#had the most god awful shit shift at work today | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chelseeebe · 11 months

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promise.

eddie knows about covering bruises and pretending to be fine all too well. but can he save the one woman he thinks he’s ever loved?

a/n: ok i’ve been a bit shit the last few weeks and this is genuinely the only thing i could conjure up but forewarning, it is sad and it does mention some pretty heavy topics that i know aren’t for everyone so i completely understand if u don’t want to read! my adhd riddled brain has already started a part two which does have a happy ending

title based on promise - ben howard i just thought it was a really lovely song and fits well with part two

read part two here.

18+. mdni! mentions of domestic violence, not explicitly described but the injuries are there and it is referred to multiple times throughout (eddie is not the perpetrator). smut. v much hurt/no comfort but not for long.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

eddie is positively wrecked.

who would have ever guessed working in a shoddy, run-down bar would be so fucking tiring?

graham had said that if he picked up a few shifts at the hideout a week, then corroded coffin could play once a month. a guaranteed slot and he got paid? this was like heaven to him.

he just hadn’t expected the little bar to be so exhausting. he supposes that his lack of work experience and the fact he was used to doing sweet fuck all most of the time was to blame. that’s not his fault. not really. after finally graduating high school a year or so ago, he just hadn’t found any work in the tiny town.

on one particularly boring mid-week shift, eddie’s sat behind the bar doodling on the back of an old receipt, tapping his foot along to the kiss tune playing on the stereo. wouldn’t be his first choice but he’s not complaining.

‘you coming for a smoke?’ you exclaim suddenly, causing his head to jolt up, running the biro over his shitty drawing, ruining it completely.

‘uh.. then who would be on the bar?’ he utters, quickly hiding the doodle before you could judge it. not that he thinks you would, but just in case.

‘eddie, it’s dead,’ you say flatly, looking around at the empty tables.

truth be told, he hadn’t seen another soul bar from you and graham since he’d arrived which was odd for a thursday. assuming that the usual bums that lined the dusty old stools were otherwise engaged today. that or they just hadn’t been paid yet.

‘oh.. yeah, okay,’ he nods, hopping down from the stool and grabbing his jacket. you’re already gone, bounding off down the hall to the fire exit you all used for smoke breaks.

eddie’s still fairly new and very rarely got invited on the group breaks. which was fine, he just wished that you’d all take it in turns so that he could smoke too. he gets it though, like he talks enough but yet not enough to really make friends with any of you.

you’re leaning back against the brick wall, cigarette hanging from your lips, ‘you got a lighter?’

it’s not like he’d been staring or thought about it that much, but he’d noticed how breathtakingly beautiful you were on his second shift. okay, maybe that’s a lie. he’d thought about it a lot. but anyway, he’d been utterly in awe at the way you handled the drunks, brushed off their creepy comments and stood your ground no matter how angry or persistent they were being. he admired that and just wished that he had even a smidgen of the confidence you had.

he fumbles in his pocket for the lighter, clumsily handing it over before getting his own pack out. it feels wrong to look you in the eye, god that sounded pathetic. you were older, far cooler than he was and positively stunning. if he remembers correctly, you must’ve been a couple grades above him at school but had left long before he graduated.

‘thanks,’ passing the lighter back to him, fingers ever so slightly brushing against his. it’s like electricity sparks through his veins.

he really needs to get a grip.

‘you enjoyin’ it here?’ you ask, eyes intimidating as they bore into his.

‘it’s okay.. tiring though,’ he shrugs, trying his hardest to maintain eye contact despite his inability to look pretty girls in the eye.

‘yeah.. you’ll get used to it,’ you chuckle, the smoke flowing out of your lips perfectly. he’s so pathetically down bad for you and you have literally no idea.

‘how long have you worked here?’ longing to keep the conversation flowing.

‘shit.. too long,’ chuckling as you take another drag. eddie could listen to that sound all day. ‘i think i was eighteen when i started so..’ pretending to count on your fingers, ‘six years?’

eddie blows the air out of cheeks, he’s probably be in a similar position if he’d have just graduated when he was supposed to so he can’t exactly pass judgement.

‘i think we went to school together, i mean, you were a couple grades above me but i remember you,’ hoping that that didn’t sound as creepy out loud like it did in his head.

‘oh shit, really?’ your eyes narrow, trying to place him though it’s obviously not going to happen, ‘i don’t remember you.. i’m so sorry,’ playfully hitting his arm.

the connection is enough to keep his delusions going for at least another month.

‘it’s fine, didn’t think you would,’ not many people did to be honest. he tosses his cigarette into the overflowing makeshift ashtray, waiting for you to lead the way back inside.

‘hey, it was a long time ago, i’m old now!’ you joke, walking back through the dim hall back to the bar. he tries his hardest not to let his gaze slip to you ass but he swears it’s only for a second.

the bar’s still dead, the stereo now blaring out some madonna tune he hated.

‘ugh.. turn this one off,’ he mutters, mostly to himself as he repositions himself back on his perch.

‘what?’

‘i hate this song.’

your jaw drops in faux-offence, ‘i made this mixtape you asshole,’ going to shove him off of the stool, ‘i can’t believe you can’t drop the cool guy act for one second to appreciate some madonna,’ laughing as you start collecting glasses.

his frown turns into an immediate grin, begging for your forgiveness as he starts to bop his head along to the beat. it’s not like anyone would see him and hell, even if they did, he didn’t care. not if it made you smile.

‘holy fuck, you been fightin’ with the door again?’ james remarks, pulling eddie’s eyes from his paper to spot you rushing into the bar.

your head is ducked, flashing the older man your middle finger, disappearing into the back before eddie can properly get a glimpse of your face.

but he knows.

there’d been a handful of times that you’d come in wearing a massive sweater instead of your usual low-cut tops and when you reached for something high up, the sleeve would reveal just enough for him to see the dark blue marks on your wrist.

he’d never been sure, not until now. but his stomach drops the second his brain puts two and two together.

ditching the paper and that asshole james behind the bar to slink off into the back, approaching the tiny staff room with the upmost caution. it’d never be wise to start throwing accusations around but he’s not stupid. eddie had watching his mom go through the exact same shit for years. knew all the tricks in the book to cover up bruises, cried his heart out every time his mom went back to his asshole dad.

only god knows how many times he’d planned out his fathers death. anger brimming in his tiny body the second he heard raised voices.

he knocks gently on the door, watching as you hurriedly wipe the makeup onto your eye. it’s not doing much, in fact, it’s not doing anything at all. the purple shining through undeniably.

‘you okay?’ practically whispering as he enters the room, knocking the door shut behind him. james’ comment had meant that this obviously wasn’t the first time you’d come into work with such horrid markings.

you sigh, giving up on attempting to cover it, slamming the metallic compact back into your locker. ‘i’m okay.. i’m fine,’ refusing to turn and face him.

you’re obviously not okay and it hurts eddie to know that there’s absolutely nothing he can do to help. instead, he takes a seat on the communal bench, if nothing else, he’d lend his ear for whatever story you wanted to tell him.

‘what happened?’ he dares to ask, not expecting to know the truth but it felt better than silence.

you sniff, closing your locker and finally facing him head on. there’s pain and guilt wracked all over your face, ‘i’m just.. clumsy,’ shoulders slumping, ‘i tripped..’

‘clumsy?’

you were anything but. eddie had watched you balance trays full of glasses without spilling a single drop. maybe other people bought your story but he didn’t. he couldn’t.

there’s a short silence and eddie shuffles, patting the empty space beside him, ‘you don’t have to lie to me.’ he swallows his anger, lets it rest in his stomach for a later date. there’s no doubt that if he got the opportunity, he’d kill the asshole that did this to you.

you swallow, reluctantly perching on the bench, ‘why are you even asking when you already know?’ not quite meeting his eyes, staring off somewhere into the distance.

‘i don’t know.. didn’t wanna pressure you..’ he’s familiar with the whole routine. the denial from his mother had broken his heart at such a young age even though he wasn’t stupid.

you blink, meeting his eyes for the first time, ‘he didn’t mean to.. was my fault,’ wiping the back of your hand against your sodden cheeks.

even hearing the words makes him inexplicably frustrated. not with you of course, but with the fact that you can’t see how much you don’t deserve that.

‘i don’t think you could do anything to deserve that,’ motioning towards your blackened eye. he’s not going to push it but he needs you to know that he’s here and would quite happily wrap his hands around that bastards neck.

‘you know.. my dad used to hit my mom,’ swallowing the large lump that had gathered in his throat, but finds enough strength to continue, ‘she was the nicest lady in the world.. she didn’t deserve that and neither do you,’ licking his suddenly parched lips. it wasn’t an easy topic then and it certainly isn’t now.

he’s not particularly ever open about what happened to his mom but if it convinced you even a tiny bit to leave him, it’d be worth it.

there’s a beat, followed by a muffled sniff but you’re nodding, staring down at the grimy tiles rather than his face. eddie reckons that he’d be overstepping his mark if he did what he wanted and leant over to hug you. so he doesn’t. putting a sympathetic hand on your shoulder instead.

‘you’re an angel, you know that?’ the hints of a smile creeping onto your lips.

‘yeah i know,’ he scoffs, bashing his shoulder into yours, only gently.

‘shut up,’ knocking him straight back.

you get up from the bench, puffing your cheeks out as you take one last look into the mirror.

it’s a gut-wrenching, awful sight and god forbid eddie has to ever see you like that again.

perhaps rather naively, eddie assumes everything is fine for the next few weeks.

understandably, you’re a bit subdued for a few days but you do revert back to your usual bubbly self come friday evening. no more bruises, no more groaning when you change the keg and absolutely zero mention of your wretched boyfriend.

so when he pulls into his gravel driveway one gloomy saturday night, he’s aghast to see you perched on his trailer steps. blinking through his headlights, soaked through from the rain with a busted lip and a torn shirt to match.

he near enough launches himself from his van, rushing over to your hunched over frame. damn near falling over his feet to get to you.

‘what the hell happened?’

you stand, clinging onto your poorly packed rucksack, ‘i.. i didn’t know where else to go,’ utterly defeated, any traces of life drained from your face.

he doesn’t say another word, bundling you into the trailer, slamming the lights on to get a proper look of you. his hands firmly on your drenched shoulders as he examines your injuries. your lip is cracked, the blood had wept from the cut and dried on your chin.

it’s awful. knocks him sick just to see you like this. your cheeks are stained with a mixture of rain and he presumes tears, hair hanging limp around your beautiful face.

‘what happened?’ he says softly, studying your face. he notices the small gash on your forehead, using everything within himself not to storm out of that door in a murderous rage.

your mouth opens but no words come out. it’s not as if he can’t put two and two together, he just doesn’t understand how it got to this point after last week.

‘it’s okay.. c’mon let’s get you out of these clothes,’ he blinks, collecting himself before taking your sopping wet bag. the clothes had all suffered in the downpour, damp and unwearable.

so he leads you into his cramped room, hastily rummaging through his drawers for something you can wear.

it’s a little self-indulgent and completely the wrong time but his heart flutters when you reappear out of the bathroom sporting his tee and a pair of old gym shorts. now showered and without the blood stains on your face, it’s a welcome sight.

‘better?’ he offers, though he knows a shower could never really help.

you nod, pulling the sleeves down over your hands. it’s so adorable and eddie seriously has to fight his compulsion to just pull you into his arms. he knows there’s no way he can protect you from everything but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try.

‘you want a drink? beer?’

your eyes light up, a minuscule smirk appearing on your battered lips. he’s sure wayne would understand why he came home to a non-existent six pack. the berating would be worth it to see you smile again.

he collapses onto the couch next to you, beer in hand as he watches you slowly relax. delighted that he could offer a safe space for you, even if it did come with some very complicated feelings.

that night, admittedly very creepily, he watches as you sleep. terrified to fall asleep in his makeshift bed on the floor in case you needed him.

at some point in the last two weeks, eddie had gone from sleeping on the floor to sleeping in his bed next to you. you’d told him it was far too cold for him on the floor and he should just get in. which he did, with great pleasure. there was nothing to it of course, but a few times he’d woken up to your leg entangled with his or your face pressed against his back.

everything had just got a whole lot more comfortable. rides to work, cooking for one another and some shared looks that he’d been unable to put his finger on. not wanting to believe they had any deeper meaning but at the same time, he knew that that wasn’t how friends looked at each other.

it’s a rare night you both have off, sat in the trailer watching halloween, neither of you really interested in what’s going on on the screen. there’s an inexplicable tension in the air tonight, you’re quieter than usual which eddie doesn’t like.

‘you okay?’ he dares to ask. he’d felt a little overbearing those first few days, constantly checking on you to make sure you were okay.

‘hmm? oh, i’m okay,’ setting your bottle of beer on the table, ending up much closer to him when you sit back.

‘you sure? you’re quiet,’ keen not to let on that he was absolutely buzzing about your close proximity.

‘just thinking.’

‘about?’

you let out a soft breath, twisting around to look at him fully. the only times he’d been this close to you were in bed where he laid and listened to your soft snores and when you’d been covered in injuries. neither one were exceptionally great circumstances.

‘you,’ you blink up at him, smiling just enough to make his heart skip a beat.

‘me?’ he can’t decipher whether that’s a good thing or not.

‘mhm.’

‘what about me?’

you don’t respond for what feels like an eternity but your gaze lowers, glancing at his lips and back to his eyes. if he weren’t staring directly into your bright eyes, he’d have missed it.

‘i really want to kiss you,’ you say, so brazenly that eddie’s not quite sure if he’s heard you correctly, almost sputtering on his breath as the words process.

‘you.. you wanna kiss me?’ trying hard not to sound so astounded. pretty girls didn’t want to kiss eddie, not like this.

you nod, ‘can i?’

there are stars in his eyes, blood pumping around his limbs at an alarming rate. his head is fuzzy and if he weren’t sitting, he’d probably have fainted.

‘please,’ he chokes, desperately forcing the word out before it becomes impossible.

your palms are soft as they caress his cheek, wishing that he’d shaved before this had unfolded. his heartbeat stutters, bubbling with anticipation as you lean in, gentle lips locking onto his as his eyes flutter shut.

this is it. he’d dreamt of kissing you for weeks, practiced on his hand an embarrassing amount of times and yet still nothing could’ve prepared him for how earth shattering this felt. his heart is practically jumping out of his chest and he’s sure you can feel it thumping against yours.

it’s as if fate had bought the two of you together, moving against each other in perfect harmony. if he died tomorrow, he’d die a happy man.

your hand creeps down onto his chest, holding yourself upright as you shift onto your knees. do you want to have sex with him? is this actually happening? his fingertips vibrate as they connect with your waist, like you weren’t even real and just a figment of his overactive imagination.

the second your lips part from his, he wants to cry, pull you back in and never let go. the absence of contact makes him whine, opening his eyes to see yours gazing back, they look different. different to how you’ve ever looked at him before, full of something unspeakable.

‘do you want to?’ you ask quietly into the minimal space between you.

eddie wants to so bad, more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life. nodding hurriedly to let you know just how eager he is. there’s not a chance in hell he’d let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

your lips twitch into a smile at his permission, fingers curling around the hem of his shirt.

but before you get any further, the trailer door clicks open and wayne is stood in the doorway, pizza box in hand accompanying his unimpressed scowl. ‘okay well, i think that’s enough of that,’ he grumbles, shuffling into the trailer as you climb off eddie’s lap, back into your own spot.

‘sorry wayne.. i didn’t know you were back so early,’ his cheeks burning, bashful as ever. it wasn’t enough for wayne to walk in on that but he was always now straining against his jeans, trying desperately to hide the tent while you reshuffle, pulling your shorts back down to a more appropriate length.

‘yeah yeah whatever,’ his uncle shakes his head, trundling over to the couch and tossing the box onto the cluttered coffee table, ‘move over boy, i wanna watch my programme,’ collapsing into the empty seat beside his nephew with a deep, guttural sigh.

the two of you share a sly smirk, tuning in to whatever shit wayne had put on without saying another word. stifling your laughter with a piece of pizza as eddie tries and fails to discretely pull a pillow onto his lap.

it’s hours later when you both crawl into bed and eddie has checked five times that wayne’s actually asleep before he gets to kiss you again.

bundled up under the covers when you pull him on top of you, your face gloriously basked in the bright moonlight shining in. it’s breathtaking.

‘you want to?’ you ask again, as if his answer had changed in those few hours.

he nods, his curls brushing fall down and brush against your cheek, ‘have you.. before?’ you ask cautiously. he’s not offended, even if he should be.

he has had sex before. only twice. when ellen had first joined hellfire, they had sorta had a year long fling which had ended after they had sex and ellen realised that maybe she didn’t actually like men. that was a super boost to his confidence. and then at senior prom when tina took great pity on him and somehow they ended up having sex in the back of his van.

he nods anyway, granted he’s not the most experienced but he’ll sure as hell try.

‘good,’ you smile, warm thighs wrapping around his torso as you reconnect your lips. it’s soft, gentle even. world’s apart from his previous encounters. this felt real, like you weren’t just kissing because you had to but because you wanted to.

it’s too cold in the trailer to care about removing your clothes, though he’s sure that’ll change in a minute. focussing on getting his tongue inside of your mouth, rutting against your pajama shorts. the friction causing his already semi-hard dick to rise, unable to contain the moan from escaping.

a smirk flashes across his face as his hand drags your shorts down your legs, savouring every moment of being able to touch your bare, supple skin. his hand makes its way back up your legs, repositioning the one he could grasp back around his lower back.

he has trouble getting his boxers down, too excited to focus on being smooth about it. appreciating the feel of your hand tugging the fabric down. you’re barely kissing at this point, your lips connecting with the corner of his mouth, all messy as the anticipation takes over.

‘you sure?’ he asks, gazing down at you with hooded eyes. he could just about remember what to do. sending a quick prayer upstairs to not let him be utterly useless.

‘i’m sure,’ you breathe, the feel of your fingers tangled into the hair that covered the back of his neck.

‘okay..’ he nods, mostly to himself as he wraps a head around his cock, positioning himself at your entrance. taking a brief moment to just capture this moment in preparation of it never happening again.

the pleasure overcomes his body as he slides in, already almost losing himself as he fills you up. a soft moan escapes your lips, gripping onto his neck. he is acutely aware that his uncle is asleep on the other side of the old trailer so he muffles his face into your neck, lips connecting with your jaw bone, kissing any and every bit of skin exposed to him.

sex had never felt like this before. at best, it had felt slightly better than when he jerked off, but this was something else. eddie knows it’s cliche and is definitely only because you feel so fucking good around him, but it’s as if you were made for each other.

hands pressed into the pillow so hard that he wouldn’t be surprised if there were a permanent dent either side of your head. using everything within himself not to start hollering, eyes fluttering shut against your neck. he moves in and out at an agonisingly slow pace. the small room filling with the sounds of your soaking wet cunt. its undeniable to anyone with ears and he just hopes to god that wayne is still asleep.

his own low groans vibrating against your cheek, mouth hanging open as his thrusts grow faster. you’re panting softly directly into his ear, spurring him on. despite the feel of your perfect cunt around him, the best feeling is knowing that he’s making you feel good.

‘h-holy shit,’ he mumbles nonsensically into the crook of your neck, not allowing himself to come for air because he know that the second he looks at your face, he’ll cum.

your one hand is splayed out on his upper back, the other holding onto his sweaty neck beneath his mop of hair. whining his name into his ear, driving him into a frenzy with the sound of your breathy voice, desire rippling through your moans. he should tell you to be quiet but that’d be cruel and he’d rather take the shame of wayne knowing than not hearing you.

your legs shift higher the position allowing him to reach the golden spot, nudging the soft, spongy spot over and over. eddie figures you’re far more experienced than he is. with no offence meant to you but you obviously know what works. this is new territory for him, a closeness that he’d never known possible.

you’re engulfing him completely, every single one of his senses encompassed by you. you’re all he can see even with his eyes screwed shut, all he can hear, taste and smell. god knows you’re all he can feel, calves squeezing around his back and your perfect pussy tightening around him.

he groans, feeling his stomach begin to twist in that all too familiar feeling. orgasms had never felt so good, it’s like everything was dialled up to level ten. ‘i’m gonna.. shit- i’m gonna come,’ he babbles far too loudly.

every noise tumbling out of your mouth was pulling him closer, no record could ever come close to the sweet mewls that were slipping between your lips. his arms begin to tremble under his own weight. feeling your legs quivering around his waist as your orgasm begins to overtake your body, sinful noises echoing around the otherwise quiet trailer.

‘ohh fuck,’ he growls, feeling your walls clenching around him, it was like he’d been pushed over the edge. the only way he can begin to describe it was otherworldly, flashes of white light illuminate his eyelids.

images of your face accompany your honeyed whimpers and he has to pull out before he explodes. spurts of his release cover his hand and admittedly the back of your thigh. if he had any semblance of control, he’d have been embarrassed but he’s not exactly sure that he’s still on planet earth.

he dares to open his eyes, watching as your chest heaves below him clinging onto his forearm with desperate fingertips. you’re looking up at him as if he’s the only person you’d ever seen. mouth slack as you regain your breath.

‘jesus christ,’ he whispers, hand resting on your angled knee as he floats back down to your planet.

eddie clambers off of the bed with a grunt, wiping a hand over his sweaty face. reaching down to grab his previously discarded towel. it wasn’t the epitome of romance but he darent to leave his room, petrified that wayne had just heard that entire encounter.

he’s a gentleman, of course, running the towel over your thigh to clean his mess. offering you a tiny shrug as if to say sorry. rather suddenly he feels rather conscious of himself, refusing to look at you as his cheeks flame.

it’s ridiculous. he’d just been buried between your legs and yet now couldn’t even look you in the fucking eyes.

before he gets up again, your hand reaches out, curling around his t-shirt. ‘stop,’ using his shirt as leverage for you to sit up.

in one quick movement, you’re placing a tiny onto his lips. a reassurance he really shouldn’t have needed but he appreciates nonetheless.

‘don’t do that,’ you hush, millimetres from his face, the shadow of his broken blinds shine upon your cheek. it hurts him to know that someone would dare look at you and want to hurt you.

if it were possible, he’d take all of your pain and carry it with him instead.

‘okay..’ he nods, resisting the urge to apologise once again.

you giggle and it sounds like the heavens have opened, pulling his body on top of yours as his bed makes an almighty squeak. if wayne wasn’t already awake, he certainly would be now.

eddie doesn’t know where the fuck you are.

you hadn’t come back to the trailer after work last night and now you’re nowhere to be found. you were supposed to start half an hour ago but hadn’t turned up and now his heart is pounding, mind racing at the horrific possibilities of what could’ve happened.

at first, he’d thought maybe he said something wrong? he’d just thrown out the suggestion of going to get the rest of your things and moving them in here while you got back on your feet. he hadn’t meant to push you out, god no, that was the last thing he wanted.

maybe stupidly he had presumed you wanted your own space. whatever the hell was going on between you two was so fresh, he didn’t want to even chance fucking it up.

the guilt wracks his brain, tempted to drop everything to drive around this tiny town looking for you. he’s so stupid. should’ve just kept his mouth shut and enjoyed it while you were there.

he’s just about to tell james that he’s leaving when the door to the bar opens and a rough looking man comes through with you held tightly underneath his arm. your eyes avoiding his direction, staring at the floor as the mystery man ushers you towards the back, making himself comfortable at the bar.

eddie’s heart shatters into a million pieces, watching open mouthed as you disappear into the back.

judging by the look on james’ face, he recognises him, reluctantly pouring his beer as they engage in useless small talk.

‘thought i’d better sit in for her shift.. wouldn’t want her running off again,’ the man announces, beady eyes glaring right into his soul.

eddie knows who he is. he’d never seen him before but he could tell. they all had that sinister aura about them, like they could flip at any given moment. his dad was the same, walking on egg shells around him just in case he said the wrong thing or looked at him the wrong way.

you emerge from the staff room, still vehemently avoiding eye contact, a shell of the you he saw just yesterday. ‘hey.. you okay?’ eddie asks, but it falls flat as you walk off without so much as a look back towards him.

he can’t believe it, how you could be so different so quickly. as if the past few weeks you’d spent together had meant nothing. he can’t blame you. not really. it’s a cycle and he knows better than anyone that it takes a thousand attempts to actually break out of it.

his shoulders slump as he rushes out the back, refusing to look at that assholes face any longer. willing himself to get a grip and not jump over that bar to strangle the piece of shit right now.

a hand clamps down on his shoulder and for a brief moment he thinks he might be you until james clears his throat, shuffling on his feet behind him, ‘you can’t save her man,’ squeezing his shoulder firmly, ‘you think we haven’t tried?’

eddie sniffs, shrugging him off. he didn’t appreciate the patronising tone in which james was speaking to him.

because god knows, if he couldn’t save his mom, there’s no fucking chance he’s not saving you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things x you #eddie munson x female reader smut

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not-your-fucking-kacchan · 2 years

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♡︎𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲/𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢♡︎

Day 10 of Kinktober 2022

Summary: after being a brat for a little too long, Shouto decides that you’re in need of a lesson in behaviour.

Props to my beta reader for today @sasualblxd - thank you for your amazing help shawdy! Go ahead and give my betas a follow, they deserve it!

855 words.

Shouto isn't always as stoic as he seems. There are times when he lets a rare smile slip, or when he loses his temper. Each little break in his composure sticks with you like glue, and you just love to try his patience.

Every day you try your luck with Shouto, and lately your attempts at breaking his composure have been getting deeper and deeper under his skin. He's getting irritated.

Of course, that could never make him love you any less, it just makes him want to strangle you a little bit, -but in a loving way, of course.

You would take any and every chance to be the most irritating little brat that you could possibly be, all because you think it's hot when he's angry.

Those fiery eyes and ice cold glare, mixed with the subtle tensing of his jaw as he contemplates throwing you over his shoulder and teaching you how to behave always has you needing a change of underwear without fail.

Most of the time, when you see this look it's when you're watching him fight, and you zone in on the agitation and impatience carried in his expression, trying to burn the image into your head.

Other times, when you're lucky, you get to see it directed at you, after you've pushed his buttons for long enough. Thank God for your unusual talent of getting under peoples skin.

Today was one of those lucky days.

You had been doing absolutely everything you possibly could to push your luck with him, from not cleaning up the messes you leave when he asks, to relentlessly teasing him without giving him what he wants after. It's all just fun and games to you, and in your eyes, the more you piss him off, the better.

It's not like he's actually angry with you when he finally snaps, anyway. More like relatively pissed off.

The moment of your wet dreams finally come to fruition, though, is when he decides that he's going to teach you a lesson himself. And as he walks into the bedroom where you're sitting, watching TV, he grabs the remote and switches it off. No distractions.

You raise your eyebrow, looking at him expectantly. Part of you wonders if you’re in trouble. The other part hopes you’re in trouble.

“Hey, babe... What’s up?”

You’re rewarded with no response.

Shouto simply looks straight into your eyes, giving you an unimpressed look after you had just dyed all of his shirts pink in the wash. It’s an even more pristine picture as he still wears the baby pink work shirt he had put on to do some paperwork at the office, having to suffer through the comments of Denki and Mina throughout his entire shift.

“Aw, what’s wrong, babe? You look so pretty in pink~”

That. That was the last straw.

“The safeword is ‘frost’“

“Wha-?”

You can barely get out half a word as you’re picked up and slung over your lover’s lap, ass up and your belly pressed against his thick, muscular thighs.

“Every day. It’s every day that you’re doing something new just to piss me off and I don’t like it! You’re being a brat, do you understand?”

Okay. Maybe you might’ve been going too far, but you’re a brat by nature, and he’s always been your willing tamer from the very start. Still, your pussy throbs at the anticipation of what’s going to happen next. A rough palm slips its way past the band of your sweats, pulling them down just past your ass, and the chill of being almost completely bare save for a cute pair of grey underwear sends shivers up your spine, raising the hairs on your neck.

“Do you understand?”

His cold voice is what brings you back from your thoughts, reigning in your attention and refocusing it all back onto him.

“Y-yes, Shou- I’m sorry-”

A sharp slap echoes off the bedroom walls a sharp, stinging pain interrupts you. Holy shit. Did he just spank you? Yeah, sure, you’re in this position for a reason, but you thought he would just scare or intimidate you a little to get you to behave, not this...

Another slap leaves a red handprint on your right ass cheek, tearing a squeal from you as you desperately try to wriggle away, discomfort nagging at your limbs. Your back is starting to hurt from having it arched like this, and it’s a chore to breathe when you’re on your stomach, his thighs pressing into your ribs, but the feeling of being pushed down and disciplined like this sends a wave of heat straight through your core. This reaction is only amplified as the next slap is a little lower down, Shou’s fingers grazing over your pussy as he smacks your thigh.

“Oh? Don’t tell me you’re enjoying this?”

His voice is smug and his erection pokes at your ribs while his hand rubs soothing circles around the blossoming bruises on your ass. He knew you would like this all along, didn’t he? What an ass.

Now it’s his turn to leave you high and dry.

◃ 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 ▹

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cyberpxnk · 2 years

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until the moon and stars fall | jeong yunho

♡ pairing: yunho x chubby!reader ♡ chapters: 1 out of 1 ♡ word count: 2.3k ♡ genre: nonidol! au, comfort/hurt, fluff, established relationship

♡ synopsis: your bad day at work takes a turn for the worse but despite it all, jeong yunho never fails to be there for you.

♡ warnings/tags: chubby!reader, no gendered terms for reader, a lil self indulgent, cussing, body/fat shaming, mentions of body image, bullying, minor kissing, maybe a lil cliche but bear w/ me

♡ author’s note: this one is for all my chubby babes and customer service workers !! i've never rly written comfort before..,,.. so i hope it's like... ok for y'all :sweating_emoji: maybe i was a lil self indulgent on this one, but i hope u all enjoy it !!

The big fat zero in your face taunted you, reminding you of the awful day you have to endure for another hour. It wasn't often that you received no tip for your services, but the gods really rained down on you today, offering little sympathy.

Being a restaurant worker was tough shit, just as every other food industry and customer service job was. You hate it, really, but it was good money for a broke college student like yourself.

Between classes, there were days you managed to muster up your feigned smile of politeness to customers, serving them while dealing with their all too present bullshit attitude. Of course, not all your patrons were so unlovely but today... Man.

Two hours in and you're ready to rip off your apron and book it home. You're not sure what's going on with you, but clearly nothing good. Already having spilled several drinks and messing up an order, you know it's not your day.

Even the zero tip didn't surprise you at this point. What did matter is that you had to make it through the rest of your ungodly shift and just get the hell out of there. Maybe you would look for a new job or something, anything to sate your present worries.

What seemed worst of all was the ceaseless teasing that came from your coworker. She's the new girl, having barely worked with you, yet she was pompous and held herself with an air of arrogance as if you were someone of lowly status and she, royalty.

Unlike yourself, she radiated haughtiness and garnered attention from all types of people. You're not sure why she even worked as a server, but you suppose her pretty looks helped her out quite a bit. If not for her atrocious attitude hidden beneath her sickening saccharine smile, perhaps you would be swayed too.

"Didn't get tipped, porky? Serves you right for messing up so much today."

Yeah, there it was. Cliche beautiful and slender girl poking fun at her less than fortunate chubby coworker. Let's get one thing straight though, you don't hate yourself or your body. But her? That's a different story. Well, she certainly made it a little harder not to be self conscious, even if you tried your best on most days.

"Mhm," is all you manage back to her, lips pulled tight in a grimace as you continue to go about your work. Dealing with her was just another thing upon the pile of shit you didn’t have the energy for.

And you don’t particularly enjoy being reminded of how your uniform stretched uncomfortably over your larger frame or how your thick thighs often chafed together, holes forming in the fabric between your legs, which resulted in you buying way too many new pairs of work pants. Ugh.

Your coworker did enough complaining for the both of you, oftentimes taking a tone of mockery. On more than one occasion, you could recall her poking at your stomach in disgust before asking something along the lines of, "how do you even fit in the uniform? Did you have to order those rags off a plus size website?"

Yeah, in fact you did but that's irrelevant! You wonder when a grown woman like herself would get tired of teasing you, but it's been months and she's still going strong.

You can deal with it. You hope. Just one more hour, just one more hour — one more hellish hour and maybe you'll quit.

Another fifty minutes of waiting tables and withholding your anger, you know you're at the homestretch. As you balance a tray of dirty dishes, you mosey your way over to the back when you suddenly find yourself stumbling, barely catching how your coworker stuck her foot out before you.

No, no, no! What the hell kind of movie-esque moment was this? Surely enough, you trip over her leg and crumple to the ground, food and plates scattering messily along the floor.

The sound of her obnoxious laughter fills the air, growing louder in volume as she cackles, throwing her head back in a fit of malevolent glee.

"Oh my god! Can you do anything right, fatso?"

A rush of emotions and you're on your feet, wiping away some of the food remnants from your uniform. Hot anger is flooding through you and you're visibly seething.

"What is your issue, bitch?" You've held your tongue for too long and your eyes are welling up with tears, though you're unsure if it's from the unbridled rage or the overwhelming flood of negative feelings you're experiencing.

"Your fat ass is my issue! I hate seeing you at work. Nobody wants you here. Even the customers don't tip you because they lose their appetite after they see they're being waited on by a whale!"

The silence that falls over the restaurant is unsettling, tension palpable as nobody utters a word, hers still ringing in your ears. Even your manager who peers from behind the kitchen keeps quiet, unsure of how to handle the escalating situation.

Not that they were very helpful anyway, always allowing your coworker to have her way — insisting that she was just "joking" and that she didn't mean any harm. Ha, pretty privilege.

It was fine though. You had enough. This was the last straw and you would be sure to show them that you wouldn't take her shit any longer. You didn't deserve it.

In your flurry of emotions, what you fail to see is your boyfriend hovering near the front door. Clutched in his hands, he holds a paper cup filled with a latte and the other is a crumpled paper baggie with your favorite pastry.

Jeong Yunho was truly the epitome of sweet. Even after his long shifts as a barista, he never failed to make time for you. It was different today though. Something in the winds whispered to him that day, the energy unnerving as his stomach churned nervously during the last few hours on the clock.

Not wanting to ignore the feeling, he was determined to see you. If whatever gods or deities were compelling him to check up on his partner today, then that's just what he would do.

What he didn't expect to find was his said lover covered in slop, hair astray and tears threatening to fall from your eyes. If not for the last semblance of his senses steadying him, he would have stomped over in a fit of fury.

Yunho nearly did though, hands just barely unclenching the items he held. The scene unfolding before him... he should have stopped it, yet he couldn't will himself. The determined look in your eyes advised him otherwise.

It was clear that you had snapped. Despite your current state of disarray, you held up your head high and pressed your pointer finger to your coworker's chest, practically spitting out your next words, venom dripping with each syllable.

"You must get some sick sense of pleasure tearing other people down," you stepped forward and she stumbled back, eyes wide with bewilderment, "you're projecting pretty hard."

"Excuse m-" you interrupted her, moving another stride forward until she was cornered to the wall.

"You must hate yourself so much that you need to resort to shitty high school bullying tactics to feel better about yourself. I feel sorry for you."

Watching as you defend yourself, Yunho feels his chest swell with pride yet it pained him knowing you had been handling this problem all alone and he didn't know for how long. Several times in passing, you had mentioned your troublesome colleague to him but he never realized how awful to an extent it was.

"I'm done here, honestly. I'm sick of your attitude and I'm sick of management's negligence." You untie your apron and toss it at her face, watching as she fumbles slightly whilst trying to catch the fabric.

She sputters in response, her face twisting with rage as she points an accusing finger to you.

"Even if you leave here, you'll never be liked and loved. Not with that disgusting body of yours. Do us all a favor and hit the gym after you're gone."

It is Yunho's turn to intervene as he steps closer to you all, protectively hooking one arm around your side. The gifts he previously held were long forgotten, abandoned at some table in favor of defending you.

His entrance seems to startle everyone, including yourself as you jump slightly before you reach over, curling into the familiarity of his hold. The man squeezes you once, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

You don't know how long he's been standing there, but you can see his gaze narrowed in a sharp glare. There's a fire alight in his eyes, wisps of anger that you rarely find on your gentle boyfriend's features. The heart shaped lips you're so used to seeing upturned are pulled taut in a line, displeasure clear upon his face.

"You're wrong. It's you who will never feel true love. Not with that nasty, ugly heart of yours." There's a sharp edge to his voice, steely and void of any remorse. You know he wants to say more with how his jaw clenches yet he turns you both around with haste and leads you toward the exit without another sound.

As you both walk out in silence, his hold drops from your waist and his hand is reaching for yours, fingers intertwining with a gentle weave. It's only seconds later before he's helping you into his car, buckling you in before he gets in the opposite side and begins driving home.

No words are exchanged, a quiet stillness in the air. Though he has one hand on the wheel, the other still grips yours as you idly play with his fingers. You try to distract yourself from the earlier events, tracing gentle shapes along his knuckles.

It's only until you're back within the safety of your shared home do the tears you've withheld finally drip down your cheeks. You sniffle once and then twice before you're sobbing.

Yunho's arms around you are immediate, holding you against his frame as he gently rocks you within the security of his protective embrace.

His soft whispers of reassurance and comfort fill your ears as you soak through his shirt with your tears. He clutches you tighter, never letting go even as your cries begin to wane. Minutes pass, and you're unsure of how long you're standing there before you sniffle quietly and reluctantly pull yourself from his chest.

When you finally look to meet his eyes, your breath catches in your throat. Yunho looks at you painstakingly, his gaze so tender that you practically melt in his arms. Your lip quivers at the sight.

"I love you," he whispers so faintly that you barely hear him. The warmth of his affections flood you, shaking your very heart to the core. Though he need not say more than those three things, he relents.

"You're everything to me..." He speaks breathlessly, his lips repeatedly finding yours between sweet and inaudible murmurs. You're sinking into his touch, blinking back the wetness in your eyes as his loving touches ghost along the soft curves of your body.

"Your size doesn't matter and it will never dictate how you should be loved. It doesn't make you any less attractive, any less desirable, any less lovable, any less you."

The tears begin to form in your eyes again, and you're unable to stop the steady stream of waterworks as your heart trembles from his admission. Your hands grasp his shirt and you open your mouth, though no sound follows.

"Jagiya..." Your eyes flutter as his breath fans over your face, his lips brushing away each tear as they fall.

You know there aren't enough words to express how he looks to you in adoration, how delicately he reaches to cup your tear stained cheeks, how he kisses you as if you're so fragile you may break from his dainty touches.

"The love I have for you seeps from my soul. I never want to waste a minute without loving you to the fullest."

There is a brief pause as he rests his forehead to yours, his palms still clutching your face with the utmost care.

"To me, you are ethereal. To me, you are divine. To me, you are perfect. If I am without you, then I would travel the stars just to see you."

His proclamation strikes your soul so deeply that you can't help the way your heart beats readily, nearly bursting from your rib cage. He describes you as if you were of the heavens and you almost feel unworthy of his affections, yet you can't help but to believe the sincerity of his words.

The feeling of his unyielding passion is all it takes for another wave of tears and he's no sooner repeating his actions, kissing away each drop that slips from your eyes.

"I love you so much," you say, unable to elicit anything more than just that between your soft cries. Your voice trembles with such emotion that Yunho understands you needn't say more.

With your hand grasping his, you lay it over your chest and allow him to feel your heartbeat, showing him just how much his radiance and purity of love stirs you so.

Yunho mirrors your action, and you feel his pulse steady to your palm. The lull of his essence roots you and grounds you to the very earth.

Until the stars and moon fell from the sky, just as he cherished you, you would cherish him tenfold. Just as he loved you, you would love him eternally.

#cyberpxnkwrites #chubby reader #yunho x reader #yunho x chubby reader #jeong yunho x reader #yunho scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez oneshot #ateez ff #ateez fanfic #ateez x you #ateez x gender neutral reader #ateez x chubby reader

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kelyon · 5 months

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Courtship 14: Bridesmaids

Lacey tells her friends about the wedding

Read on AO3

Wednesday morning, Miss French opened Game of Thorns and worked the morning shift, accompanied by the sullen, silent presence of her father. At noon, she got ready for her weekly lunch with Janine and Mara. She decided to wear all new clothes today. The future Mrs. Gold had to look her best at all times.

She started with a tight gray pencil skirt that went down to her knees. At Modern Fashions, she had managed to find thick socks that went up to her thighs but didn’t connect in the middle. That would keep her warm while still following Mr. Gold’s rule about having as little as possible covering her up. The socks were boring black, so she livened up the look with a pair of burgundy leather boots. Her top was a luscious maroon, almost see-through if she didn’t wear a camisole underneath. She had camisoles now, five of the same shirt in different colors. Once, that would have been an unthinkable luxury.

The only thing she didn’t have new was underwear. Modern Fashions had a limited selection of black and beige granny panties, and the bras were equally dumpy. Miss French deserved something more interesting than that. Well, Mr. Gold deserved something more interesting than that. She had been waiting for the right opportunity to visit Mara’s lingerie boutique. Maybe today, after lunch, after she picked up her birth control from the pharmacy.

Leaning into her mirror to put makeup on, Miss French tried not to contemplate what being on birth control would mean for her. Of course she didn’t want kids now, so Mr. Gold was right to stop that process before it could start. But she had always thought that she’d have children someday. Some nebulous future after college and a career and a husband and a house. Of course, those blurry dreams always had Mom around, enjoying being a grandmother.

“Fuck!” She’d stabbed herself with her eyeliner pencil. Tears welled up in her eyes and she quickly blotted them with toilet paper. “Fucking cheap shit.”

She would get new makeup at the pharmacy. Mr. Gold had given her enough money for it. She’d buy out the whole department, get the most expensive brands in every color they had.

Blinking and squinting, Miss French salvaged the rest of her eye makeup. Examining herself in the mirror, she looked good. She looked like Miss French, like the future Mrs. Gold. This was her first time showing off this side of herself to the big wide world. She’d better make a damn good impression.

****

This time, it was Mara who was first at Granny’s. When she saw Miss French from across the diner, she mimed a face of shock and awe.

“You look so good!” she said. “What’s going on? Do you have a business meeting later? Are you pitching Game of Thorns to some venture capitalists in Boston?”

“No, nothing like that,” Miss French laughed. She took off her hat and new coat, but left her gloves on. “I do have good news, but I want to wait until Janine gets here before I say anything.”

They didn’t wait long. Janine burst in, her salon smock peeking out from underneath her parka. After a round of hugs, she slid in the booth next to Mara.

“Hey strangers,” she said. “Sorry I’m late. The month started yesterday and I am booked.”

“Told you!” Mara said. “One week! That’s all it takes to flip your life upside down.”

Miss French laughed at that, a little too loudly. It was true! A week ago she had just finished her first date with Mr. Gold and now she was getting ready to marry him.

“Hey.” She put her gloved hand flat on the table to get their attention. “You guys order whatever you want, okay? Full meals. It’s on me.”

“Ooh, la di da!” Mara grinned. “Does this have to do with your good news?”

“You have good news?” Janine asked. “God knows we need more of that.”

“Let’s order first.” Miss French hid her coy smile behind her menu.

When Ruby the waitress stopped by the table, Janine and Mara both looked at her for confirmation before they ordered. She nodded enthusiastically.

“So,” Mara said when they were done. “Spill the beans. What the heck is going on?”

Miss French took a deep breath. Her heart was racing. She tried to pretend it was just excitement, that she didn’t have a shred of fear about telling her two best friends the best news of her life.

Slowly, deliberately, she took off first her right glove, then her left. She held out her left hand for them to see her ring. It took them a second to put the pieces together.

“Oh my God,” Janine whispered. “Did you get married?”

“Not yet,” Miss French said. “This is sort of a combination, an engagement ring and a wedding ring at the same time.”

“Wha--” Mara kept shaking her head. “When? Who?”

“There’s a man that I’ve been dating for a while. I wasn’t sure what it was so I didn’t want to tell you guys, but then on Sunday he proposed.”

“Oh my God!” Janine squealed. “That’s amazing! But I can’t believe you didn’t tell us! You sneak!”

“It all happened pretty fast,” Miss French admitted.

“How fast?” Mara asked. “How long have you had a secret lover?”

Miss French giggled. “Not too fast. I know getting married is a big step, but I really think I’m ready for it. And of course I want you two to be my bridesmaids.”

“Oh, Lacey!” Janine’s smile filled up her face. “Of course! God, we used to dream about being in each other’s weddings!”

“Have you set a date yet?” Mara asked. “And who the heck is your husband?”

“It’s actually coming up really fast,” Miss French said. “It’s gonna be on February twelfth, at Dodici’s.”

“Wait, the twelfth? Next Saturday?” Mara looked her up and down. “Are you pregnant?”

“No!”

“It’d be okay if you were. We’d support you.” That came from Janine, who was already supporting her mother and sister--and failing at it.

“I’m not!” Miss French repeated. “That’s not what’s going on.”

“Yeah, Uncle Moe isn’t really the shotgun type.”

“So why so fast?” Mara asked.

Miss French shrugged. “When you find someone you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

“Who is this guy?” Mara was almost shouting now. “You never talked this way when you were dating Hunter.”

“Yeah, and Hunter was a catch,” Janine said. “Cool, rich and gorgeous? You were so lucky.”

“He was alright,” Miss French shrugged. “But I’m doing a lot better than Hunter now.”

“A lot better with…?”

Mara wouldn’t let this go. The fact that it was a perfectly reasonable question only made it more awkward that she didn’t want to answer. For just a few more minutes, she wanted to bask in her friends’ celebration. She wanted to stay in the fantasy that they would embrace and support her and the man she chose to marry. That they would have no reason not to.

She got a break when Ruby came back with their lunches. The waitress set their orders down, made sure everything was correct, and went on her way.

“I’m serious, Lacey,” Mara said as she took a bite of her lobster roll. “If you don’t tell us who you’re marrying, I’m gonna drag you into the harbor by your nostrils and stick you under water until you do.”

Miss French smiled sheepishly, and added extra pickles to her burger. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to freak out.”

“Why would we freak out?” Janine cut into her lasagna.

“Well, my dad freaked out when I told him. So did my uncle Manny.”

“Yeah, well they’re old farts,” Mara said. “We’re the hip, cool, new generation. And we’re your friends, so we’re on your side no matter what.”

“Really?” Lacey’s heart leapt to her throat..

“Yeah!” Mara said. Janine nodded her agreement.

“Okay,” Miss French took a deep breath. “And just… understand that this isn’t as bad as you might think it is.”

“Why all these cautions?” Mara asked. “Did you sell your soul to Lucifer or something?”

“No,” she said softly. “No, it’s not like that. It’s… It’s Mr. Gold.”

There was a moment’s silence.

Janine’s eyebrows furrowed. “What about Mr. Gold?”

“It’s him. He’s the man. I’m… going to marry him.”

Her friends’ expressions were exactly the same: Shock giving way to horror and sorrow. Janine set her fork down and looked at her lasagna like she had found a severed thumb inside it. Mara kept trying to say something and kept failing.

“W-W-W-Why?” she finally managed. “Lacey, are you okay? Does he have something over you? You know you have options. You can go to Sheriff Graham. Do you need us to give you money?”

“You don’t have money,” Miss French said coolly. “And I told you, this isn’t a bad thing. I like Mr. Gold. I want to marry him.”

“You--you can’t,” Janine sounded like she was about to cry. “He’s so old. And he’s so horrible.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“You can only say that because you don’t owe him money.”

“No, I owe him more than that,” she said. “He’s given me things you can’t even imagine. And I love it. I want more of it. I’m going to marry him and I want you guys to be there with me. Please.”

Mara set down her lobster roll. She seemed to have put together where all this newfound cash was coming from.

“He’ll pay for your dresses!” Miss French tried. “And Janine, you can do my hair! Do one of those crazy updos you like to do? I’ll pay you for your time!”

“Lacey,” her cousin whispered.

“Me being in this position will be a good thing for all of us,” she went on. “Mr. Gold throws money at me, I can pass it on! I can help you guys!”

“Oh my God, he pays you?” Disgust painted Mara’s face. “And you take it?”

“Yeah, I take everything he gives me,” Miss French snapped. “Take it any way he wants me to.”

“And you’re proud of this?” Mara shook her head. “Lacey, don’t you know what this makes you?”

“A whore,” Miss French said bluntly. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m marrying him, so I won’t be a whore anymore.”

“What will you be?” Mara went on. “You think people will call you any less of a golddigger just because you’re wearing a ring? Do you think he won’t know you’re bought and paid for? Lacey, he’ll use that as an excuse to do anything to you!”

“That’s what I’m hoping for!”

“I mean he’ll treat you like shit. This is a classic recipe for you being in danger.”

“I’m not in danger.” She rolled her eyes. “Mr. Gold isn’t a monster. He’s just a man who gets what he wants--and right now, he wants me! I think that’s great!”

Janine seemed to have shut down for a few minutes. When she finally looked up, her sky blue eyes were full of tears. “You’ll be a totally different person once you’re married to him. You’re already different.”

“Yeah, that’s the point,” Miss French said sharply. “I want to be different. I want to be better. Mr. Gold is my ticket to an actual life and not just scraping by to survive all the time. And I can find ways to take you with me! He told me he wants me to take care of you two. We can do this together!”

“Do you mean…?” Mara made a face.

“No! No, of course not.”

“He’ll ask for something like that,” Janine said. “You know a man like that is probably some kind of pervert.”

“He’s the best kind of pervert,” Miss French told them proudly. “He’s the kind of pervert I’m into.”

“Oh my God.” Janine covered her mouth with her hand. “How could you do this, Lacey?”

Defeated, Miss French slumped in her booth. “Why did I think you two would be different? Like, I understand my dad going apeshit because I’m having sex with a man he personally hates, but I thought you guys would get it.”

“He’s a bad man,” Janine whispered. “He’ll make you do bad things.”

She scoffed. “You sound like a child. That’s how Chloe would understand the world.”

“She’s not wrong,” Mara said. “I don’t think this relationship is good for you, and I know that being married to him will be worse. Worse for you, Lacey. He will hurt you!”

“That’s what I get off on,” Miss French said in a catty stage whisper. “I like the way Mr. Gold treats me. I want to be the person he thinks I can be.”

“Oh God!” Janine said again. She pushed herself away from the table and ran crying into the bathroom.

Mara gave her a withering look, then ran after her friend.

Miss French stayed where she was. She ate her burger, and waited for them to come back. They would come back. If nothing else, they wouldn’t waste a free lunch.

Would they?

After waiting for half an hour, she tossed a fifty on the table and left.

****

She stormed the short walk from Granny’s to Dark Star Pharmacy. Those fucking bitches. Those small-minded, puritanical idiots! Couldn’t they see what was right in front of them? Were they so blinded by hate and fear that anything to do with Mr. Gold automatically became unclean? Who were they to tell her what she could and couldn’t do? Who were they to judge her? Fucking virgins, so obsessed with being good they’d never get a chance be alive.

She ground her teeth.

It wasn’t fair. She wanted to be with Mr. Gold. He made her feel happy, he made her feel everything. Why couldn’t anyone in her life understand that? Why did gaining him mean she had to lose them?

Was it really too much to ask for both?

When she got to the pharmacy, she grabbed a basket and immediately started filling it with the most expensive things you could find in a drug store in Storybrooke. The brand-name organic lotion in all the offbeat scents? She got one of each. The salon-approved shampoo and conditioner for curly hair? Yes please! Shaving cream and razors, nail polish and face masks, she got all of it. Everything she’d ever thought was too indulgent to spend on herself. Everything she used to think she was a better person for not using. Lacey French hadn’t needed to fuss over her appearance, her brains would carry her everywhere.

But she wasn’t that girl anymore. Mrs. Gold would be a stupid slut and she’d have more luxuries than that delusional child could ever have dreamed of.

She rounded the corner and found herself in the magazine aisle. There was a girl, maybe twelve or so, with lank dark hair and owlish eyes that were too big for her face. She was staring at the magazines, at the models and celebrities with big boobs and perfect smiles. Her expression was something between rapture and starvation.

Lacey recognized the feeling. The bone-deep hunger for the lives that you knew were fake but wanted to be real. It was frivolity and vanity, but it was also joy and glamour. To be the girl everyone looked at--or even just the girl who could fit in with the girls everyone looked at. To be wanted and idolized. To always wear the right clothes, say the right words, be the right person. To be pretty, effortlessly pretty. To sparkle and shine and feel like you can do anything.

And then to hate yourself for wanting something you’d never have. Something that no one ever really has. Even the models on the magazines don’t really live the life they’re selling. You’re smart enough to know it's a lie but you still hate yourself for not having it. You want to believe in the dream, want it so much more than anything in your real life.

The girl looked at Miss French, head tilted, mouth open a little. The kid was dressed in loose jeans and dirty sneakers. Her top half was covered by an insulated hoodie big enough to belong to a grown man. She looked at Miss French in a form-fitting wool coat and burgundy boots. She looked at the styled hair, the makeup it had taken her half an hour to get right.

Miss French caught the girl’s eye and winked. “It gets better,” she said. “You won’t be in middle school forever.”

Then she grabbed a copy of Vogue and a copy of Cosmopolitan and put them in her basket. It was getting heavy now, so she might as well check out. She went to the prescription pick-up counter and waited for Mr. Clark, the short little pharmacist who was always sneezing.

“Hi!” she said when he came to the counter. It was easier now to be bright and chipper, to play the role of Mr. Gold’s fiancee. “I’m here to pick up a prescription.”

“Oh right.” Mr. Clark nodded, then turned his head to sneeze into his elbow. “Dr. Whale called me at home last night for this. He said the order came from Mr. Gold?”

“Mmm-hmm!” Miss French smiled.

Mr. Clark gave her a puzzled look. “You’re Lacey French, right? From the flower shop? Why is Gold throwing his weight around to get you an express prescription?”

Her anger came back with a vengeance. She didn’t owe answers to a pharmacist. She was going to be Mrs. Gold. She didn’t owe anything to anyone. At that moment, something inside her turned sharp and hard and brittle. The hot lava of her rage solidified into an obsidian blade.

She smiled.

“Well you can see what the pills are, can’t you?” Her voice was cheerful and patronizing, like she was talking to a kindergartner she was trying not to murder.

“Yeah.” The pharmacist was oblivious. He looked down at the label on the white paper bag. “It’s birth control.”

Miss French leaned over the counter to get in his snot-nosed face. “Why do you think Mr. Gold is buying me birth control? Hmm? I’ll give you a hint--it’s not so I can fuck anybody else!”

“Jesus,” he whispered. “Look, I’m sorry, I--” He turned away for another sneeze, then came back, wiping his nose. He stuck the used tissue in his pants pocket. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Yeah, well you did,” Miss French said. “So why don’t you just check me out and I can move on with my life?”

The pharmacist exhaled a long breath. After a quick moment to douse his hands with sanitizer, he began to ring up her stuff.

****

As she left the pharmacy, Miss French looked down the street towards Mr. Gold’s shop. Part of her wanted to run to him. She wanted to take refuge in the steady warmth of his presence. She wanted to unburden herself, tell him what a rotten day she was having, that she’d been betrayed and abandoned by people she’d known since she was born. Maybe he would listen to her, maybe he’d have good advice. Or maybe he’d just fuck her until those bitches didn’t matter anymore. Maybe he’d punish her for needing them so much in the first place.

But he hadn’t asked her to visit him today, and she didn’t want to interrupt his work. She couldn’t go demanding his time and attention over every little thing that bothered her. Mr. Gold was a busy man, an important man. When he focused on her, it was because she was important. She couldn’t ask for that all the time.

Besides, she was an adult. She could deal with stuff on her own, especially this petty shit. Mr. Gold had given her money and a shadow of his power. She wore his ring and soon she would have his name. What did it matter what lesser people thought of her? What did it matter that a pharmacist gawked? What did it matter that a hairdresser and a lingerie seller might never talk to her again?

She was going to be Mrs. Gold. She had better start acting like it.

#courtship #rumbelle #golden lace #rumbelle fic #golden lace fic

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toomanyf4ndoms7 · 1 year

Text

Mortal Kombat: Special Forces: Filth below.

Summary: Following Kano’s message, Jax finds himself facing off with another of his best fighters.

Chapter list.

Chapter list part two.

Chapter list part three.

Tasia could live with going down to the sewers for an assignment. Her line of work required her to get rid of apprehensions and lines she wouldn’t cross.

To be an assassin, getting dirty came with the territory. Blood was just the most common form of it.

But in spite of that, Tasia certainly wasn’t enjoying being around the sewers. The stench was sickening, and the only distraction was her current phone call.

“The intel was right, we could probable smuggle some good stuff here, so long as I’m not involved.”

A southern accented voice replied back, Salazar, the clan’s long range assassin.

“Too much muck for your liking?”

“Oh, you’re funny. How’s babysitting?”

“The prisoners ain’t talking. Shouldn’t be surprised. I bet Kano’s got something planned to make them talk,”

Tasia smiled to herself. Kano was a lot of things, but they had a shared passion for violence.

“Keep me updated. Tell Kano I’ll be back soon.” Tasia responded.

The call ended, and Tasia was left sharpening her katana. She almost wished for some mutant to pop out of the sewer water for some excitement.

———

Jax wandered throuigh the sewer tunnel, intent on finding somethng as Gemini gave her two cents.

"I've gotta say, a sewer isn't what I'd call prime criminal base material."

"Well, Kano is full of shit, so this tracks."

Jax was surprised to hear what might have been the sound of Gemini snorting on her coffee.

“You liked that one, huh?”

“Just… get to work, oh my God…”

Jax ended the call, and continued the search through the sewer tunnels. It had only been around fifteen minutes, but he was yet to find anything of substance beyond the occasional rat.

He soon entered into a spacious area, finding a woman dressed in purple and black with a pair of katana strapped to her back. Jax recognised her as Tasia and pulled out his sidearm.

She tossed a katana, which jax dodged and watched as it impaled into the bridge behind him.

"Alright, hands up."

Tasia sighed, seemingly out of relief as she turned around and complied.

"Finally, I was getting bored. Liking the smell?"

"About as much as I like you."

Tasia pursed her lips, but shrugged.

"Guess that's fair, killing puts me in your shit-list?"

"Among other things."

Tasia's face shifted to a devious smirk.

"Good, then I won't feel bad about this."

In a flash of purple light, Tasia vanished. Jax whirled around to block the slice with his gauntlets. Tasia's expression had changed from casual displeasure to something more sadistic as she swung her blades.

"I was worried I wouldn't get to cut anyone open today."

She tossed her blade teleporting again and landing a stab into Jax's shoulder. He groaned in pain, swinging his fist at empty air as she vanished again.

"Aw, did that hurt?"

Jax shot at Tasia's voice as she retreated through the tunnels, never hearing a sound of pain as he chased through the sewers. he soon found a single blade pierced into the floor.

He closed his eyes. Rushing around wouldn't help, he had to play this smart. Whenever Tasia vanished, there always a noise, a flash of light. If he could just catch her off guard...

He turned away, closing his eyes and waiting for the telltale sound.

"Dumb as a bag of rocks."

As soon as he heard the flash, and footsteps running up, Jax whirled around, delivering a ferocious punch to Tasia's cheek. She spun around from the force, stumbling around.

"Dirty trick..."

She collapsed to her back, Jax grabbing her by the neck and forcing her to look at him.

"You're done. Now tell me, where's Kano keeping Sonya?"

Tasia chuckled.

"Hell if I know. I was just sent here for investigation. But, I'll give you a hint. Jarek's holed up in some auto-shop, if you take him down, you'll probably get some details."

Jax kept his gaze steeled.

"Why should I believe you?"

"Maybe you shouldn't. But do you have any other leads?"

Jax didn't admit she was right, he instead pulled out a pair of restraints and stole her katana, to avoid any escapes.

"Gemini, I'm heading out of the sewers. Get in an escort squad, I've got another BD rat."

Tasia complained about being called a rat, but was ignored as Jax followed directions out of the sewers. But as they reached the ladder, Jax offered a bit of advice to Tasia.

"You know, prison has decent showers. So, that's a silver lining."

The pair of them exited the sewers with a shared sense of relief.

#mortal kombat #my writing stuff #Special Forces Adaptation #jax briggs #tasia

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softsnzstuff · 2 years

Note

🌧️ with doctorau! Steve?

Yes thank you guys!! Fic below the cut! Enjoy!! ❤️

*******************************************************

🌧: it wasn’t supposed to rain today, last time they checked. Unfortunately, things have changed since then, apparently, and they’re walking to work (or some other destination) in a freezing drizzle. If they’re not already coming down with something, they will be by this evening.

Eddie had been out of town for a medical conference all week. Steve missed him tons but he’d be back when he got home after todays shift.

Steve grabbed the car keys off the table and climbed in. He turned the keys in the ignition and was met with a rude click click click.

“No no no come on!” Steve slapped the dashboard a few times and tried turning it again, as if it would make any difference.

Click click click.

Fuck. Just another shitty thing to add to his shitty day. He was already starting to feel run down, the beginnings of a sore throat making it’s presence known.

“Shit.” He sighed. He quickly pulled out his phone and checked the weather. There had been a storm on the forecast for a while, but today didn’t say rain.

Looking at his watch, he figured if he called ahead, he could bike to work and be just a few minutes late. Grabbing his bike off the rack and throwing on his backpack, he took a deep breath and started the three mile ride.

***

The day dragged on, but eventually it was time for him to go home. He grabbed his bike and started walking it to the door, realizing when he stepped outside that the storm? It was back on the forecast.

Heavy rain was pouring down, large puddles already forming. Billy had driven off early as per usual, and Robin and Nancy had things they had to do after work already and couldn’t give him a ride.

He biked home, chilled to the bone. His clothes were soaked and clung to his skin in the most uncomfortable way. His throat burned and his nose was running, but after the first mile or so, he gave up wiping at his nose because he was soaked anyways.

***

Eddie had gotten home around 3. He’d showered, unpacked and started a load of laundry. Steve was almost always home by 5, but it was already 5:30 and no sign of Steve.

It wasn’t until 5:45 that Eddie, who was nervously glancing out the window, finally saw Steve pulling up in front of the apartment. He hopped off his bike and shook his head, water droplets spraying around him.

“Oh fuck no.” Eddie mumbled, rushing to grab towels from the closet.

He opened the front door after Steve had locked up his bike on their porch and immediately threw a towel around him.

“Oh my god Steve what..? Why did you bike? Are you okay??”

“Eddie! I - HAESSSSH!! ISSSHiew!” He pressed the towel to his nose. “Car wouldn’t start. Weather said it’d be d- d- dry.”

His words stammered as shivers wracked through his thin frame.

“Oh my god, you poor thing! I’m gonna go run you a warm bath and we’ll get you nice and dry, okay?”

He had his arms on Steve’s shoulders and was holding him at an arms length as he talked.

“O- ok- k- kay.” Steve pulled the towel tighter, “H’iKSHh’IEW!”

Water drops sprayed off his hair as he jerked forward with the sneeze.

“Aw babe. Are you feeling sick?” Eddie placed a hand to the back of Steve’s forehead.

“M’okay Eds, snFF felt kinda sick this morning.”

“Steve…”

“I know, I know…”

“Come on, come get in the bath.”

***

Steve had to admit - the bath felt nice. He felt his muscles relax as Eddie shampooed his hair for him.

“I’m sorry I worried you Eds.”

“It’s okay baby. I just hope you feel better soon.”

#soft and short #s/tranger t/hings #e/ddie m/unson #s/teve h/arrington #steddiesnz #sick!steve #kb au’s #doctors office au

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madamemimic · 1 year

Text

Just got fully caught up with Your Turn to Die. Thoughts under the cut!

Fucking loved it.

I first gave this game a shot two years ago and while I enjoyed it quite a bit, I found myself bouncing off because I wasn't a huge fan of the point-and-click adventure style puzzle solving.

Fast forward to today and holy shit am I glad I stuck with it. The shift in gameplay styles in each chapter is super novel and I had a ton of fun adapting to each of them. While I think the minigames could use some work (saving Gin from the cage and a few of the chapter 2 attractions were kind of awful), the overall gameplay loop is a lot of fun.

I think most of my grievances with the gameplay are because it's being made in RPGMaker MV. It's an engine issue - not much you could do about that at this point. Later chapters fix a lot of these issues by using the game's strengths (analysis, puzzle-solving, character knowledge) a lot more often than just "click on this thing before a timer runs out!"

Some of the logic during debates can be a little strange, too. A few times in the first two chapters I found myself getting really frustrated because, while I was technically finding potential arguments and item-statement matchups, they weren't the ones that the game wanted, so it counted them as incorrect. Also, not being able to draw statements out of characters without lowering the timer in the Gin/Q-taro minigame kinda sucked. However, I had none of these issues during the chapter 2 main game and the chapter 3 banquet, so overall the game improved on that front quite a bit.

Music isn't great, but it's one dude doing his best with garageband loops. At the very least, each song fits its respective moment super well. I'd love to see this game with an original soundtrack, though...

The art is great. Character portraits are super dynamic, character designs are super solid and memorable, and the backgrounds look absolutely fantastic. There are a few awkward character portraits (Q-taro and Gin's can be a little strange sometimes), but those are nitpicks. Game looks great.

The characters and story... hoo boy, where do I even start? I don't dislike a single character in this game, which was a shock coming from the Danganronpa series. The worst I can say is that some of the characters weren't super interesting, but that was only for like two of the dolls in chapter 3. Big fan of Keiji, Sou (Shin?), and Reko. Every character feels unique and feels like they have a place in the story. Even some of the first characters to die are given proper characterization as the story goes on, meaning that really any character can be someone's favorite.

Sara is a pretty good protagonist, too! I often have trouble relating to protags in these kinds of games, but Sara is fairly interesting in her own right. If she were a side character instead, I think I'd like her a bit better... but hey, she isn't, so I'm not judging her on that. She's a fine protagonist with lots of character.

The story has the highest Revelations Per Hour of any game I've ever played. God damn. You get zero down time, especially in the latter two chapters. I haven't been this surprised by a game in a long, long time. Fuckin' love it.

By the way: On my playthrough, I've chosen Reko over Alice and Kanna over Sou. No dolls have survived.

Overall I loved what there is of YTTD so far and can't wait for even more in the future! Also, Alice is trans and you can't convince me otherwise.

#yttd #your turn to die #fuck you midori you stupidass hoe

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wetladss · 5 months

Text

Day 1 - Good Weather

Arrive at 7:00am Sunday 5th of May in London. Felt pretty good as well as I manage to adjust my sleep cycle pretty good (Thanks to some shift experience in the past) and was ready for the day. Out of the airport I was excited to be greeted by Thalia. We caught the train into Hammersmith. Then headed out with some of the housemates to walk into Battersea park. Went out for a roast lunch and had my first Yorkshire pudding (still think bread rolls loaded with butter is better). Also the old geezer next door has a pet tortoise which was cool to see. Seems like an ideal low maintenance pet. Apparently though if you want to breed them you have to make sure it's not on the female's territory or she'll just keep fighting the male haha.

So far other observations. Less busier than I thought and not as dirty as I thought as well. Very nice to see that. I thought the parks would be more amazing compared to ones in Australia. Just thought with a bit more time there might have been something else that made it more awe struck. Reminds me a bit of the outer northern suburbs of melbourne where it becomes brick replicated houses. I do prefer the variety but with the space and history they seem to be designed quite well. Also nice having them typically 3 stories or less and having good spacing between the rows. Hardy, simple, practical.

Day 2 - City Slicker

Went out for morning walk. New direction heading west up river. Bit colder today but the 11 degrees felt like a Tas 16 for some reason. Started raining so I hid in a cafe for a while eating pastries. Headed back home to wait out the weather a bit more before heading into the CBD for a look around. Heading toward the shopping district (Regent street). I enjoy people watching and seeing what goods and services are sold and what branding and styles are done so this was enjoyable. One of the malls you could go into hand designer clothes you could go touch that where $1000 plus which felt naughty. Some really shit looking designs mixed in with a handful of things that actually look amazing. Just interesting seeing better versions of Australian shops haha. The next stop was heading out East and head into the Color Factory for a Jam night. That area was a lot more stimulating art and culture. Good old poverty creating creativity. There was a lot more graffiti art and more music venues that were kind to another version of Hobart. The band was awesome and it was set as an open Jam. Great energy that reminded me of Jay's Jam nights back in the day.

Interestingly I thought it was one of the best places to see live music. For some reason I assume the venue would be slick and beefed up a bit. The interias is clean and fresh. But more so like HBC it just has a nice atmosphere and something about being in a warehouse makes it feel fun. Bit more unhinged and brought in a great community. That was really nice to see. Also 32000 steps haha. Looking at a desk job to have a day free to explore, the health benefits have been pretty good. Keen to see what the average will be.

Day 3 - Pro Tourist

I wanted to get a bike today while Thalia had to go into work. Was going to try to pick one up cheap and ride around but with limited tooling for quality I was looking at getting the Lime E Bike hire and brought a 200 min pass. Walked into work with Thalia, which was nice to do again. Before heading off on the Ebike journey. First stop was the British Museum. The history and content in this was pretty significant and there is a cool feeling of knowing that there is 1000s of years of materials that document the evolution of ideas and humans mastering the materials of the world. The building itself is pretty spectacular. Highlights would be the Egyptians and Greeks. Just good ascetics in their art and craft and the idea of gods and immortality themes playing out. Seemed to be the most popular with everyone. The fine China was actually really nice as well. Not the stereotypical white with blue art. These ones were really nice color sets from the Qin Dynasty that would look fresh. Something really satisfying about the colors and gradients used. The other notable interest is just the center courtyard of the museum and how intense it feels seeing it. Then the library and history of the people who collected the material in the museum over the 1000's of years. One other installation which is new was the documentation of every pill taken by a male and female throughout their lives. This was then captured by having an identical pill stitch into some transparent mesh so you could see the pills all laid out. The females were more interested due to birth control than hormonal therapy later in life and you can see the cyclic nature of the pills and also see how it changes over time and ramps up. Looks quite excessive at the end of life. There were 20000+ pills there.

Headed over toward Paul's cathedral to see that. Wow, that was an epic building. So great to have buildings like this around as there is something very satisfying about mega projects like this and the art and design that goes into it. Just looks bigger then it should and the size of the building and the time it was built. Makes it more incredible. Next stop was Tate Modern. I wasn't too keen on this one. One of the big exhibitions had just finished up. But as for most of the other stuff I didn't connect to it too much. I want art to make me think about concepts in a vulnerable or unique way. Or trick my mind in a way that I can't explain or take a while too. There were a couple of pieces that were visually nice to see but nothing amazing for me. After that it was off to Big Ben. Boy he looks good. Nice gold trim and beautiful detailing. Really enjoy the gold detailing. After that it was off to Buckingham Palace (really like the water fountain detailing out front. White marble with golden looking bronze detailing really is pleasing on my eyes.

After the tourist run I began the mission back home. New shop came up that I wanted to check out. Amazon Fresh. This was pretty exciting, the tech in it was so cool and the efficiency of shopping improved vastly again. Plus I've been watching Clarksons Farms and they supplied produce from the Diddly Squat Farm. But all you do is grab the items. Tap at the end then walk out. The shelves have scales then there are cameras tracking your hand movements so it maps everything you have taken. So no Scanning, just tap and walk out. Really satisfying. Went back to Thalia's work and had a beer in the sun while waiting for her to finish.

After all that and 42000 steps it was couch time.

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primofate · 3 years

Text

Kinktober: Doing it raw for the first time [Modern AU] (Minors do not interact) Not SFW

Notes: And so it comes to this. I’m just jumping in >_> I don’t usually write smut but I guess I was in the mood?

Warning: gosh I don’t know where to start. no protection, rope play, breeding kink, overstim, size kink, praise kink, not proofread, giving head, established relationship. Pretty soft for Albedo and Diluc then it goes a bit hard for the others >_>

Characters: Albedo, Diluc, Kaeya, Tartaglia, Xiao, Zhongli x fem!reader

Juicy stuff below the cut

Albedo

Albedo was not one to push you into doing things. Even when your bodies were pressed up against each other, the warm touch of his bare skin on yours almost sticky, yet intoxicatingly so.

“Bedo, please,”

You whimper under him as he slaps his cock against your glistening folds. So pretty, he thought to himself. Even the subtle slap of his cock on your wetness was making him shiver.

He grabs your hips and pulls you towards him easily, his stature might seem small but his work with the fencing sword proved him to be strong and able. He leans in to whisper in your ear, his tip lining up to your opening. “Ready?” His husky breath tickles your ear, but before you could reply, you can feel him stretching you open.

You close your eyes and throw your head back at how painfully slow he was going. You could feel every inch of him push through you and you hear him stifle a groan. “B-Bedo...!” you mewl his name, feeling him fully for the first time, as he does you.

“Shhh...” He whispers out, trying to concentrate on the tight squeeze of your cunt around him. Trying to ground himself. Trying not to just plow you through your orgasm. He bottoms out, his whole length buried into your damp hole. He looks down to see how connected the two of you are, face flushed into one of bliss. “...Beautiful, Y/N,”

Still, he’s calm. He’s calm as he takes his hand and starts rubbing on your sensitive nub. You jerk up and you clench around him, earning another groan. “T-Tight...” He pants, unable to wrap his head around the fact that he’s getting squeezed by you.

And suddenly, both his hands are on your waist again, he pulls out nearly completely, leaving only the tip inside and you lift your head up giving him a questioning look, until he thrusts his hips forward, sheathing himself in one swift motion. “A--aghh!” A strangled moan leaves your mouth as he ruts into you almost violently.

He can’t control himself. It’s different. His bare cock in you. “I-I can’t stop--” the bed creaks, his hold on your waist nearly bruising, pistoning himself. Grunting, groaning, hitting you in all the right spots as he hears you cry out “Mmggh! A-Albedo! There, right there!”

It’s like fuel for him, chasing his own high and yours. The friction on his cock is unreal. The wetness. The vice-grip. His head is spinning and you watch as he throws his head back in a beautiful moan. “Y/N...!” You watch as his hips continue in a magical pace, your hands suddenly gripping the bedsheets as you arch your back, reaching your orgasm before him, “-t’so good, so good! Albedo I’m cumming!” he thrusts a few more times, you can’t even feel him stiffen, just coming down from your high. He quickly pulls out and fists his cock, spurts of white shooting out to your stomach, grunting “Wish I could cum in you...”

He rarely says such things, but you grin when he does.

“How about for next time...?” you suggest.

Diluc

He’s a gentle lover...for the most part. But there are days where even he loses control as he stands above you, worshipping your body. How could he not? It was a divine gift from God. Every time the two of you tangled in the sheets, it was a little piece of heaven for him, just seeing you bare and open.

The moans that you give out are even more of a blessing. He loves to please you. Loves to hear his name in whimpers and in squeals. So, his first order of events is tasting you. Letting you cum on his face as much as he wanted, it wasn’t your choice.

Now he towers over you, your face already flushed out from the two orgasms he has licked out of you. He smiles at the look on your face, hair sticking to your forehead with sweat. He lays over you and starts peppering kisses up your jaw, stopping at your ear. “On your front, darling,” He helps you turn, your ass is now grinding against his hardness and he ruts into the smooth surface of your skin as he kisses your neck. He’s deliberately slow, but you’ve anticipated tonight for far too long. “Diluc, I want you...”

He chuckles behind you, but moves up, and prods your opening with his tip. “...You’re...extremely wet...” he whispers in awe. He could guess that you were a lot more excited today than usual. So was he, the tip of his cock seemed a lot more enflamed than usual.

He pushes in, there’s some resistance but he manages to slide it halfway.

SLAP.

You yelp as you feel his hand smack your ass. “Y/N... God-- Sorry, I--” It was just too good. It was entirely different from usual. You can feel his hands grip on your ass, squeezing it as he finally rests fully inside you. You can’t see it, but he shivers. The way your walls are clamping down on him is sending him to a high.

Slowly, he pulls out halfway and thrusts in again. His pace is mellow, but you can feel every inch of him all the same. His perfect cock curves in the right places, hitting you just as you like it. “Love you, Y/N,” He has his eyes closed as he says this, reveling in the feeling of your warmth. “Love you so much,” and yet his hands are gripping your ass tighter, his pace is quickening. The control he once had is slipping fast and before long all you can hear is the loud slap slap slap of his skin hitting yours.

The feeling is intense, your face smothered on the bed as he gradually drills into you. “Diluc! Diluc!” that’s the sound he loves. The sound of your fucked-out voice moaning his name. “Ohhh feels so good... your cock feels so good... Don’t stop!” you whimper as his hips thrust at the same time he pulls you down.

He grits his teeth as he groans, “Cu-cumming!” every thrust he sends you feels like fireworks in your tummy. You stiffen up as the pleasure you feel peaks, you moan into the pillow as you orgasm, a little embarrassed at the feral sounds you were making. “Mine, all mine,” he grunts as he bottoms into you, cumming deep into your walls, and collapsing on top of you, his arms barely able to keep him propped up. He kisses your shoulder as he comes down from his high, still grunting and panting until he slips out of you, spent.

“You’re a goddess, Y/N,”

Kaeya

There’s a red blindfold round your head, and your wrists are tied up above it. Kaeya watches as you squirm a little. It’s his favourite type of play, for a special type of occasion.

Your folds are already glistening for him, and although he didn’t tie your legs up he’s got them spread wide open with his strong hands. He’d been fingering you, getting you ready for his cock. “Please,”

Of course, he doesn’t make it easy. “Please what, love?” a smirk on his face that you can’t see. “Want you in me...” you whimper out, lifting your hips up a little in hopes that you would find what you were looking for. His cock on your folds. “Whose cock do you want, Y/N?” he continues to tease you with his hands, his finger running a circle around your clit, completely avoiding it. “Yours Kaeya, just yours, please...”

He chuckles at this moment, “Good girl,” and you can feel him shifting his weight, can feel him pushing your knees up to your chest in the breeding position. Then, without any warning, he ruts into you all in one go. “Oh my God!” you keen at the painful and sudden stretch, but a few seconds later as his length pulses in you, fills you up in every corner, stars erupt in your eyes. “More, please, more!”

You’re not quite sure how loud you’re being, but he’s in total bliss at the raw feeling. “Shit...That’s my girl,” he hammers into you relentlessly, almost painfully but the pain hurts so good. “This pussy’s officially mine,” he grunts as he fucks you out, the rough in and out earning stuttered moans from you. “You cumming, pretty?” his eyes trail down towards your pressed back head, open mouth wailing him praises. “Ohh yes, yes! S-So close!”

He crouches over you and presses your tied hands onto the bed, hips blindingly fast. “Mm, such a good pussy for me. Take it, take it all...” he starts to grunt more, head dipping lower into your neck as he feels the pleasure grip all around him. “Fuck,” he spits out as he stiffens, an animalistic growl escaping his lips just as you grip tighter around him and reach your own high. “Fuuuck, you’re so good, Y/N,”

He slips out, handfuls of cum spilling out from your hole as he leans his body over yours.

Tartaglia

“Relax babe, you’re always so good at this,” He’s laid out on the bed, arms behind his head as he watches you grind your clothed pussy on his bare cock. Such a sight for sore eyes. Your lids are shut, cheeks are flushed and your mouth open in silent gasps. “You like that, huh?” His smirk is obvious, thoroughly entertained, as if watching a show that was made just for him.

“Mmhmm...” You whimper, feeling your clit rub against his long, veiny cock. Your voice seems to spur something in him as he reaches out and pulls your panties aside. “Lift up,” he commands you and you follow, propping yourself up on your knees. “Go on now,” his shit-eating grin is almost teasing, but when you line yourself up on him, tip slipping past the tightness allowing you to fully sit on his raw cock for the first time, his grin disappears and is replaced with a strangled, guttural groan. “Oh shit,” his hands grab your hips and stills you, glues you to your sitting spot.

You watch with half-lidded eyes as he closes his eyes and struggles. “Oh fuck it’s better than I thought,” he inches his hips up a little, provoking a moan from you. “I-I like this better too...” you murmur. You can feel every vein on him, every curve and thickness rubbing against your walls. Slowly he takes his hands away and places it on his side, rutting his hips up, making you bounce slightly and squeal, a signal for you to start.

You waste no time in bouncing up and down on him, hands on his chest, balancing yourself. The only sounds in the bedroom is the slap of skin on skin, your wanton moans and his animalistic growls. “Y/N, fuck,” one of his hands grips your thigh, he can feel his cock grow warmer, feel the knot in his stomach tighten. He’s nearing his orgasm and he can’t keep still anymore.

He starts plowing up against you. Your bouncing is now fueled by his hips and not your own accord, you scream at how rough he’s going, how his dick kisses your cervix with every hard thrust up. “So deep! More, don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop” your words string together and are hardly coherent. He takes that as a sign to keep pulling your hips down just as he thrusts up, somehow, one of his hands manage to rub at your clit despite all the bouncing and you tighten up almost immediately.

“Childe!”

“SHIT!”

The two of you scream out at the same time, reaching orgasm mere seconds apart from each other. You collapse on him, and he wraps his arms around you. He takes a few seconds to recover before he flips you over onto the bed. “...You can’t expect me to just go one round... I’m addicted now...”

Xiao

“You want to do it...without this?”

He already has the condom in his hand, and you’re laid out on the bed prettily. “...I’ve been taking birth control instead,” those words has him on top of you in seconds. He’s kissing you fervently, the bulge in his boxers seem to keep growing. Xiao is well-endowed and you know it from the countless times you’ve taken him deep in your throat.

“I love you, you know that? If you don’t want to it’s okay,”

“I want to,” the words between kisses are fast and heated. He wants to make sure you’re alright with it. He seems gentle now, but the truth is he’s insatiable in bed. He has a hunger for you that doesn’t end. As with any other session, he preps you for his cock with his fingers. One, two, up until the third one stretches you out so well and good that you start asking for more. You start asking for him.

“Xiao...Want your cock..”

He takes his fingers away and rubs your wetness on him, hoping that the slight lubrication would make it easier for you today. But it’s never easy with him. Every time is like the first time, the painful stretch of his massive girth, the way you feel so full even when it’s just halfway in.

“C’mere,” he pulls you easily towards the edge of the bed and instructs you to flip over, your ass is hanging on the edge and he thumbs in gently, positioning himself into your damp hole and slowly pushing in. “X-Xiao! S’too big... too much!”

Dear Gods the sensation is a hundred times more intense. He doesn’t even hear you talking about how big he is, he’s lost in the velvety folds of your cunt, in the way your walls stretch out to accommodate to him. He doesn’t answer you and he’s lost in the pleasure, pulling your hips back to make you stretch out all the way and take him all in. “XIAO!”

You feel like cumming just from him being all the way inside and truthfully he feels the same. He’s afraid he might cum in just a few pumps, so he takes it slow, reaching in front of you to play with your clit, to ease up the stretch you feel. “A-Ah! No! Too much!”

You start to squirm as his fingers find the sensitive nerves. This time, he hears you and replies. “Shhh... You’re doing well, Y/N,” his fingers rub faster circles on your clit and finally, he feels that he can move a little better now as you keen and rut your hips against his hand. “That’s it...” he whispers and starts at a demonic pace. He can’t help it, it’s too good. “I won’t last long, Y/N,” but you’re already at your orgasm, you’re already reaching your second, his fingers still relentlessly rubbing on you. “The best, it’s the best!” you moan and he watches as your ass bounces on his big cock. “Mmmrghhh... Fuck, so fucking tight,”

His last few thrusts are brutal. Deep, strong and forceful, until he freezes and unloads inside you with a groan.

Zhongli

You look at him as you finish up your blowjob. You see him looking down at you on your knees, obediently bobbing your head up and down. Today though, he doesn’t let himself finish in your mouth. He pulls your head back gently and looks you in the eyes. “...Y/N...Let me make you feel good,”

He gathers you in his arms and places you on his office desk, the papers are strewn around on the floor already. He kisses you hungrily, hands roaming up and down before settling on rubbing you through your underwear. “Zhongli...” He’s a lot stronger than he looks, and this time he pushes your legs apart, his cock is right at your entrance, just waiting for his pushing motion. “Last chance to say no,” he mutters and you answer with a lewd “Fuck me raw,”

He pushes through the muscle of your opening, groaning as he does so. “Gods, Y/N, you’re tighter than usual,” he doesn’t hold back. He knows you can take it and fucks into you rough. He picks you up in his arms as he fucks you and your legs wrap around his waist automatically. He’s making you bounce on his cock at a vicious pace. He can hardly steal a glance at his cock as it disappears right back into your hole. “Zhongli, c-cum in me,”

You wrap your arms around his neck, as if trapping him. Something snaps inside of him at your words and he maneuvers you onto his office chair and starts pistoning inside of you, his hands gripping the arms tightly. “O-Oh my God. Give it to me, pleasepleasepleaseplease,”

He’s never been this rough before, and you wonder if it’s because of what you said or the fact that he’s doing it raw. He isn’t a very vocal person but today he promises to give you his all. “This.is.all.yours.” he says in between hard thrusts. “Take it all, Y/N, take it--” he stops talking when his pleasure cuts him off, fireworks going off in his head and he shivers on top of you. He growls under his breath and suddenly slaps your cunt, right above the clit and your jerk up with a howl. “FUCK!”

All of a sudden he’s starting again, he’s fucking into you hard even through your orgasm. “Oh shit! Li! fill me up!” You’re shuddering under him, body out of control at the sheer amount of pleasure he’s giving you, his fingers continue to rub and tap on your clit. “C-Cumming! I’m cumming! OH ff-”

You feel him stop inside of you, and by his low groans you can tell that he’s released his thick strings of cum inside. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

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mushroom-witch-writes · 2 years

Text

Act Like You Forgot

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader 18+

pt.1

Warnings: smut, swearing, fwb, angst(?)

Genre: smut, enemies to lovers, fwb

Summary: you and Eddie hated each other's guts, being the sub in their D&D session helped you talk about something that's been bugging you for a long time.

a/n: I have to start posting more, this is a start. Hope you like <3 also FIRST SMUUUUT WOOO

Word count : 2.046

Eddie Munson. You could swear this kid’s life purpose was to make your days insufferable, but things weren’t always this way. Most of the time you and Eddie would ignore each other’s existence in school. You both had the same style , same movies and music preferences ,but found yourselves in different groups. All was fine until that god forsaken day. The cafeteria incident as you and your friends called it. Eddie had made another one of his famous speeches and you couldn’t help but talk back. “right, so whoever doesn’t enjoy the same things as you is lame, right Munson? Yea I’m sure you’ll get much more acceptance now.” You had said and Eddie felt threatened by his own ‘kind’ at that moment or whatever. He would make comments when he saw you on the hallway , always making sure you heard and you would snap back immediately, never missing the opportunity to shut him up.

You worked at the family video in the afternoons so you ,Steve and Robin had gotten pretty close which of course meant that you had befriended the kids that followed them everywhere as well. Once you walked in for your shift that afternoon your friends gave each other a knowing look as you stormed around the place looking like a crazy person. “okay what did he say this ti-“ Steve started ,but you cut him off “ He called ME, ME of all people, a fucking POSER. Like , what the fuck Munson, look at yourself, with your long ass hair and all the band patches. Wonder if he even listens to them.” They both laughed at you “don’t laugh he’s fucking annoying as shit” “his long curly hair and soft smile and ringed fingers ,that Munson?” Robin said half laughing. You had said those things, but you were drunk and it was before he became THIS annoying. “yea yea Robin, that one. And by the way I don’t stand by those words anymore” Steve then chimed in “is that why you keep looking at him in awe every time?” you shot him a glare “shut up Harrington”. They started laughing again. Some time passed and suddenly the two shits burst into the store. “ y/n!” Dustin yelled “ I’m not here, fuck off ,no “ “ y/n please he will kill us, we just need a sub” you came out of the counter and folded your arms “ What’s in it for me?” he smiled “You’ll get to play after a long time and if we win you’ll have something to tease him about , please pleeeease” you looked at mike and he gave you a smile “fine”. You hated the fact that you accepted ,but what else could you do. Dustin was right, it would be fun beating Munson at his own game.

Friday came and you got ready. Picked the too shits from their places and headed to school. You regret saying yes the moment you walked in the hall. They opened the door and motioned you in. “what’s this?” Eddie said half laughing when you walked in “she’s the sub” Dusting smiled and Munson started laughing “absolutely not ,forget it” you sighted “what’s up Munson? Afraid you’ll lose?” he came closer. You could smell cheap cologne and cigarettes on him “no no my dearest y/n. I’m just scared that you’ll spoil our night” he said smirking and bending down to your level “look , I’m doing this for the kids, if you want me to go I will ,just make something up so they won’t be too disappointed. I don’t want to deal with this today.” You whispered and his face softened. “ Let’s see if you can even get close to beating me. Welcome to Hellfire” he smiled and gave you his hand to shake. The session went on for about one hour and ended with success. Everyone cheered for you and hugged each other “ told you we’d beat him” Dustin yelled excited. “yea yea it was fun. Now, time to head back yea?” you said and they frowned “I can take them” Jeff said “oh , uh sure yea, thanks” you replied and started organizing your stuff in your backpack while they left “you actually care about the shits huh?” Eddie said behind you in a low voice. “why wouldn’t I ? besides, you should have seen their pouty faces. Not even you would be able to refuse.” He looked at you puzzled “ not even me?” “oh you know heartless and mean and basically a major asshole” he touched his chest as if he got hurt by your words “how could you say something like that about me y/n?” truth is , you and Eddie had history, even if you both pretended you forgot. You and him had been in a party once ,one thing led to the other and before you knew you were bent over the bathroom sink looking at yourself getting absolutely destroyed by him. You blamed it on the drinks and the weed and never really talked about it. Well , you tried talking about it , but he pretended to be clueless so you dropped it. You zoned out while looking at him because of the image that popped in your head.” y/n, hellooo” he waved his hand in your face “sorry, yea , it’s pretty easy to say such things about you Munson, given the fact that they’re true” now he looked actually hurt. “oh, y/n all these days I was just playing along, I don’t actually hate you” you huffed and looked at your feet “ no I know, but I should hate you. I’m going, it was fun” you said leaving the class and walking in the empty school to your car. How could he not remember. Sure you were tipsy ,but you drank just as much as he did. Steve and Robin had told you not to pay too much attention to it. You couldn’t. It’s been almost a month and you couldn’t get his image out of your head or the way he made you feel that night. That was maybe what made you turn around and walk back into the class. “hey, I can’t keep this inside anymore ,we need to talk” you said when you walked in and he just dropped his things and sat on the table facing you “ we can talk” you walked closer “ I know you said you don’t remember anything about that night at Rick’s, but I do and I can’t seem to get it off my mind no matter how hard I try” he looked down ,he knew you’d bring it up again. “ why can’t you just leave things be? We were drunk and we fucked” this man had a talent pissing you off “ so that was it, you just got horny and thought I look desperate enough so why not ?” he got up and walked around not looking at you “ y/n we just fucked, I don’t like you and I know for a fact that you don’t like me. We both needed a warm body, that’s all” you stared at him with tears threatening to spill. You were tough, not tough enough to just stand there and hear him talk about you like you were nothing but a way to blow off steam. “ I was too drunk and made a mistake” he said.

A couple of tears slid down your face “so I was just a warm body to you. You know what my mistake was Eddie? My mistake was not being drunk enough. If I was maybe I wouldn’t remember and it would be best for both of us. Also fuck you Munson because you are an asshole, the biggest one of them all. Congrats !” you said fully crying now and wishing you never told him anything. You stormed off not caring about the fact that he just saw you cry for him.

The whole ride home all you could think about was how much you hated your self for not hating him. Once you got to your place you dropped your bag on the floor next to your door and headed upstairs to your room. You’d normally lock your door so your family wouldn’t burst in , but they weren’t home. You got undressed and curled up in a little ball on your bed ,crying your eyes out and feeling embarrassed for even thinking he would ever care. Time passed and you had fallen asleep naked. A soft knock on your window woke you. For your own sake your curtains were closed and behind them you could make out a long haired figure with a leather jacket. ‘is that man serious?’ you shot up and wrapped a sheet around your bare figure before drawing the curtains and opening the window “ what the fuck do you want psycho?” you asked looking at him wide eyed. “ I fucked up, I – we need to talk ,for real this time” he said and you sat away form the window letting him in. he jumped on your bed after taking his boots off and throwing them on your floor. Why would you even give him a chance to speak after everything he’s said? Oh yea, because you couldn’t resist this boy and the effect his eyes and words had on you “what is it Eddie?” you asked rubbing your eyes and yawing. He wasn’t talking , he couldn’t talk. He had just realised that you were standing on your bed with him with just sheets covering your naked body, the one he had tattooed in his mind, the one that he would see every time he closed his eyes, trying to find some peace. “hey!” you spoke again getting him out of his thoughts “yea sorry , I , uh , I remember everything that happened and I know that I’ve been acting stupid for a month saying I didn’t.” you folded your hands on your chest and looked at him with the most disgusted look you could muster. “also, the only thing I regret about that night was being too drunk and high and not being able to last longer” he joked leaning his head to the side and smiling “ that doesn’t make up for the fact that you used me because you were horny” you replied bitterly and truth is, he didn’t. Every time he saw or even thought about you he would go crazy, even before you and him got intimate. He couldn’t tell you that, he wasn’t the kind of guy to confess his utter admiration and love for you right there and then and get rejected. Still he wanted to be close, he wanted to be able to talk to you and piss you of , make you smile, worship you, use your beautiful body in any way imaginable and make you come all over him like no guy ever had. “ I know, I also know that you couldn’t keep it in your pants either, well, your torn up fishnet tights or whatever.” He felt himself trailing off in the thought of him tearing up your tights and bending you over. God Eddie felt as if he could listen to the desperate little sounds you made one more time , he would die happy and complete. “my point is , dear y/n , the sex was great and I personally would do it again, no strings attached, no labels and shit. Pure, filthy fucking here and there. What do you say?” your mouth fell slightly open at his words. Not because they socked you or anything ,but because the way he talked about it gave your entire body goosebumps. “no strings no labels?” you asked again and his smile grew “exactly sweetheart” you grinned and rolled your eyes “ I’m afraid you won’t be able to live up to that term Munson, but yea fuck it” he smiled and gave you his hand to shake. He held it for a little longer and you could feel this simple touch do things to your mind, things you had promised your self you wouldn’t allow to feel for him again.

_______________🍄✨🌼_________________

Pt2 coming soon <3

Feel free to request anything via message or ask box✨

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dumbfuck-mojave · 2 years

Text

Coming Out to Steve and Eddie as Bisexual (Separate Scenarios)

Franchise: Stranger Things

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader (Can be read as platonic or romantic!! Whatever suits you most <3)

Also Featured: Mentions of Wayne, Robin, unnamed Family Video Customer

Warnings: Food, a really brief mention of the pencil scene from Evil Dead (injury, blood). Eddie and Steve both use petnames but it can still be platonic.

A/N: Well I didn’t plan on the over a month writing hiatus but I’m back, writing for more Midwestern characters. I wanted to have an undeniable Midwestern thing in this one and that evolved into Eddie being a diehard Puppy Chow fan, and me wanting to write a full fic where he and his partner make it for Hellfire lol. So if you like Stranger Things and my writing style, give me a follow and look forward to that. I also made Eddie specifically unlabeled queer, I was originally gonna make it ambiguous but this is my fic so >:(. And I think it’s funny if he’s a little bitch when it comes to horror movies so I also threw that in lol. I hope you enjoy!! I might do this for Jonathan in the future as well.

This was inspired by @kaylawritesfics headcanons on coming out to the older ST characters! Make sure to give that post a like/reblog and give her a follow, she was one of the first ST writers I read on my private account and her work is amazing!!

Word Count:

Steve- 1,368

Eddie- 1,177

@dollyghostface @horrorstolemyheart @kaylawritesfics and @loveronlineee who I also read a lot and recall seeing they were okay with being tagged in stuff :))

Support a disabled creator this disability pride month :D

-Steve Harrington-

It was almost closing time when a young woman slipped through the door of Family Video, carrying a stack of tapes the length of her torso. You had your back partially turned to the register and the door, sorting through the new inventory, so Steve had hopped up from the rolling chair he was sitting in to assist her. It had been relatively quiet for the past few hours, and that didn’t change much; The woman had a quiet voice, the sound barely overshadowing the methodic tapping of computer keys as Steve typed and the pirouetting seat of the chair, still recovering from his sudden upheaval. You figured, despite the amount of tapes she had brought in, it would be a relatively quick final task of the day. You were wrong.

“I’m honestly appalled.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Steve.”

“No, Y/N, because look at this!” He gestures aggressively to the partially broken down stack in front of him, then picks one up with flamboyance, “There’s like 20 tapes here! Are we even allowed to rent out that many to one person!?”

“Actually, I don’t think so-”

“AND SHE DIDN’T REWIND ANY OF THEM! Like Jeez, if you’re gonna be a lousy customer at least be only half lousy! Thank God I didn’t just shove them out like I wanted because if I didn’t discover this I would be in so much shit-”

“Aw, you poor baby. Actually having to do your job.” You fake pouted at him.

“Yeah, well, at least I’m doing something productive.” He shot back, even though it didn’t have much fire behind it. It’s rare that he’s genuinely mad at you (Or anyone else, for that matter).

You looked down at your swinging feet coming in to view over your knees every few seconds or so, having hopped onto the counter after finishing sorting the new tapes into “easy to put out genre piles” for tomorrow. There’s been a bit of delay with your stock recently, and you had gotten triple the amount you usually did in one delivery today so you thought the normal system could change a little bit because of it. Sort it all out today, put it all out when you come in for the opening shift tomorrow. Simple.

“I’ve been productive all day, Steve! I didn’t see your ass wanting to sort through all this bullshit.”

Steve clicks his tongue, “Language.”

“Oh, shut up.”

You both started chuckling at that. You glance over at his stack of tapes, still messy but forming some sense of order as he places the rewound ones back in their own pile. He sighs as he pulls another one out of its cover, changing it out for the one that has just finished rewinding with a pop.

Your caution blanks on you for a moment, just one moment. But it allows your words to overtake you.

“Hey, can I tell you something?”

Oh shit.

As Steve looks at you curiously, you feel like you’re going to pass out, or throw up, or both. You debated on getting off the counter, but decided to stay put so as to not make a fool of yourself floundering to find a new seat.

It’s not like you didn’t want to tell Steve, you loved him and you knew he would be accepting, but even knowing that information didn’t help the anxiety that blanketed the struggle of trying to build yourself up to this point over the last few months. This wasn’t the way you wanted to do it, you wanted it to happen when you were completely comfortable and secure, maybe during a late night talk or near the end of a long phone call. The still moment in the car as you finally arrive home after a long trip. Anything but this, right now.

“Yeah, of course? Are you okay?”

“It’s something important.” Once again, not what you wanted to say.

“Alright, but are you okay? You’re looking a little sick there, peaches.”

You feel a little more life rush back into you as you scoff.

“Again with the ‘peaches’?”

“What, I thought you liked it!”

“When you said it the first time I laughed, that’s not confirmation I like it.”

Steve saunters towards you, “Welllll, you’re laughing now and you don’t look 2 seconds away from dying anymore, so I consider it a win.”

A small chuckle bubbles up in your throat, “Scoffing is not laughing, Harrington. Now this, what I’m doing right now? Is laughing.”

“A win!”

“A win because of how stupid you are!”

“Still a win!” Steve had made it over to you by now, leaning back against the counter as he looks up at you. He nudges your knee with his elbow, “So, what do you want to talk about?”

Nervousness invades you again, and Steve notices as your lips slightly turn down.

“Hey, it’s okay! I promise, don’t back out on me now. I’m sure you’ll feel better after saying it.”

He says it with a smile, and you can’t help but silently agree with him. Your gaze diverts to the door and Steve follows it, turning his head.

“Do you want me to lock the door? That way no one will come in, it’ll be just us.”

You nod. Steve moves quickly throughout the store, first locking the door then flipping off some switches so all the outside lights were off and only a few remained on inside. Legs flew in your peripheral as he launched over the counter, nearly falling as he situated himself up beside you.

“If you would have fallen and broken your face, I would’ve laughed as I drove you to the hospital.”

“Shhhh,” Steve hushes as he puts his arm around your shoulders, “We’re focusing on you now.”

“Yeah… focusing on me.”

Steve’s brows furrow, “I know what I said a few minutes ago but you really don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

You took a deep breath in, “No, I want to.”

You pause again, leaning your head on Steve's shoulder as his thumb starts to rub gentle circles into your cloth covered one.

Finally, you speak.

“I’m bisexual.” You close your eyes and a beat passes. But you have to hand it to Steve, there’s barely any time for you to start doubting before he replies.

“That…. That means you’re into both boys and girls, right? Just want to make sure before I say anything stupidly incorrect.”

You smile, nuzzling more into his shoulder as his grip around you tightens, “That and the in-between, but yes.”

“Alright, cool.” You can feel his jaw move against the side of your head as he lays his own on top of yours, “Thank you for trusting me. I’m sorry I don’t have much else to say.”

“It’s okay, you don’t need to say anything.” You nudge your head away from his, looking at his face, “I feel a lot better now.”

He softly smiles at you, “I’m glad. You know I wouldn’t care no matter what, right?”

Shrugging, you respond, “Yeah, but it’s still scary.”

“Yeah, yeah, for sure. Your ‘secret’ is safe with me.” He sloppily salutes and you cackle, hoping off the counter.

“Alright sailor boy, how about we head out of this joint. The seas await us.”

“That’s former sailor boy to you. And a fellow employee pressuring me into leaving before I’ve finished all my work? I might just report you for that.”

“Whatever, I can just get Robin to do the rest tomorrow!” You yell over your shoulder, heading into the back to pick up your and Steve’s stuff as he shuts off the rest of the lights. There’s still dim natural light out, so you see his featureless form waiting for you by the door. He swings it open when you get close enough.

“I’m really happy I told you, I’ve been freaking out about it for so long.” You look over at him as you both walk towards his car.

“I’m glad you told me too, now I can judge your taste in both guys and girls,” He unlocks the car and finger guns at you over the hood, “And everything in between.”

-Eddie Munson-

“Home sweet home!” Eddie yelled out as he kicked his leg up to hold the door open, hands full as he gestures you inside with his head.

“Your home, not my home.” You reply as you set your own bags down on the small collapsible table in the kitchen area. You weren’t even sure who had pulled it out, or why, Wayne usually eats a small supper at work while Eddie takes whatever he can scrounge up into his room. Even when there were people over, like you or some neighbor Wayne was friendly with, the meal was eaten while watching TV in the living area, surrounded by hats and mugs basked in the dim overhead light. It was nice. Homey, you thought.

“It could be our home. What do you say, roommates?” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows at you and you laughed, pulling the last of the things out of your bags and reaching over to unpack Eddie’s.

“I’m sure your uncle would absolutely adore having another person cramped up in here.”

“Hey, it’s not cramped!”

“With three people and three people’s amount of stuff, it definitely will be.”

When Eddie doesn't respond immediately, you glance up and are met with a confused expression on his face while he looks down at his hands, flexing them slightly.

“Hey, bud, you doing okay?”

“I’m trying to remember if I forgot anything.” He mumbles quietly, his fingers starting to move as he counted to himself.

“We picked up the movie yesterday, we walked in just as Steve dropped a tape in front of that group of girls.”

He smacked his hand down on the table, rings clacking together as he pointed the other one at you, “That’s it! I swear, I remembered we did that all day, but it just… flew off right then.”

“It’s okay, I was kind of expecting it.”

Eddie clutches his chest, eyes widening as he gasps dramatically, “Sweetheart, light of my life, how could you say such things!”

You smirk but roll your eyes, taking a slight step back as he tries to throw his arms around you, just to up the dramatics a bit.

“Light of my life? Seems a bit too Grecian for you, Eds.”

“Oh, I have more where that came from. I can be one sappy motherfucker if I do so desire to be.” He shoulder shimmies, a teasing look in his brown eyes.

“Alright, Euripides, let’s get to what we’re actually supposed to be doing tonight.”

“What?”

“He was a tragedian in ancient Greece, his play is where the ‘light of my life’ thing first popped up. He wrote depressing shit, I had to do a report on it, let’s move on.”

Eddie’s body, which had been surprisingly still during your explanation, jumped back into motion at your suggestion.

“Let’s! So, we got Bottle Caps, M&M’s, Nerds, like six different types of chips, that Puppy Chow we made yesterday after we apparently rented out the movie, let’s see what else....”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The pencil impales the back of Linda’s ankle, gooey red blood pouring out, as Eddie hides his face into the pillow he’s been clutching and groans.

“Wow, that’s gnarly.” You chuckle as you pause the movie, turning to him. His head shoots up to look at you, a look of disbelief in his wide eyes.

“Are you kidding me? That was awful. That was torture, who would ever want to watch this shit?”

“Uh, you, Eddie. You’re the one who suggested Evil Dead.” You deadpan back.

“Well, I forgot about this scene.”

“If you would just admit you’re a pussy-”

“I AM NOT-”

“Then stop complaining and watch the damn movie, Munson!”

“Listen, I don’t know what kind of sick fuck you are if you want to watch some lady get stabbed in the foot but I’m really starting to reconsider the people I choose to spend time with right now! I may write some mean shit for my campaigns, but at least I don’t have to visually witness it happening.”

You sigh, flopping further into the couch, “We can stop if you’d like.”

Eddie bites his nails in thought, “No, I just want to take a break. I need more Puppy Chow, and can you please not keep it paused at this particular moment.”

“Yes sir, anything you say sir.”

“I hate you.” Eddie mumbles halfheartedly, standing up from the couch as you rewind the movie back and stop on an innocent shot of cards.

He returns after a brief moment, carrying the rest of the Puppy Chow in his hands. He shakes the bowl out to you in offering, but you decline.

“I’m good. Have at it, Puppy Chow Fiend.”

It’s almost silent for the next few minutes, the only sound being Eddie’s chewing and spring insects outside. But it isn’t awkward, more relaxing than anything. You feel like you could drift off as you close your eyes, surrounded by the warmth of blankets and Eddie next to you. You feel… safe.

“Hey, Eds, can I tell you something?” You peek one eye open, watching him quickly swallow and nod.

“Of course, anything.”

Sighing, you scoot closer to him, turning so you can be face to face. Putting the bowl on the floor, he mirrors you and holds out his hands. You grasp them in your own, feeling the foreign texture of metal clashing with his rough skin.

“I wanted to tell you I’m bisexual.” You give him a small smile, and he grins back at you, his eyes lighting up as he processes your words.

“That’s so sick, dude! Obviously, I won’t tell anyone else but I’m happy you found yourself and felt comfortable enough telling me. You already know I don’t care about gender or attraction, whether it’s me or anyone else, so it’ll be nice to have someone else around to talk about that stuff on a personal level with, even if I don’t really use labels.”

“Yeah, yeah I totally get that. It just feels like I can breathe now, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Eddie holds out his arms for you, “Wanna hug?”

“Yes, please.” You hold him tightly, his fluffy hair tickling your face. Your hand reaches up to stroke it, “You know, I should braid this again.”

“After last time? No way.”

“It’s not my fault you tore out the ponytail like a little heathen. If you did it nicely, it wouldn’t have pulled so badly.”

“Yeah, Yeah, whatever.” Eddie pulls away and looks over at the TV, grimacing.

“Maybe we should have taken Steve’s suggestion instead.” You giggle, and Eddie raises an eyebrow at you.

“You want to watch Grease?”

You throw your hands up, “It’s fun!”

Eddie scoffs, “All the characters suck! And it totally breaks the realism at the end.”

“Eddie Munson, are you really trying to call out a movie where people break into song constantly on breaking realism?”

He picks the almost empty bowl of Puppy Chow back up.

“I’m just saying, it would be a little more believable if they just drove away.”

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imthebadguyyy · 3 years

Note

maybe something like interviewer asking her sexist questions and the boys stand up for her , after that interview she feels insecure and the boys comfort her . that's just an idea you don't have to write it !! <33

I hope you like it, and I'm so sorry about the delay 😭 I couldn't find my footing with this one, and I hope it's what you wanted ! Have a lovely day 💙

The One Where They're There For Her

Pairing - One Direction x Reader (6thmember!female!reader)

Fandom - One Direction (Directioners)

Summary - A particularly sexist interview decides to reduce you to just a sexual being and makes no effort to hide his misogyny. But the boys are there to support you.

Warnings - sexualization of the lgbt community, sexist comments, swearing, (honestly I hated myself for writing some of the comments here,and I'm so sorry)

Being a part of the biggest band in the world comes with certain responsibilities. Not responsibilities that come along with signing a recording contract, but those that a person deems themselves responsible for. For example, as the only female in a boyband, a female with a fanbase as large as yours, you took it upon yourself to always stand up for what's right, and to be an ally for the causes close to your heart.

That meant that your social media was often flooded with information about important causes, or your opinions on issues like feminism. Was it always well received? Heck no. There were people filled your feed with hate and comments calling you the most horrible names and labelling you a 'man hater' and a 'bitch' But you didn't let it get to you. On most days. On days like today, it was all you could do to keep it together. It had been a tiring few days, touring, recording, performing and doing an endless amount of interviews and photoshoots. It was safe to say you were on the last of your nerves, having battled your way through a makeup artist who had insisted on pointing out your flaws and had used a shit ton of makeup to cover them up. You had battled a photographer who had not hesitated to tell you that if you didn't look more feminine people would think you were turning into a man.

Before you could retaliate, Paul had dragged him away and told management to cancel the photoshoot, and find another photographer before grabbing the six of you some sandwiches and had let you all go back for a quick power nap at the hotel. Then in about half an hour he had woken you up, to get you ready for another interview. That's how you were here, in a white jumpsuit and a black blazer jacket, paired with black heels. Another day, another interviewer that got on your nerves. But this one, this one was different. This interviewer was different, but also the same. Another misogynistic man who thought he was entitled to stare at your ass and cleavage, and eye fuck you as you settled into a seat in between Niall and Zayn.

Settling in, you crossed one knee over the other, plastering a fake smile onto your face, as the man leaned back in his chair, throwing you a sleazy smirk. Noticing the look, Zayn shifted so you were out of view of the interviewer, but in view of the audience. It was in moments like this that you were a 100× more grateful to have your boys. They were well aware of how sleazy some interviewers could be, having had plenty of experience with them, and Zayn and Louis in particular were very protective about the way you were treated. Squeezing your thigh softly, he leaned back a little, lips settling into a thin line as he looked at the interviewer with a cold look. A little behind, Louis threw the interviewer a dirty look.

"So, One Direction! Congratulations on the album, as you all know its out on November the 22nd, with eighteen new songs, including the singles Night Changes and Steal My Girl Speaking of stealing girls, do you think I could steal your number Y/N? And may I mention, you look ver, very hot in that outfit" The interviewer joked, throwing you what he thought was a sexy smirk. (P.S - it wasn't) Answering with an awkward laugh, you shook your head, as Niall tensed up beside you. "Aww come on, your'e a pretty girl, I'm a handsome guy, let's go out sometime" he pressed on, ignoring the growing anger in Harry's eyes. "That's umm, nice. But no thanks, I'm not going to go out with you" was your answer, as you pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Picking up on your nervous tic, Zayn moved his hand to rest on your knee, stopping it from bouncing up and down.

"Aww come on baby, what is it? You like girls or something? Because I wouldn't mind being a part of that action either" the sleazebag chuckled, ignoring the disgusted look Liam sent his way. "That's rude" Liam said, while Zayn tightened his grip on your knee. "Oh come on lads, are you telling me the idea doesn't appeal to you? Two women together, mm, makes me all excited just thinking about it, especially if one of them's Y/N" That comment was all it took for Louis to stand up, turning to the man and saying in a voice much rougher than his usual voice, "Alright, that's fuckin' enough, what the fuck is actually wrong with you?" he was backed up by Liam, who stood up, going to tower over the interviewer, whose eyes had lost some of the sleazy look in them. "All you've done since we walked in here is make those disgusting comments about Y/N, and it's sickening. Have some fucking respect" he practically spat.

Behind him, Zayn took your hand in his and pulled you to your feet, noticing the slight glossiness in them, leading you back to the dressing rooms, while Niall, Liam, Louis and Harry stayed back to continue to snap at the interviewer. "That is no way to treat a woman, and not only are you disrespecting her, you also made those god awful events about seeing women together. Your'e a shame to every single person in this room by talking like that" Harry continued, glancing over his shoulder to check if you were okay.

"And no, it doesn't excite us, because we are not assholes, and you are, a disgusting sleaze who does not deserve the job he has. Fuckin loser" Niall chimed in, standing up and storming out. Louis stood up as well, turning to directly face the cameras and the cameramen and sound technicians, who had all looked shocked when the man had made his comments towards you. "I sure as hell hope you have that on record, so you can see just how fucking sexist this industry is to women. Y/N does the same job as us, works just as hard and has the same number of awards, nominations, and records and yet you decide to only focus on her body, clothes, love life and sexuality. Get a fucking life" he spat at the camera, before walking away himself, eventually followed by Harry and Liam, who apologized to the outraged fans before leaving themselves. As they made their way to the dressing rooms they could hear the audience telling the interviewer to apologize to you, their anger at the way you were treated echoing through the building.

Walking in, Harry caught sigh of you curled up in one of the armchairs, with Louis sitting beside you, while Niall and Zayn talked to a furious Paul. "He had no damn right to treat her like shite, and you need to make sure that he knows those comments were un-fuckin-acceptable" Niall was saying, looking angrier than Harry had ever seen him. "And to make those sickening comments about wanting to get action? Can't we sue him for something?" Was Zayn's reply, glancing over his shoulder at you to make sure you were still okay. "We can't sue him, atleast I don't think we can, but I'll have someone let the smug bastard know that he needs to learn how to respect a woman" Paul said, before leaving the room to give the six of you some time together before you had to head back to the hotel.

"How're you feeling darling?" Louis said, moving over and patting your knee so you moved. "I'm okay" you mumbled back, letting Louis settle in next to you, leaning back to rest on his chest. "He had no fuckin right to say any of that, and don't you let it trouble you for a second" Zayn added, pouring out a cup of tea for you and for Louis and Harry. "I don't care about what he said, I couldn't care less, but it was just so frustrating, sitting there and listening to him just sexualize a whole community of people. You've got to be in a really sad place to think of shit like that. That's what annoyed me. You think I give a damn about what he said about my clothes or wanting to take me out on a date? It was the way he was talking, like he was sure any woman would be glad to have him that irked me. He's really tiresome" was your reply, as you reached forward for a sip of your tea. "That's the right attitude love. Haters gonna hate" Harry said.

"I know that. But I just wish I could punch him once, which sounds mean, but he does kind of deserve it" Niall said, earning a laugh from you. Niall was never usually aggressive, and even now, he wasn't particularly rude but it was rare to see him wanting to punch someone. "It's okay Niall, you don't have to. I can do it myself, but I won't" you replied, leaning up to squeeze his hand. "Besides, Ni, if you went and punched him, I'd do it too, and then we'd all go to jail" Liam chimed in, scrolling through his twitter. "Twitter isn't happy either babe. #stopsexualization and #Y/Ndeservesbetter is trending already" he added, showing you his phone. "If it means some of these sexist asses get their heads out of the sand, I'm happy. But I dont want to to think about it now" you replied, cuddling closer to the warmth radiating from Louis's body.

"Okay, we won't talk about it. Do you want to go back to the hotel?" Harry asked, standing up and walking to the door "No I want to go to Nando's. Anybody else hungry?" You asked, to nods of assent from the boys. "I'm starving. Those stupid sandwiches didn't fill me up at all" Zayn said, standing up to grab his coat and wallet. "I know and I'm craving some hot Peri Peri chicken with some fries. Do you think they'd let me put the lemon and herb sauce on the fries?" You asked, standing up yourself, earning a laugh from Louis. "Your'e an international superstar babe, I think they'd give you some lemon herb sauce" Liam joked.

Laughing, the six of you made your way to the car, with Harry and Niall squishing you in between them, as Louis sat in the back with Liam, and Zayn sat in the front with Paul (he was driving thank GOD) "I'm proud of you darling" Harry chimed in suddenly. "I am too" Niall added. "You know I am" Louis said, before Liam added "Always babe" and Zayn turned to smile at you before adding, "We are all proud of you, and we always will be, not only because you do a damn good job of not listening to the haters, but because you do what you think is right" "Awh come on, your'e gonna make me cry" you mumbled, leaning into Niall's shoulder. "Almost makes me feel bad for teasing you about having an extremely low spice tolerance the last time we were at Nando's Haz" you smirked, earning a roar of laughter from the boys.

"That chicken was spicy love!" "It was lemon and herb with no peri peri!" "And it was spicy!"

And just like that, you were back to messing around with each other. Sleazy interviewers would come and go, but your boys were always there to support you. Always.

-------

A/N - Thanks for reading ! I'd also like to apologize on the behalf of this fictitious interviewer I made up, I felt so bad while writing some of this 😭 anyways, I hope this is what you wanted! Enjoy !

Tags - @zaynkissbot @gucci-hazza @bxtchboy69

#one direction x reader #one direction x sixth member #one direction imagines #one direction fanfiction #one direction #harry styles x reader #liam payne x reader #louis tomlinson x reader #niall horan x reader #zayn malik x reader #imthebadguyyytags #harry styles #niall horan #liam payne #louis tomlinson #zayn malik

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1kook · 3 years

Text

crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast.

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office.

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5.

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses.

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful.

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.”

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.”

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.”

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking.

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever.

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours.

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together.

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.)

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be.

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you.

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber.

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend.

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary.

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days.

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.)

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like.

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites.

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?”

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.”

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind.

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into.

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway.

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin.

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear.

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass.

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you.

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak.

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead.

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat.

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts.

They go like this:

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really.

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively.

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once.

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you.

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome.

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve.

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek.

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts.

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.”

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles.

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild.

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums.

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again.

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning.

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.”

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment.

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him.

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned.

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.”

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.”

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.”

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.”

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“—

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear.

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer.

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole.

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips.

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise.

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath.

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes.

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue.

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger. “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…”

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?”

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles.

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over.

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more.

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them.

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub.

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face.

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention.

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock.

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand.

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane.

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh.

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be.

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds.

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter.

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic.

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock.

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you.

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip.

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl.

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully.

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin.

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said.

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away.

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself.

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you.

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once.

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth.

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets.

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever.

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries.

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you.

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question.

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest.

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

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