the otherperson a look of disinterest, and walking away wow mc look at you, you’recalming down!

#i mean im sorry if this sucks #ive had one irl boyfriend and like #never had to deal with something like this #sO I HAVE NO IDEA HOW ONE WOULD REACT #also had no idea what to do because i tried not being violent?? #i'd probably get bitchy and violent #so i tried avoiding that #did it work #*lenny face* #admin 404 #request #mystic messenger #mysme #mm #mystic messenger headcannons #mystic messenger headcanons #mystic messenger reactions #mystic messenger scenarios #mystic messenger imagines #mysme headcannons #mysme headcanons #mysme reactions #mysme imagines #mysme scenarios #mystic messenger v #mystic messenger jihyun #mysme v #mysme jihyun #v #jihyun

[chiefdancingbear]

The Blackshade Chronicles

Here for another entry! You know the drill! 

‘Here I am, huddled in the corner of some abandoned house in Transylvania. I found solace here shortly after fleeing Dracula’s castle. I couldn’t stand that smug asshole any minute longer. He tried to stop me too, but I was able to get away. My thoughts are going haywire right now........the pain of it throbbing in my head is determined to bring me to my knees. Hence why I have actually found a spot to stay the night. This thirst within me.....its unbelievable. Maybe that asshole was shouting at me because he needed to tell me something. Something about being a vamp, a vamp on the run. After all, from his attire, he looked like he was on the run too. Or perhaps found the one spot that people would leave him alone. I still know nothing of Vampires and whether the legends are true. Can I see myself in a mirror? Does garlic affect me now? I hoped to the Maker that that was not true. If so, I would hate that prick forever. Garlic, the taste of it.......Maker I missed it. I hadn’t even had it in a while.....but I digress.  I know the blood lust is there.....that is what pains me the most....’ 

I must have read that entry in my traveling journal a thousand times between there and where I am now. What I know to be true. It helps me to remember what being human really is. Sick......I know. Remembering one’s first night transformed into this creature I am still learning about, some how helps separate what I used to do and how I used to feel from this moment in time. 

I met another vamp on the way to the city. I at least was able to get out of Transylvania to the civilized world, back to where I knew. I still knew enough not to even get in the vicinity of my parents large and expensive apartment. I didn’t want the risk of them seeing me like this. Plus, this terrible thirst? Yeah, I had a pretty good idea of what would happen. I just knew I wanted back into familiar stomping grounds. This gentleman that found me though, one night, shivering from the cold for all I could afford was to hitch hike my way back. His conversation cut me through like a knife to the chest. I will never forget it. 

“What do you think you are doing hitch hiking? Do you know what could happen? A fledgling like yourself, with that terrible thirst of yours” he scoffed. I remember asking him how he knew. “DUDE, you are pale......you got the teeth.....but at least you got that innocent thing down pat. Great tactic by the way, that’ll get you far.....mark my words, you will be an awesome hunter”. He sounded a tad bit jealous with a mixture of awe and respect at the same time. I thought long and hard about that for a while along side the road, finally he asked me if I had a place to stay. I said no and he gave me a nice warm place with a bed that was soft. I’ll never forget beds, how the blankets felt on top of me as I drifted off to sleep.....countless times. He said we were to talk in the morning. When the morning dawned, I awoke in pure blackness......I couldn’t see a thing. That’s when he came to me. 

“I see you are awake.......”

“I can’t see a thing”

“That’s because you are trying to see with your human eyes. You are no longer human, you are a whiff of smoke......an undead.....a bat.....you can command yourself to be whatever it is you wish.” 

“I WISH to be human”

“Aaah......I see......self pity. We are at that stage of the grieving process, eh princess?”

“WHY THE FUCK DO PEOPLE CALL ME THAT?! FOR MAKER’S SAKE, STOP BEING SO FUCKING SARCASTIC” I said angrily. 

“That’s the hunger talking. Have you fed, my love?”

“NO.....gross......I don’t drink blood if thats what you are implying.....”

“Aaah, so....forgive me......but you are stuck up as well......looking down at our kind”

“I didn’t even KNOW YOUR KIND EXISTED IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!” 

“That attitude wont get you anywhere.......what was I saying now? Aah yes, about being a vamp. That hunger will overtake you sooner or later. Want to know the cold hard truth? It’ll rip out of you so quickly you won’t know what hit you. It may be your best friend, your lover, your parents, anyone who’s ever cared.....gone.....in an instant. All because you ignored your lust for blood. That one thing that keeps you and I alive. Luckily for you, you don’t have to worry about this.....” he handed me a few packs of blood. I remember holding it in my hands for the first time. I wondered about the poor soul or souls that died to make this happen for me. “It’s cows blood, love.....not human” he said eyeing me and plucking out the concern in my mind, “go on, eat. I know.......it looks gross. I remember my first time and I can truly say that, like you, I was waiting for it to taste gross.......like copper and sweat.......but......well, finding out is half the fun.......go on and taste and I will talk” 

With his encouragement, I ripped open the bag with my teeth. I heard him chuckle and I felt ridiculous but also primal.......like a beast on a hunt that had finally found its prey. The first taste of blood was like magic. Like nothing I ever tasted before. If I had to describe it, it was like chocolate, strawberries, grapes, and a bit of earth, but even that was a hit and miss. I know, crazy right? How could something so disgusting taste so good? Greedily, I drank and to his word, he talked, “So, the first thing you need to do is to learn to control your dark side. If it shows? No one’ll even get near you........that is, if you decide that you want to hunt humans. Have you noticed that I don’t look anything like you at all? No fangs, no light skin, ability to walk in daylight......at least for right now.......its because I am suppressing my darker side. Secondly, don’t let your thirst get too out of hand, when that happens.......we literally see red and attack. Not good in mixed company......IF you are planning to have a social life.....” 

I stopped him there.....I kept telling him that I couldn’t believe what had happened. How I could have let this happen to me. Telling him over and over that I wish to be human. Finally, he stopped me in my tracks.....”you wish to be HUMAN?! Are you fucking kidding me?! First of all.........that blood......do you recall anything that tasted THAT good? Secondly, do you know you can transform into a bat. YOU can FLY!! Also.....you come into powers. However, watch yourself and find yourself a mentor to teach you about vampires and read up on lore. There’s a LOT you don’t know...” He went on and on.......he romanticized the whole thing, like he loved that he became one. I even asked him if he remembers being human and he told me that the only thing that he remembered was what he looked like in a mirror. How that was the one thing he missed, truly. He remembers his parents.....he said that they were gone now.....and I tried to ask him what happened. However, all he would give me was, “Every vamp out there has a sob story”. Which to me meant, leave it alone and I did. If I had to guess, it was that he didn’t know how to handle being a vamp and got too thirsty. He really didn’t have to explain. Once he stopped talking and stopped trying to explain himself further, he asked me where I was headed to. I told him I was planning on the city. He went on to warn me that I needed to get in control of my hearing, when to turn it off, on, how to control the volume. I know I make it out to seem like I am some damn radio, but its true. Vamps have exceptional hearing which is why they are good hunters to begin with. It was actually how he found me. 

In the end, after my fill of blood and him prattling on about the awesomeness of vamp-life, I turned to him and said “Im sorry for the way I acted. I am also sorry about your parents, how awful......and, one thing you didn’t explain......what about that comment about my human eyes?” I remember his face contorting with half amusement and half horror as I figured out........or thought I had figured out......his dirty little secret. “Its okay love, really........and how, how did you--”

“Know?”

“Yeah........”

“The look in your eyes......”

“You can’t see my eyes.........you said--”

“Its pitch black in here, yes.......but I can also hear and I am learning to hear better. What about my eyes though?”

“Oh that? Well, you’ll develop them more as you venture out at night on hunts”

“Night vision?”

“Something like that, yes” he smiled then. He packed me a bag and sent me on my way to a car that he said he had borrowed. I waved at him and I was off like a shot to the big city. 

That’s it for tonight folks! I know I said that there was to be more pictures this time, but bare with me. I am totally into the backstory and I couldn’t help it. Next entry we see, there will be ones for sure! Until then! Thanks for the read!

#simblr #sims 4 #blackshadechronicles

[foursproutlove-blog]

The Oral Sex Gap Is Real And I’m Not OK With It

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/love/the-oral-sex-gap-is-real-and-im-not-ok-with-it/

The Oral Sex Gap Is Real And I’m Not OK With It

What does a woman have to do around here to get some head?

I’ve been in relationships almost exclusively since I was a teenager, and, until recently, had only ever slept with the men I’d been dating. I’ve since had a foray into the hellish casual dating game, and I’ve observed a phenomenon which makes the sex-positive part of me absolutely livid.

Women are basically expected to give a blow-job, but the chances of the favor being returned are slim at best.

Looking back, it’s something I (and countless other women) have experienced time and time again.

I can barely remember my first couple of high-school boyfriends offering to go ‘downtown’ at all, but I’ve always excused them because we were bumbling teens who were still so inexperienced and young, both learning about sex as we went, so I never held it against them.

My first partner as an adult never went down on me, except maybe a handful of times when we first got together, but he expected a blow-job every time we had sex, and almost daily as a rule. Upon reflection, he was a misogynistic asshole, and so I concluded this was why he never offered to return the favor.

My next boyfriend was much more even-handed with the oral sex. While the numbers still skewed in his favor (mainly because I actually enjoy giving head so much I’d regularly offer to give him one as it got me off as well), it still was in no way equal.

And don’t even get me started on how unfair casual hook-ups are with giving oral sex. In the seven month period I was playing the field and had a friends-with-benefits arrangement, I could literally count the number of times I was attended to on one hand, and I don’t have enough fingers or toes to represent how many times I was gently encouraged to go down on him.

Which is fine, and I’m not complaining about having to give a blow-job or two, but it’s the unfairness of the arrangement which really makes me frustrated.

In a study from The Canadian Journal of Human Sexuality, it was recorded that while over 63 percent of men recorded receiving oral sex as part of their last sexual encounter, the number sat at around 40 percent for women.

The same study also found that overall, between men and women, oral sex was far more pleasurable if given by a long-term partner in a committed relationship – sorry, single friends.

An informal poll of my closest girlfriends confirms there is definitely an oral sex gender gap. The girls in relationships say it goes both ways, but they definitely give more than they receive.

The ones who are single basically laughed in my face when I asked if they were getting an acceptable amount of oral sex.

“Unless I literally beg for it, guys avoid going down there with their tongue as if it’s going to kill them,” one of them told me.

Another went into more detail about why she thinks there is a bit of a gap. “When I hook-up with guys and they do go down on me, I’ve never orgasmed. I think it’s because I spend the whole time worrying about what they think of my pink bits and so I can’t completely relax because ultimately, they’re strangers and I’m not totally comfortable.”

She hits at the crux of the issue.

So many women are too worried about whether they smell alright, what they taste like down there or what someone might think of their vagina, that even when men do want to give a woman oral sex, she can’t completely relax and just enjoy herself. But it would be very rare indeed to come across a guy who was worried about the same if a blowjob was on the agenda.

Unfortunately, if you’re a woman, chances are you grew up being told that part of your body was, in some way or another, defective or not good enough. We have to live up to insane beauty standards which dictate that every part of our bodies must be perfect, and if it isn’t, we have to fix it. And our vaginas don’t get a free pass on this intense shaming and these insane standards.

It has to be hairless, but free from ingrown hairs. It must come in pretty, neat packages even though in reality, every vulva is different. Even though it’s basically impossible, there should be zero scent to the female genitalia at all, and ideally, it should taste phenomenal.

If your own personal private parts are any deviation from this mystical perfect vagina, you’d better feel terrible about it.

The constant shaming of women’s bodies is extremely damaging, not only for self-esteem, self-worth, and self-confidence but in forming intimate relationships as well.

I’ve had friends who have been in long-term relationships who have never let their boyfriends see them naked. And I mean, three years in and they’d never seen all of their girlfriends uncovered at the same time, because they were terrified they weren’t perfect enough.

No wonder women have deep-rooted insecurities about their vaginas.

I know that once I entered the dating scene, the fact that men seemingly avoided giving oral at all costs made me question whether everything was okay downstairs. And I’ve since come to the conclusion that more guys should be going down on women.

While closing the oral sex gap won’t really cure the constant and ever-present criticism of the female form, it might work to make things a little bit easier. Or at least, more women would be having orgasms, and that’s the world I want to live in.

And then, there’s the sexist inequality issue. The one thing about the oral sex exchange which causes the little feminist inside me to scream with pure, fire-and-brimstone rage.

A lot of guys are just selfish.

Maybe some men just don’t enjoy giving oral sex, the same way I know several gals who hate giving blowjobs.

And look, I understand that everyone has a preference, and if a guy tells me he doesn’t like going downtown, it’s absolutely fine by me. Sex must be consensual, and if he doesn’t want to do something, that decision has to be respected. No questions asked.

Problems arise, however, when five minutes after confessing this fact, he is pushing my head towards his crotch and expecting me to service him with my mouth.

The key word here is expecting.

If a guy I was seeing told me he didn’t enjoy going down on a girl, I’d probably still go down on him, just for fun.

But if he told me he wouldn’t be going down on me but would be expecting a blowjob, no negotiations, do not pass go, no chance of reciprocation, oh boy, you’d better believe I have an issue with that level of sexual hypocrisy.

These kinds of guys are everywhere.

One of these holier-than-thou men wrote a ‘think piece’ on why he, as a straight man, hated going down on women, listing off a bunch of different justifications for his decision – the smell, the taste, his personal revulsion at the apparent unappealing look of a vulva and the uncomfortable position oral sex forces him into – before finishing his article with, quite disgustingly, “to me blowjobs are a fundamental part of the sexual intercourse game.”

Hold up, mate. I have a problem with your incredibly selfish views on sex. Not to mention every word he wrote is a direct play-by-play of the concerns which scare women out of being able to enjoy oral sex in the first place.

Does he honestly think dicks smell like roses? Does he believe the taste of a penis or semen is like a delicious chocolate cake? Any woman who has received an unexpected dick pic to her phone can attest to the fact the male genitalia isn’t exactly a Van Gogh painting to look at, and sucking a dick isn’t exactly ‘comfortable’.

Oh, your neck gets sore when you’re between my legs? I’m so sorry! Now, please thrust your manhood into the back of my throat so hard it leaves a bruise, and don’t even worry about massaging my neck after I’ve been bobbing my head up and down for 10 minutes…

And of course, these kinds of men are highly unlikely to show any sort of consideration for the comfort of the woman they want to have orally attending to their manhood, while the same woman would have spent at least 30 minutes freshening up down there and internally freaking out about his comfort if he was going to head downtown with his tongue.

And while some people have a preference and may not enjoy oral sex, to demand your sexual partner perform the act on you if you’re not going to do the same is just selfish. And you, sir, do not deserve the pleasure my mouth can bring you.

So how about men and women agree to take a few wonderful steps towards sexual equality. The world is a better place when everyone is having orgasms, so unless oral sex isn’t your thing, we should all be putting our heads between some thighs more often.

And for the love of all that is sexual and equal, don’t demand oral sex if you’re not going to return the favor. It’s just polite.

Kassi Klower is a passionate and opinionated tea-drinker and cat-lover. She’s a proud feminist who is always sleepy, loves politics and lives for writing about social justice issues. Follow Kassi on Twitter and Facebook.

This originally appeared on SHESAID. Republished here with permission.

The post The Oral Sex Gap Is Real And I’m Not OK With It appeared first on Role Reboot.

#Love