#stop making excuses you don't even care of my existence

[chandnihumai]

All I talk about is how I love books and literally no one has ever gifted me one.

#my friends are so dumb #and then they go like we don't know what to gift you #stop making excuses you don't even care of my existence #so many people around me act like they are my best friends but where are the efforts? I don't really see it. #it's just me calling them always asking how are they doing. #platonic friendships for me matter so much and I literally feel I failed at making genuine friends #my internet friends are far far far better #also i am not being materialistic this is just something that triggered it #I actually don't care about gifts but bro don't act like you care when you don't #dni

[writerpeach]

Studious Seduction

Oh My Girl Arin x m! reader

10k words

Thanks to @i-am-lifeform24 for help with editing

Part One | Part Two

---

Read on AO3

"This seems like a bad idea, Miss Choi."

"It's a terrible idea, professor. Which is why we're doing it." 

Without a doubt, there’s very little chance that you won’t be spotted here. Heading up a stairwell that leads up to who knows where is hardly ideal, especially with the sudden rain shower that's started to pour above, foreshadowing this bad decision made in tandem. 

Yet, you’ve never been one to make the best choices. An inappropriate relationship with one of your students has to be ranked at the top of the list, wrong for a myriad of reasons—all that could get you fired. Still, it somehow continues unimpeded, knowing the risks, both of you doubling down even. 

At this point, you’re not sure if you’re a bad influence on Arin, or if she’s a bad influence on you. 

To make matters worse, today’s outfit of choice is this poor excuse for a school uniform that draws all your attention. A risky little ensemble that consists of a white shirt and black tie combo that only pretends to be proper, covering very little of her midriff, as well as this dark little pleated miniskirt so short it might as well not exist for how little of her thighs it hides. It leaves more of her creamy skin uncovered, and being her professor, you know it's not appropriate to look—yet you can’t stop yourself from doing so anyways. 

And then there’s those dark frames on her face, the cherry on top that puts this whole thing together, that takes her from an innocent, responsible student more than invested in class, to this devilish vixen who struts into your office, demanding to be ruined, never taking no for an answer. 

There’s almost no room for imagination, offering you such an obscene view when Arin heads up the stairs, purposefully walking in front of you with slow, deliberate steps. You can see the shape of her perfectly round butt cheeks exposed, her tight fitting thong doing anything but covering up delicious pale flesh. Of course, she knows exactly where your line of sight goes when you walk behind her, making an effort to shake her wide hips a little more with each step, giving you a shameless view of her tight, succulent ass.

This outfit is every dress code violation she could possibly make rolled into one. 

But who's going to admonish her? You? Who can't even think logically at the moment when all your thoughts have turned to mush? Not a chance when all you want to do is slip your hand between her thighs too delicious to resist until she makes a mess on your fingers, the floor, and anywhere else that becomes collateral damage.

Right now, you have the perfect opportunity for exactly that. You’ve lost track of how many steps you’ve walked, but eventually, the stairwell comes to an end, with a set of metal double doors that leads up to the rooftop. As good a place as any other, you think, especially when there's little reason anyone else would want to venture towards the top level during this never-ending rainstorm.

“Here?” you question, when Arin presses your back against the cold wall just underneath the final level of the stairwell. A solitary gaze into her eyes is all you get before she wraps her hands around your neck and plants a heated, sloppy kiss on your lips. She nods in affirmation, but doesn’t give you the time to catch your breath, slipping her tongue into your mouth to make an attempt to taste all of you.

“It's really open here. Pretty easy to get caught," you tell her when she moves from your lips, placing wet kisses across your jawline, moving lower down to your neck. 

"That's the point, professor." Arin places your hands firmly around her waist, leading you exactly where she wants your touch. Her legs spread a little further apart so you can push her skirt up, revealing just how tiny of a thong she's wearing. "I don't care if we get caught. Make a mess of me—" 

She sighs when your fingertips press against her clothed core, so aroused you can already feel her slick leaking through the flimsy fabric. You add more pressure in response, rewarded with Arin's soft gasps against the sensitive skin of your neck.

"We could get in a lot of trouble, Yewon," you breathe out, barely paying attention to anything beyond this. In fact, you hardly care about what could go wrong either, so consumed with lust, one singular desire that Arin shares, and your fingertips ache to slip underneath these panties and sink right in. 

"When has that ever stopped us before?" 

She has a point. 

This is risky as it gets. And that’s what makes it all more exciting. 

Without wasting any more time, you slip a finger underneath the fabric of her panties, into her ridiculously warm cunt. A second one slides in right after, and soaked as she already is, barely puts up any resistance, the entrance of her tight little hole eagerly swallowing you up.

“Professor—“

A few strokes is all you manage before Arin throws her head back in delight, rolling her hips, moaning from nothing more but your fingers slowly pumping in and out of her needy cunt. 

Arin clings to your shoulder as the tempo picks up, her other hand quickly traveling down your torso until it reaches your pants. She finds the button to your slacks right away, unzipping them to slip a hand inside your boxers. You let out a groan when she runs a gentle hand along the length of your shaft, slow and teasing—until she wraps her entire hand around it and grips you tight.

“Yewon..." A wave of pleasure rushes through your whole body. She's stroking your cock with such a perfect grip, slender fingers reaching down to fondle your balls, eager for what they’ve stored up just for her. Meanwhile, the sounds that come from her own throat as she rides your fingers become a necessary distraction, urging you to thrust into her a little faster, a little rougher— 

"How many loads are you going to give me today, professor? I hope they're all as thick as they were yesterday—"

It's rather ridiculous, the things you hear come out of Arin's mouth. The demure looking girl in the front row, raising her hand up high, blushing just at the sight of you, now says the filthiest things when she's got her mouth on your earlobe and her pussy filled with your fingers. She's every bit the opposite of an exemplary student, but you suppose that's your fault, given you're the one who's trading straight A's for the roughest, raunchiest sex that almost always ends up with you finishing inside her. 

But the way Arin sounds when she moans directly in your ear, riding your fingers so selfishly while they stay buried inside her cunt, it makes you forget all that. None of that matters. All that does is satisfying her needs and yours, and you won't stop until she's absolutely drenched your fingers, even if it ruins that pathetic pair of panties. 

"Don't stop, professor. I'm so close…"

She's lost all inhibitions in her frantic desire to keep rocking her hips hard against your fingers. You can feel the tension about to snap, her walls squeezing the life out of your slick digits—all while she tries to keep a steady rhythm in her own pumping, giving your cock a good squeeze each time your fingers plunge to the hilt.

"Professor, please, don’t stop, don’t stop—" Arin’s breathing grows unsteady, heavy, and she gasps for air between every syllable that escapes her lips. You’ll do everything to oblige her, steadily thrusting, curling your fingers to find that sweet spot that gets her to moan the loudest until she lets go of your cock, clinging her entire weight onto you.

"You're gonna make me fucking cum—"

Nothing gets said in response, obeying Arin’s pleas, an uninterrupted stream of juices beginning to coat your fingers while she lets out one continuous moan, unable to speak coherently upon climax. Biting down hard on her bottom lip, she nearly draws blood before the wetness gushes down your fingers, rendering her panties useless, completely ruined with all this sticky arousal.

Her walls flutter around you, this explosive orgasm lasting far longer than you expect—but you don’t let up, pumping away as she spills more, riding this out until it turns into a second one shortly after. And when you press your thumb firmly against her clit, right as she starts to come down from her high, the violent trembles in her body repeat, sending her over the edge a third time, forcing her body to shake against yours, another loud, shameless moan spilling out of her in overstimulation. 

It's a wonder how the rest of campus hasn’t heard the screams echoing all the way down the staircase. Were it not for the rain pouring overhead drowning out her cries of pleasure, it would be near impossible for anyone passing by to not hear a thing. So you’re blessed by the rains, both above, and between Arin’s sticky thighs. 

After it’s all said and done, she can hardly support her own weight when the sensation of your fingers inside her becomes too much for her oversensitive cunt, Arin’s sweaty frame nearly toppling over as she breathes heavily. Good thing you're right here to do what she temporarily can’t, clinging to your body, your hard cock still poking against her as you keep her upright amidst these intense aftershocks. 

"That was, fuck—you've really outdone yourself, professor. I can hardly stand."

When you pull your fingers out, you can’t hide the smirk that spreads across your face with all this slick clinging to your fingertips as she leans on your body to take a breath. The praise washes over you while Arin unexpectedly grabs your wrist, bringing your soaked fingers, all the way up to her lips to fervently suck the delicious liquid off. 

You intently watch her lick herself off you, tongue lewdly swirling around the length of each wet digit, making an effort to swallow all of her mess. Her lips glisten with spit and wetness, a ravenous look in her bespectacled eyes as she cleans whatever she can, tasting every drop of her delicious essence, staring at you seductively until nothing is left. 

"Guess I don't need these anymore," Arin says after a pause, gradually recovering as she peels her drenched thong down her legs, letting it drop to her ankles before she slips it off, stuffing it into your front pocket. A cute little smile later, and she looks more than eager for what's next, unable to tear her gaze away from how hard you’ve been left thanks to her. 

"I should finish what I started, don't you think, professor?" 

You don't even get to answer when Arin drops to her knees on the cold floor, tugging your pants and boxers further down, freeing your cock that so desperately needs it—so desperately needs her. With a cute, light giggle, she spits onto your swollen shaft, pumping the entire length with her delicate fingers, a low moan rising in your throat as she pays extra attention to the underside where she knows you're the most sensitive.

Her slender fingers work up the length of your cock, coming back down with a grip so wonderfully tight. She’s so ready, so eager to have her soft lips around it already. You can practically see her salivating when she leans in a little closer to lap her tongue around your cock in one long, lazy lick, pressing her lips into a light kiss on the tip of your shaft. 

“Yewon—“

You can’t hold in a grunt when Arin rubs your tip against her mouth, not opening up enough to take you whole yet, instead tracing her full, soft lips over your needy cockhead. 

“Don’t you worry, professor. Gonna make you feel so good. I promise.” 

The anticipation explodes all at once as she parts her lips, slipping the entire head of your cock inside. The moment her wet mouth makes contact with your shaft, you groan at the sudden warmth, a sharp contrast from her icy cold hands. She takes more of your length down, hollowing her cheeks, keeping an intense, erotic gaze while slowly bobbing her head up and down. 

"Mhmph—" Her warm breath sends shivers down your spine as her lips slip further and further down, the tip of her tongue flicking against what hasn’t disappeared into her mouth. You can’t help but let out all types of unabashed moans while she guides more of you inside, spit dripping down to your balls as she slides deeper, until nothing of you is left to swallow up, the head of your cock hitting the back of her tight throat with ease. 

"Yewon, fuck,” you say, nearly breathless, and the way Arin looks up at you with her mouth so proudly sealed around every inch—there’s nothing better. “I'll never get enough of your pretty fucking mouth.” 

Arin hums against the length of your shaft at your praise, working more of her magic on you, lips getting down so devastatingly deep against your base. She’s oh so eager, so unwaveringly committed to covering every single inch in saliva. Her hot little mouth slides down effortlessly, bobbing her head back, each stroke just a bit sloppier, a little wetter than the one before, with zero intention of giving you a chance to gather yourself.

“Nobody gives a blowjob like I do, right, professor? Nobody can make you cum as hard as I can. I love being on my knees for you so much, being a good little slut for my professor. That’s what I am, aren't I?"

Nodding your head is all you can do, breath heavy in disbelief of how good this oral assault is, the enthusiasm on display really proving how much Arin enjoys having your cock shoved down her wet, inviting throat. 

You’d sacrifice your entire livelihood for a blowjob like this. 

It’s quite simple to lose track of how many times her talented mouth takes your entire length down, so good at pleasuring you it's impossible to find words. The way her wet tongue flicks against your slit when she slides off, only to have you plunging all the way back into the heat of her throat—it's far, far too good.

"I want you to cum on my face, professor," Arin tells you, so casually as she pulls away for a brief second before going right back to licking up the length of your hard cock, spitting all the excess saliva over the rest of you. Then she’s back to placing hungry wet kisses against each inch, her tongue making a slick path before she gives the leaking slit of your cock another teasing, torturous swirl. "I want all of it."

At this rate, you think you could blow a load anywhere she wanted you to, already so close to bursting just at her tongue lavishing your cock with these feverish licks. She has this way of making you feel so special, like worshiping your cock is all that matters to her, your pleasure the most important aspect in her life. Her greedy mouth proves just that, making you groan so easily, especially when she dips down to pay attention to your balls and slurps so messily on them like she wants your load at any cost. 

A few lazy licks down your sack and you’re back down her throat—just trapped there helplessly as she holds you, her pretty mouth so goddamn overwhelming when she swallows as much of your length as she possibly can, not showing even the slightest hint of strain. Her full lips stay motionless when they slide right down to your base, gaze locked tight, making your cock throb within her tight, wet throat. 

“Stay there, Yewon, shit,” you groan, hands clutching her head against your crotch to speed up the path to climax. Each second she remains there feels like absolute heaven, fostering all this unbearable bliss, all while those doe eyes speak for her when her mouth can’t—impatiently waiting, desperately wanting to empty your balls. 

When she releases her lips from your length, there’s a sexy little gasp that comes with the messy string of saliva pulling her back down. Repeating the act, she plunges right back down, nose nestling comfortably against your abdomen, lips wrapped entirely around the base of your length. “Yewon, god, you know what’s gonna happen if you keep doing that.“ 

"Oh, you’re gonna cum? Want you to paint my pretty face. Don’t you, professor?” 

There’s no answer to offer other than what she wants, all thoughts drowned by another wet slurp when Arin once again takes every inch of you down her throat, the overwhelming warmth of her mouth suffocating your length. Then she rises, exposing your shaft to the cool air for only a moment until her throat tightens when you’re back down, fully sheathed. 

Arin’s so dedicated to hearing you moan that these steadfast strokes show no relent, slurping from base to tip, hair all a mess as she bobs faster and faster, maintaining never-ending eye contact that’ll be the death of you.

“Need it. Need it so bad, your hot cum dripping down my face when I walk back down these stairs. Can’t wait to feel how thick and heavy a load you’ll give me.” 

Her pace only begins to go into overdrive, picking up rampantly when Arin places her hands on your thighs for better stability, the hot slickness of her mouth far too much to handle. She takes every inch, all of you disappearing down, without needing to stop to take a breath, like she’s proving a point at how good she can get you off. There's no restraint as she bobs her head without inhibitions, sloppily, noisily, not even gagging when her throat delivers an unimaginable level of pleasure. 

"Oh my god, Yewon, fuck—"

With each desperate stroke, you're so close to that edge, quickly approaching the inevitable. The tightness in your balls grows beyond your control, and there’s no time to think straight when her mouth feels this fucking good, almost there, absolutely about to—

"I'm gonna fucking cum, Yewon," you groan out just in time, with no qualms about how needy you sound. One last slow descent down to your base, then Arin pops your needy shaft from her mouth right when it seems you’re about to burst any second. 

And looking as salacious as possible, she simply tilts her head slightly backwards, jerking you off while directing the tip of your cock straight at her face, eagerly anticipating the release that's about to cover her.

“Cum all over me, professor.” 

You let out a strained, guttural moan the moment your first pearlescent stream shoots out, streaking across the bridge of her nose. These frantic strokes don’t let up, guiding your milky seed that unloads onto the perfect target—her glasses, coating the lenses in white and getting it all over her rosy cheeks. Another strand fires off as she shifts your cock downwards, a thick stream blasting across her parted lips that deserve so much of this load for helping you reach an explosive release. 

She pumps, and pumps, until there’s nothing left, and by the time your orgasm winds down, Arin is a total mess, one you’ll never get tired of seeing your load plastered all over her. Her stunning features wear you like a proud smile, drenched in her handiwork, thick streaks that cling to her cheeks, those soft lips, and anywhere else it happens to land as she strokes your length to ensure not a drop goes to waste. 

That look is all too familiar when the weight of your load starts to drip down, an orgasmic feeling that brings a grin onto her cum-stained face.

“That’s a big load, professor. Just what I wanted," she says as she removes her stained glasses, taking a nice, long lick right over the lens and making a show of the entire thing. "I think I'm obsessed. With your cum. It tastes so good, but looks better on my face."

"Yewon—you're ridiculous, you know that?" you tell her as she carefully slips the glasses back on, and wipes up whatever has run off to the corners of her lips, bringing her sticky fingers into her own mouth to slurp them clean.

"It's not my fault my professor's cum tastes so good."

But before she can even begin to clean off your cock, or savor what an absolute mess she’s covered in, the sound of footsteps nearby force her to stop mid-stroke, causing both your heads to turn with a shared look of panic. There's only enough time to tuck yourself back into your pants, but there's nothing to do at all about this massive load that's dripping all over Arin, nor what’s done a number on the stairwell. 

"Get behind me, Yewon. Quick."

Arin nods and does as you say, scrambling to her feet, also making sure her thong is still tucked away into your pocket as you zip your pants up. The sounds of footsteps echo louder, yet there's only one real way to escape this stairwell, because you're not going out that door when the rain hasn't let up one bit. 

When the moment those footsteps approach the stairwell entrance, they slow to a halt, making your heart beat faster. Arin moves fast enough to get behind you just in time, out of sight and behind your broad frame. And the two of you wait there, her body pressed against yours, trying to hold her breath, dreading to explain yourself to whoever just made this abrupt end to your fun. 

"Professor? Is that you?" The voice sounds so familiar, but you can't quite pick it out, too muffled by the rain. But there's no doubt you've heard this voice before. It's certainly one of your students, so at least you won’t have to explain this to a faculty member. "What a surprise, seeing you here!"

Normally, you'd have all the time in the world for pleasantries and small talk, but this is the last place where you can do anything of the sort as you try to shield Arin. From who exactly, you have no idea as they walk into frame. Their name escapes you, not that you really care when all you want is to get out of this situation. 

"Is something the matter, professor? Why are you standing there?"

"Oh, uh, nothing. I had some time between classes and came up here to check out the rain. It's not letting up is it?" You put on the best smile possible, knowing Arin can't be spotted right behind you. Luckily, your taller frame can block her body completely, and given how the area is poorly lit, there isn't much worry about the mess that's on her face at the very least.

"No, it isn't. We don't usually get so much rain this time of year, huh?" The unnamed student asks as she glances out the window, and for a brief second you fear the worst—but she doesn't seem to notice anything at all that shouldn't be there. "I didn't even bring an umbrella today either..."

"You might check the library, they'll have them."

"The library?"

"They used to offer some a few months back, but I guess everyone forgot. I'm sure they still have a few left."

"I might give that a try then, thanks. It's good to see you, professor." 

When your student smiles and waves goodbye, heading back the stairs without another word, you're able to finally breathe a huge sigh of relief, knowing the ordeal is finally over, despite taking years off your life. "Jesus, Yewon."

"That was close.” Her own breath stays ragged and heavy, almost completely forgetful to the mess you've left on her face that still glistens. "Good save. Really pulled that umbrella story out of thin air, didn’t you?” 

“Whatever it takes. Hey, they might have umbrellas. I’ve never gone there except to rail you.” 

Arin laughs, then suddenly remembers she still has your filth all over her. “Better go clean up I guess..."

"This was a really terrible idea."

"Hey, this was my terrible idea," Arin corrects with a grin that manages to shine through all the mess. "And I don’t hear you complaining about me giving you a nice, sloppy blowjob, professor.” 

“I could never complain about seeing my favorite student on her knees.” 

“I'll go on ahead. Maybe I'll see you later? For office hours?"

You say nothing more as you let her pass you to head down the stairs first, standing here a bit longer for your heart rate to calm before you too make your exit. You've got a class in under an hour that you haven't prepared for, and now how could you, coming so close from potentially losing your job. But yet, somehow, through all that, Arin was right—the rush of getting caught is exhilarating, but that was far too close for comfort. 

✦ ✦

So after all that, logic would dictate that you should be a little more careful, that maybe you should stop having sex with your student in places you're bound to get caught—but logic went out the window the moment you bent Arin over your desk for the very first time. What else are you going to do though, take her home to your apartment where there's actual privacy, where you don't have to keep quiet?

That sounds so very drab and mundane, and you'd rather spend another ten hours grading papers than go the proper route. You don't even know what you would do if you wound up in Arin's bedsheets, having all the freedom to rail her for hours instead of the thrill of being in public where you have to be quick and quiet.

There's nothing wrong or unhealthy with this relationship. Not one bit. 

You've told yourself on multiple occasions that you should dial it down a notch, not meet quite so often, or at least not in places that will put your career at risk. After all, your luck is going to run out one of these days, and the day could very well come when more than just a student catches the two of you, maybe one of the other professors, or god forbid the university staff. 

And then it's all over for both of you. 

Yet, there isn't a day when you don't seek each other out, find some empty closet, a vacant faculty office, or that spot near the back of the library that's so dusty that no one frequents. 

The risk is almost as good as being balls deep inside Arin itself. 

You can't exactly help yourself when she wears these slutty little outfits that practically beg you to rip them off her, nothing but the shortest skirts imaginable to class, where you have to stop your eyes from wandering throughout the entirety of the lecture. 

Arin sits in the front row for a reason, and that's not to get a better view of the whiteboard. No, it's so she can spread her legs open when no one's paying attention, flash whatever sexy pair of panties she has underneath (or the lack thereof on occasion), and sometimes even play with herself so she can show off how wet she is. 

Somehow, no one's really noticed how often you have her in your office, where there's less talk about class going on, and more your head buried between her thighs, or having her bent over your desk in some obscene position with her mouth stuffed by her ruined underwear and screaming through it.

With everything that’s transpired today, one would think you’d call it early and pack up. Not you though. Not even an hour has gone by since your close call, and Arin is in your office again, sucking you off underneath your desk while you work on grading papers—at least you should be, if only you could focus for more than a few seconds without this warm mouth slobbering on your cock. 

"I bet none of your other students can deepthroat you as good as I can."

"You said you were going to be quiet."

"And you said you were going to fuck me, professor."

You haven't exactly broken that promise, it's more like Arin decided she wasn't going to wait until you finished, always finding an excuse to get in her favorite position whenever she wants to suck you off. 

Luckily, for your students, you're going to be in such a tremendous mood after finishing in this girl's hungry mouth. These papers are downright horrendous—so fucking awful and unreadable it makes you wonder if you should intentionally pound Arin in your office with the door wide open, just so you’ll get caught, lose your job, and never have to deal with some of these students ever again.

Not even a few papers in and you’ve lost every ounce of focus, groaning while Arin empties your balls, her mouth right at your base when your spills right down her throat. With your fingers gripping the back of her head, it's impossible to not avoid bucking your hips into her pretty, sloppy mouth as she drains each thick shot from your pulsing cock, swallowing it all with pride to make sure there's not a single trace of your creamy release that hasn't gone directly into her stomach. 

"All those students probably failed anyways," she tells you, letting the saliva fall from her lips as she shows off her empty mouth with a pleased smile, planting a nice, loud wet kiss on your tip before getting back up to her feet.

"Yeah? Including you?"

"Of course not, professor. We both know before you even look at my paper that I've got a perfect grade." 

"Is that so? And what have you done to deserve that, Yewon?" 

Before you've even gotten your pants back on properly, Arin is already claiming a spot on the edge of your desk, undoing her tie so that it hangs loosely around her neck, and then spreads those luscious thighs as wide apart as they can go, her gorgeous, dripping pussy on display without any underwear in the way. "I can think of a few things. Doesn't emptying you down my throat count for something?"

"Hm, I dunno,” you ponder, shamelessly staring between those delectable thighs at what’s all yours. “Maybe a few points. That'll get you a passing grade at best."

"Just a few? What about all the times I've ridden your cock this week alone, professor? And how many times did you cum inside me?"

"I've completely lost track, Yewon. I guess that'll get you at least ten percent higher."

"How generous of you," she retorts, tone all full with playful sarcasm, unbuttoning her white shirt enough so you can see the color of her bra. It's purple, just like the thong in your pocket that serves as a nice trophy. "Are you forgetting how many times I took your thick cock in my ass until you blew your load inside?"

"Does that really count if you beg me to do so every time you step in my office?"

"Oh no, you can't blame me for how much you love my ass, professor. That's at least twenty points."

"That's a little greedy, don't you think?"

"Absolutely not. If anything, I deserve extra for all those times I let you fuck my face," Arin suggests, spreading her legs further apart to give a clearer view of her bare cunt that’s glistening so beautifully, accompanied with a set of fingers teasing herself for your benefit. 

"Again, you're forgetting the part where you keep dropping down to your knees and begging for it."

Arin can't help but smile, both at knowing you're right—and also how you can't take your eyes off the show her fingers put on when she rubs at her clit, getting wet so easily from playing with herself while staring into your eyes. It's the look on your face that drives her crazy and gives her the urge to show off even more, sliding two digits past her swollen lips into her tight hole, so eager to get herself off in front of you. 

"What about now, profess—" she asks before a moan interrupts her words, leaning backwards to prop herself up so you can watch every bit as she fingers herself. "Does this count for anything?"

"It depends. If you can make yourself cum without my help, then maybe, that'll bump up your grade, Yewon."

"Twenty-five. For making myself cum right in your office," she manages between hitched breaths, pumping her fingers deep in and out, almost bucking her hips off the table at her own touch.

"Twenty. You're not there yet, Yewon," you correct, watching Arin roll her head back with her eyes shut, so beautiful when she's in bliss, achingly sexy how her slender fingers disappear knuckle deep into her own cunt. You've barely had any time to recover since emptying your load down her throat just a minute ago, but the mere sight is more than enough to have you as hard as the wooden desk she’s writhing on. 

Arin reaches down to further unbutton her shirt, giving the full glimpse of her breasts covered up in that pretty lace as her tight frame falls back against the cold surface all splayed out. While this shameless girl continues fingering her pussy, you simply enjoy the view, stroking your cock every few seconds to spur her on. Every desperate moan and gasp from her lips gets louder, all that nectar trickling down between her spread thighs you’re dying to lick clean—but you won’t, because she has to do this on her own. 

You let the lack of words exchanged linger in the air while Arin fingers herself a bit rougher, moving a bit more frantic, knowing all the signs from experience that she isn't too far from that much craved release. 

“Professor," Arin breathes out, the quiver in her voice an obvious indication. Her fingers get so drenched, pulling them out from her heat for a moment to reveal how sticky wet they are as she groans, not bothering to hide how she slides them back in to curl right into herself. "Oh god, professor—“ 

When the pleasure becomes too much, when her back arches off the desk with breathless cries, there's no missing the split second Arin's entire body tenses up—thighs quivering, fingers buried so deep you can hear the wetness while she shakes on the desk from the intensity of her orgasm. It's a moment of euphoria that's only reached because you're watching so attentively, eyes glued the entire time as she rides her fingers long past completion, toes curling, moans echoing through your small office.

Even when Arin is finished, she's unable to regain her composure for more than a few ragged breaths, eyes still closed while the bliss hits hard, long after her high. And you savor every second of her looking so beautiful in this post-climax haze, an absolute mess on your desk that you’re thankful hasn't soaked into your papers.

"Fuck, that was too good, professor," Arin murmurs, slowly pulling her fingers out from herself, just to rub her oversensitive clit, borderline crying from the overstimulation. “It’s too bad it wasn’t your cock I came on.” 

"Then maybe I should deduct points for that?"

"Hey, that's not fair… you just told me—I’d get points for making myself cum."

"I did, but—you would have earned extra for waiting for me to do it. Guess you'll just have to earn back those points another way."

"How exactly should I do that, professor?" Arin asks with the best faux ignorance possible, sitting herself up to scoot off the desk, then leaning down to wrap her slick fingers around your shaft. "If you bend me over and pound me with this cock until your cum is leaking inside me, would that be enough?"

"Perhaps. That would certainly help raise your grade some points.” 

"Give it all to me then," she pleads, giving your cock a handful of languid strokes, just enough to leave a nice trail of her slick along the entire length. "Fuck a load into me, professor. Fuck your top student all over this office."

"Top student? Really?" You can't help but laugh at that, knowing full well Arin is certainly anything but. Far from it actually, not even top ten. "Then I better go find her then."

"Hey! Just shut up and give it to me already," Arin says with that pout still intact, keeping these strokes going on your cock that make you throb so easily, and you’re not sure who needs it more at this point. 

"Fine, but not here. I'm tired of this place. Let's go somewhere else."

It's rather late into the afternoon, with the majority of classes for the day having ended already. That leaves enough of the campus vacant, lowering the risk of getting caught wherever you decide to take Arin—but the risk still isn't zero. Wandering around the university after hours isn't the best idea, especially when there are plenty of places for students to hang out, and worse, faculty offices open late.

So you keep it simple. 

You keep several feet ahead of each other, heading up a couple floors to that really small bathroom by the science department that no one ever uses because it doesn't lock properly. There are much bigger and better bathrooms scattered about, so everyone usually forgets this tiny, shabby thing exists, especially late into the day. Not the most romantic spot, but it’s suitable, and keeps you from scouring the halls without having to dodge other faculty and students. 

You enter first, flicking on the light, and do a quick scan around the room while Arin slips in, pulling the door shut as quickly as possible. There's nothing but a toilet, a sink, and a mirror, but most importantly it looks clean, which is the most important thing. It's not that surprising given that nobody really uses it to begin with.

It’s as perfect a place as ever. 

Double checking the lock still doesn't work, nothing has changed on that front. Arin quickly moves to lean against the wall, and she’s already unbuttoning her shirt, all the way this time, to give the full view of those perky breasts without any bra to ruin the view. You're on her in a flash, claiming those lips with a kiss full of nothing but aggression to match just how badly you want to ruin this girl right now.

"Fuck me," Arin urges as she palms your bulge through your pants, impatient to get your cock inside of her. Her fingers fumble with the button to your pants, thoughts clouded with desire, and she’s so eager to release your aching shaft, to give it all the attention it so desperately craves.

You’ve got just a modicum of patience left to not let that happen quite yet.

Instead, with your lips still attached, you pick Arin’s slender frame off the ground, and guide her over to the sink, placing her there as gently as you can. When she settles down on the edge of the counter, there's no hesitation to shove that tiny skirt up past her waist, revealing her absolutely beautiful cunt still left glistening in the aftermath of her orgasm from a moment earlier, and you're just dying to fill her all up. 

Still, somehow you hold back for a moment, to let it all sink in. The sight is divine enough, this privileged student of yours in this rather pathetic excuse for a school uniform, half naked, shirt wide open with her tits fully out, that barely-there skirt, and those sexy thigh highs that bring all the attention to her immaculate thighs that make you want to ruin her even faster. She knows that’s your biggest weakness, knows how weak in the knees they leave you whenever you get to slide them off with your teeth—but now they make her look like pure sin. 

"I know you wanna get that dick in me," she says, voice so sultry, and her thighs spread obscenely wide apart, so that every inch of her mouthwatering cunt is put on display with not a drop of modesty—not like Arin even knows what that word is. 

"Not yet. Haven't gotten to taste you today." As per usual, Arin’s been more than a little greedy, and it feels like she’s had her lips on your cock all day and this is the first opportunity to return the favor. 

Any protest in those pretty eyes doesn't last when her hands wrap around your skull, drawing your face straight between her thighs that you have no trouble diving into. With your lips feasting on her cunt right off the bat, you give Arin all the attention she craves so badly, licking along the length of her slit, all the way up until your tongue starts flicking at her engorged clit. 

"God, so fucking good," Arin breathes out, the silence in the empty bathroom getting cut with all her beautiful moans that ring out. For your efforts, you’re rewarded by her thighs locking around your head, as your lips get a tight seal around her swollen clit that has her grinding that delicious cunt all over your mouth. 

"Professor!" she chokes out, while continuing this harsh grip on the back of your head while you slurp on her clit so mercilessly, every bit hungry to taste all those delicious juices that spill out. "Oh my god, professor, oh fuck!"

Your mouth doesn't quit, because nobody tastes better than Arin. You're an addict, every bit obsessed with this girl's cunt since the first time that you slid between these thighs. There's nothing you love more than this, her taste lingering on your tongue, all while these delicious thighs squeeze around your head, suffocating you perfectly as you eat her out with so much fervor she almost can't handle how good you make her feel.

"My god, Yewon—you taste so fucking delicious," you tell her between long licks, slurping on her clit without restraint to savor every last bit of her soaking cunt. "I can eat your pretty pussy all day. For hours and hours."

"I won't say no to that, professor.” Her desperate hands dig into your scalp to hold your face right there, exactly where she wants, where she needs, gasping when her hips grind down against you. "Fuck, your tongue is so, so good."

This is your favorite part about going down on her, being trapped between those perfect thighs that squeeze and tremble while you sloppily eat her out, drowning in her heavenly aroma and all this nectar, her delicious pussy that tastes even better the longer you indulge. 

It's never enough though, no matter how much time you get to spend with your tongue buried inside her cunt, or how many times she cums all over your face—the taste of her is heaven, and you love turning this girl into nothing more than a whimpering, quivering mess who can’t even think straight. 

"Just like that, professor, fuck, don't stop, oh my god, don't fucking stop, please—“

She whines so freely while grinding down hard against your hungry lips you can hardly breathe. Not that you have any problem about that, because you know exactly where Arin is, can feel those thighs vibrate all around you to know those limits are about to be surpassed, and you don't plan to let up for even a moment.

You ramp up your efforts in devouring her cunt without a moment to rest, your tongue all over her clit, sucking so harshly, so relentlessly, drowning in these delicious juices. It’s obvious how Arin's hips can't stay steady for a second longer, seconds from losing herself entirely. "Professor! Fuck, I'm so fucking close. Keep going, keep—oh fuck, right there, I'm gonna cum so fucking hard, fuck—"

Arin bucks her hips into your face with wild abandon, her juices smearing across your lips when you bring her to the verge of release, until she finally topples over completely. 

Everything goes muffled while she keeps her thighs squeezed tightly around your head, violently trembling throughout her orgasm as you lick her through the entire thing. Like every other time you've brought her over that blissful edge, it's beautiful, turning your face into a mess, and you greedily lap up everything that freely spills into your mouth from her overflowing cunt. 

When those thighs let off and relax, you look up at Arin's blissed out visage, completely enamored in the pleasure, shivering and trembling with a high-pitched squeal as you give her clit one more loud slurp for good measure. Your focus then shifts back to her messy folds, delving deep into them to clean up those juices she's gushing so profusely, a never ending stream of wet, sticky deliciousness. 

"Fuck, your cunt always tastes so amazing," you mutter, lapping at the girl's slick covered thighs, getting out every drop that leaks out with a few soft licks. Arin stays motionless on the counter, looking straight up to the ceiling while her chest heaves, still seeing stars.

After indulging a little while longer, and spending all the time necessary getting those warm thighs mostly clean, there's only one thing left to do. Your mouth pulls away, but only so you can yank your pants down to your ankles, your stiff cock aching to get inside of her. 

"Gonna fucking ruin you, Yewon. Hope you’re ready for me to wreck that tight little cunt."

"When am I not? Please, give it to me already," Arin desperately pleads, pulling herself from her haze to look at the throbbing length you're stroking as her eyes beg you to sink in and fill her up. 

Sitting herself up on the sink, she keeps herself propped up with her hands planted behind her body, spreading her thighs apart as far as possible, with her wet cunt presented so lewdly and invitingly. "Shove that dick right in me, professor. Give it to me as hard as you can."

Without another thought wasted, you slowly guide the swollen tip of your cock past those drenched lower lips, groaning unabashedly when all this slippery warmth welcomes you deep inside. It's far too easy, how you slide into her, walls so dripping with arousal that allow this ache to dissipate when you effortlessly impale Arin all the way, right to the hilt.

"My god, Yewon, fucking love this tight pussy," you groan as her walls clamp down, holding you right inside that delicious grip with no plans to release you. 

She's so soaking wet when you start pounding away inside, each thrust coated in all those messy juices as your cock bottoms out every time. Your deep strokes make full use of her open shirt, causing her modest breasts to bounce as her back hits the mirror with each hard slam. Arin clenches around you with such an unyielding grip as you pump in and out, loving how rough you are, how forceful your hips are, moaning louder and louder, still sensitive from the previous release. 

“And I love being stretched on your huge fucking cock.”

There's not an ounce of mercy in your thrusts, just pure carnal lust taking hold. Her wet folds remain parted, taking the full length of your pounding shaft, every last inch driving into that slick little cunt without restraint. You take advantage of how her legs drape over the sink, grabbing her thighs, spreading them to give you more leverage to angle your thrusts deeper, and she kicks her heels off to give you even more control, allowing you to use her body however you please.

"It feels so good, professor," she says, while each thrust stays rough and deliberate, buried to the hilt in her wetness. "This cock of yours—is so perfect."

"That's because your cunt is made for it," you groan, sweat forming on her skin under your grip as your hips slam against her. It's absolute bliss, watching the way her entire body responds each time you sink in, hearing her soft whines that she’s unable to hold any back while getting fucked so mercilessly over this counter top. "You take my cock so well."

"Of course I do," she insists, the biggest grin on her face that gets interrupted with more moans. "I'm the professor's favorite student, after all."

"But definitely the worst one," you fire back, fingertips digging hard into her bare thighs all wrapped up in these sexy thigh high stockings as they jiggle with every relentless thrust.

"So—how many points is this?" Arin asks, bracing herself against the mirror when you pound into her even harder, every inch of your cock covered in her sweet essence.

"As many as you fucking want, Yewon."

"Then make it a thousand. I can use them on the next assignment, right?"

"Use them on whatever you want, the final exam even. So long as I get to cum inside you."

"Of course, professor. Fill me all the way up. Cum inside me as much as you fucking want," she says, and those tits bounce more hypnotically every time you pick up the pace, slamming deeper with more force each time. After every plunge balls deep, that tightness becomes more overwhelming, urging you to give your all, as if the sight of her all sprawled out and creaming on your cock isn't enough already. 

It's merciless. And your hips start to reach their limit, but Arin's desperate cries of pleasure become so loud, that she has no choice but to muffle herself with her hand, almost forgetting that this seldom used bathroom is still right by the science lab—and anyone could be lingering around. 

"Fucking fill me, professor. Empty your balls. Just keep—oh god, fuck, fuck," Arin whimpers, the limits of her body creeping up fast as your cock pistons so harshly in and out of her hot cunt. "Wanna milk every last drop right out of you, make you cum so fucking hard."

"Only if you’re good and cum on this cock, Yewon. Cum all over me, and I'll fucking fill this cunt up."

"Yes, god, yes," she says, practically falling back against the mirror while you brutally hammer into her at full force. She barely keeps the coherence when it all peaks, when you feel those impossibly tight walls clenching around your cock, borderline painful, forcing you to use every ounce of strength to not burst inside her just yet. 

"Fuck, professor, this dick is so amazing—I'm gonna cum all over it, all over your fucking huge cock," Arin says as her pussy squeezes the life out of your cock with every impale in that wet, intoxicating heat. A flood of her fluids almost forces you out, an absolute mess that drowns your shaft in slick rips through her body without any care, and all you can do is fuck her through it. 

Even when her orgasm subsides, and she somehow becomes tighter, wetter, easier to sink into, you don't show any remorse while fucking her tight pussy until you can't possibly hold on any further. 

"You're close, aren't you, professor?" Arin gasps between collecting her breath as the pleasure begins to fade, watching the struggle you're going through to hold it back. "I know you are. Please, let me have all that cum. Blow your fucking load in me, let it all out." 

That's all you need to be shoved straight over the edge, taking a few final strokes before that pressure builds up to a boiling point, and nothing’s going to stop you when you’re about to burst. “Yewon—“ 

Her name barely escapes before you’re throbbing, letting out all types of lustful grunts while her pussy smothers you in  warmth, offering the best place for such a messy release of seed that shoots out, coating her insides the way she begs for. 

Your cock violently pulsates until you’re left with nothing but orgasmic relief, unloading shot after shot deep inside Arin with the thickest spurts imaginable that empty into her warm little pussy. These tight, tight walls take every drop, welcoming such a huge load that’s even somehow stronger than what her mouth did to you earlier.  

There’s no way you could do anything else with how delicious she looks on this bathroom counter. With whatever remnants of energy are left, you use all the power in your hips until they lose steam, remaining inside her euphoric cunt that refuses to relinquish you. You ride out wave after wave, each spasm pumping more cum into her, all this intoxicating bliss that feels like it’ll never end. 

And truly, both of you wish it never would. 

“Professor…” Arin can barely speak between breaths, riding this collective high that fills the room with heavy panting, and sweat glistens on whatever bare skin her revealing outfit offers. You’re right there with her, caressing her thighs, her messy cunt wringing out as much out of you as possible, like it doesn’t want your cock to escape, even after your entire load is buried inside that delicious warmth. 

“Came so hard on you, professor, fuck... I love the way your cum feels when you push it deeper, all the way into my womb. Wanna keep it all here until you’re ready for round two.” 

"You're fucking insatiable, Yewon," you sigh, dropping Arin's legs back onto the counter, which relinquishes the intense grip you’ve held, allowing her body a chance to relax. When your breathing returns to something somewhat stable, you lean over to give her a tired kiss, one that’s easily returned with whatever remaining energy she has. 

“Can you blame me when your dick is this good? It’s only your fault I turned into such a greedy little cumslut.” 

“Or maybe you were already like that before I even met you…"

"Yeah. Maybe."

Arin looks away as she starts to giggle, giving you a perfect chance to kiss that exposed cheek. When she glances back, you share an impossibly long stare, one that goes on far too long without words until you lean in for another kiss—

One that gets interrupted by a knock at the door. 

"Hello? Is anyone there? Custodial services, I'm here to clean up." 

You must have angered some kind of god for this to happen two times in one day. Even worse, there’s no easy way out of this while you're still buried inside Arin, the least of your concerns as this creamy mess threatens to spill out. 

"I, uh—need a moment. Spilled something on my shirt that won't come out. Be out in a bit," you blurt out, barely thinking while you look around at the poor bathroom that's been defiled. Arin can't help herself, covering her mouth to help from not immediately bursting into laughter as she fumbles to button back up her shirt. 

“You’re such a bad liar,” Arin whispers, but you just roll your eyes at her, glancing over the sweat on her body that you’d no doubt be licking clean were the two of you not nervously waiting to see if this unfamiliar man outside will buy your story.

"No problem, sir. Take your time, I'll be back after.” The janitor shuffles his feet, and you listen carefully, wondering just how obvious the two of you were being. When you can no longer hear footsteps, you release the longest sigh, and slowly pull out of Arin, along with an utterly unreal amount of hot semen that spills out. 

"Can't believe he bought that," Arin sighs while hopping off the counter, where more of your cum gushes out as soon as she stands up. "Can't believe you came so much inside me, either."

"If I recall, you were quite literally begging me not to stop."

"No need to be smug about it, professor."

Arin does her best to look presentable in the mirror and fix her disheveled hair, shirt only half buttoned, and skirt a complete mess, but it all seems so futile. There's no real way to hide how she looks after getting railed over the sink relentlessly, or the cum still dripping all over her thighs that she doesn't even bother to clean up. 

"We should get out of here before he comes back," Arin says after giving her appearance a once-over, making any minor adjustment to try and fix how ruined she looks. "Shall I leave first, professor?"

The question has only one obvious answer, but you still can't form your lips properly to speak it. "Not so fast, Miss Choi."

"Oh? Am I forgetting something?" Arin asks while running fingers through her hair again. You step towards her, pressing into her back to wrap your arms around her tiny frame before planting a kiss on the side of her neck.

"Yeah—me. You're not leaving this room without me."

You notice her grin in the mirror as your lips graze her skin again, nipping right on that sensitive spot that makes her gasp. 

"Don't tell me you're wanting to go again. After we almost got caught. Again—"

"No, not yet," you say between kisses, drawing closer and closer up her neck. "Need a little bit more rest for that."

"You poor thing. Did my pussy wear you out that much, professor?"

"You can barely stand upright as it is," you retort, taking your mouth away from her neck for a moment. Arin stifles a laugh that turns into a moan when your hand creeps up her skirt to touch her dripping folds still leaking your cum. "You need this a lot more than I do."

"Is that so? Well—fuck," Arin moans, unable to hide her body betraying her words as she grips the edge of the counter when two of your fingers slide into her without warning, pushing a mixture of her nectar and the load you pumped inside deep into her messy cunt. 

"It's too bad I can't continue this," you say, and withdraw those fingers from Arin's clenching pussy that so desperately tries to keep them in to no avail. "Let's get out of here. But you're not leaving my side."

"If you insist, professor." Arin has no further words, fixing up her skirt while so much thick seed oozes beneath. "But isn't it a little risky to leave together?"

"Probably. But besides, even if somebody does see us, so what? There's not much they can do about it even if they can already tell what just happened. And what are you always saying—how much you love the risk?"

"Guess I'm rubbing off on you, hmm?"

"Not a chance, Miss Choi," you correct, causing that grin across her face to grow wider. "I'm just tired of sneaking around so much."

"Me too, professor." 

You turn to leave, opening the bathroom door to poke your head around the corner. Luckily, there doesn't seem to be anyone around, only a couple of students you don't recognize standing nearby chatting, paying no mind as you and Arin sneak out successfully together.

“Where are we headed?” asks Arin as she settles in right next to you, something that's going to take getting used to. 

"Dunno. Cafeteria is still open. Guess we can head there first."

"Not if it's still raining. It's a bit of a trek, isn't it?" 

"My car's right out front. And if we so happen to take a little detour..." 

"Now who's being insatiable, professor?" she asks, with this little teasing giggle in her voice. 

“What? Who said I planned on doing anything with you other than grabbing some dinner? You know, I don't think you've had anything in your mouth today but my—"

"Professor!" Arin's not used to your conversation being this open, or being on the opposite side of being so flustered. "Save it for when we're not outside! Or better, the back seat. With the doors locked, preferably."

"As you wish, Miss Choi. Besides, but there's nothing I rather eat than your—"

She desperately covers your mouth to stop any further words from escaping as you head to the parking lot, surprised to see there's nothing but abundant sunshine now. Even more surprising is the fact nobody looks twice as the two of you walk together. Maybe it's luck, or maybe everybody here knows damn well what happens on campus between you two. 

And maybe you'll stop sneaking around campus every day, finding just enough time to spend the last half of your lunch hour buried between Arin’s thighs while she tries to hold her moans. 

But maybe you won't. 

#kpop smut #reader insert #arin smut #oh my girl smut #girl group smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #kpop fanfiction

[formosusiniquis]

any cosmo girl would have known

“Oh she did it for sure.”

“Steve!”

“Ten bucks, Bobert, don't give me that look last time we agreed double or nothing.”

“No,” Nancy insists. “This isn't Murder, She Wrote or Scooby-Doo or Columbo-”

“You saw who did it in Columbo at the beginning,” Eddie reminds.

“I know it's an awful show.”

Robin and Steve remain in sync enough to each get a hand on his shoulder to keep him from getting on the coffee table to defend the only good cop show in existence.

“I'm only pointing out,” she rewinds the VHS taking it back the two or three minutes they'd talked over before stopping it completely, “that this is a movie, not a drama with a repeated format that Steve can pattern recognition into predicting.”

“You haven't seen it already, right?” Robin asks. “The one rule of Monthly Middle-Aged Movie Night is you have to pick a movie none of us have seen.”

“No, I haven't seen it already. If you'll all remember when I asked you each to go see it with me I got,” he points to each of them in turn. “‘Wouldn't you rather see Tomb Raider?’ from double VHS, prestige cinephile and ‘That's too much pink for me, baby, you know I have that intolerance, maybe Rob or Nance will go?’ from my emo-isn’t-a-phase husband. And ‘I'm a little busy with this new story, Steve,’ from Nancy, the only one of you with a real excuse.”

“Some feminist you are, Birdie.”

“I don't want to hear it from you. I watched two of the blandest men alive pursue Renee Zellweger while the screen writers tried to convince us she was homely because you ‘forgot’ you had band practice.”

“You said you liked it!”

“It grew on me, but sometimes you just want to see a woman in a tank top. And I won't be shamed by the same man who cried during Beauty and the Beast.”

“I went with my sweet baby Lucy Joan, you miserable hag,” Eddie says, “and they turned that hot werewolf into a boring looking man.”

“You weren't into that? Look at who-”

“Why am I getting made fun of? Can we finish the movie?”

“No, I'm not going to let this be another Sixth Sense situation,” Nancy says, holding the remote hostage, she knows no one will try to take it from her.

“Ugh don't even bring that up,” Eddie groans, “Dustin still mentions it in at least one letter a year.”

Nancy nods, prim and proper, “Exactly, so tell us right now why you think she did it, then we'll play it again.”

“Chutney, the daughter,” Steve corrects, “have you even been paying attention? Her hair's permed.”

“And press play,” Eddie shouts.

“No,” Robin smacks his hands as he makes his ballsy play to reach around her for the remote. “Show your work, Dingus, even I didn't follow that one.”

“I don't always like the movies everyone else picks but I at least watch them. Her hair is permed, she said she was in the shower. She would have had to have been washing her hair if she didn't hear the gunshot and she has a perm.”

“You can wash your hair with a perm,” Nancy points out.

“You would know.” Eddie snarks, fingering the ends of his own hair.

“You can't wash a fresh perm, you'll fuck up the ammonium thioglycolate. Then you're out forty bucks and you've got limp hair. She killed her dad and lied about being in the shower.”

“Press play,” Eddie decrees again, leaning in close to Steve's side to purr, “it's pretty sexy when you go all hair care detective.”

His hand starts to slip below the blanket. “This is how we ended up with Lucy in the first place,” Steve reminds him, just under the sounds of the courtroom drama picking back up. It doesn’t stop Eddie’s hand from wandering until the movie’s climax starts getting closer, and Eddie’s attention is captured just like Robin’s and Nancy’s.

“Unbelievable,” Robin says, when Elle cites the perm salt.

“Never again,” Nancy swears, when Chutney screams her confession.

“Lucy’s been asking for a brother or sister,” Eddie flirts, as Elle reveals that any good Cosmo girl could have solved it.

No more movies with mysteries or twist endings for a while, they all agree, Robin can’t afford to keep betting against Steve.

#steddie #established steddie #fruity four #my fic #steve harrington #platonic stobin #this is not a modern au these are some middle aged adults now #it is 2001 and my dudes have to carefully schedule their hangouts #anyway i think steve the hair harrington would also make the elle woods solve #theyre the same flavor of autistic if were dipping into some personal hcs but thats not important #what is important is steve has the oh he did it accidentally predicts the bad guy of every movie ever nd skill #love that for him #unimportant to the narrative but lucy is definitely the steddie bio kid this is a transmasc eddie fic secretly #so anyway enjoy this barely edited ficlet i churned out in an hour

[jewish-sideblog]

hey, so im Palestinian and a strong activist for my people's liberation. i wanted to ask for some info/advice on avoiding antisemitism in my activism for Palestine. im on anon bc i don't want to be called a racefaker for caring about Jewish ppl. i know antisemitism is on the rise right now (and generally over the past few years) and i want to make sure i'm not unintentionally contributing to it.

Hey there! I wanted to start by genuinely thanking you for asking this question. Partially because I don't actually get any well-intentioned or helpful questions in my inbox anymore, but also because I understand the amount of bravery it takes to reach out with a question like that at a time like this.

Next, I want to apologize to all my followers who hate long posts. Judaism is a very complicated ethnoreligious group, antisemitism is a very complicated form of bigotry, and the Israeli/Palestinian conflict is arguably the most complicated international issue that has ever existed. I'm going to try to go through everything as succinctly as possible below the cut-- I am also going to ask other Jews to contribute to and make edits to this list as needed.

And finally-- I'm writing this as though I were speaking to someone with very little knowledge of the subject. I understand that as a Palestinian, you probably know a lot about what's going on here. But I want to make sure that I'm covering bases for anybody else who might need to use this post. So if you're like, Yeah, Obviously I Knew That. Please remember that a fuckton of people on tumblr are engaging in Israeli criticism without obviously knowing that.

There are two primary forms of antisemitism in anti-Zionist spaces-- antisemitic conspiracy theory, and criticism of Israel that no other country receives. The first kind is the easiest kind to pick out, and it makes a nice bulleted list, so we'll start there.

Dual Loyalty. A global stereotype that has skyrocketed since the establishment of Israel, but it's been around for a lot longer than that. Simply put, it's the idea that Jews are more loyal to Israel (or some global secret kabal) than we are to the countries we currently reside in. With I/P, it manifests as the idea that All Jews are directly responsible for Israel or the idea that All Jews secretly support Israel. If you see a Jew who isn't directly engaging in I/P topics, don't ask them what their stance is. Plenty of us have never even been to Israel, and it's fucked up to assume that we're all experts in geopolitics.

The Holocaust was a Fabrication or a Lesson. The idea that Jews made up the Shoah has been around since the Shoah was still happening, and it's always been ridiculous. Today, you'll see three primary lines about this. Either it's that Jews made up the Shoah as an excuse to establish Israel, that the Jews deserved the Shoah because of what's happening in Israel today, or that the Jews "should have learned their lesson from the Holocaust" because now Jews are "the new Nazis". Frankly, I wish goyim would stop treating the deaths of millions of Jews like a TV show. Palestinian deaths are genuinely horrible, but this isn't some kind of "narrative parallel" to the Shoah.

The Kazars Theory, or All Jews are White. This is the DNA test nonsense. The idea is that Israel (or Jews at large) are only pretending to be indigenous to the Levant and that secretly Jews as a whole are actually indigenous to Eastern Europe. It's a lie, started by a German professor of Russian history in the early 1800s. Meanwhile, the vast majority of genetic, historical, and archaeological evidence points to Jewish origins in the Israeli/Palestinian region. There have been literal hundreds of genetic studies on this. Most of them suggest that Jews, even "white" Ashkenazim, are nearly genetically identical to Palestinians.

World Domination. The idea that Jews control the world began with the Protocols of the Elders of Zion in 1903. If you're encountering criticism of Israel that suggests that world governments, particularly European or American ones, are being controlled by Jews, you've got yourself antisemitism. White supremacists like to use the term "Zionist Occupied Government" or "ZOG" as shorthand for this conspiracy. The next two points are born out of this same ideology.

Controlling the Media. The idea that Jews are in charge of Hollywood and/or major news organizations around the world. Regarding I/P, I've seen a bunch of people say something like "Western media outlets won't cover this! (Because you know who controls them!)" only to look online and see... Western media outlets covering it. See also: "My source is tiktok! I don't trust the news!" While it's obviously a fair criticism to say that some Western news outlets certainly have a pro-Israel and anti-Palestinian bias, it's certainly not every single one of them. Reuters and the AP are once again my go-to's here.

Controlling the Financial World. I haven't actually seen this come up regarding I/P, but considering how things have been going, it's only a matter of time. We don't control the banks. We don't control the stock market. We're not in charge of American aid being sent to Israel. HaShem knows that if we controlled all the money, I'd certainly be living larger than I am now...

Those Bloodthirsty Jews. This one arguably started with Blood Libel in the 1100s, when Christians started accusing us of stealing and eating their babies. Straight up, I have met Christians who still believe this in 2023. You see this a lot with I/P-- the Al Ahli Hospital is the biggest example. More than a month later, most reliable intelligence organizations agree that a misfired Hamas rocket landed in a parking lot, killing about 100 people. But a ton of people are still saying that Those Bloodthirsty Jews intentionally bombed the hospital dead on, killing 470 people. I want to be clear-- Israel is killing a lot of civilians. But if you see a bandwagon of people focusing on the one group of deaths that Israel probably actually didn't cause? Consider why.

Causing wars, revolutions, and calamities. Hamas has straight-up got this one in their founding charter. No, the Jews are not responsible for any major global conflicts, revolutions, or counter-revolutions that don't directly involve Israel. We didn't do WWII. We didn't do the October Revolution. See above-- we're not secretly plotting massacres on Shabbat. A lot of people are saying that Netanyahu and Likud let Hamas in to justify the invasion of Gaza... I'd be shocked if that was the case. All evidence points to a classic intelligence failure. We're not orchestrating bloodbaths.

Section 2: Criticisms only levelled at Israel

It's important to recognise that Israeli civilians are no more collectively responsible for the actions of the Likud coalition than Palestinians are collectively responsible for the actions of Hamas. No Palestinian deserves to be stripped of their rights to self-determination in their ancestral lands because of the October 7th attack. Likewise, no Chinese person deserves to be displaced from China because of the CCP's human rights violations in Tibet, Uyghur and Hong Kong. No Russian person deserves to be ethnically cleansed from Russia because of the Kremlin's invasion of Ukraine. But plenty of people do believe that Jews should be stripped of their rights to self-determination in historically Jewish indigenous lands because of the actions of the Israeli government.

After October 7th, I've seen people argue that Israeli babies deserved to be kidnapped because of their national origin. I've seen people argue that Israeli women deserved to be sexually abused because of their nation of origin. I've seen people argue that the seven million Jews living in their ancestral homeland deserve death or displacement because of their nation of origin. Justifying or allowing brutal harm against people because of their national origin is hateful.

I want to make this part very clear-- I do not have an issue with calling out Israeli war crimes or crimes against humanity. But I do have an issue with treating Jewish civilians differently than civilians of other nations responsible for similar horrors. Amplifying bias against a particular group because of that group's nation of origin is called bigotry. Taking a stand against Israeli settlements in the West Bank is anti-Zionism. Collectivizing the label of "white colonialism", and forcing that label upon refugees forced to move to Israel, or Mizrahim with uninterrupted 8,000-year histories in Israel, is antisemitism.

Part 3: Moving Forward

So where do we go from here? If advocating for the destruction of Israel is advocating for the elimination of Jewish self-determination in our ancestral lands, but advocating in favour of the Israeli government is advocating for the elimination of Palestinian self-determination in your ancestral lands, then we must find some middle ground. A solution that allows seven million Jews and five-and-a-half-million Arabs to share the same holy land, without fear of persecution, displacement, or death. For me, this means a few things.

First of all, the recognition that most Israelis disagree with Netanyahu's approach to Palestine, and most Palestinians disagree with Hamas's approach to Israel. And that brings up a question-- why are Likud and Hamas in charge of Israel and Gaza respectively if most people disagree with them? Without getting into the complicated intricacies of the Knesset and the PNA on an already very long post (and without explaining your own government to you), the simple answer is international funds.

Israeli crimes against Palestinians are bankrolled by American Evangelical Christians, who believe that when Palestine is gone, all the Jews will go to Israel, and Jesus will come back to kill the world's infidels. They actually fucking believe that. Meanwhile, Hamas is bankrolled by Iran, which believes that the more often Jews and Sunni Muslims kill each other, the easier it will be for Iranian Shiite Jihad to take over the world. They actually fucking believe that.

So what steps can we take during our advocacy? Not for the destruction of Israel nor the destruction of Palestine, but for America and Iran to get their noses out of our damn business. I genuinely believe that a defunded Likud and a defunded Hamas will allow Israelis and Palestinians to work together for a peaceful two-state or joint-rule solution. Something that will keep my Palestinian friends from feeling like they can't safely travel from Jaffa to Tel Aviv. Something that will allow my Jewish family to visit and pray at the Cenotaphs of Isaac and Rebecca and the Temple Mount. Something that will let Israeli children from Kibbutz Nirim and Palestinian children from Khan Yunis play on the same playgrounds together, instead of sheltering from missile fire.

Frankly, we nearly had that when the Supreme Muslim Council and the Assembly of Representatives began collaborating against the British Mandate instead of against each other. Clearly, it's possible, we just need to stop being pitted against each other by foreign powers.

[beanghostprincess]

Rayleigh and Buggy reunion, but Rayleigh is being over the top judgemental about everything, like idk if u are familiar with crazy ex girlfriend the TV show but Rayleigh shows up and acts exactly like Rebecca's mom does. Overcritical of his life choices and dismissive of what he perceives as excuses coming from Buggy, because he knows Buggy's true potential and is annoyed with Buggy not living up to it. He gives Crocodile a once over and goes "is that what you found to replace Shanks with" and moves on and Crocodile doesn't even have a moment to compute the way he was just insulted because Rayleigh has moved on to criticising Mihawk's cooking instead. Worst part is, this all comes from a genuine place of love and care, Rayleigh is legitimately worried sick about his baby clown son of 39 years, but he cannot express that worry without being extremely invasive about everything. Buggy isn't even responding, he just shoots ppl apologetic looks and rolls his eyes when Rayleigh isn't looking because of course he does this obviously Buggy is never good enough for him and Shanks had always been the favourite (you ask Shanks or any other Roger pirate and they will tell you that Buggy is Rayleigh's baby boy and absolute favourite with utmost confidence, too bad the emotional constipation runs in the crew). Dinner is awkward as fuck, because Rayleigh makes attempts at being easygoing but his motherhenning nature irt Buggy shines through, his conviction that Buggy would be happier with Shanks by his side is making him be overcritical of everyone in that dinner and he keeps discussing the good old days and subtly hinting at Buggy that there is still time for him to go back to Shanks....and Buggy looks close to frustrated tears (and everyone agrees, Crocodile has snapped 5 cigars in half with his teeth and Mihawk is 5 seconds away from banging his head on the table).

Just overbearing father Rayleigh being stifling and trying to overcompensate for his shit parenting choices during Buggy's childhood and Buggy having his daddy issues expanded upon (and Crocodile and Mihawk gaining insight to Buggy's entire deal)

"Idk if u are familiar with crazy ex girlfriend the TV sho-" My therapist literally told me to stop watching it so much because it was affecting my mental health. So. Yes. I know the show. It's one of my favorite shows EVER. Rebecca is just like me fr my beloved. All of them my beloveds. The songs my beloveds. Don't make me go into CEG x OP because I won't finish. And as you can see, I did not listen to my therapist.

Even though I've always seen Rayleigh as the one who understands Buggy the most (Roger and him love Shanks and Buggy equally but it is quite obvious they put more pressure on Shanks to be more like Roger and that only made things worse by making Buggy's inferiority complex exist) and the one who stands up more for him and comforts him when needed, it is true that he might be more judgemental and he'd be worried for Buggy. Like. Think about it. Roger died and the kids (their kids) ended up alone and going their own separate ways. For Rayleigh, finding out Shanks and Buggy aren't together is just?? So weird?? Because they've always been together. Birds of a feather (if somebody mentions the song 'Two Birds' I am punching them because I can't handle that song today please). And it's just... Well, surprising. 'But as long as they're okay' but they're obviously not okay!!! And it's not that Rayleigh is judging Buggy. In fact, I think he would do the same with Shanks. The second Rayleigh sees Shanks he's already saying he drinks too much (even for a pirate) and that he's been acting recklessly and "What the fuck are you doing without Buggy? Is this because of Buggy?" / "I do not drink because of him. It's- It's not about him. He left-" / "HE LEFT AND YOU DIDN'T DO ANYTHING?????" / "I hate it when you get like this" / "Like what?" / "Like you want to still do something about my life. I'm an adult, thank you very much-" / "No, you're not if you keep acting this way". And I personally think Rayleigh would just be worried for the both of them and also feel extremely guilty because he wasn't there to fix things when they fought, the way he always did. "The second I left you alone you two start a fight that lasts two decades?" and he would say this to both of them and they would hate it.

But yeah, going back to Buggy I think he'd be worried because. Well. Have you seen Crocodile and Mihawk? I mean. They're kind of on good terms with Buggy now (more or... More or less. Kind of. They're not equals but they're some sort of weird thing and they respect and care for each other. More or less. It's- It's complicated. Don't ask) but they're still them. And Rayleigh can't help but see the situation and be like "I'm proud you made a name of yourself, kid, but you don't have to do this if you don't want to" (meaning: You could go back to Shanks any time you wanted) and Buggy takes it as an "You could go back to Shanks any time you wanted because you'd be safer with him" instead of the real "You could go back to Shanks any time you wanted because you'd be happier with him and this war of pride and hearts you have going on is dumb". And he understands Buggy needs to be away from Shanks to grow, but it's just so, so sad to see them like this when they used to love each other so damn much.

Also, I think Buggy would be going through the worst moment of his life and Crocodile and Mihawk would be so done for different reasons. First, they don't give a fuck about all of this drama. And second, they are starting to see Buggy more like a person and understand why he is the way he is, and the things Rayleigh is saying are bothering them a lot. They've been trying to make the clown move on from his past so he's useful for once (because when he believes in himself he's actually not a burden and more interesting) and now this guy (that they respect because it's Silvers Fucking Rayleigh) comes and tries to change things around here? Nope. Not happening.

So basically, what you're trying to tell me is that Rayleigh regrets raising the boys that way and now he's overcompensating and it's overwhelming for everyone, right? I- I love it. Great plot. 10/10. In character. Perfect. It makes me go insane. I love their daddy issues.

(Also, can we talk about how "This Was a Shit Show" and "What'll it be" are extremely Buggy songs??? Because- Because now I want to-)

#i absolutely loved this i have no words to explain how much i love this #one piece #buggy the clown #silvers rayleigh #red haired shanks #cross guild #shuggy #< target audience #i mean it's obvious i was taking it as romantic for them

[winterrrnight]

wish I had you

PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: rafe made a huge mistake and lost the love of his life.

WARNINGS: angst, angst, angst! Absolutely no fluff, it's all angst, swearing, drugs, drug overdose!, heartbreaks, very small mentions of s*lf h*rm

EDITH SPEAKS: I'm back!!!! My exams were, something, but now I'm finally back and writing again 🥹 oh I'm so happy! I'll be getting onto my requests too, but for now, requests are back open! So get in any and all ideas you may have :)

This is so so so sad, and yes, Rafe is pretty much the one doing all the wrong here. No, it doesn't have a happy ending, it's pure angst. It's the reason I'm breathing right now, and also the reason I'm breaking inside. I hope this makes you feel a roller coaster of emotions :')

The fic is inspired by one of my favourite artist, Ruel makes insane music and please check his stuff out if you want to 🫶🏻 and also listen to this track while reading this so the level of sadness and heartbreak just 📈📈📈📈

Please please please like and reblog if you liked this!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💝

navigation || join my taglist || requests

I watch her on the sidewalk, her hand intertwined with his as he sways their arms, both of them laughing. I feel the same pain in my heart which I experience each time I see them together.

Each time I see her so happy with someone who isn't me.

He's the one who gets to take her to little dates, click her pictures, surprise her with flower bouquets, when it is supposed to be me. I am the one who should be taking her to little dates, clicking her pictures, and surprising her with flower bouquets.

He kisses her cheek after pulling her closer to him from her waist the same way I used to do. She giggles just the same way she used to do with me. Her eyes sparkle and the most beautiful smile pulls her lips, and my heart used to flutter each time her irises gazed into mine.

But I don't get to experience that anymore. I don't get to see her smiling at me. Instead, each time we come across each other in public, she pretends she doesn't know who I am. Like I don't exist in her world anymore. And her boyfriend makes sure to pull her even closer to him and give me a glare if I even glance at her.

And I completely deserve that. Everything we had went down the gutter because of the way I am.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

I slowly open the door to try and make as less noise as I can. I creep up the stairs, each move of mine calculated, but when I peek inside the room, i notice she's awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands.

I notice her body is moving as she is crying, the sobs escaping her silently. I feel my heart break at the sight. What have I done?

"Babe, hey..." I say softly, as I push open the door. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and red. Whenever I used to open the door after coming home from a long day, she would look at me with love in her eyes, but right now, there is nothing close to love in those eyes.

"Don't, just don't-" she whispers, her voice shaky and strained. Her cheeks are stained with her tears, and as she steps away from me, her footsteps are just as shaky as her voice.

"Just hear me out this one time, I was-"

"NO!" She yells, cutting me off. Her yell takes me by surprise, causing me to flinch slightly. "I don't have time for your excuses Rafe, I'm done with you, I'm done with this all. There's nothing you can say or do which can help defend you. Go back to your drugs, and Barry, I don't care," She moves towards her closet and gets a bag, and starts to put all her belongings in her bag.

I want to go ahead and stop her, get on my knees and beg her to not leave me, but my feet remain glued to the ground. I look at my feet, and hear the sounds of her frantically throwing stuff in her bag and trying to stuff it all in.

Suddenly, it is all silent. I look up to see her back towards me, and her arms at her sides. The bag she is stuffing is kept by her side on the ground, its contents spilling out.

"You know what today is?" She whispers.

I look at her back with my eyes wide, trying to comprehend what she is saying. What is it today? I rack my brain for answers but it turns up with nothing.

"It's our five year anniversary," she whispers, "and you promised to take me to Paris, where you and me will get on top of the Eiffel Tower to kiss just as it strikes midnight for today."

I want to jump off a 20 storey building.

This is too much.

I never knew how capable I was of fucking perfectly curated relationships up.

"But you forgot. Just the way you forgot about me. You've forgotten me completely, Rafe. All you care is about stupid shit, about your drugs, and your gold, and whatever the fuck it is. But I know you stopped caring about me a long, long time ago." She turns around now, her eyes looking everywhere but at me. "I waited, waited for as long as I could. I thought you'll come back to me. I thought you'll realise you're in the wrong and you'd want to correct it. But that moment never happened. I was just giving myself false hope." Her voice cracks towards the end and more tears stream down her face. She moves her hand to wipe them, and I have this sudden urge to hold her face in my hands and wipe her tears.

But I've lost all privileges to hold her, fuck, I shouldn't even look at her anymore.

"I'm ending this all here, I cannot hold onto this short thread of a relationship which you cut off so long ago. I need to let go, solely for me and my health." She sniffs and bends down to stuff everything in her bag messily and zip it up. She picks it up and hangs it on her shoulder.

My vision starts to get blurry as tears form in my eyes, as I watch her walk out of this room. These walls saw us share our most intimate moments together, and now they're seeing it all fall apart.

"Bye, Rafe."

Her last words echo in my ears as she leaves this house.

I've lost her forever.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

As I watch her walk away with her new boyfriend, I have this urge to rip everything apart and bang my head against a wall until it bleeds.

Since she walked out that door, I have been a mess. I don't know who I am anymore. I was so in love with her, I wanted to marry her. I loved showing everyone that I got the best girl one can ever get. She loved me beyond the human capabilities, and made sure I was doing okay at all times.

My addiction to drugs worsened as I find myself each night either in my home with my cocaine or at some party with as many alcohol cups I can down. And it all continued getting bad when I blacked out from the drug consumption at a party and woke up in a hospital bed.

I lost my entire business, I lost my entire soul. I lost who I am, and at this point, I don't know how I'll continue to live life.

Because I want her.

I want her to hold me and run her hands through my hair, and remind me all is okay.

I want her to kiss my forehead and whisper sweet little nothings in my ear.

I want her to rub her hands on my back and tell me she'll always be there for me.

But I don't deserve anything good in life. And I certainly don't deserve an angel like her.

I will always love her.

close my eyes but what's the use, cause my mind still dreams of you.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @tahliac11 @sadfury

#Spotify #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #written by edith! 🪄

[vioartemis]

I love her so much...

(Jenna Ortega x fem! reader)

Summary: After she comes home late in the night, Jenna and you have a fight Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 2 [au] Request is here :)) Warnings: angst (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

You had been Jenna's girlfriend for almost two years, but lately, your relationship wasn't at its best. Rather at its worse actually. She had been ignoring you lately, and it was starting to be difficult to deal with.

You were alone at your shared appartement, in tears, when the doorbell rang. You got up shakily and made your way to the door, opening it for the girl behind it.

"Hey..." she said

"Hey..." you replied

You stepped to the side so she could enter, but quickly broke down in her arms.

"I don't know what to do Emma... I can't... I can't do this anymore..."

The girl held you close and rubbed your back, before leading you to the couch where you could both sit.

"I know, I understand... Maybe..." she bit her lip

"What...?"

"If you wait for her to come home you could talk, get things straight..."

"I don't even know if she will come home tonight..."

"It's okay, I'm sure she will... I'll stay with you until then if you want..."

"Yes please..."

Time passed by, and quickly it was 2am.

As you were still crying in Emma's arms, you heard the door of your appartement open, followed by footsteps. Jenna was home. Finally.

She entered the room, putting her keys back in her bag, and froze and she saw you.

"Where the fuck where you?" you asked

"Are you cheating on me?"

You couldn't believe your ears. Did she really asked that?

"I should probably go..." Emma said, getting up

"No, stay" you tell her, before turning to your girlfriend "You're seriously asking me if I am cheating on you?"

To everyone's surprise, you let out a laugh.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me. You've been ignoring me for weeks, and I am the one who's cheating? You get up so early and come back so late I don't even see you anymore! And when you don't you spend all your time with Percy! "

"I'm sick of your jealousy Y/n! I told you there's nothing between Percy and I-"

"I know!" you cut her off "But you spend all your time with him! It's like I don't exist anymore! Do you even care about me? About us?"

"Of course I do!"

"Okay then. What day is it?"

"What? I don't know the... the 4th of July?"

"And?"

"And what?"

"What. Day. Is. It?" you repeated, throat tight

She stayed silent. You could tell she was thinking hard. Which hurt you even more.

"I- I don't know, Y/n."

You chuckled, whipping the tears in your eyes with shaky hands. You wanted to believe she would remember. You wanted to believe you were important to her. She just crushed all your hopes.

"It's our anniversary, Jenna. Was our anniversary, considering that it's 2am now. You really do care a lot, huh?"

You watched as realization hit her. Maybe she did care a little after all.

"So you spent our anniversary with Emma?"

Or not.

"Don't try to turn the situation around. I spent all day waiting for you. I had everything planned. I thought we would finally be able to be together and talk about us." you felt your anger rising "I called you 27 times. 27 fucking times Jenna. You never picked up, not once. I texted you too. Still no answer. So yes, I called Emma. It was already past midnight. I called her once, and guess what? She answered and came, even at that time."

You had to take a deep breath to prevent tears from rolling down your cheeks.

"Y/n I'm sorry I was-"

"With Percy? Figured that out."

"No it's not-"

"Jesus, Jenna! Stop trying to find excuses! Stop pretending that you care about us! You didn't even remember it was our anniversary!"

"Of course I care I- there's just... a lot going on right now... But I love you Y/n..."

You couldn't help another chuckle to escape your throat.

"No, you don't love me! You ignore my calls, my texts, you don't kiss me anymore, you don't talk to me anymore, you don't even look at me anymore! How can you say you love me when you do all that...?"

"I do! I- I love you I-"

"If you really loved me you would've picked up. Read my texts. Answered me in any way. But you didn't, Jenna. You left me alone on the day of our anniversary, crying all the tears in my body when I understood you wouldn't come."

"But I didn't know! If I knew you were crying I would've-"

"Of course you didn't know. How would you know, considering you barely say hello to me these days? And what would you have done? Taking me in your arms, telling me everything would be okay, even though we both know it's not true?"

"N-no I- I would've... I would've..."

She too had tears in her eyes now. She was hurt, and it only made things worst for you. But you had to. You couldn't continue living like this.

"It's too late, Jenna. I- I can't..."

"What...?"

"I can't keep up doing this." you took another deep breath, fist clenched hard "It's over, Jenna."

It hurt you to do this, but she didn't leave you any other choice. This relationship had become toxic, and for your own good, you had to end it.

"What...?" she repeated "N-no Y/n wait..."

You took a little box out of your pocket and threw it at her. She caught it, confused.

"Here, your anniversary gift."

You then walked past her, to the door.

"What are you doing...?" the brunette asked, her voice trembling

"I'm leaving." you had to make an insane effort not to cry "I'll be back tomorrow to pack my things."

You didn't wait for an answer and got out of the appartement, Emma following you.

Deep down, you hoped she would burst out of the flat and follow you, try to hold you back, do anything that could prove she still loved you. But she didn't.

You arrived on the sidewalk without anyone to stop you. That did it for you.

You broke down again, in the middle of the street, letting all the tears flood down your cheeks, all the sadness, the pain, out. Your heart was in million pieces.

And again, Emma took you in her arms, patting your back gently.

Jenna didn't move from her previous position, in the middle of your living room. She was devastated, tears rolling down her cheeks. She never meant to push you away. She felt like she had ruined everything. And it was the truth. She did.

She wanted to run after you, tell you she was sorry, tell you she would try to be better, to be more here, anything that could make you come back. But her legs weren't working. No matter how hard she tried to move, she couldn't.

Her own incapacity to do anything only made her cry more. With a cry, she finally managed to move and stumbled to the window.

And what she saw really broke her.

You, in Emma's arms, again. You were crying, again, because of her.

She loved you, she really did. But all she did was hurting you lately. She didn't deserve you. You didn't deserve to be with someone like her.

Maybe it was better if she didn't try to hold you back...

You wanted to run back to her, hold her tight, kiss her, tell her you didn't mean it, tell her you loved her... But you couldn't. It was simply not good for you.

Your cries only intensified at the thought.

"Y/n..."

"I love her so much..." you cried out, voice hoarse from crying

"I know... I know..."

[Next part] || [Next part [au]]

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem reader

[stardewvalleybut-i-draw]

Humming a tune (writing)

Evelyn notices the farmers both seem to sometimes hum to themselves SO she decides to approach the male farmer and ask what tune he's humming in order to get to know him better.

Word count: 1,378 words (so medium I guess)

Characters: Evelyn and Mask Farmer.

Vibe: nice and wholesome moments :) I'm not really experienced in writing but I'll do my best to make it coherent, enjoy! :D and with pictures!

A lovely spring and sunny day welcomed the valley. Evelyn tends to the town square flowers, putting care and attention to each one.

It's the town's flowers after all. The people in the valley need to be represented properly!

It was nice to be out in the center of the town square on days like this. It allowed her to greet anyone who went through, give them a big warm smile, and catch up about what was happening that day. It was also nice to be able to bathe in the sun's warmth and reminisce on the past and how the valley had changed over the years. In came the male farmer with focused eyes, dedicated to a goal in his mind, ignoring everything around him. She could tell he was passing even with her bad vision by the sound of his fast and heavy footsteps, always in a rush. Both the farmers often cross here in the mornings, although Evelyn really only saw the sister out. Both would look at the bulletin board outside of Pierre's shop, check the calendars, and go on with their daily routine but only she would talk to Evelyn and the other townspeople. "Perhaps he's shy," Evelyn thought seeing him walk to the Help Wanted board. He greeted her once when they both first arrived in Pelican Town and he hasn't talked to her since then...or anyone besides for transactional reasons it seemed. Evelyn's face grew sad at the thought. The poor boy was ignored by everyone or treated as an anomaly to be feared and avoided. It didn't seem to bother the farmer but her heart could not let it be. "The flowers can be tended later, it was about time someone bothered to try and have a nice conversation with him" Evelyn thought. She began to walk towards the farmer who was still reading the Help Wanted note and noticed he was humming something. Thinking about it now, the farmers both tend to hum a tune to themselves. It's almost never the same song and seems to change throughout the seasons. "Excuse me, dear" she asked beside the farmer "May I ask what tune you are humming?"

The Farmer jolts in shock and turns towards her. "Oh I'm sorry sweetie, I didn't mean to startle you." Evelyn says apologetically "I was just curious about the songs you hum to yourself, they sound very nice, was it a band back in the city?" He was really expecting anyone to talk to him today so Evelyn's Interruption took him back a bit. He also had a lot to do but her soft genuine smile guilt tripped him to take the time to answer her. "The song doesn't exist." The farmer stated bluntly "Oh"

Not the answer Evelyn was expecting. She had sworn she heard both the farmers hum the same tune.

Very curious she continued "So did you come up with the tune?" "No" the Farmer responds "I hear them In my head." Evelyn's confused expression let him know it made no sense to her but he couldn't really find another way to explain it besides being direct and honest. Maybe he should have lied, he thought. His sister did all the time to explain weird things like this but her genuine curiosity stopped him from lying to her face. Could he really lie to sweet little granny Evelyn? Evelyn saw the farmer's face slightly turn from her in shame. She didn't really understand the answer but she didn't want him to feel ashamed of his response so she softly said "It's ok. I don't need to understand it, do you like the songs? The farmer nods.

"Oh, that's nice to hear, I assume the song changes through the season? do you hear it all the time?" "Yeah..." he responds. She could tell the Farmer was starting to get uncomfortable with her questions so she tried to ease his nerves. "You know...your grandpa used to do the same thing too" The farmer looks at her in surprise "It's true!" she exclaims Evelyn begins to walk to the town flowers gesturing for the farmer to follow. The farmer does so.

"When he used to run the farm, he would whistle songs to himself while he worked" Evelyn reminisced. "Your grandpa used to say he would hear the valley singing to him, he would call it a superpower! Not many of us understood what he meant but by the sounds of it, I guess it was passed down to you"

The farmer smiles and chuckles at the idea. Their Grandpa did used to whistle a lot on the farm. It was only a faint memory since both he and his sister were so young when they used to visit. In a sense, the valley was singing to them.

"If it's not too much, could you hum a bit of the song you hear?" she asked The farmer paused for a second. He looked slightly at the sky and listened. He did his best to match the tune but it was difficult when there was more than one instrument to hum in his head.

Evelyn listened internally and cheered for the farmer once he had stopped. She could tell he was embarrassed by it but genuinely flattered. "You have a very lovely voice dear, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise, oh!-" she interrupted herself. "I heard there was a band in town, maybe you should join, I think you would make a lovely addition!" He knew she was talking about Sam's band but he hadn't really talked to the guy... or anyone in that band. Sometimes he saw Abigail up in the mountains or Sebastian taking a smoke break but never really paid them any attention. He never needed to. Evelyn begins to tend to the flowers as she speaks. "You don't need to if you don't want to. I can tell you don't like to talk much, I don't want to pressure you."

She pauses.

"but I can tell you like to listen" The farmer had never really thought about it that way before... but when you don't say much, the only other choice is to listen to the world around you. "I know not many of us can understand you and I've noticed others treat you differently because of that" Evelyn gently places her hands on top of the farmer's hand. "-but I don't want you to feel like you're not part of the town. You will always be welcomed here...no matter how odd you are"

The farmer softly smiled to Evelyn. "Well," Evelyn exclaimed. "I don't want to hold your day up much longer but If you ever want to talk more about your grandpa or just to hear an old lady ramble about the past, I'm always here for you" The farmer is quiet for a second, taking in her words. "Thank you." He says. "Ohhh, no need to thank me, I haven't done anything, sweetie" She replied but the farmer quickly responded. "You did." Evelyn curiously looked at him confused. "You talked to me."

Evelin's heart was touched beyond words as the farmer leaned down to hug her. She squeezed as hard as her weak arms would allow and stayed there for as long as he needed. But the farmer quickly got up, smiled, and began to walk to the mines. They waved each other goodbye and moved on with their days. The warm moment being over just like that. As the farmer walked up the mountain he began to think. It was only a small moment. It had never really bothered him that the town viewed him as a cryptid. He often reveled in being odd, weird, and feared. He didn't have much of an interest in getting to know anyone. But Granny Evelyn had warmed his heart. Maybe he didn't need to be so cold to everyone. Maybe he should stop by and chat before heading to the mines. It's not like the caves are going anywhere. Maybe... ...he'll stop by and get some cookies :)

#stardew valley #sdv #stardew #stardew farmer #sdv farmer #sdv evelyn #please let me know about spelling or writing mistakes btw! #I am VERY dyslexic and spell checker can only do so much :( #SDVBID art

[megamindsecretlair]

First of all Happy New Years and how’re you doin?? I really hope you’re doin well and thriving and your loved ones are doin the same❤️

Second of all I had a thought while high that I needa get out:

Imma mess for domestic Taine. Just takin care of his woman an shit. He likes takin care of her mental load and just truly makin her feel relaxed an shit. Which brings me to his hands….he’s so beefy wit protective ass arms and he’s just ugh🤌 like imagine you had a trash ass day (school, work, family, etc) an he just caresses and massages you, tryna soften you up so youn gotta gts upset or stressed. Lights candles, brings out ya favorite oils/lotions, he even rolls a blunt for you both. He’s givin you deep tissue booty/thigh rubs and ik for a fact his strength channeled through his fingers would make me all mushy an shit….

Along that thought, he can’t help (an youn stop him) but spread ya cheeks a bit, just ta peek at ya folds, only ta see em all gushy an shit. That was a mistake because now he reeeally can’t help himself. You’re all pliable under him and he dips his fingers into ya folds “just ta taste” he tells himself. But he’s dippin into you again…and again…and again till he just says fuck it and devours you from the back. I’m talkin the messy, droolin, beard shiny a shit typa pussy eatin. You just cease to exist cuz he feels too too good. Taine is just maneuvering/manhandling your body any which way and you’re loving it, you’re loving your man. And What were you upset bout again? It’s out the window now.

Phew, glad I got that outta my system🤭

Happy New Year! Many blessings to you and ya fam! I'm getting over Covid. That is the literal devil and I'm glad to be on the other side!

And secondly...why you aint on here writing with the rest of us? Tuh. This was hot and complete all by its lonesome, you don't need me for this one, lordt!

Re-reading and re-reading all night because I, too, want that gorgeous man's big mitts on me.

If You Please

Word Count: 691

A/N: Finally a little drabble! I still write a lot but ya'll caught me on a feral night. There's no big warnings besides oral (fem receiving) and Fontaine being a horny mess. This ask was everything. Not sure if you wanted me to add to it, but couldn't help myself! Excuse me while I go re-read and re-read and re-read.

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @nerdieforpedro @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner @slippinninque @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide

And Fontaine is the type to take his time because HE wants to take his time. Because HE can't keep his hands off of you. If you had a bad day? That's okay, he'll work that shit out. Had a good day? He wants to pick you up and taste the happiness from your lips.

But a particularly bad day? Oh, he already had the bath running and candles lit while you talked to him on the way home. How you wanted him to show up with a helicopter and transport you home because you were dog tired. Tiredt!

And after your bath, he does all the work. He dries you off and lays kisses all over your face and body while he towels you down. Leads you to the bed where he lays out a fresh warm towel from the dryer. Makes you lay on your back first so he can rub lotion and smell good into your deep brown skin.

Take his time to work the body cream onto your arms, shoulders, stomach. Smooth it around your breasts because he just can't resist touching you. He rubs the top of your legs, really working his thick fingers into your thighs and finding all these tension knots you didn't know were there.

Then he asks you to flip over and you are putty in his hands. Free to mold you in his arms. To play with your hips and valleys and treasure the canvas God gave him. He rubs your back and your legs. But your ass.

Fontaine is an ass man. Nothin' sweeter than seeing those two big ol' cheeks begging to be claimed by those hands of his. It's so much he can't hold it all. But he loves trying. He loves trying to cup each cheek to see how much he can hold before your ass spills over. He loves to massage your ass.

He loves to watch the grooves and dimples he makes in your ass. The little glimpses of your pussy when he spreads your cheeks are a torture all their own. Got him bricked up and mouth droolin' just from that alone. His tongue glides over his golden grills as he can remember the last time he ate you out, just last night. How pliable and verbal you were.

One little taste won't hurt right? It's your body, he wants you to feel good all over. What better stress relief, right? He wipes his hands on the towel. He can't resist digging his fingers in and suppressing a groan at finding you wet as hell. He knew his hands on you turned you on, but not like this!

Now he really can't resist bringing your sweet essence to his lips and licking his fingers. He can't stop at one taste. Once he tasted you, he had to keep diving in for more. And more until you were sighing and moaning just the way he liked.

"Too tired," you mumbled.

"Too tired to lay there, mama?" He asked.

You couldn't argue with that logic. He didn't need anything back. He just wanted to make you feel good. Making you feel good, made him feel good. And he already got his reward. He was lifting your hips, spreading you wide, and placing his mouth against your pussy and suckling like a starving man to nectar.

He couldn't help groaning and rocking his own hips into the bed, wishing he could flip you over and fuck you. But he wasn't going to be that greedy. He could give. He could give and give until you were a shaking, trembling mess beneath his tongue. Hands splayed on your ass, spreading you open and wide for him.

His nasty little slurps filled the air. His desperate pulls for air blowing against your dripping pussy. Your weak arms grasping the pillow and pulling it close while you came in his mouth. Gushing and dripping all that succulent arousal.

Well, you weren't that tired anymore. As much as you left your job bone tired and weary, unsure how you could possibly go another day, you always found solace in 'Taine's arms.

The Secret Tyrone Files - there's always more!

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Tyrone Files #Fontaine x Black!reader #Fontaine x Black reader #x Black reader #Fontaine x Fem!reader #Fontaine x Fem reader #Fontaine x plus size reader #Fontaine x you #Fontaine imagine #They Cloned Tyrone smut #They Cloned Tyrone fanfic #They Cloned Tyrone fanfiction #They Cloned Tyrone fan fic #They Cloned Tyrone fan fiction

[saltsicklover]

Bikinis, Breasts, and Bucky Barnes

Title: Bikinis, Breasts, and Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4350

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Light Misconduct/Abuse, A singular joke that may be offensive to First Nations folks. Talks about breasts and augmentation.

This is my first request and I am so thrilled about it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bucky Barnes, or anything related to Marvel within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

Summertime has got to be one of the most oppressive parts of the year. Between the sweltering heat and the expectation to be tan, fit, and breathtaking in the smallest bikinis leaves me feeling with nothing but dread. The nausea twists in my stomach, churning and bubbling. 

My boyfriend, Brock, sits on the sofa next to me, staring at the side of my face intently, a gift bag held out in his hand expectantly. He has been talking my ear off about the party that the tower is hosting and I have been dodging the invite for weeks- from him and my coworkers. Any sort of mention and an excuse falls from my lips- "Well, it is a work party, and I would like to spend my day off not at work," or "I don't have anything to wear to that sort of thing," and even, "It's good for you to spend time with your friends and I don't want you having to worry about me the whole party" - Nothing worked. His buddies are supposed to be there, and some new recruits. The idea of it makes me queasy.

"Come on Sweets, open it!" I cringe a bit at the nickname, the one he has been refusing to drop for months. He thrusts the bag into my hands and the plastic crinkles under my touch. I take a deep breath in a shallow attempt to center myself before taking out the few pieces of tissue paper he shoved into the bag haphazardly. 

The feeling of his eyes  on my profile never leaves, not even as the bag hits the floor in front of my feet, a string bikini in my hands. The strings fall loosely between my fingers like limp spaghetti, the small bits of fabric meant to actually cover something seem to be almost non-existent. I hold the fabric up to the light and shapes of the room can be seen through the tan weave of the material. I can't imagine what could be seen through it if it were wet. 

I chuckle out a tense sort of laugh and it gets stuck in the back of my throat- I choke on the idea of wearing something so small. "What's this, Brock?" I hold the swimwear out to him in my hands and it sits on my palms like an offering to a long forgotten god. My palms care clammy, threatening to shake as if I were facing this ancient being head on. Maybe my head on a spit would be more comfortable than this moment; my body flayed out on an alter would feel more conservative.  

"It's for the party, don't you love it?" His eyes search over my face, my figure, the outfit he plans on parading me in front of his friends in. I might be sick. 

"Ha, yeah Brock, that's funny," I throw the pile of strings on the table in front of me. I run my hands over my jeans, hoping to stuff the anxiety from my palms between the stitches of denim. The look he gives me is somewhere between pissed off and disbelief and it is flooding each and every line of his face. 

"It's not funny, it's a gift, Sweets. You should be grateful," He informs me as he pushes himself to his feet. He grabs the bikini off the table as he grabs my wrist with a grip that is just a bit to firm. He pulls me to my feet and over to the full length mirror. 

"See look," He positions me harshly in front of the glass, my reflection staring back at me. I don't like what I see with him standing so close behind me. I shiver, but that doesn't stop him from tying the top on my body, over my clothes. "You are going to look good in this. Could look better, but there isn't a whole lot we can do about that before Friday rolls around," He shrugs like his words mean nothing, yet they are like razorblades. "These need work, but you refuse to do anything about that," He brings his hands up to grip at both of my breasts, squeezing them tightly, his fingers digging into the tender flesh. 

I fight off every instinct to elbow him straight in the gut. Bastard.

"You know better than to bring that up, Brock," I spit at him, trying to wriggle out of his tight grip. He just chuckles at me like we are playing a game- and maybe we are, cat and mouse, and it looks like I'm the mouse. 

"I'm just saying, you make more than enough money at the little job of yours, you could definitely afford it, and you and I both know you would look so much better with maybe a D, or a double D," He keeps scrutinizing my body in the mirror, his eyes locked on my chest. We work at the same place, but because I am a member of the human resources department he seems to think my job is lesser than his- until there is something wrong with his paycheck. 

I have never once question my breast size, at least not until Brock came along. I try not to let his words eat away at me, but with the frequency he brings up the topic I can't help but let my mind drift to it even when I'm alone. The whole thing leaving me tired, uncomfortable and self conscious. 

"If I have told you once, I have told you a thousand times, I am not getting breast implants Brock. If you want a girl with big fake tits, that's fine! There is nothing and I mean nothing wrong with implants but they are not becoming a part of my body and that is final," I rip the bikini top off my body as fast as I can before pushing past him and out the door of his apartment. I am done with this conversation, absolutely, positively, done. 

By the time the party rolls around, Brock is practically vibrating. He pulls me behind him, his signature too-tight grip on my wrist as he pushes through the other party goers, straight over to his friends. 

"Sweets, you know John Walker, Lemar Hoskins, and the rest of the guys," He points at the men all gathered around one of the picnic tables. The party is being held on the upper floors and roof of Avengers Tower; everyone who works in the facility was invited. Tony Stark sure loves to throw a party, and the more the merrier seems to be his philosophy. 

I wave awkwardly with the hand Brock dropped as soon as we were in sight of his friends. I shift my strappy top, pulling the neckline up further with the other hand, my bag swinging from the crook of my elbow. "Hi guys." John goes on to explain to me how he and Lemar are being contracted to work with Brock's team, and how great it is to be contracted through the military. He explains this all so carefree, like he is trying to impress me with the information. It takes all my will power not to roll my eyes. He forgets he met with me to sign his damn contact, what a tool. 

I try and hum and laugh along with their stories as they continue to shoot the shit and catch up, Brock leaving me standing while he sits with his friends. I tune them out, looking around the party for anyone else that I could escape and talk to. John grabs my wrist, his fingernails digging into my skin, leaving small crescents in my wrist as he pulls me harshly into his lap. 

"You're right, Brock, she would definitely do better with some double D's! Say, Sweets, take off that shirt of yours and let us see what you're working with," He tugs the hem of my shirt, causing the deep v of my top to pull down, exposing my swimsuit and sternum beneath it. 

"John," Brock starts, looking stern. Maybe this time he will actually stand up for me, "Let's just say if she had an Indian name, it would be "Starving Children"," He bellows, laughing and grabbing at his own chest. When John erupts into laughter with the rest of the group, I stand, breaking free of his embrace.

"You know what Brock, fuck you, fuck your friends, and fuck this whole situation. I am done. Forget about me, lose my number, and go find a set of fake tits to shove your tiny dick between because we are finished,"  I shout at him, and I know people are watching, but I don't care. Anger is just the part of you that sticks up for yourself, right? 

I can feel the hot sting of embarrassment begin to bleed over my skin as I rush for the building and crushed raspberries have nothing on the color that shows on my face. I stumble down the stairs, praying that I can make it to the washroom before I fall into tears. I push past Bucky Barnes and his friends as they climb the stairs. His eyes meet mine and he offers me a small, kind smile, one I can't find anywhere in myself to return. I push past them, trying not to dwell on it, or the curve of his lips. 

When I push the door open, I am met with two pairs of familiar eyes and one set I don't recognize. Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff are standing in the washroom, no doubt having some sort of conversation before I burst through the door. The other woman, who can't be older than 19 or 20 stands at the sink, washing her hands diligently. They all eye me carefully and it's at that moment my body, my heart, my emotions betray me and tears begin to pour out of me with ragged sobs. 

"Are you okay?" The girl at the sink asks, dragging her wet hands though her curly hair. "I'm sorry, that was a stupid question. My name is MJ, How can we help?" She asks. The other women hum in unison, rushing to my side. 

Before I know it, I am lamenting about the bullshit I have been putting up with due to Brock and his never ending obsession with breast implants. Six hands begin to dry my tears and rub over my back and arms soothingly. I tell them about the barely existent swimsuit he forced me to wear to the party and how I am embarrassed that I even put it on. 

"You know what, I am sure between the three of us, we can get you a bikini that you will be proud to be seen in," Natasha tells me as she wipes some smudged mascara from my cheek. She gives me the most gentle smile. I can't help but smile back, and before I know it they are dragging me to Wanda's room to get me outfitted into something new. 

By the time they are done, I am clad in a beautiful purple bikini top, one that has hooks and clasps instead of flimsy ties, and a pair of black boy-short bottoms that hug my ass. Wanda pulls my hair back out of my face with a couple of braids while MJ stands next to us telling us all about Peter and how nice he treats her and how any man who doesn't treat me the same way should eat dirt. It's really refreshing to meet a young girl who has such a good head on her shoulders. Natasha slides a beautiful gold and silver necklace over my head, the chain hanging down to mid sternum, highlighting my natural body. 

"You look spectacular," Wanda whispers in my ear as we walk back out onto the roof. I have to admit, I don't think I have ever felt more powerful than I do right now, with these three women behind me. 

"Hey Barnes, get your ass over here," Natasha shouts. I follow her eyeline to the pool where none other than Bucky Barnes is pulling himself out of the water. The water slides down his figure and I can't help but watch as each drop runs over his defined muscles, dipping and rising over each one of them as gravity pulls the water towards the Earth. Once he is out of the pool, which takes seconds, he saunters over to us, a goofy smile plastered to his face. 

"What can I do for you?" He asks her, eyes not leaving mine. 

"I need you to show our friend here a good time, the girls and I have some trash to take out," She informs him, tapping him on the shoulder, like she knows something I don't.

"Hi, I'm Y/N" I hold my hand out to him, still shaking a bit from my earlier encounter with Brock and his scumbag friends. 

"I know who you are, Doll," Bucky chuckles a bit, but takes my hand in his anyway. The handshake is firm and his eyes never leave mine. "Let's get you a drink, shall we?" 

He pulls me along, fingers laces with mine, his touch the complete opposite of Brock's. The idea warms me from the inside out, a sense of comfort finally falling over my soul. Bucky leads me to a table with a couple of his friends, Steve and Sam, who both stand to shake my hand and tell me how good it is to see me again. I can't explain the feeling that thrums through me body when I catch Bucky smiling at me as I shake hands with his friends.

Sam reaches into the cooler and pulls out a bottle of water and a beer for me, handing them across the table. Bucky takes them from him, cracking open the bottle of water before using the table to pop the top off of the beer. He sets them both in front of me with a smile.

"These okay? Or should I get you something else?" He asks, a tinge of worry flashing in his eyes but quickly disappears with my reassurance.  The boys talk and laugh, each making sure that I am included in the conversation. Bucky never fails to open a drink for me, or to share his snacks, which earns a huff from Steve, who claims Bucky won't share any of his snacks with anyone. 

As the daylight is flushed away with the sunset, people begin to trickle out of the party, and before I know it, Bucky and I have been left alone at the table, each nursing a half full beer. Sam and Steve left to help clean up awhile ago, leaving Bucky and I in our own little world of conversation. 

I am listening to Bucky, but my mind seems to drift a bit before a full, hearty chuckle leaves my lips. I slap my hand over my mouth quick, a strawberry kiss of a blush on my cheeks. 

"What are you laughing about? I haven't even gotten to the funny part of the story yet!" Bucky laughs, nudging me in the knee with his foot playfully under the table. 

"I just had a funny realization, that's all," I try to dismiss the thought with a wave of my hand, bringing my beer back up to my lips. I tip the bottle back and Bucky just watches in bemusement for a moment before continuing.

"Oh, you've gotta tell me now!" He insists, crossing his large arms over the expanse of his chest. 

"Okay, okay, fine," I take another swig of my drink before setting it down on the table, "I just realized that I'm not nauseous, for the first time in I can't even tell you how long," I chuckle to myself, shaking my head to dismiss any disbelief.  Bucky cocks an eyebrow at me, so I continue, "With Brock it seemed like I was always nauseous or ill, and now that I broke up with him, everything has finally settled."

"Oh, that's- that's really good, I'm happy for you," He sounds sincere in his words, a smile pulling over his lips. 

"Thanks, Buck," I return with a shy smile.

"Can I ask what happened?" He questions, not quite meeting my eyes. I can feel a stinging flush of color invade my skin at his words but I fight the feeling, rubbing at my skin to ease it. 

"Yeah, sure. He has been harassing me for months about getting breast implants. He said that an A cup, which I am, isn't even a handful, which isn't good enough. He wanted me to get absolutely huge, fake tits because that's what he is into. Then John started harassing me about it too, and I guess I just snapped. I broke up with that tool right on the spot," I explain, and Bucky listens, like really truly listens to each and every word. When I finish speaking, he leans back a bit, a gentle huff escaping his lips.

"So that's what Nat meant about taking out the trash, huh?" He chuckles, bringing his bottle to his lips. 

"Yeah, I guess so," I laugh with him, and the feeling is truly refreshing. 

"I know this might sound horrible, but I am kinda happy that things went the way they did today," He admits, rubbing at the nape of his neck. His hair has long dried now, his bangs flopping in front of his forehead, threating to droop in his eyes. 

"Wow, thanks Buck," I roll my eyes at him and he tries to backtrack his words. "I am just fucking with you, Buck, calm down!" I laugh, and he laughs too, after a beat.

"You scared me!" He throws a towel at me, across the table. It catches both of our beers, the bottles tumbling over. The sticky sweet beer rolls off the table and into my lap as a small sound, somewhere between a laugh and a shriek leaves me. "Oh my god! I am so sorry!" Bucky jumps to his feet, rounding the table to look at the sticky mess in my lap that coat my swim bottoms. 

"It's okay, Bucky," I laugh, toweling off my thighs, "It will wash off, don't worry about it," 

"Well at least we got your suit wet. It would have been a shame to have come to a pool party just to have stayed dry the whole time," We laugh together at his words. "Wanna get in the pool? Just for a little while? It's a beautiful night, it would be a shame to waste it."

I just nod at Bucky with a smile, holding my hand out for him to lead the way. He takes my hand, pulling me to my feet before leading me over to the pool. He gets in first before guiding me down the stairs, holding my hand for balance. I can't help but swoon a bit at the action, a warmth filling my cheeks. 

We walk out to the five foot point, the water deep enough to cover most of my body. With the water covering my chest, the  last bit of insecurity is drowned beneath the surface.  

"I know I keep pushing the envelope with you tonight, but I am just going to say one more thing, than I am going to shut up and keep my ass quiet for the rest of the night, okay?" Bucky runs a wet hand through is tousled hair, water droplets dripping down his face. His eyes glow under the amber lights of the roof, complimented by a tint of cherry pink that is brushed across his cheeks.

"I think you look absolutely stunning, and I'm not talking about the swimsuit. I think your body is absolutely perfect, just the way it is. When I look at you, I don't see boobs or hips or ass or anything else for that matter, I just see you." With each word he takes a step closer to me. 

As the space between us shrinks, the ripples of our movement in the water run together. Finally, mere inches apart, Bucky looks down at me carefully, his whiskey full eyes moving carefully over every inch of my face as if he is taking in the littlest details I even overlook. 

"Thank you, Bucky, I can't even tell you how nice that is to hear," I look down towards me feet out of instinct, but he meets me halfway with a gentle finger beneath my chin. 

 "You don't have to shy away from me, Doll, hell, if it were up to me you would never shy away from anything else in the world," His words drip with honesty. His hand has moved to cradle my face, his thumb sweeping over my cheekbone with soft movements. He holds my hand beneath the water with his other hand, his grip gentle. I squeeze his hand in return. 

"You know, lately I have been getting through the day by telling myself by body is good enough because it holds all of my organs in the right way and it carries my brain from place to place, so it doesn't matter what it looks like, but, if I'm being honest, Buck, today with you has been one of the most comforting days I have had the pleasure of experiencing in a long, long time," I can feel my  breath bouncing off of his skin due to our close proximity. "So, I guess I am trying to say thank you. Thank you, Bucky," 

He barely gets the beginning of a word out before I am on my tiptoes, pressing my lips to his in a soft kiss- one that feels like it has been years in the making, all the time folded over and compressed into an afternoon spent poolside. 

His hands snake around my figure, chests pressed together as the water moves gently around us. He kisses me like I am holy, like I am the most beautiful thing he has ever had the pleasure to touch and I melt. 

For once I am not the one on my knees at the alter, sacrificing parts of myself to a man who can barely keep a flame alit to keep us warm. Blood no longer drips down my hands, there is no bone clutched in my palms. I am no longer loosing a fighting battle against myself for a man who would never carry a shield for me- Brock was the artillery being fired my way and the only thing that ended up in the crossfire was the image of myself. But now, now, it's as if Bucky is honoring me with every brush of his calloused hands against my fingers. With every run of his tongue over my bottom lip I am finding the strength to worship myself again- just the way it should be. 

So I press my chest to his a bit harder, my heartbeat rattling my ribcage. The way he runs his hands over my body is like breathing air, fresh and crisp after years of smog. I let my fingers tangle in his hair where I can, my nails brushing over his scalp and he stifles back a moan. 

I pull back, peering up at him through my eyelashes. "Bucky, you are an incredible man. I hope you know that," I whisper, a small smile spread over my kiss sodden lips, "But that's not going to stop me from doing this!" I sweep a foot under his while pushing him backwards towards the water. Maybe it catches him off guard, maybe it doesn't, but he falls beneath the surface, pulling me along with him. We share an underwater kiss, but that just earns me bubbles to the face. I come up sputtering water and laughing full belly laughs that feel at home outside of my body.

He grabs me again, pulling me into a tight hug. His arms are wound around my shoulders, head perched atop my own. I wrap his midsection in my arms loosely, taking in the night sky just beyond the building. 

"I wish we could see the stars," I whisper, water droplets running from my eyelashes down to my lips. 

"I can't imagine they would outshine you," Bucky mutters, a hint of flirtation in his voice. 

"That's because you grew up in the city, Barnes," I laugh, and his body rumbles with laughter too. He runs a hand up and down my back, his fingertips barely brushing over my skin, but they leave warm tingles in their wake. 

"I've been other places!" He attempts to defend himself but he doesn't go any further than that.  

"Speaking of other places, I should probably get going," I tell him, pulling out of the embrace. "Thank you for tonight, Buck, truly," I move across the pool and ascend the stairs, heading to collect my bag. "Would you tell Nat and Wanda that I'll bring there stuff by on Monday?" I ask him, while I run a towel over my body. 

"Of course I will," Bucky smiles at me. God I could get used to that smile, and those blue eyes of his. I smile to myself as I stuff the now wet towel into my bag. "Speaking of Monday, you and I are getting lunch- or if you are stuck in the office, I will be bringing lunch by for us. I want to see you again." By the time he finishes speaking, he is out of the pool and standing in front of me, a look of excitement scribbled across his features. That big goofy smile of his is going to live rent free in my head for the weekend, maybe longer. Definitely longer. 

"It's a date," I tell him, holding out my hand to shake on it. He takes it and pulls me into his wet body.

"It's a date, Doll," He whispers against my lips before sharing a kiss with me that is too full of smiles and giggles to be done properly; and for the first time I find myself thankful for bikinis, breasts, and Bucky Barnes. 

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes comfort #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #marvel x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #comfort!bucky #fluffy!bucky

[daydreamvalley]

October Sunsets (1) - nanami kento

𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 Summary: You daydream about a sweet conversation you had earlier in the day with Nanami, right before he left for a job in Shibuya.

Content: Fluff + slight angst

7:00 pm, October 31st, Haneda Airport, sounds of passengers trying to find their seats and infants crying filled the air while you sat in a frozen state, looking down at your phone screen with furrowed brows. The single ticks next to your images still stared back at you. Pending. It had been ten minutes, yet he was not owning up to his part of the request he made. Nanami asked for two images, one containing evidence of the bread he recommended you try at the airport cafe. The other is a photo of your choice, just not a picture of yourself since you'll already be bombarding him with plenty throughout the flight. 

Your second undelivered message read: "Bossy much? Here you go, it's a pretty sunset, don't you think?" 

In your opinion, it was. It was taken while facing a large airport window that gave you a view of the departing planes. The autumn sky was free of clouds, with only clear hues of orange and purple in the image. Its quality made up for the previous blurry bread photo. Exhaling in defeat, you accepted that he may have begun the big task he hinted at having to do that evening. Denmark was fifteen hours away. You'd hoped to depart in a better mood after an anticipated message from your ex-coworker making fun of your poor photography skills. Even two grey ticks would suffice. Your cheeks started to warm just at the thought of his teasing, but you couldn’t let your mind wander or else you wouldn’t stop. Turning to your right, you realized your isle seat was going to be empty, freeing whichever lucky soul from witnessing the nightmare of you smiling at yourself alone. Though, he didn’t deserve that much since you should be upset with him. After shutting off the power on the phone, annoyingly shoving it into your tote bag, and then letting out a scoff, the last bit of your parting conversation with him suddenly replayed in your mind. 

~ 

The two of you walked side by side on the pavement to your apartment building, “Did you pack the neck pillow?” He had already begun interrogating. 

“The one that you bought for me. Now imagine the drama if I forgot it.” 

“I’m the only person who owns your extra apartment key, so try not to forget anything. Shoko wants me on call later tonight, and I most likely won’t get your messages. 

“Okay, but you keep dismissing what I asked earlier. Are you sure there’s nothing you’re curious about in Denmark that you want me to relay to you while I’m there?”

“Nothing my family hasn’t already told me. At this age, I only care to know that I have lineage there. I doubt anyone related to me in Denmark knows I exist. I'm also a sorcerer, and jujutsu sorcery is a shitstorm. Can I ask that you bring me lots of pastries?” 

“I could run into your distant cousin and you’re still thinking about bread.” You stop mid-walk to face him in disbelief. Still curious as to how he could address such a deep part of himself like it's an uninteresting topic. 

“I'm not curious about it. Baking, on the other hand. Where do I even begin? Is the bakery outside your office building still there? Nothing will compare to that place. Expensive but it was worth it.” Nanami asks, stopping your walk to the entrance of your apartment building to pull out his cell phone.

“It’s not a historical monument. Of course, it’s still there.” 

“Then I’ll replace your presence in the cafe while you're away. The leather couch in the back corner is still your favorite right?” He was now taking pictures of the bright dawn above him.

“Replacing me also means talking to my coworkers. Your ex-coworkers.”

He cringed at the idea, “Hmm. You were the only person I talked to there.” 

You giggle at the current visual of him leaning back like a photographer with one eye closed. “Exactly. You can admit you miss your bread. Don’t use me as an excuse. Also, the sky isn’t that pretty at this time why’d you take a picture?” 

“If it feels right to me, I snap the photo. Not thinking too much about it at the time makes looking back at it more special.” He firmly states while he showed you the image. “It’s a feeling.”

“Don't take offence, but I’m not sure I get it.” You give a sheepish smile, honestly wishing you could understand his vision.

“None taken. It’s nothing complicated. Try it today. When you have a gut feeling that your memory won’t serve you in the future when you reminisce about a specific day, document it with the sky.” He advises while slipping the phone back into his cream-white blazer's inner pocket. “Send them to me too. I’ll create a folder for our sunsets.” 

“That doesn’t seem fair. You get pastries, sunsets, and travel photos. I want more than a folder in your camera roll when I return.” You sternly said, with your hands on your hips, but quickly lost your confident stance when the brisk air pricked your bare arms, causing a full-body shiver.

Nanami maintained eye contact while removing his blazer to snug it around your shoulders. 

“You’re right. How about a date then?”

Your eyes widened. For the new warmth that blanketed your skin and the fact that he had finally said it. The one word you’ve been yearning to hear from him since you started spending time together after he left the insurance company. The event that could lift the barrier. The barrier which maintained your label as his good friend. An ex-colleague. Turning the potentially one-sided crush you’ve had on him into a mutual pursuit. 

“Not at the bakery.” You mentally slap yourself for being so quick to respond. Thinking you had removed all the chances to come off as cool. 

A deep, raspy chuckle left his body, “No. Not the bakery. I’ll worry about the location. You just show up the same as always, lovely and perfect. The experience will be befitting of you.” 

“If you say so.” You bashfully comment. Not being able to meet his eyes, you lifted a hand to playfully shove his arm, but he gently held it in place. 

With the same gentle manner, he interlocked your fingers. His swift action made you ponder, whether the blazer was doing its job or the brown eyes beaming at you was increasing your body temperature. 

Softly grazing his fingers across your knuckles, he brought the back of your hand to his lips. Placing a tender kiss. 

“Don’t become a stranger.”

“Impossible.”

~ 

11:14 pm, October 31st, somewhere in the air. 

A hand tugged on the cream-white blazer you used as a blanket, succeeding at waking you up from a nap.

“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am. I’m delivering the next meal to you now.” The soft-spoken flight attendant apologized. She placed the tray on the vacant tray table. 

Almost forgetting where you were, you half sleepily heartened to her, “It’s not a problem. Thank you.” 

Barely looking in the right direction, it took a couple of seconds, paired with an infant's cries to recall your location. 

I’m not suffering again. Where are my EarPods?

Digging into the blazer pockets, you felt a heavy metal. Shit. The weight of your heart had become heavier. The chances of you shitting yourself were on par with the crying infant on the plane. You might have just ruined the chances of having your first date with Nanami. 

You hijacked the guy’s phone. Any audacity you thought you had to be frustrated with him for not responding to your texts instantly vanished. 

Okay! First time writing a longer piece so be nice.

Will probably do a part two if anyone wants it!

Edit: we did it (Part 2)

This is rough idea so let me know what details I can articulate better.

It’s also on Ao3, if you would prefer to continue the rest there!

#jujutsu kaisen #nanami fluff #nanami angst #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami x you #jjk shibuya arc #jjk moodboard #nanami headcanons #nanami imagines #nanami scenarios #nanami fanfic #nanamin #shoko ieiri #jjk manga #nanami x reader #nanami x black!reader #jjk fluff #jjk anime #jjk #jjk x reader #ao3

[nevess]

[ I crave a love that drowns oceans ] -K. Azizian

🌱… description: You and Anakin have had a rough time lately. The secret of being together has created some tension, but theres more to the burdens on Anakins heart. it appears to be that even the tiniest things can make you both want to explote at eachother, yet somehow it only happened until today.

🍵 … warnings: none? Just a bit of fighting with eachother, maybe intense feelings.

🧳 … character/s: Anakin Skywalker x Reader

☕️ … word count: around 1k ; | date: October 8th, 2023

🗞️ back to the main menu

a/n: more of this beautiful anakin x reader dinamic i have going on in my head. Disclaimer: i didn’t read it after finishing, so i apologize for any typos :p In other news, im looking for beta readerssss here's the post!

You and Anakin had been at it for what felt like an eternity, your voices rising in anger and frustration. The argument had strayed so far from its initial topic that it was almost comical, but neither of you found any humor in the situation. Your secret relationship as Jedi was a constant source of tension, and lately, it seemed like every conversation had the potential to turn into a battle.

Anakin paced back and forth across the small confines of your room, his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed. "I don't see why you're making such a big deal out of this," he snapped, his voice laced with irritation.

You sat on the edge of your bed, your hands clenched into fists. "Because, Anakin," you retorted, your voice shaking with frustration, "I wish you would just talk to me.” You looked at him in disbelief, you were being tormented by an amount of uncomfortable emotions getting out of control.  “It's like you're shutting me out." 

He stopped pacing and turned to face you, his blue eyes ablaze with anger. "I'm not shutting you out," he said sharply. You were dismayed by the tone of his voice, yet you decided to just take a deep breath and let him talk. "I'm protecting us, protecting our secret." 

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stood, your voice trembling. You were not going to allow him to make up excuses for the way he was acting towards you. "It doesn't feel like protection, It feels like you don't trust me" You confessed as the words blasted out of your mouth. Your heart ached, you were outraged. Anakin and you haven't been able to truly connect with each other in a long time since the war had a toll on the time you could spend in each other's company. And it seemed that frustrations were reaching you both, as any small inconvenience seemed to make you both want to explode, except that somehow you had never fought until today. 

Anakin's expression softened for a moment, but then his defenses went up again. "It's not about trust," he argued. "It's about following the Jedi Code. We can't afford to let our emotions get in the way."

You took a step closer to him, your voice demonstrating your new demeanor, now calmed and passive. You knew that adding more fire to fire would only make it worse, someone had to be the adult in the situation. "Since when do you care about that, Anakin?” You make a quick silence as you look him in the eye. “We're not just Jedi. We're people too. We have feelings, and we can't keep pretending like they don't exist."

He looked torn, caught between his duty as a Jedi and his love for you. There was something else bothering him, he wasn't telling you the whole story. But letting him open up slowly would be the best course of action for now. "I know," he said quietly. "But we have to be careful. We can't let anyone find out about us." That wasn't it, he was still not telling you what was truly happening to him. 

The frustration was not boiling inside you anymore, yet it decided to hide away. A small sigh left between your lips, loudly enough for him to hear. The tears you were holding back seemed to be gone, just like the anger you felt moments ago. "I understand you are worried about others finding out," You were careful with your words. Your tone was warm and sincere. "I just want you to be honest with me, to let me in." 

Anakin's eyes softened, and he took a step towards you, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm scared, Y/N," he admitted, his walls finally starting to crack.  Now this is what you should have been talking about from the start. You noticed he wasn't looking you in the eyes. "I'm scared of losing you." 

Anakin was the living proof someone could live in constant internal dissonance. Right now, was one of those moments where he was chasing clarity but was left with a puzzle without all the pieces. That's where you come in. You help him find those pieces so he can put them together on his own. 

You reached out and took his hand, pulling him into a tight embrace. "I'm scared too," you whispered, burying your face in his chest. "But we'll figure this out together. We can't keep fighting like this." 

One of your hands slowly moved towards the back of his neck, caressing gently, as your eyes met his once again. “Look, I can't make promises I may not be able to keep.” You whispered while trying to find the words to comfort his worries. “But I can promise you I'll always be here for you, for as long as I can.” His arms were keeping you close to him, scared, almost desperate, as if once he lets you go you'll be gone forever. 

The tension slowly melted away as you both clung to each other. You were now playing with his hair, trying to sooth him. Anakin's grip was firm, as if he could draw strength from your presence alone. Yet, you didn't need to use the force to feel the turmoil in him, his conflicted emotions like a storm raging beneath the surface. He didn't need to say it again; his fear of losing you was palpable. Instead, you felt his heart pounding against yours, his breath coming in uneven intervals.

His voice, when he spoke, was raw with emotion. "I just don't know how to navigate this, Y/N. It all seems so suffocating sometimes… I can't imagine a life without you in it." The blue eyed man was truly being tormented by something you don't yet understand. A fear that ran so deep… The only connection you could make with his past was the loss of his mother; a loss you knew scared his heart.

You moved one of your hands to his cheek, understanding the weight of his words. Anakin was a Jedi through and through —even when he was impulsive and impatient by nature—, bound by duty and honor, and yet he was also deeply in love with you. The conflict within him tore at his soul.

"I know, Anakin," you whispered softly, "We're treading a treacherous path, but we're in this together. We'll find a way to make it work." You hoped that your words represented what he needed to hear, you hoped they could give him the reassurance he needed. 

The brunette nodded against your shoulder, his grip loosening just slightly. "I can't lose you, Y/N. I won't." The last two words that came out of his mouth worried you, very much. You were afraid of what he was able to do in order to prevent that from happening. You knew every inch of Anakin Skywalker, like the palm of your hand. Even so, you didn't know where to stand, something in you was screaming. This was the opening you needed to help him navigate through his feelings. 

You smiled gently, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "And you won't. But you dont have to carry this burden alone. Come.” 

As Anakin and you moved to the bed, you found yourselves in a simple yet inviting quarters within the Jedi Temple. The room was a reflection of your life as a Jedi, with a hint of individuality amidst the serene surroundings.

The walls were adorned with soft, muted colors, chosen to promote tranquility and mindfulness. A large window stretched across one side of the room, allowing the soft, golden light of the setting sun to filter in, casting a warm glow over the space. The view outside offered a glimpse of the Temple gardens, a reminder of the beauty and serenity that existed within these hallowed walls.

The room was sparsely furnished, with just the essentials—a neatly made bed with simple linens, a small meditation cushion in one corner, and a low wooden table that served as a makeshift desk. A few personal items from missions adorned the tabletop, including small trinkets and mementos collected from different planets.

On a nearby shelf, there was a collection of well-worn books, each with a story and knowledge from the worlds you had explored during your Jedi missions. These volumes were a source of both solace and wisdom, their pages filled with experiences from other Jedi’s that had shaped your understanding of the galaxy.

Beside the books, a stack of notebooks lay neatly arranged. These journals held your thoughts, reflections, and observations about your life as a Jedi. They chronicled the struggles and triumphs, the doubts and resolutions, offering a glimpse into the inner world of a dedicated Jedi.

As you and Anakin settled onto the bed, the room seemed to envelop you both in a sense of calm and contemplation. It was a place where the burdens of being a Jedi could momentarily be set aside, a sanctuary where love could bloom amidst the memories of the past and the uncertainties of the future.

You proceed to cuddle in the middle of the bed. Anakin hugging your body, while you played with his hair. Your voice was a soothing melody that wrapped around Anakin's heart like a warm embrace. It carried a serenity that seemed to flow effortlessly, a tranquil river of understanding and empathy. Your words were spoken with a gentle cadence, each syllable carrying a weight of genuine affection and love.

As you uttered, "Let me help you carry this," your voice resonated with a sincerity that went beyond mere words. It held a profound tranquility, a calm assurance that you were there for him, ready to share the burden of his emotional turmoil. Your voice was a balm to his troubled soul, a reminder that in your presence, he could find solace and acceptance.

In that moment, your voice acted as a beacon of unwavering support, a testament to the depth of your feelings for Anakin. It was a voice that whispered promises of understanding and devotion, assuring him that together, you could face whatever challenges lay ahead. He finally opened up. 

© Nevess 2023. My original posts are not allowed to be edited, translated and/or re-uploaded on another account or platform without my permission, nevertheless, re-blogs are accepted and very appreciated.

#nevess.writing #anakin x you #anakin skywalker #anakin fanfiction #sw anakin #anakin imagine #anakin angst #anakin skywalker angst #star wars anakin #anakin star wars #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker clone wars #anakin skywalker x you #anakin #anakin needs a hug #anakin x reader #anakin x y/n #anakin x oc #anakin x fem reader #star wars fanfiction #clone wars fanfiction #anakin clone wars

[getvalentined]

FF7 Fandom PSA

This is not a callout post, this is a warning about a genuinely dangerous abuser who uses fandom spaces to acquire victims.

Apparently my abusive ex is ingratiating himself into fandom spaces again, so if you're in the FF7 fandom please keep an eye out for someone calling himself Pix or Pixeled.

The details of what he did to me specifically are available in a post from almost exactly two years ago, readable here. Other people have shared their own stories, but I don't have the energy to dig up all of them. Trigger warnings for gaslighting, emotional abuse, violent threats, forced isolation, manipulation, and more that I'm definitely missing.

Known usernames:

Instagram: midgardsomrnights, pixeledartsy, okgoosefus, pixeledpalace

AO3: pixeled, pixeledxxx

tiktok: pixrexpen, gaywrathlet

FFXIV: sarielperedhil (on Brynhildr)

ko-fi: pixrexpalace

Other: pix pendragon, pixeled pendragon, pixrexpendragon

Some of these are current, most of them are not; he's no longer active here or on Twitter that I'm aware of, so I'm not referring to his usernames there, but he uses some combination of parts from these for his usernames everywhere so they followed the same theme.

This is not "fandom drama," this is a sincere warning to anyone in his orbit to be careful and be safe. Please love yourself more than he wants you to.

With that in mind, there are more personal details under the cut, discussing the fallout of going public with his abuse and more of his behavior; no screenshots on these because it's years in the past, not all of the related accounts and spaces still exist, and back when I was first gathering evidence I had to stop before it lapsed into the territory of emotional self-harm.

Same trigger warnings as above, plus racism, (implied) sexual exploitation, sexual manipulation, and discussion of Body Dysmorphic Disorder.

I want to be very clear that I was not the first person to go through this, I was just the first to go public afterward. I have lost relationships with people I thought were friends by doing so, and actually been referred to as abusive in response to my initial thread on Twitter letting people know what he'd done. I've had people who used his treatment of me as an excuse to join in with hurting me go on to co-opt my abuse to make themselves look like victims, claiming that we were best friends until he drove us apart—or worse, to use him as a complete stand-in for their own behavior, implying or outright stating that he forced them to isolate me from friends and fandom activities and treat me like shit, all while these people have me blocked on every possible platform where I could reconnect with them.

Pix was the Bad Guy of early 2022 on FF7 Twitter, and while he deserved the title, not everything everyone said about him was true. Not everything everyone said about me was true, either, but people tend to take anything connected to fandom as "drama," even when it involves literal abuse.

One thing I never told anyone except my closest friends is that Pix drove me to the verge of suicide multiple times. He put up videos insulting me to be "funny" and got friends laughing along, when I asked him to stop teasing me all the time he exploded and said that he was allowed to express himself however he wanted and if I had a problem then I should break up with him so he could finally kill himself guilt-free, he told me that he wasn't going to placate me anymore by saying "I love you," he told me in public spaces to shut up because I didn't know anything. He used racist slurs against Asian people behind my back and told everyone who called him on it that I'd told him it was all right, leading to a continuing belief among some circles that I have some deep internalized racism toward my own fucking ethnicity.

He told me that his mother saw me as a whore and a homewrecker, because I'd seduced him away from his boyfriend of eight years—in spite of the fact that I told him outright I did not want a romantic relationship with him because he was already in one, and I wouldn't be party to cheating. When I went public with what he did, he claimed that I pressured him into a romantic relationship, neglecting to mention that he'd been pushing for one almost since we met and that I'd shot him down because he was already with someone else. He said that I'd forced him to break up with his boyfriend, and seemed to be implying that I'd somehow sexually exploited him because I'm a cisgender lesbian and he identified as an aro/ace trans man at the time we broke up. When we got together, he identified as a bisexual nonbinary person.

To be completely honest, though, his orientation and gender identity doesn't even fucking matter with regards to the implication that I exploited him because we never had any form of sexual contact—unless you want to count RP, which I don't, and if I did I would be calling him a cheater because I was not his only RP partner.

To be completely clear, we were in a long distance relationship, thousands of miles apart, and we had no sexual contact. We never sexted, we never had phone sex, we never even exchanged dirty pictures. Our relationship had no sexual element whatsoever. He eventually told me in no uncertain terms that if/when we got married, he wasn't going to sleep with me because he didn't have a sex drive anymore due to trauma, and that since I loved him so much I'd have to be happy with that.

He would remind me of this when my Body Dysmorphic Disorder began to relapse constantly from the amount of stress he had me under, because my experience with the condition is rooted on my lack of physical femininity and leads me to see myself as completely sexually repulsive. When I was triggered and trying to untie the knot in my chest that made me want to throw up at the thought of my own body, he would remind me that I didn't have to worry about being too ugly for sex with him, because he was never going to fuck me anyway. That it didn't matter if I was disgusting, because he found all bodies disgusting, so really I was lucky to have him. He didn't even care that I was disabled and that my arms and legs are too long, that my joints slip out of place all the time, that the way I have to move sometimes to keep from hurting makes me look "weird and stupid." I was so lucky to have him, because even though he was very aware of all those things, he didn't actually care. He wasn't going to fuck me anyway.

The last Christmas card he sent me literally had the words "You deserve a high-five!" printed on the front, and on the reverse he'd written something along the lines of "okay but you know I'd be sure to miss and slap you in the face, sorry not sorry."

He made my life hell in every possible way, and people said it was drama because we met through fandom—and that I deserved it, honestly, since I was so fucked up and he was such a good person for even caring about me in the first place. I deserved it, people said, since I turned around and stabbed him in the back after he'd done so much for me for the years we were together. It was just fandom drama, they said, and I was just thriving off the social capital it allegedly earned me.

And now he's back and making new friends, but it's fine because this all happened years ago, and everyone with a brain should be able to see that it's just fandom drama. But it's not. It never was. Don't let him convince you otherwise.

#PSA #personal #abuse tw #should I tag this with the fandom? #should I put it on the block? #it's dangerous #for me #but I think it's worth it #to keep others safe #final fantasy 7 #FF7 #final fantasy vii #FFVII #rufus shinra #tsengru #rutseng #the [redacted] files

[whatitshouldvebeen]

A man like Johnny 😍 how nice it would be

I'm gonna burst my own bubble here and say: I'm sane enough to realize being with Johnny would be 10000% toxic.

But, I can't help the fact he turns me on like crazy. I'll break down what a relationship with him would be like.

Johnny is a supreme narcissist. The extent he cares about you directly correlates to how much you care about him and stops the moment being with you is more difficult than it's worth

He would require and demand complete submission from you, constantly. If you give him lip, you're giving him a problem, and every instance of you being an issue pushes you further into "disposable" edible territory.

The part of my brain that craves submission is absolutely infatuated with the idea of a man who would kill for disobedience. I recognize this part of me is not grounded in reality, its more like a supreme power fantasy.

Johnny would struggle to show affection, and if you need affection, you'll have to settle for the look in his eyes when he's pussy drunk.

He will cuddle you, but it's never for you. He just likes to possess you.

Johnny will never tell you he loves you unless he's at absolute ecstacy levels of pleasure. And even then, if you say anything about it, he'll tell you he didn't mean it, and treat you like shit for being stupid enough to believe what he says when fucking you.

He is supremely possessive. I consider this a good thing, but most women would probably hate not being allowed to have friends, never speaking to a male, covering up unless he was with you, and dealing with his paranoia.

He needs to keep track of your every moment of every day. If you forget to tell him where you're going, even if its just to the mailbox, he will become extremely irate.

Johnny is abusive. He will slap, beat, spit on, degrade, and straight up leave you locked in a room if he feels like you deserve it. And "deserving" it could mean as little as not having dinner ready when he gets home.

Speaking of that, if he keeps you around the house, you better keep it spotless. Johnny might not be the most cleanly man in the world, but he expects you to keep everything in order. He will use your making a mess as an excuse to beat you.

Don't expect that he will ever let you leave the house. He might take you out around the house, but he will likely never take you on a date and especially not out of town.

Johnny is my safe space to express my desire for the penultimate submission. When he says, "Die for me!" I feel like I would be happy dying if it was by his hand. I recognize being with a man like Johnny would make me into a mere shadow of him, with everything in my life revolving around him and his goals, his happiness, his pleasure.

I hear people say "I could fix him!" But in my mind, in the darkest recesses of my desire, I wouldn't want to change him. Which is why I'm absolutely in love, and thrilled he doesn't exist, because then, I'm not sure I could resist.

#johnny slaughter #johnny sawyer #texas chainsaw massacre game #tcm game #texas chainsaw game #tcm #tcm smut #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter headcanon #slasher x reader #tw abuse

[imagine-you]

Don't Blame Me (1/3) [Billy Hargrove/Reader; eventual Eddie Munson/Reader; Billy Hargrove/Reader/Eddie Munson]

Summary: One boyfriend clawing his way free from the clutches of the Upside Down once it decided to unleash its own brand of hell on Hawkins was a miracle you weren't sure you entirely deserved. When another previously dead boyfriend shows up on your doorstep and throws your whole world into chaos, you start to wonder if it's a blessing or a curse. You're terrified you'll have to choose between your first love and the guy who saved you from yourself, but will that turn out to be the least of your worries? As word begins to spread around town of a masked killer draining Hawkins residents of their blood, you realize you're a lot closer to danger than you've ever been before, but maybe, just this once, it's not such a bad thing after all. Word Count: 6.3k Author's Notes: Somehow, this was born out of an obsession with Don't Blame Me by Taylor Swift and a need to write a darker fic. I wrote the ghostface fic last year for Halloween along with a demon!Billy and vampire!Eddie fic…and somehow they're all meshing together to create one big fucked up Halloween fic this year. I don't even know what the fuck I'm doing at this point, but uhhhhh enjoy my insanity??

Read on AO3

"Don't blame me," were the first words Billy Hargrove ever said to you. It was quickly followed by: "It's the freak's fault."  

"Oh, forgive me for walking," Eddie Munson said in a mocking tone, holding his hands up in surrender. "Blame Mr. Mullethead over here for being too cool to look where he's going," Eddie sneered at Billy.

At that point in time, you didn't really care whose fault it was. You were only concerned about the fact that your shirt was now covered in soda and you were either going to have to go home or suffer through the rest of the day with a soaked shirt. "Shit," you sighed, realizing you were just going to have to go home. You would have to make up a test, but you were starting not to care. After a day that had started off with a stubbed toe, a burned finger, and now a sticky shirt, you would rather just suffer through the rest of the day from the comfort of your own bedroom. "Whatever," you dismissed. "Just another reason I should get the fuck out of here." 

You turned, not bothering to spare a second look for the other two, before making a break for the cafeteria doors.  

"Shit," you heard someone mutter before footsteps took off in your direction. You refused to look back to see which of the two dickheads who had spilled soda all over you was behind you, prompting the guy to huff in irritation. "Just, damn it, would you hold on a second? Where the hell are you going?" 

"Home," you snapped, allowing yourself a brief moment to glance over your shoulder to confirm that Billy Hargrove was in fact following you. 

"You don't even have a car," Billy pointed out, surprising you. Today was the first day you exchanged anything resembling a conversation with Billy and you had just been living with the assumption that he had no idea you existed. "What are you gonna do? Walk home?" 

"Maybe," you answered, quickening your pace in an attempt to get rid of Billy. You were cold and pissed off and you wanted nothing more than to just pull on a pair of pajamas and crawl into bed. "Why are you still following me?" You asked when you realized he hadn't taken the hint that you wanted him to get lost.  

"Look, will you stop being so damn stubborn and just talk to me for a second?" 

You reluctantly turned to face Billy, abruptly stopping him in his tracks. "Okay. What do you want?" 

"I'm not exactly taking the blame or anything here," Billy started, hastily reaching out to grab your backpack and sling it over his shoulder, "but the least I can do is give you a ride home." 

You studied him for a moment, half-sure he was only offering because he wanted an excuse to cut class. You also got the feeling that he was going to hold your backpack hostage until you agreed. It didn't take long for you to realize you didn't care about Billy’s motives as long as his offer worked out for the both of you. If you didn't have to walk home, then all the better. "Fine," you finally conceded with a shrug of your shoulders. You stepped to the side, gesturing for Billy to walk by you. "Lead the way, then." 

He watched you for a moment as if he thought you might turn and run the second he had his back to you. Finally, after a few more seconds of deliberation, Billy turned and started walking. You followed him, not entirely sure if you were making the right decision. You also couldn't stop your gaze from drifting, taking in the so-called 'fantastic ass' most of the girls had been going on about since Billy Hargrove showed up at the beginning of the year. You were forced to look away when Billy stopped at the doors leading out to the parking lot. He pushed open one of them, beckoning for you to pass him.  

"Such a gentleman," you told him as you walked outside, catching the faint smirk on his face.  

"Yeah, well, it had to happen sometime," he drawled as he followed you. "It's that one over there," he told you, directing you towards his Camaro with a hand on the small of your back.  

"I know," you pointed out with an amused smile in his direction. "You're not as subtle as you think." 

"Well, she's the best thing to ever happen to me," Billy admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. "Why not show her off a little? She deserves it." 

"She does," you agreed, smiling at the way Billy tried and failed not to light up at your praise. "She is really beautiful." 

"Damn right she is," Billy purred, satisfaction bleeding through into his tone. When you looked up at him, you expected to see him gazing at his beloved car in adoration, but instead, he was watching you. You felt your cheeks flush, trying to hide the fact that you were feeling flustered from his attention. Billy was a notorious flirt and you didn't want to be like every other girl who had fallen prey to his charm.  

"Ready to go?" You asked, lamely trying to shift the focus of the conversation. "I'm freezing."  

"Shit, yeah, we should get you out of those wet clothes," Billy said, moving to open the passenger side door of his car for you. You didn't miss the hint of suggestion in his voice, but if you were going to survive even just five minutes alone in a car with Billy Hargrove, then you were just going to have to ignore it.  

Once Billy pulled out of the school parking lot, you started offering him directions towards your house.  

"So," you started, once Billy hit the long stretch of road that would lead to your house. "Graduation is coming up in a couple months." 

"Yeah? What about it?" Billy's tone didn't waver, but from the way he started tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, you got the feeling that talking about graduation made him nervous.  

"Nothing," you said, shrugging your shoulders. "Just wondering what you've got planned after it's all over." 

Billy snorted, the sound half amused and half derisive. "I'm just trying to get to graduation. Haven't thought much about what comes after." 

"Well," you started, not even sure where you were going with your sentence. You frowned thoughtfully out the window, trying to think of something to say, but accidentally letting silence fall over the car.  

"Well?" Billy prompted with a glance at you. "There anything after that or you forget how to talk?" 

You rolled your eyes, a reluctant grin pulling at your lips. "Maybe," you answered, refusing to admit that you were so nervous you didn't know how to talk to him. Billy was cool and suave and had all the girls at school in a chokehold. When you woke up that morning, you didn't expect to say two words to him, much less find yourself in his car and expected to keep up a conversation.  

"Why do you walk to school every day?" Billy broke the silence, finally taking pity on you.  

"I'm a senior in high school," you pointed out with a shrug of your shoulders. "I can't afford a car and I’m sure as hell not asking my mom to help me get one. And I’ll just feel really pathetic if I'm seen riding the bus, so I might as well take my only other option." 

“What about your dad? He some kind of deadbeat or something? Can’t help his kid get a car?” 

You snorted, not able to help the noise of contempt you made. “You could say that,” you answered. “He split a few years back and we haven’t heard from him since.” 

“Sounds like a real piece of shit,” Billy observed with a frown.  

“Yeah,” you sighed. “So, no car and no bus means I’ve got to walk. At least it’s just for a few more months. Once I graduate, I can get a job and figure all that shit out.”  

"Well," Billy started, squinting his eyes at the road ahead, lost in thought.  

"Well?" You mocked, drawing a surprised laugh from Billy.  

"I could just drive you to school," he offered, shooting you a brief, searching look. "Wouldn't even make you chip in for gas money or anything." 

"Why?" You couldn't help but wonder. Billy didn't seem like the kind of guy to dole out charity rides in his beloved car. "What's in it for you?" 

"Just seems a shame, is all," he told you. "Someone like you freezing her ass off every day. Besides, it'll give us a chance to get to know each other a little better." 

You let out an incredulous laugh, not sure how your life had gotten so spun around in just the matter of a few hours. "And you want to get to know me better?" 

"I do," Billy responded with a nod of his head. "So, what do you think?" He asked as he pulled to a stop in front of your house. "You in?" 

You knew immediately the answer you wanted to give, but you stopped yourself before you could say anything. It was crazy, right? You weren't supposed to accept rides from strangers, but Billy didn't feel strange to you. You didn't know him all that well, sure, but like he pointed out, you could always get to know him a bit better. There probably wasn't any harm in that. "Sure," you finally agreed, flashing him a grin. "I'm in." 

There was a part of you that thought maybe Billy was just kidding around when he offered to drive you to school. Maybe it was his idea of a joke or a way to get under your skin, but he managed to surprise you when you stepped outside the next morning, and he was there waiting in your driveway. "Shit," you muttered as you turned to lock your front door. "What the hell have I gotten myself into?" 

You settled into a surprisingly easy pattern with Billy over the next few weeks. He picked you up, told you to ignore his stepsister in the backseat, and cranked up his music so loud that you could barely think. Half the time, you were able to actually hold some semblance of a conversation with either Billy or Max, but never both at the same time. It wasn't hard to figure out that they didn't exactly get along, but you weren't sure how to fix it. You probably shouldn't feel the need to fix it in the first place, but that was just who you were. You couldn't fix your own problems half the time, so why not try to fix everyone else's?   

You forced yourself to keep your mouth shut, though. Billy rarely allowed you to see a different side to him than his usual cool demeanor, but when it was just the two of you in his car, he started to unwind just the tiniest bit. It started off slowly from singing along to the radio under his breath or nodding his head along to the music to letting slip bits and pieces of his life pre-Hawkins and talking about his plans for the future. They were all moments that you filed away to examine later, because you knew that if Billy knew just how much it meant to you that he was starting to let you in, then he would shut you out.   

It didn't take long for you to realize Billy Hargrove was a broken person. He did his best to hide who he really was from everyone at school, but you were no stranger to suffering in silence. There was pain in his eyes every time he looked at you and you wanted nothing more than to heal him.  

You thought that more than anything, maybe he just needed a friend. He needed someone to genuinely care about him, because he didn't seem to have anyone. His mom wasn't in the picture and from the way Billy spoke about him, it sounded like his father was a complete jackass. Max didn't seem fond of Billy and you were sure his stepmom felt the same way. He had fans, not friends, at school and enemies he made with every biting, sarcastic comment.   

So, yeah, you could be his friend. It wasn't all that much of a hardship, because once Billy started to allow his walls to come down around you, you came to the startling conclusion that you genuinely liked him.  

By the time spring break rolled around, you realized you were going to miss seeing Billy every day at school. You shouldn't have worried, though, because that Monday afternoon you were roused from your bed by the sound of someone honking a car horn from your driveway. "Fuck," you groaned, knowing there was only one person who was capable of annoying you out of bed during spring break.  

You rushed to pull on the pair of jeans you had left on your floor the day before and tried to make sure you didn't look like a complete mess as you passed your vanity mirror. By the time you made it outside, Billy had started keeping up a steady rhythm with the car horn, only stopping once he noticed you.  

"What the hell are you doing?" You asked once you were in his passenger seat. “You’re lucky my mom is at work or she would’ve called the cops on you.” 

"Just thought we could do something," he offered with a shrug of his shoulders. "Beats you moping around your house all day because you miss my face." 

 “You caught me,” you drawled, putting a hand to your chest. “The pictures all over my room weren’t enough. I just had to get a glimpse of the real thing.” 

“I knew it!” Billy crowed with a delighted laugh. “What do you say, then? Wanna get out of here?” 

"Okay," you agreed with a nod of your head. "So, what'd you have in mind?" 

You ended up going for a burger and fries that day and to the movies on Wednesday. You dragged Billy to the arcade on Thursday and let him take you to the quarry on Saturday. He seemed to content to simply throw rocks into the water and smoke through half a pack of cigarettes, all the while letting you ramble on about everything you needed to do before you graduated.  

Billy took a drag before he shook his head. "You worry too much," he sighed, shooting you an annoyed look. "You're gonna graduate and go off to school and land some job making a bunch of money. You'll get out of here and forget about all this bullshit," he told you, waving his cigarette in the air as he gestured towards the town.  

There was a hint of melancholy in his tone that told you that what Billy was really worried about was that you would forget him. "Fuck that," you found yourself saying, moving until you could stand at his side. "We are going to graduate and get summer jobs. Then we'll get an apartment, because who would be better roommates than us, right? And then we'll figure it out from there. But I'm not gonna just forget about you. You're stuck with me," you told him, delighting in the rare, pleased smile that tugged at his lips.  

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed, briefly bumping his shoulder against yours before taking another drag from his cigarette. "A fucking stupid plan on your part, but it works for me." 

"Good," you told him. "Now, let's go get something to eat. I'm starving." 

After spring break, your routine with Billy changed. Instead of dropping you off at your house first, he chose to get Max home before driving out to a local burger joint. You paid just as often as Billy did, letting him know you were just as invested in your friendship as he was and you weren’t looking to take advantage of him. Billy seemed to think it was stupid, but you didn’t care.  

By the time summer was on the horizon, Billy had firmly cemented himself into your life as your best friend. There was no doubt in your mind that the bond you shared with him was special, and in a roundabout way, you had Eddie Munson and his clumsiness to thank for that.  

You depended on Billy to get you through the day and you looked forward to whatever scathing comments he had to make about his day or fellow classmates and teachers. You couldn't wait to hear him sing along to Billy Idol or Bon Jovi, growing bolder each day and letting himself unwind around you. You loved the sound of his laugh and the way his eyes lit up when he got you to sing along to the radio with him. You found yourself talking more about your future together and which apartments around town you might be able to afford as senior year came to an end.  

You didn't even realize how much your feelings for Billy had evolved until you were leaving school one day in late May.  

You walked outside, shielding your eyes against the sun, before scanning the parking lot. When you saw him, it felt like someone punched you in the gut. Billy was leaning up against his car, waiting for you to find him. It was usual and routine, but the second your eyes met his across the parking lot, a terrifying feeling poured through you. You felt like someone had just tipped your world to the side. Your breath left you all in one rush as you scrambled to pin down what was so different about this time. It took you entirely too long to realize what had stopped you in your tracks.  

Want.  

You wanted Billy. It felt all-consuming, causing your mind to spin in a dozen different directions.  

You wanted Billy to take your hand and press a kiss to your lips. You wanted to sneak him through your bedroom window so he could hold you close all night long. You wanted more than dinners and movies and shared laughter. You wanted a next step and a next, until both of your lives were so inextricably joined that there was no question that wherever one of you went, the other would follow.  

You knew you probably looked like you were having a meltdown when his expression morphed from one of expectation to one of concern. You forced yourself to take a deep, albeit shaky, breath and put one foot in front of the other until you were standing in front of him.  

"Hey," you made yourself say. "Ready to go?" 

Billy squinted at you before looking you up and down. "You doing alright? You looked like you weren't sure if you wanted to come over here. Did something happen?" 

"What? No!" You scoffed, turning away from him so he wouldn’t see you trying to school your expression into something that didn’t make you look like a lovestruck idiot. "Of course I wanted to come over here. With you," you added, wincing at your own ineptitude.  

"Okay," Billy finally allowed, drawing out the word. "Get in," he said, gesturing for you to climb into the passenger seat.  

Once you were aware of your feelings for Billy, it seemed to be all you could think about. It wasn't even when you were around him, either. Lying in bed at night, you wished he was there with you. Every little mundane act of your life felt like it would be made completely better if Billy was just there with you and you weren't sure how long you could go on hiding what you wanted from him.  

"So," Billy started on the last Friday of your senior year. "Want to go out for dinner tomorrow? Celebrate our impending freedom?" 

"Sounds good," you agreed, staring out the passenger side window. Every time Billy asked you to hang out, you felt a little thrill shoot through you. What did it mean? Was it just as friends or was he also just trying to find ways to spend more time with you? You tried not to get your hopes up, because you didn’t want to ruin your friendship with Billy, but you couldn’t stop yourself from contemplating all the possibilities. "Burgers?" You suggested with a quick look at him.  

"Nah," Billy answered, pulling to a stop in front of your house. "I've got something else in mind. Be ready by seven," he ordered.  

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but Billy bringing you to one of the best Italian places within a twenty-mile radius of Hawkins wasn't it.  

"What are we doing here?" You couldn't help but ask, hoping he wouldn't find offense in the question. By ‘something else,’ you had assumed Billy maybe meant going out for pizza, but the restaurant you were staring up at looked so far out of your usual price range that you weren’t even sure how either of you could afford it.  

"Just thought we could try something new," Billy answered with a shrug of his shoulders.  

When you looked at him, you noticed that he was wearing a pair of jeans without any holes or rips in the knees. His shirt was buttoned up and his bomber jacket was nowhere in sight. You weren't sure why Billy dressing up made you feel nervous, but you were suddenly aware of how clammy your hands felt.  

"Wait there a second," Billy told you before he got out of his car. He rounded the hood before pulling the passenger door open, gesturing for you to get out.  

Billy led you inside the restaurant, informing the maître d’ that he had a reservation for Hargrove. A waiter led you back to a table and Billy pulled a chair out for you, gesturing for you to sit down. You could feel your cheeks flush and you weren't sure if you looked as unsure as you felt, but once it was just the two of you at the table, you started to feel like everything would be okay. You were back on sure footing, because this was just a regular dinner with Billy, right? He was only going all out because he wanted to celebrate the fact that you were both about to finish high school.  

It wasn't until Billy slid a menu over towards you that it all finally started to click into place for you.  

"Order whatever you want, okay? I'm buying." There was a waver to his voice that had you flicking your gaze up from the menu to look at him.  

You studied Billy for a moment, trying to figure out why the hell he sounded so nervous, when you got it.  

"Is this a date?" You blurted with a startled look at Billy.  

Billy rolled his eyes before shaking his head in fake dismay. "I thought you were the smart one, y'know? It took you long enough to figure it out. Thought you would've got it when I took you here instead of Burger Barn for the fiftieth time." 

You weren't sure how to react for a moment, trying and failing to process the fact that you were on a date with your best friend, before the rest of his words sunk in. You let out a disbelieving laugh before grabbing a breadstick from the basket in the middle of the table. You ripped it in two before throwing half at Billy. He let out a thrilled, shocked laugh before he picked up the breadstick and pointedly took a bite out of it.  

You weren't the kind for flowery bits of prose to describe your every waking moment. You would never be described as dreamy or wistful, but you couldn't deny that your first date with Billy felt entirely and completely magical.  

By the time he was dropping you off at home, you realized you never wanted it to end. You hesitated before getting out of the car, shooting Billy an unsure look. Finally, you worked up all your courage and kissed him. Billy froze the moment your lips touched his and you were briefly worried that you had gone too fast. You shouldn't have been scared, though, because Billy suddenly jolted against you, as if springing to life, before his hand was in your hair and guiding you closer towards him.  

By the time you pulled away, you had missed your curfew by ten minutes and you couldn't help the urge to go for broke.  

"Wanna come up? I can sneak you in." 

"What if your mom finds out? She'll kill us." 

You shrugged your shoulders, helpless against the grin you shot him. "Let's risk it anyway." 

Billy's laugh was more than enough incentive to carry through with your plan.  

That night proved to you what you had known all along. Billy really did belong at your side, in your bed, holding you close. It was even better than you expected and you hoped the tiny flame of warmth lighting you up from the inside never died out.  

You snuck Billy into your room every night until graduation. Your mom already knew how you felt about Billy and while she was never going to be happy about anyone stealing her only kid away, she supported your plan to move in with Billy over the summer. Her graduation gift to you was to pay for your deposit on an apartment, which meant that you were able to find a place with Billy by the time he took a job as a lifeguard at the Hawkins community pool.  

You took a job at Bradley’s Big Buy, since you only had your meager savings to rely on. It wasn't the most glamorous of jobs, but it would help you pay rent while you took classes at Hawkins Community College.   

That June was shaping up to be one of the best months of your entire life. To anyone else, it might seem mundane and boring, but you didn't care. Every day, you got to wake up next to Billy in the bed you shared before getting up and making breakfast. Trading early morning kisses before leaving for classes got you through the day until Billy picked you up after your shift at the store. By the time you were crawling into bed, you felt satisfied and fulfilled, knowing you were falling asleep next to your best friend just to wake up with his arm around your waist the next morning, set to go through it all again.  

You were so used to the routine you set with Billy that you felt bereft when it was abruptly broken.  

It started for you when Billy didn't bother to pick you up from Bradley's after your shift. You were worried something happened to him, but you hoped that maybe he had simply fallen asleep on the couch after his shift at the pool. You had to call your mom to give you a ride home, since you didn't feel comfortable walking home alone at night.  

When you didn't spot the Camaro in your designated parking spot at the complex, you started fearing the worst. You knew Billy wouldn't just not come home. Something bad had happened to him and you didn't have the first clue about what to do to find him.  

Your options were limited, but you finally got your mom to let you borrow her car so you could drive around Hawkins and look for Billy. You didn't find him that night and you didn't find him the next night. You checked with every hospital in a fifty-mile radius, but there wasn't anyone admitted fitting Billy's description.  

You finally tracked him down two days after he went missing from your life at the city pool. You knew there was something wrong with him when you caught sight of him sitting in the lifeguard chair wearing a sweatshirt. There was no way that Billy could be cold, and even when he was, he wasn't the type to cover up. He would never actually admit it to anyone, but you knew he liked to show off his physique. He worked hard for it and while you never wanted to begrudge him anything he wanted, the wandering eyes of Hawkins housewives bothered you. To see him covered up and hunched in on himself, gloomily sipping an Icee was just downright bizarre and completely out of character for him.  

"Billy," you called, walking up to him. You noticed his shoulders tense before he tipped his head down to stare at you.  

"What?" he asked, his tone cold and detached. 

"What do you mean 'what'? Where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick thinking you were dead in a ditch somewhere!" You weren’t sure whether to feel angry that he was being so flippant about his sudden absence from your life or relieved that he was alive.  

"Around," he answered, casting his gaze up towards the sky. "Taking care of some things." 

"Billy," you started, not sure how to continue. "Come home," you finally made yourself say. "Whatever this is or whatever happened, we'll figure it out, alright? Just come home," you begged, hating how your voice cracked on the word 'home.' Your home wasn't much of a home without Billy. You missed hearing his laugh and seeing how crazy his hair was every morning. You missed feeling his warmth in your bed next to you and the way he hummed whatever tune he had stuck in his head while he cooked breakfast. You missed his touch and his kisses and everything about him.  

Billy let out a chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine. You knew it was probably crazy, but it sounded nothing like Billy. You suddenly felt like you were talking to a complete stranger. "There's nothing to figure out. I got bored, so I left.  

"Bored," you repeated, trying to make sense of the word. "You got bored." It was like a switch had flipped and your whole world was turned upside down. You had always feared that Billy would get tired of domestic life with you, but you never once thought it would actually happen.  

"Bored," Billy drawled with a nod of his head. "So, fuck off. And don't bother me again," he added, almost as an afterthought.  

You wanted to yell and scream and try to get Billy to make some kind of sense, but you could feel tears beginning to sting your eyes and you didn't want to cry in front of him. "Fuck you," you snarled before turning away. You felt like you couldn't breathe as you walked away from him, every step taking you away from him another punch to your gut.  

You were trying to figure out if it was worth it to walk home or if you should find a payphone to try to get in touch with your mom when you heard someone call your name.  

You were surprised to see Max approaching you. "Are you okay? Did Billy--," she cut herself off, searching your expression with worry. "Did Billy hurt you?" 

"You could say that," you scoffed, attempting to hide the pain you felt, but unable to stop the tears slipping down your face. "I think we broke up." 

"Y/N," Max said, moving closer to you. "I don't think Billy's himself right now," she explained, her brow furrowing in concern. "But we're gonna try to fix it, okay? Just maybe steer clear of him until it's over." 

"What? Until what's over? Max!" You called as she walked away from you. You saw Max rejoin her friends, all of them huddled by the fence that surrounded the pool. You had no idea what the hell was going on, but Max's words brought you just the tiniest bit of hope. Maybe you hadn't lost Billy after all. Maybe it was all just a big misunderstanding.  

You continued to go about your life as much as you could despite the fact that Billy hadn't come home yet. The whole town was excited about the big Fourth of July celebration, but you couldn't have cared less. That was why you were at the store while most of the town was celebrating. You liked hanging out in the back room while the store was closed. It was better than going back to an empty apartment at any rate. Your boss was fine with it as long as you remembered to lock up and didn't make a mess, so you compensated him for his generosity by making sure the store looked perfect by the time it opened the next morning. 

You weren't expecting to see anyone for the rest of the night, so you were surprised when a car pulled into the lot. You were ready to tell whoever it was that the store was closed, but when you noticed Max getting out of the car, helping an injured girl out of the back, you found yourself unlocking the door instead.  

"Max? What the hell's going on?" 

"We needed some supplies," she said, nodding towards the injured girl. "A lot of them." 

You had no idea what was going on, but if Max was involved, then you wanted to help. "Take whatever you need," you told her, gesturing for her and the rest of the group to enter the store. “Just don’t make a mess, alright?” 

You weren't quite sure why Max was hanging out with Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers or why they all seemed like they were traumatized out of their minds. You knew you would be in for a world of trouble the next time inventory was taken, but you didn't care. There was a feeling in your gut that told you whatever had spooked the others had something to do with Billy. So, while they loaded up the car with fireworks and medical supplies, you calmly locked up the store and turned to face Max.  

"I'm coming with you." 

"What? Y/N, no, you can't. It’s not safe," Max tried to dissuade you. She shared a panicked look with Lucas Sinclair before looking back at you. 

"I can," you told her, knowing you weren't about to be left behind. "Whatever's going on, I can help. I can’t just sit here all night wondering if you’re okay. I’m going with you." 

"You really shouldn't," Dustin Henderson chimed in with a frown. “You’ve got no idea what you’re throwing yourself into.” 

"I don’t care,” you dismissed with a shake of your head. “Look, I'm not staying behind while you all run off into danger. I've already let you steal from my job. Just let me do this.” 

"Get in," Nancy told you, ignoring Max’s noise of protest. “We’re wasting time arguing.” 

“Just...,” Max trailed off, shooting you an uncertain look. “Just try to keep an open mind. I promise you’re not going crazy.” 

Those words would prove to haunt you, because what you experienced next felt like a complete and total shredding of your sanity.  

Your night descended into complete chaos. Hiding from a gargantuan, fleshy monster was one thing, but seeing Billy attempt to run Nancy over with his precious Camaro while she attempted to shoot him was a completely different one. You didn’t even get to see if Billy was okay after someone crashed into his car because you were being yanked into a car by Steve 'The Hair' Harrington before you could be killed by the monster that was terrorizing the mall.  

None of it made sense and despite getting a brief rundown on the Upside Down and a girl with superpowers and the monster that had infected your boyfriend and numerous other people around Hawkins, you still couldn’t wrap your head around how the night ended.  

Because there was no way in hell it was real. You could accept that everything else was possible, but seeing Billy slump to the floor, bleeding and broken, was the one thing you couldn’t believe.  

"Billy!" You cried, rushing forward, hardly caring about the monster that was still standing. All you could see was the pain and agony on Billy's face as he fell. You pulled him into your arms, your hand shaking as you attempted to wipe the blood from his face. But it wasn't even really blood. It was black and viscous, sticking to your hand as you met Billy's eyes. He looked so lost and terrified that you couldn't help the sob of anguish that escaped your mouth at the sight of him. "Don't leave me," you begged him. "Stay with me, alright? We'll get you help. We’ll fix this." 

"Sorry," Billy gasped, his body convulsing in your hold. "I'm sorry," he said, his eyes tracking from you to someone standing over your shoulder. He looked to you again, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "Should've--," he started, before he cut himself off, coughing up a mouthful of clotted blood. "Love you," he got out with a gasp. "Love...," he trailed off before his eyes closed, leaving you clutching him tight, fighting the urge to shake him and demand he open his eyes.  

"Billy? Billy!" Max yelled before falling to her knees beside you. "Billy, get up. Get up!" She demanded, putting her hand on his shoulder. "We need you," Max tried, tears beginning to stream down her face. "I need you. Y/N needs you!" She pleaded, meeting your eyes. "What do we do?" 

But there wasn’t anything you could do. Billy wasn’t moving and he wasn’t breathing and he wasn’t alive. 

Billy wasn’t alive. 

You felt like you couldn't breathe and there was something clawing up your throat, begging to break free. It felt like it was going to split you apart and you desperately clung to Billy’s body as you lost your fight against it. 

It wasn't until later when you were sitting in the back of an ambulance with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders that you realized what it was. 

A scream. 

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #billy hargrove x reader x eddie munson #don't blame me fic #stranger things #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove imagine #eddie munson imagine #reader insert #my fic

[qweerhet]

i do think that the abolitionists who cling to the "it's simple, just kick abusers/assaulters/rapists/murderers out of the community" line are just... usually people who have never had the experience of someone they deeply, deeply care for, someone they have committed their life to, committing serious and egregious harm. (that, or they have, and like anti-abortion folks who get abortions for themselves when push comes to shove, they come up with narratives about how their situation was the most singular and special situation in the entire world, and nothing else like that could ever happen to anyone else.)

but like... when you run into that situation IRL, you generally find it's not ever as simple as kicking someone out, or rolling up with your crew and beating them until they promise to move somewhere else. they have complex relationships within the community, some of which aren't going to be willing to cut them off entirely no matter what they did. family relationships--regardless of biology, "family" in the broader sense of "chosen bonds of unconditional love and lifelong commitment"--are notably often capable of weathering severe strain, and that can include shit like "you're still my sister even if you murdered someone."

and people who commit harm IRL have complex and multifaceted reasons for committing that harm, some of which can be systemic in nature. this isn't to say that the harm doesn't exist, or that their actions are excused or justified by those reasons, but when you have an intimate relationship with someone and are privy to the complexities of the situation, those reasons do often materially complicate situations beyond just "beat the villain up and save the victims." if the serious harm someone is enacting is materially pressured by systemic factors, it's incredibly unlikely that it will change or stop if they're forced to move cities and cut off from their former relationships. in fact, when we're talking about abuse and trauma that's partially enacted due to material systemic pressure, it's more likely that someone will become even more unstable and volatile when forced to rebuild their life, and continue to enact even worse harm due to their decreased supports and increased vulnerability.

like... we're all damn well aware that when we, as abolitionists, talk about this shit, we're not talking about jeff bezos. we're not even talking about joe smith two neighborhoods over with a six-figure salaried position and a 401k that he started in the 70s. we're talking about the people in our abolitionist communities, who are victim to generational poverty, who are usually disabled, trans, nonwhite. we're people who don't have the option to just find a new job and start over in a new city one day. and we're people who exist at the nexus of intense, violent societal pressures pushing us to harm one another, to use what little hierarchical power we can get against each other, to commit real and lasting violent harm. that shit is complex in reality. that shit isn't addressed by a pithy "kill your local rapist" patch or a tweet questioning why anyone's still talking to [insert transfem who abused someone here].

and like. it's hard! it's upsetting and difficult and miserable to get into the weeds of "why did someone do what awful thing they did and how do we actually materially reduce the likelihood of that happening." because the answers usually don't involve forcing them to move or forcing everyone who speaks to them to cut them off or beating them, in reality, and even though those answers feel good and feel like real solutions, they're not only unrealistic, they also usually actually make future harm of the same kind more likely. and it's hard to wrap our heads around the fact that people will continue to hurt each other in profoundly horrific ways until we learn to dismantle the systems enabling that harm and heal the dysfunction within individuals that makes them feel like that harm was justifiable and necessary. that sucks. but in the end, i think it's the only... realistic way forward? because the ~just kick em out~ ~just kill em~ line is so, so ungrounded in reality.