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heartbreak-sandwich · 7 months

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YOU MADE A FOOL OF DEATH WITH YOUR BEAUTY

A/N: HERE IT FINALLY IS!!!! I put so much blood, sweat, and tears into this fic, for real. This one is my baby. A Jennifer's Body AU where Billy Hargrove plays the role of Jennifer. Be sure to pay attention to the content warnings - there are horror themes and smut ahead, so MDNI, 18+ only as usual! 💕 Huge thank-yous to @b1tchygh0sts for giving me the title in an ask game which inspired this fic to even exist, and again to her and @mrprettywhenhecries for reading my draft and encouraging me to keep going!! ily both, and thank you for making this fic possible! 🥰 CONTENT WARNINGS: smut, Billy Hargrove x Tommy Hagan, Billy Hargrove x Jason Carver, tw!vomit, tw!blood, tw!broken bones, oral (m receiving), and denim on denim grinding (if I forgot any, please let me know!!)

Song: Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge WC - 7.2k Read on Ao3 | Master List

YOU MADE A FOOL OF DEATH WITH YOUR BEAUTY

A hand burst through the mud in the darkness, rain splattering all around the earth, cleansing its skin as it raked back handful after handful of fresh dirt until a second hand could break through. It was less than a couple of minutes before the man was able to push himself up out of the ground and stand, shaking the filth off and opening his mouth to the sky to catch as many raindrops as possible.

He was so thirsty.

Taking one last look at the bleak hole he emerged from, he smirked at his headstone: WILLIAM HARGROVE, MAR. 29, 1967 - JUL. 4, 1985, GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN. He started toward the cemetery exit in search of sustenance, his heavy boots squelching in the mud with each step he took.

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“What the hell?” Steve heard a noise at his back door. His parents were out of town, and no one was supposed to be coming over, but you never knew when Robin or Eddie might show up without warning.

Moving to the glass slider, he pushed the curtain to the side, peering out into the empty darkness. He saw nothing. He let the curtain fall back into place and turned back into the living room only to hear the noise again. It sounded like footsteps on the back porch. He retraced his steps, moving the curtain to the side once more and saw –

BOOM! Steve yelped, jumping backwards as a palm pounded against the glass door. He wanted to scream, to run, to fight, but he was frozen where he stood as if invisible hands were gripping his ankles from under the plush carpet. He looked past the dirt covered hand pressed to the glass, and the blood in his veins ran cold.

“Billy?” It was impossible. They buried him yesterday. Billy gripped the handle to the sliding glass door with his free hand and pulled, the lock preventing the door from opening more than half an inch.

Steve heard a low growl followed by a metallic snap as the lock’s latch popped up, and Billy pulled the sliding door open slowly. Steve staggered back a couple of steps as Billy entered the living room dripping grime and rainwater all over the carpet, tracking black muddy footprints with every step.

Billy didn’t say a word as he sauntered past Steve and into the kitchen, his wet boots squeaking across the tile as he wrenched open the fridge. Steve couldn’t think straight. He moved cautiously into the kitchen, watching in terror as Billy knelt down in front of the refrigerator, rummaging through its contents, taking ravenous bites out of everything he could get his hands on.

He pulled a thawing raw steak off of a plate, tearing at the meat with his teeth, swallowing every last bite, and snapping the bone with his bare hands when he was finished just to toss it on the floor behind him.

After a few minutes of Billy gorging himself on food, Steve heard a snap, crack, fizz as Billy cracked a beer, chugging the entire thing, letting the frothy liquid dribble down his chin to his neck, to his chest, some of it landing in little droplets on the steak bones littering the floor. Billy crushed the can in one hand and turned to face Steve, the light from the refrigerator silhouetting him as he sighed in discomfort.

“Billy?” Steve asked again, his voice almost a whisper as his throat tightened with fear. Again, Billy said nothing. He took a single step back before Steve heard a rumbling and a gurgling sound, and Billy opened his mouth. A thick, black, tar-like substance spewed from his mouth, covering the tile, the steak bones, and the toes of Billy’s boots.

The smell was a mix of sulfur and decay, almost activating Steve’s gag reflex as his insides swam and he covered his nose and mouth with the sleeve of his sweater. The amount of liquid leaving Billy’s body was insurmountable as it sizzled and steamed on the floor, dissolving the steak bones into the gelatinous abyss.

Steve swore he saw the tar on the floor moving, swirling, growing spikes that lifted and fell in an eerie rhythm when Billy’s projectile spew finally ceased, and the kitchen was too quiet for comfort. All Steve could do was continue to stare as Billy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smirked, a dark laugh leaving his throat that seemed to echo from everywhere.

All of a sudden, Billy lunged at Steve, slamming a hand into his chest, forcing his back against the wall, causing a picture to fall and shatter next to Steve’s feet which were lifted inches off the ground.

Billy leaned in close, using his free hand to smooth Steve’s chocolate brown hair away from his tear-filled eyes before touching his nose to the goosebumps on Steve’s neck and taking in a deep breath, surveying the scent of honey shampoo and expensive cologne before finally speaking to him.

“Are you scared, Harrington?” Steve whimpered as his tears spilled over and slid down his cheeks, and nodded his head yes. He could feel Billy’s wet, gritty curls brushing against the side of his face as cold teeth grazed the flesh of his neck and nipped playfully.

Billy smiled against his skin and softly licked a stripe up where he had bitten, feeling the fear emanating off of him – smelling it, even – as Steve trembled in his grasp, soft sobs escaping his chest.

As quick as Steve had been pinned against that wall, Billy let him go, causing him to fall to the ground with a loud thud, and the squeak of boots could be heard fading away as the man moved from the kitchen, to the hallway, to the entryway, and out the front door. Steve covered his mouth and let himself cry, fearing to move in case Billy – or whatever that was – came back for him.

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Steve was absent from work the next day. Eddie stood at the counter of Family Video trying to convince Robin to cancel his late fees. A few other people were browsing the aisles, and Robin was paying them little attention, preoccupied with trying to explain to Eddie she didn’t have a magic wand to wave.

“Look, it’s not even up to me, so don’t give me the act,” Robin sighed, purposely avoiding eye contact with Eddie who was doing his best puppydog pout in a last ditch attempt to get what he wanted.

“It’s not my fault, I swear,” Eddie whined. “It’s somewhere in my room, and I promise I’ll bring it back as soon as I find it, but I really need to take this home today.” He tapped his ringed fingers on the case of Stephen King’s Children of the Corn, and leaned closer to Robin, theatrical desperation in his doe eyes.

“Sorry, Munson. Company policy is a real drag.” Eddie grumbled in defeat and picked up the tape from the counter when the front door’s bell jingled. Everyone in the store turned to look, and it felt like all the air was sucked out of the room as a man with an eerily familiar face strolled leisurely past the cardboard cutouts and gumball machine and towards the front counter.

“What the fuck,” Eddie muttered under his breath, goosebumps popping up all over his skin.

“Oh, my God,” Robin whispered as her eyes widened. She felt cold out of nowhere in the July heat as the man approached them, and both she and Eddie backed away intuitively.

“Hargrove?” Eddie’s voice caught in his throat, and he swallowed hard.

“Munson,” he greeted, his expression stoic as he planted his feet firmly, turning to Robin and shutting Eddie out of the conversation. Eddie took that as his queue to back off, and he hurried down the aisle to his right to put his tape back on the shelf while he tried to eavesdrop because that was impossible. They buried him two days ago.

“Billy? Are you –” Robin didn’t know what exactly she was trying to ask him, but he cut her off before she could finish.

“Harrington around?” Billy looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, his eyes sunken in and cheeks hollow with flat, unkempt curls framing his gray tinted face.

“No,” Robin said tentatively. “He’s feeling under the weather, so he stayed home today.” Billy’s jaw tightened as he nodded, looking around the room, scowling at the onlookers who busied themselves with the shelves and didn’t dare to look in his direction again.

“All right then,” Billy mumbled, turning back the way he came, his boots making hollow thumps as he exited the building with another jingle of the door’s bell.

Once the coast was clear, Eddie hurried back to the counter and leaned in, fervently whispering, “What the fuck was that?”

“I have no idea, but I know it shouldn’t be happening,” Robin hissed back, her whole body trembling.

“What do we do?” Eddie searched Robin’s eyes, grasping for an anchor that would calm his fear, but she was just as terrified.

“Call Steve,” she concluded, handing Eddie the phone behind the counter. Eddie picked up the handset and scrambled to push the buttons, trying his best to steady his breathing as the line rang.

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Billy hated not having his car. He walked for what felt like hours until he noticed a familiar ride parked outside the corner store. Taking a cigarette out of the pack in his front pocket, he lit it up and leaned against the tan car, waiting for its owner to emerge from the store. Billy was exhausted, so he shut his eyes in the meantime, soaking up the sun’s rays and fantasizing about having his hunger satiated.

“Hargrove?” Tommy Hagan’s voice almost startled Billy, and his eyes fluttered open. Tommy stood in the parking lot with a coke in one hand and his keys in the other, a dumbfounded look on his face as he stared at Billy. “How the fuck –”

“Long time, no see,” Billy called out as he straightened up and approached Tommy, a smirk hanging on his lips. “Got any plans this morning?” Tommy’s mouth ran dry, and he couldn’t respond. There was no way this was happening. “What, are you deaf, Hagan? What’s wrong?” Billy grew impatient as Tommy stood immobile, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.

“Nothing,” he finally managed to choke out. “No plans.” He shook his head as Billy’s smirk bloomed into a smile.

“Cool,” he replied, stepping closer to Tommy. “I’ve got this really top shelf stuff,” Billy almost whispered, patting his pocket with a plastic crinkling sound. “You want to head up to the lake and smoke some before my shift?” Tommy looked around the parking lot which was oddly empty before deciding he really didn’t want to piss Billy off, especially now, after they had just buried him two days ago.

“I’m game,” is all Tommy could say as he moved toward the driver’s side of his car, unlocking it and pulling up on the passenger lock on the inside for Billy. Flicking his lit cigarette into the parking lot, Billy sauntered to the passenger side of Tommy’s car, sliding into his seat before the two of them sped out of the lot and down the main drag, taking the out-of-town turn toward the dirt road to Lover’s Lake.

Tommy swore he was in a dream as he glanced over at Billy who looked like hell despite being alive and in the flesh somehow.

“What the hell happened to you, man?” Tommy tried to keep his tone steady as he attempted to get any information he could from Billy as to how he could possibly be seated next to him at that moment.

“I guess someone made a mistake,” Billy replied, his voice low, eyes fixed on the road ahead of them.

“Big fuckin’ mistake,” Tommy muttered as he turned onto the steep gravel path toward the shore of the lake.

“No kidding,” Billy chuckled.

The two of them exited Tommy’s car and made their way to its front, propping themselves up one by one to sit on the hood where they could look out across the lake as Billy sparked up his joint. He took a long drag, closing his eyes for a few seconds, and passed it to Tommy who did the same.

They shared a few moments of silence before Billy stood up and walked closer to the water’s edge. Tommy finished the joint and stomped it out, following Billy’s lead.

“So are you…okay?” Tommy was legitimately concerned, and Billy could tell. He took a deep breath in and out and turned to look at Tommy.

“Yeah. I think so,” he answered, his eyes seeming empty and colorless.

“You look like shit,” Tommy jested, testing a smile. Billy let out a small laugh and looked back across the lake.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” he agreed. There were a few more moments of silence before Tommy felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up in surprise to see Billy lightly touching him, something tender and longing behind his expression. This was not normal.

“Uhh – what’s up?” Tommy didn’t know how to react. Billy had never been gentle, especially not with him or any of his friends, really.

“Being buried in the ground by your loved ones really has an effect on your mind, you know?” Billy’s voice was low, husky, lustful almost, and Tommy’s insides fluttered. Somehow he could tell Billy knew.

“Yeah, I – I can’t even imagine –”

“I feel like I can finally be myself, you know? Express things I never could before.” Billy’s hand slid down to Tommy’s wrist, and he slowly interlaced their fingers together. Tommy started to sweat as his heart thundered in his chest. He definitely knew.

“What do you mean?” Tommy knew it was no use, playing dumb with Billy Hargrove, but it was his last chance to try to compose himself, to keep his secret.

“You don’t think I see the way you look at me, Tommy?” Billy moved both of his hands to Tommy’s hips, turning him slightly so they were facing each other, his tired eyes burning into Tommy’s as he continued. “You don’t think I see the way you look at Steve Harrington?” Billy smiled. “Or Jason Carver?”

Tommy swallowed hard and couldn’t find any words to defend himself with. He let Billy’s hands roam over his hips, his waist, his chest, and one hand slid up to cup his face as Billy leaned in closer, his breath hot against Tommy’s lips.

“Billy –”

“It’s okay. I’m not telling,” Billy’s voice was smooth and savory as his lips ghosted over Tommy’s before he tangled his hand into the back of Tommy’s short chestnut hair and locked their lips together. Tommy sighed into the kiss and finally allowed himself to touch Billy – to melt into him – as their tongues swiped over each other and their bodies pressed together, hands sliding desperately over muscles, dips, valleys, and tousled hair.

Tommy gasped when Billy broke the kiss, both of them panting, pupils blown out from the heat of their desire, and Billy smiled sweetly at Tommy whose kiss-swollen lips turned up in response. In a surge of bravery and want, Tommy pressed his palm against Billy’s jeans and felt Billy’s hard cock twitch in response to his touch. With a lustful gleam in his eye, Tommy lowered himself to his knees in front of Billy who hissed out a dark laugh.

“I always knew you’d be on your knees for me, Tommy,” Billy snarled as he tangled his fingers into Tommy’s hair while his jeans were being unzipped. “Such a good boy for me.” Tommy looked up into Billy’s eyes again, apprehension still lingering in his thoughts before Billy reassured him one last time, “Our little secret.”

Tommy folded down the waistband of Billy’s underwear and his cock sprung free, making Tommy’s mouth water. He used his right hand to pump Billy’s length a few times, his thumb swirling shiny beads of precum around the swollen, pink head before he wrapped his lips around it, eliciting the most delicious moan from Billy.

Tommy used his hands to grip the backs of Billy’s thighs, steadying himself on his knees as he deepthroated Billy’s cock at a steady rhythm, sucking in his cheeks around the girth as saliva leaked from the corners of his mouth.

“Mmm so good for me,” Billy growled between deep moans and hisses of ecstasy. “Keep sucking me just like that,” he commanded as his hands gripped Tommy’s hair tighter, setting his own pace, keeping their eyes locked together.

Tommy’s hands moved up to Billy’s firm ass, and he gripped tightly, digging his nails into the denim clad flesh, making Billy moan even louder. Neither of them even thought about the idea of anyone else happening upon them at the edge of the lake. All that existed was them, and this moment, and this feeling.

Billy’s hips stuttered, and his thrusts grew uneven, and Tommy knew he was close. He dug his nails into Billy’s flesh even deeper, relishing the sweet sounds Billy made in return, and he kept his eyes fixed on the man above him only to see something change in his face.

Billy’s eyes were almost black, his blissed out smile twisting up to reveal rows of razor sharp teeth, and his grip on Tommy’s hair turned from painful to gruesome. Tommy tried to free himself, tried to stand up, tried to push himself away, but Billy was too strong.

Billy lifted Tommy effortlessly by his hair, and Tommy was gasping for air, his throat finally empty again as he tried his best to choke out words.

“Billy, please, no!” Billy was lifting Tommy up, one of his hands clamping down around Tommy’s throat as he lifted him high into the air, more teeth protruding from his grin now as his eyes glazed over with deep, black, nothingness.

A low growl resounded from Billy’s chest, ringing out in multiple dissonant tones as if there were hellish harmonies echoing all around the two of them, and a single tear fell from Tommy’s eye while he kicked his legs and clawed desperately at Billy’s wrist just before his airway was crushed.

An agonizing silence blanketed over Lovers Lake and the forest surrounding it, and Tommy Hagan never made it to work that night.

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“I don’t know, Eddie, please just drive faster,” Robin pleaded over Eddie’s twenty questions about whether Steve usually answers his phone in the morning, what he was doing last night, or why Billy might be looking for him.

Robin was trying her best to keep her cool even though her brain was running a million miles per second. She knew anything she could come up with had to be worse than what was actually happening, and she kept trying to convince herself they were going to show up to find Steve asleep in his bed recovering from the food poisoning he said he had when he called in to work.

Eddie’s van turned the corner and stopped with a screech in the Harringtons’ driveway. Before he could ask another question, Robin had already unbuckled her seatbelt and was taking quick strides toward the front door.

Eddie followed behind her, his hands trembling as he willed himself to be quiet because even he couldn’t stand talking about another possible scenario in which Steve might not be okay. Robin knocked loudly on the front door. The two of them stood close together and waited for the familiar sound of footsteps coming down the stairs inside, but they heard nothing at all.

Robin knocked again, louder this time, her panic reaching an inconsolable level. She shouted for him as she knocked a third time.

“Steve?” And a fourth time. “STEVE!!!” Finally, without warning, the front door opened a couple of inches, and they saw Steve’s bloodshot eyes peeking from behind the door. His hair was a disheveled mess, and there were dark stains all over his yellow sweater.

“Jesus, man, what’s going on?” Eddie pushed past Robin, helping himself into the Harringtons’ living room and giving Steve’s shoulders a firm squeeze. Robin followed him in and closed and locked the front door behind them. She took a spot at Eddie’s side, attempting to push some of Steve’s hair back into place as his eyes darted anxiously between her and Eddie.

“I’m – I’m s-sorry,” Steve stammered nervously as he rested his hands on Eddie’s wrists to steady himself. He shook his head, trying to think straight when Eddie pulled him in for a tight hug.

“It’s okay, man. Don’t worry. We’re here now. Just breathe for a sec,” Eddie soothed as he held Steve, locking eyes with Robin who echoed his expression of serious concern. Robin noticed a horrific stench in the air and followed its trail into the kitchen where she nearly gagged when she saw the mess.

“Oh, my god,” she gasped as she quickly covered her nose and mouth. Gelatinous, black goo was splattered sporadically on the floor, cabinets, walls, and refrigerator. It dripped downward in thick globs, some of it dried and crusted to the various surfaces, and other bits bubbling and seeming to breathe where it was pooled.

The smell was worse than any roadkill Robin had ever encountered, a mix of rotting meat and sulfur, and she finally gagged, backing out of the room, and returning to where Eddie and Steve were just breaking away from their hug. “Steve, the kitchen is –”

“I know, okay? I know,” Steve interjected, running a hand through his pile of unkempt hair and taking a deep breath. “I don’t even know where to start with this,” he groaned, leaning back against the wall with a sigh.

“Let’s go sit. You can tell us when you’re ready,” Eddie decided as he gave Steve’s shoulder a nudge and made his way to the couch.

“Yeah. Sitting is good,” Robin agreed, following Eddie’s lead. The three of them sat down on the couch with Steve in the middle, and he commenced telling his story.

“This is going to sound insane,” he started, rubbing his temples with his fingertips. “But last night…Billy was here. He showed up on the porch, and he was all covered in dirt and shit, and – and the door was locked, but he – he got in anyway. It was like magic.” Steve’s eyes seemed far away as he spoke, images of the previous night flashing in his mind like a film reel.

“We saw him, too. He came into Family Video asking for you,” Robin said softly, resting a hand gently on Steve’s knee while Eddie nodded in agreement before furrowing his brows in confusion.

“Wait. So he…unlocked the door…with his mind?” Robin and Steve stared at Eddie in disappointed silence for a few seconds. “Sorry. Just…making sure I’m keeping up here.” Steve shook his head slightly and resumed his story.

“Anyway, he got in, and he just wasn’t himself. I mean, he’s normally an asshole, but this wasn’t…assholery. This was something – something evil, I think. God, I don’t know. It sounds so stupid –”

“No, Steve. Nothing sounds stupid after everything we’ve seen,” Robin reassured him.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “Keep going, man.” Eddie leaned in closer to Steve as he started again.

“So he went to the kitchen, and he was just…eating. He ate everything, even the raw meat, and the bones –” Steve closed his eyes as the images continued to flash in his head. “He just snapped them like they were twigs.” Steve’s eyes were wet with tears as he spoke, and Robin gave his knee an encouraging squeeze. “He ate everything, and then he chugged a beer, which isn’t really out of character, but the whole thing was weird. Then he –” Steve stopped again and closed his eyes as his tears escaped and flowed down his cheeks.

“He what, Steve?” Robin’s voice was barely above a whisper as she urged him to finish his story.

“He…threw up. Everywhere. It was black, and I swear it was moving and changing.” Steve sniffled, and Eddie rested a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“And that’s what all the black stuff is?” Robin looked toward the kitchen, and Steve nodded, looking down at the dark stains all over his sweater.

“And then he just…came at me,” Steve continued. “He pinned me against the wall and lifted me, like, a foot off the ground like I weighed nothing. I mean, Billy’s strong, but no one’s that strong.” Eddie and Robin exchanged a worried look again, and Steve took another deep breath. “Then he talked to me, but his voice wasn’t…it wasn’t just one voice. It came from everywhere at the same time. I said I was scared, and then he just left. He dropped me on the ground and left, and I haven’t seen him since.” Eddie gave Steve’s shoulder a squeeze as Steve wiped his nose with the sleeve of his sweater.

“It’s okay, Steve. We’re here now, and we won’t leave you alone. Whatever’s going on, Billy can’t mess with all of us at the same time. We’re too smart for that,” Robin reassured him. Eddie nodded in agreement and put his arm around Steve, pulling him in for a secure side hug.

“I’m going to call Gareth and tell him practice is canceled today,” Eddie declared, standing up and wiping his hands on his pants.

“Call Jonathan, too,” Robin instructed. “We can use all the reinforcement we can get.” Eddie nodded and made his way to the kitchen phone, using his bandana as a makeshift mask so he didn’t have to breathe in the rancid scent of Billy’s leftover regurgitation. Robin stood up, taking the blanket from the back of the couch and tucking it around Steve’s front.

“What are you doing?” Steve still looked nervous.

“You need to get some rest, Steve. I can tell you haven’t slept, and I don’t blame you,” Robin said, smoothing the blanket over him. “It’s okay. We’ll be right here, watching the whole time.” Steve shuffled under the blanket and leaned down on the arm of the couch.

“You promise?”

“Cross my heart,” Robin replied, drawing a haphazard X over her chest, giving Steve a small smile that he returned before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

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Billy’s confident strut up Tina’s driveway was noticed by every single person present. He was dressed in a pair of dark blue, form fitting jeans belted high on his waist with his red button-down tucked in and hanging half open, exposing his muscular chest adorned with his usual necklace.

His hair was perfectly coiffed, his sandy curls bouncy and shining once again, framing his sharp jawline. He smirked around his cigarette, his ocean eyes glinting like the edge of a switchblade, and he was loving the attention he was getting as he made his way to the front door.

Upon entering Tina’s living room, Billy received even more reactions than he had outside. Some people gasped, whispering, side eyeing him nervously, while others high fived him and welcomed him back to the land of the living.

He stayed a man of few words throughout the beginning of the party, moving from room to room until he came to the upstairs balcony. There was a small group of people there minding their own business, talking amongst themselves, and Billy moved to the edge of the balcony and leaned on the railing, his gaze locked on target.

Jason Carver was standing in a group of boys in matching letterman jackets telling a stupid story, eating up the way the boys pretended to idolize and humor him just to keep a seat at his table. Billy smiled to himself, snuffing his cigarette out in an ashtray on the railing, silently stalking his unwitting prey. Jason made a show of lifting a keg in front of his band of brothers who cheered him on and clapped him on the back, and Billy scoffed.

“Just you wait, Carver,” he muttered to himself. “Tonight will be the workout of your life.”

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Eddie’s van parked across the street from Tina’s house, and the gang exited the vehicle, everyone trying to maintain a normal stride as they approached the house.

“Are you sure he’s here?” Jonathan had more questions than Eddie had at the start.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Robin replied impatiently. “Heather told Holly, who told Win, who told Beck, who told Gareth, who called Steve’s house to tell Eddie Billy was back from the dead.”

“Let’s just hope we find him before he finds us,” Eddie muttered anxiously, his eyes scanning over the crowd as the group entered the living room. Steve stayed toward the center of his group for fear of being snatched away from the outskirts of the waves of people they passed. The four of them emerged from the house into the back yard, surveying the different groups of people before a voice piped up from one of circles around a keg.

“Eddie “The Freak” Munson!” It was Jason Carver. Eddie rolled his eyes as Jason walked forward out of his circle.

“Not now, Carver. I’m busy.” Eddie tried to walk past Jason who slapped a hand to his shoulder, stopping him in his path.

“Busy doing what? Looking for recruits for your satanic moonlight chant tonight?” Jason’s hand on Eddie’s shoulder tightened, and Eddie gritted his teeth as Jason’s followers snickered and jeered behind him.

“Assholes attract other assholes, so maybe you can help us,” Steve called, stepping forward, pushing Jason’s chest with a single finger, and standing in between Jason and Eddie. Jason’s hand fell from Eddie’s shoulder, and his expression turned from amusement to tense annoyance as Steve questioned him. “Where’s Hargrove?” Jason smirked.

“Last I checked he was in the ground where he belongs. That guy was a menace,” Jason replied with a chuckle.

“Why don’t you come up here and say that to his face?” There was a voice from up above them, booming out over the crowd in the back yard. Steve and his group turned around as Jason and his followers looked up toward the balcony, and there he stood in the flesh – Billy Hargrove, back from the dead.

“Holy shit,” Jason muttered, shooting a nervous sideways glance at Eddie.

“Oh, me? No, not this time,” Eddie reassured with a coy smile and a nod, clasping his hands behind his back and following as Steve, Robin, and Jonathan made a beeline for the back door of the house, leaving Jason to do his mental gymnastics over the current happenings.

Billy was waiting to greet the foursome as they stepped onto the balcony, and all they could do was stare. He looked better than before, if that were even possible. Billy sighed and pulled a cigarette out of his pack, twirling it in his fingers.

“Been looking all over for you, Harrington. Glad you could make an appearance,” he mused, making sharp eye contact with Steve.

“Well, here I am,” Steve answered sheepishly. “What the hell is going on?” Steve tried to keep his voice low so as not to give them away to any bystanders.

“What do you mean?” Billy played dumb, an exaggerated look of dismay disguising his smirk.

“I mean what is going on with you? Last night? My kitchen is probably condemnable now. You looked like shit, and now you’re – you’re all –”

“Hot again,” Eddie finished as everyone else nodded in agreement and Steve rolled his eyes. Billy chuckled and almost blushed at the compliment. He was really eating up all this adoration.

“To be honest, I don’t really know what’s going on, but all I have to do is spill a little blood, and I feel better than ever,” Billy drawled, his pearlescent smile flashing in the dim light.

“Spill a little blood?” Robin looked at him, incredulous, and Billy shrugged, giving her an affirmative nod.

“Oh, and watch this,” he added, holding his cigarette in his mouth. He snapped his fingers, and the end of the cigarette ignited in a single flame that died down until only the smoldering cherry remained. Everyone’s eyes widened as Billy grinned with pride. “Pretty cool, huh?” Eddie seemed the most impressed by that party trick and wanted to know more.

“How did you –”

“I’m sorry,” Robin interrupted. “You’re killing people?!” Billy’s expression soured.

“No,” he replied, obviously offended. “I’m killing jocks. Jocks are just placeholders. They come, and they go.” Billy glared at Robin who had been rendered speechless, her mouth hanging open in bewilderment.

“This might be a stupid question,” Steve reasoned. “But if that’s the case, why didn’t you kill me when you had me pinned to a wall in my kitchen alone in the dark?” Billy scoffed.

“Well, you’re not exactly King Steve anymore,” Billy answered as he puffed on his cigarette. Steve shrugged, realizing he couldn’t disagree, and if that meant he was safe from born-again Billy, that was fine with him.

“So when Carol says she’s been looking everywhere for Tommy…” Jonathan trailed off when he noticed the deadly look in Billy’s eyes at the mention of Tommy’s name. That was all the answer any of them needed. Billy snuffed his cigarette out in the ashtray and cleared his throat.

“As lovely as this reunion has been, I’ve got some important business to attend to.” Billy nodded his goodbye with a final, “Boys – Buckley,” before disappearing back into the house, leaving Steve, Eddie, Robin, and Jonathan to exchange worried looks before deciding to head back to Steve’s house to plan their next move.

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Jason bid his friends good night as they drove away in Troy’s car and set out down the street on foot. His house was only a few blocks away, so he didn’t mind the walk on that warm July evening. He was about halfway home when he heard the roar of an engine in the distance behind him, and the sounds of Metallica’s Jump in the Fire grew louder as a shiny blue Camaro pulled up alongside him. Jason stopped as the passenger side window rolled down to reveal Billy Hargrove smirking at him with a cigarette between his lips.

Jason scoffed and stared back at Billy as the music grew quiet. Billy took his cigarette between his fingers, smirk growing into a flashy smile as he looked Jason up and down, making sure the gesture was completely obvious.

“The fuck do you want, Hargrove?” Jason stayed on his side of the street, feeling uneasy after Billy had overheard his comments at Tina’s party.

“Just a piece,” Billy answered, his expression serious, turning on the fuck-me eyes and hoping Jason would take his bait because it was delectable bait after all. Jason’s eyebrows shot up, and he tsked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jason stepped closer to the Camaro as Billy hissed out a laugh.

“I’ve heard the rumors about you, Carver,” Billy teased, still beaming through the window. “And I’m sure you’ve heard the ones about me, too,” he drawled, keeping his lustful gaze locked on Jason who took another cautious step toward the car.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jason countered, crossing his arms in defiance. Billy just laughed.

“Let’s not play games, Carver. I know what you said about me at Tina’s party was just a ruse. You don’t want anyone else to know, but you do a bad job of keeping it a secret, you know that?” Jason shook his head and scoffed again as he looked around – not another car or person in sight.

“In your dreams, Hargrove,” he spat, taking a step back before Billy let a line drop that Jason was never expecting to hear.

“I know about you and Tommy Hagan.” Billy’s voice dripped from his lips like honey drizzled over suede, and Jason knew he couldn’t lie anymore.

“What is this, blackmail?” Jason’s blood roared in his ears as his palms started to sweat. Billy shook his head, still smiling.

“Of course not. Get in. Let’s…talk.” Jason would never admit it, but his heart grew hopeful in that moment. The hottest guy in Hawkins was picking him up to cruise around in the dead of night, knowing what he and Tommy did when they cruised around alone at night, and he thought maybe this was his chance.

Jason glanced around one last time to make sure no one was lurking to see what he was about to do. With no one in sight, he jogged toward the passenger door of Billy’s car and got in.

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

The Camaro rolled to a stop in the Hawkins High School parking lot, and the two boys exited the car.

“What are we doing here?” Jason was confused. He thought they’d go to one of the abandoned cabins the basketball team partied in or up to Lovers Lake. He wasn’t expecting to visit his own high school.

“Going down to the field. I know a spot,” Billy answered, flashing his signature smile. Jason followed Billy around the building and to a chain link fence that wrapped around their end of the football field. Billy hoisted himself up and easily climbed to the top of the fence, dropping down on the other side. Jason followed suit a little less gracefully, and to his surprise, Billy grabbed Jason’s hand, interlacing their fingers, and led him across the grass to the trees at the edge of the field.

The two of them walked in silence. Billy’s hand felt warm in Jason’s, and it made his stomach come alive with butterflies which he almost felt embarrassed about. Chrissy didn’t give him butterflies like that. He didn’t have time to think too much about what it meant before they emerged in a clearing with an old picnic table in the center.

“How’d you know this was here?” Jason let himself bask in the whimsy of their midnight rendezvous at a secret picnic table in a forest clearing just outside of their school grounds. He felt, for a moment, like he was living in a movie where he was the main character, and maybe, just maybe, he would find a happy ending here. Billy smiled and turned toward him.

“There are so many times I’ve wanted to escape, and it’s important to have places to go. I always find them,” Billy drawled, letting a hand settle on Jason’s waist, their eyes meeting as a comfortable silence engulfed them.

“So the rumors about you are…true?” Jason tried not to sound too giddy as he posed the question, and Billy pulled him in closer. Jason could smell mint gum and spicy aftershave as the tips of their noses touched together.

“Every single one,” Billy whispered, his breath hot on Jason’s lips. Jason didn’t know what to say next. They were so close, almost every part of them touching, and Jason wanted nothing more than to crash his lips into Billy’s in their secret spot in the dark and soak in every moment of pleasure he possibly could before it was over…and so he did.

Jason leaned in, touching his lips to Billy’s, tasting the sweet sting of mint on the edge of their kiss as Billy’s hand moved to the back of Jason’s neck, deepening the kiss and sighing into his mouth. The steamy smacking of their lips locking over and over was the only sound that filled the darkness around them, and Jason’s hands found Billy’s hair, snaking his fingers into the curls and pulling slightly, pulling a moan from Billy’s lips as their kiss broke so they could each catch their breath.

Billy smiled as Jason’s hands stayed tangled in his hair, and his hands roamed down to cup Jason’s ass, giving it a playful squeeze.

“A little rough okay with you?” Billy’s expression was sweet and coquettish, eyelashes batting as he waited for Jason’s response.

“Anything you want is exactly what I’m looking for,” he answered, pulling just slightly harder on Billy’s hair before their lips collided again, this time with more fever, more passion, more fury than before.

Neither of them could be sure how they got there, but within minutes they were on the ground together. Billy was on top of Jason, straddling him as their steamy kisses continued, tongues swiping over each other while Billy pinned Jason’s arms to the ground above his head. Jason let out a low laugh and arched his back, grinding his hips up into Billy’s, and Billy moaned.

“Patience is a virtue, Carver,” Billy teased, licking along Jason’s bottom lip before giving it a playful bite. Jason groaned and bucked his hips up into Billy’s again, longing for any friction that might give him even the smallest bit of release.

“Hard to be patient when you’re on top of me like this,” Jason admitted, gripping Billy’s hips with both hands and grinding his rock hard bulge against Billy’s jeans. Billy adjusted himself so he could move against Jason, thrusting slowly, grinding his own hard cock against Jason’s, the denim between them heating up slightly with the repetitive motion.

Billy returned Jason’s hands to their position, pinned above his head on the ground, as Billy’s hips moved on top of him, both of them panting heavily, letting out moans when it felt too good to stifle them anymore. Billy picked up the pace and sat up straight, letting Jason’s hands come back to his hips, Jason’s fingertips digging into Billy’s hot flesh as their desperate sounds filled the space between them entirely.

“I’m gonna make you cum for me, Carver,” Billy sneered through gritted teeth as he grinded himself harder and faster against Jason. “I’ll make you cum in your jeans like the desperate little slut you are for me.” Billy’s words sent Jason over the edge, and he moaned louder, his back arching up into Billy’s friction as he spilled over into his jeans.

“Fuck, Billy, I’m cumming. Please don’t stop,” Jason whined as he let his orgasm overtake him, his cheeks flushing crimson at what he had just done.

Billy brought his hand down to the warm, sticky, wet spot on Jason’s crotch, gathering what little fluid had soaked through the denim onto two of his fingers, locking eyes with Jason as his fingers brushed Jason’s lips. Jason opened his mouth as Billy pushed his fingers in, swiping them around on his tongue before Jason sucked sinfully on them, his cheeks hollowing around Billy’s digits, his eyes closing at the wicked sensation.

“That’s right,” Billy whispered. “Such a good boy for me.” Jason’s eyes fluttered open, and to his horror, Billy had changed – his eyes were completely jet black. The once deep pools of cerulean lust were replaced with dark, abysmal nothingness, and the smile that had given Jason butterflies had grown into a twisted display of long, razor sharp teeth that couldn't possibly fit into Billy’s mouth.

Billy laughed darkly, his voice coming from everywhere all around them at once, and Jason panicked, kicking his legs under Billy, trying his best to push him off, but to no avail. Billy was too strong.

Billy gripped Jason’s upper and lower jaw with each of his hands on the inside of his mouth. Jason could smell the sick, putrid stench of rot as Billy leaned in close to him and growled before he used every ounce of strength he had to pull in opposite directions, the cracking of bones preceding a scream that tore through the trees and echoed across the Hawkins High football field.

And then the night was quiet once again.

Tag List 💕@b1tchygh0sts @mrprettywhenhecries @applewillowstone @imyourdaninow @destroya2005 (I tried to update any urls that might have changed! This is a repost, and the original post is no more)

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove smut #jennifer's body au #billy hargrove x jason carver #cargrove #billy hargrove x tommy hagan #stranger things fanfic #cargrove smut #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #platonic stobin #jason carver #tommy hagan #my writing #billy hargrove fandom

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elusive-writer · 1 year

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Hello!!

I was wondering if you could write some head canons or a one shot about a non-binary reader x Kakyoin who always dances to the music on the radio? Its one of my favorite things to do when I’m playing 70’s-80’s music and I go unnecessarily hard lmao, if possible could you add the other crusaders but platonically?? Like maybe they are all in the car driving and then a song the reader likes comes on the radio and then they just start hitting the boogie in the passenger seat? I apologize if its kinda weirdly specific lol

Ah!! Hi there!

This is the first request I’ve gotten so I was super pumped to write this! And please don’t apologise! The more detail the better, gives me a better idea of what to write 🥰

This is my first time writing for a non-binary reader so I hope I did ok! Any and all feedback is majorly appreciated.

And since I couldn’t decide between head canons and a one shot, you get both lol

(I was also listening to a favourite 80s song of mine while writing this, so I hope it’s ok that it makes a little cameo in the one shot 😅)

I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you enjoy!

𝘒𝘢𝘬𝘺𝘰𝘪𝘯 𝘹 𝘕𝘉! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘰

(feat. the other crusaders)

Word Count : 1.3k

Head Canons :

Kakyoin absolutely LOVES when your favourite tunes come on, almost as much as you do.

Because it means he gets to see you boogie to your heart’s content.

You might think it’s because he finds it funny, but it’s far from it.

Every time you dance to the radio he’s just mesmerised, he loves the energy you give into every move.

Since Kakyoin was quite reserved as a child, he never had moments where he could just jam out with someone.

So when you gesture for him to join you, he knows he’d be a fool not to.

The other crusaders see the goofy smile on his face every time the two of you dance together.

So they subtly (not so subtly) ensure that you guys just so happen to be partnered up when you stay in hotels.

They come to regret this when your dancing sessions carry late into the night.

Every now and then Jotaro will get sick of it so you’ll hear a muffled “Shut up!” from the next room.

You and Kakyoin giggle quietly as you turn down the radio.

They don’t mind too much though, the nature of this journey is bleak at times so the liveliness you and Kakyoin bring is a welcome breath of fresh air.

Polnareff and Joseph even join you two for a chance to boogie occasionally.

One Shot :

Mr Joestar’s snoring is the only sound that fills the air as you drive along the deserted road. You get an earful of it since you’re sitting in the middle of him and Polnareff, with the latter driving.

You wanted to sit next to Kakyoin but this seating arrangement was the only way all 6 of you would be able to fit in the car. He sat directly behind you, between Jotaro and Avdol.

You’ve been driving for hours with no breaks, there’s not much to do in the car so you start to grow restless.

[YOU] - “Ughhh, I’m so bored!!”

You groan as you plonk your head on the dashboard.

[POLNAREFF] - “Hey hey watch it!”

Polnareff yanks you back into an upright position.

[POLNAREFF] - “You’re gonna give yourself a concussion.”

[YOU] - “Maybe that would be a blessing in disguise. It’d be more interesting than this.”

You rotate in your seat, leaning on your knees to look into the back seat. Jotaro is leaning back with his hat over his face and Avdol is just looking out the window. You look at Kakyoin and he has his eyes closed, he must be sleeping as well. He looks so peaceful, and although you wanna let him rest… you also really wanna talk to him.

[YOU] - “C’mon…”

You wave your hands in front of you like you're trying to cast some kinda voodoo spell.

[YOU] - “Wake up.”

And to no one’s surprise your incantation fails. You sigh.

[AVDOL] - “Why don’t you try the radio?”

You turn your attention towards the fortune teller.

[AVDOL] - “Maybe we can get a signal out here.”

You immediately perk up at the idea and nod. Turning back around you start fiddling with controls. There’s only static but you don't stop trying. You’re about to throw in the towel but then you hear the radio crackle to life.

♪ ♪ ♫ ♪

Your face lights up when you recognise the melody.

[YOU] - “No fucking way!”

[JOTARO] - “Good grief could you be any louder?”

You turn your head and Jotaro is now sitting up, you shoot him an apologetic smile.

[KAKYOIN] - “Can you blame them? This one is one of their favourites.”

♪ Shake it up is all that we know ♪

You immediately spin back around onto your knees and meet Kakyoin’s gaze.

[YOU] - “Hey you’re awake!”

[KAKYOIN] - “I’ve actually been awake for a while.”

♪ Using the bodies up as we go ♪

You start moving your shoulders to the rhythm.

[JOTARO] - “Good grief here we go again.”

♪ I’m waking up to fantasy ♪

Kakyoin laughs when you start using an imaginary microphone to mouth the lyrics. You hold a hand out to him, still getting your groove on.

[YOU] - “C’mon I know you wanna join me.”

♪ Broken ice still melts in the sun ♪

How can he refuse when you’re looking at him like that? Kakyoin grabs your hand and proceeds to go HAM with you. It’s like y’all are at your own personal concert. Your fingers are intertwined as you both seemingly escape into the music.

[JOTARO] - “Great, now there’s two of them.”

Avdol chuckles at the display in front of them.

[AVDOL] - “This is good, a little spirit is never a bad thing-”

[YOU] - “YOU’RE OUT OF TOUCH.”

You hold the ‘microphone’ to Kakyoin.

[KAKYOIN] - “I’M OUT OF TIME.”

[YOU + KAKYOIN] - “BUT I’M OUT OF MY HEAD WHEN YOU’RE NOT AROUND!”

Jotaro just shakes his head while Avdol’s laughter fills the space in between you and Kakyoin’s singing (screaming)

It goes on like this for a while, the radio cycles through the songs, and you and Kakyoin give an oscar worthy performance to every single one of them. Polnareff turns up the radio so you can really give it your all, Avdol joins in for some of the songs, and you even manage to get a tiny smirk from Jotaro.

It’s cut short when the radio stops while you’re in the middle of a song.

[YOU] - “Hey driver, what happened to the music?”

You hear a bit of fidgeting before he answers.

[POLNAREFF] - “Looks like we lost the signal.”

The disappointment is evident on your faces.

[KAKYOIN] - “You’re kidding.”

[POLNAREFF] - “Nope, unfortunately I’m not.”

You groan and plop your head on the headrest.

[YOU] - “Man…”

Kakyoin feels bad seeing you so downcast. His eyes fall on your hand that he still has in his grasp, thinking of how to improve your mood. And then an idea hits him.

[KAKYOIN] - “Hey Polnareff, you and Mr Joestar got this car second hand yeah?”

Polnareff looks at him through the rearview mirror.

[POLNAREFF] - “Yeah that’s right.”

He squeezes your hand gently to get your attention. You look up at him.

[KAKYOIN] - “Why don’t you check the glove compartment? Maybe the owner left some discs in there.”

Your eyes widen and you shoot up (almost hitting your head on the roof). His heart melts at the sight of your radiant smile.

[YOU] - “Kakyoin you beautiful genius!”

You grab the sides of his face and give him a peck on the lips. Jotaro and Avdol stifle their laughter as Kakyoin proceeds to malfunction when you turn around to search the compartment.

Opening it up there’s a small pile of discs there, you immediately pick them up and examine them.

[YOU] - “Score!”

You hold up one of the discs to show to Kakyoin.

[YOU] - “They have Wham! in here!”

[JOSEPH] - “What did you just say?”

Looking to the side you see that the old man’s awake, he looks a little startled.

[POLNAREFF] - “You’re finally awake Mr Joestar! I'm surprised you didn’t wake up sooner, we had the music pretty loud.”

Kakyoin leans forward in his seat.

[KAKYOIN] - “Are you ok Mr Joestar?”

You hold up the disc to him.

[YOU] - “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Wham! before.”

[JOSEPH] - “You can’t be serious.”

[AVDOL] - “I’m pretty sure they are Mr Joestar, Wham! is very popular.”

[JOTARO] - “Good grief old man, is your age catching up with you?”

The haunted look doesn’t leave Mr Joestar’s face as you look over the other discs with Kakyoin.

[KAKYOIN] - “What was that one you were showing me the other day… oh yeah! Do they have AC/DC?”

[YOU] - “Mhm! Oooo, they even have Santana.”

Your eyes light up when they land on a particular CD.

[YOU] - “Oh. My. God! Let’s put on Cars!“

[JOSEPH] - “HERMIT PURPLE!”

The discs are suddenly snatched out of your hands with purple vines and flung out the open window. You gawk at Mr Joestar as your only form of entertainment disappears into the dust. Kakyoin does his best to console you for the remainder of the drive.

#✩ stardust crusaders ✩#stardust crusaders x reader #jjba x reader #jojo’s bizarre adventure x reader #jojo x reader #kakyoin x reader #noriaki kakyoin x reader #⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

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beargrisly · 9 months

Text

GRIMMULQUI FIC RECS

Reawakened by TYBW, a long-time GrimmUlqui shipper stumbles out of its crypt in search of sustenance. The morsels it uncovers are too delicious not to share…

(The descriptions below are my own silly thoughts and don’t represent the authors in any way. In addition to the ratings, please also mind the authors' notes, tags and warnings!)

Apples by goldensprite (T)

Jaded, no-fucks-left-to-give Grimmjow finds born again Ulquiorra in the Soul Society. He’s lost his memories… but has gained the power of uwu. I was sooo thrilled to have stumbled upon this lovely fic.

Attrition by tragakes (lejf) (E)

GrimmUlqui fan or not, this fic deserves much love for the gorgeous writing and the brilliant take on Ulquiorra's psyche.

Conquest / Bequest by showmaster64x (E)

THE GRIMMULQUI SERIES OF ALL TIME.

Dead in Love by CrunchySalad (E)

This fic serves one trippy scene after another til it all comes together in a glorious oh shit moment. I LOVE the worldbuilding and the ingenuity of this piece.

Eye Can See You by chibi_zoe (E)

Ulquiorra finds creative uses for the gifts his momma Lord Aizen gave him. *Grimmjow voice* Damn Ulqui! Who’s a nasty thotty lil hollow?

Human Souls by caraminez (E)

An absolutely beautiful fic about love and loss. It hurted me bad but was so worth the ugly crying. If only I could re-live the magic of reading this for the first time...

After The Aftermath by Methoxyethane (T)

Aizenomics goes to shit and the Espada need new jobs. Grimmjow takes on the world's oldest profession while Ulquiorra attempts to Housewife. I was cackling and snorting at every other sentence.

love is just a bloodsport by elektra (M)

This fic is just AMAZING. Ulquiorra survives the battle with Ichigo without turning into pixie dust, but has lost all purpose. The setting is deliciously bleak and Grimmjow's voice is fantastic.

Love Potion by MissMonie (T)

Behold the GrimmUlqui treasure trove that is MissMonie’s profile, where you'll find everything from demon summons to coffee shops. This one's an adorable Valentine's Day fic in which Grimmjow and Ulquiorra are no match for a meddling love god.

Scream for Me by TextBookDreams (M)

Innocent lives are endangered when two Espadas try to suppress their feelings for each other. It’s funny, it's sexy, and it's GrimmUlqui. Mwah!

Take a Slice by hollowhiyori (T)

Two vampires kickin’ it in 90s Santa Monica. The vibes are on another level, and I thought Grimmjow and Ulquiorra had such a special and magnetic chemistry in this one.

The Beautiful Game by SunAndMoonFanfictions (M)

One for the footie fans (and any GrimmUlqui fan really). This is a very well-researched and immersive fic with many heartfelt moments. One particular scene of Grimmjow and Ulquiorra out shopping in a later chapter makes me giggle so hard.

This Time Around by Goldberry (NC-17)

Grimmjow and Ulquiorra learn first hand what it means to be human. This fic is… so precious to me. It will rip you up with the feels then tenderly make you whole again. *cradles to chest*

***

If anyone has fics to share, or just wants to scream about GrimmUlqui, PLEASE DO 🥰

#grimmulqui #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #ulquiorra cifer #fic rec #bleach anime #bleach #bleach fanfiction #beargrisly

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rahuratna · 3 months

Note

girl i’m gonna be honest with you...i was never a nanami girl before i discovered your headcanons (fic) about him. like i didn’t dislike him, he just never really stood out to me, but now i totally see him in a different light 🫶 i love the way you write him! gege should’ve let you write his character because you would’ve done him JUSTICE for sure. i feel like we just didn’t get to see much of who he is as a character. plus, a lot of people mischaracterize him to the point that i’m like “did we watch the same anime?”. but i’m so so so happy i found your blog 😽 my eyes have been opened, doors have been opened, i’ve been enlightened, in fact i think i’m a nanami stan now. you’re out here doing what should’ve been done for this wonderful man all along. 🩵

Wow, this is very high praise indeed 🙈💛💛🧡🧡 I mean, if I've made you a Nanami stan when his character didn't really stand out to you before ... mission accomplished!

I think that Gege wrote Nanami's character and his arc with the kind of bleak, stark realism that is very appropriate to who he is. While I wish I could create characters that are so well-conceived, like you, I wish there was more we could see of the characters like Nanami. I wish we could see more interactions, every day life, the little things that add that extra dimension to them.

Since we can't ... we have fanfiction! And I intend to make FULL use of that to continue to try and paint a portrait of this man, even if im just projecting some of my headcanons on him 😂

I originally wrote this HC fic to try to convey my thoughts on what a romance with Nanami would be like, the way he'd fall in love, and the way he might behave when in love. Somewhere along the way, my story took on a life of its own (as they do) and it began to take the form of a small character study as well.

I'm also trying to explore his flaws, his insecurities, the way having the right partner might draw him out of his shell, help him heal, allow him to finally appreciate himself as a wonderful human being through their eyes. A man, not perfect, but a good man who just wanted a simple life in a just world.

I'm so glad you like what I've written and that it's showcased this other potential side to his character. I hope to continue writing work that you enjoy, because that gives me joy 🥰

#rahu answers #nanami kento

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celestialtarot11 · 5 months

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Hi, how are you? I wanna take a part of your channeled messages. My initials APR, ♊, Capricorn moon & Sagitarius rising, she/her.

– Whats my FS feel about me before he wanna marry me?

– Whats going through WH’s (♈) mind when he first met me?

Please do tell me if my ask is burdensome for you. Have a nice day! ✨🤍

Hi there! 🥰💗 I only take one question so we’ll be looking what will go through his mind!

Im not sure when you guys met if WH was going through a hard time emotionally. He seemed closed off or disinterested at the time of meeting you, and its nothing on your end at all! I think at the time WH was going through something personal familial wise. Maybe a loved one passed away, or WH was focused on moving out. WH probably had a bleak outlook on love or familial life at the time, which made it harder to connect emotionally. But I’m hearing this did change. Its possible after WH met you that they learned it doesn’t have to be bleak, depressing or hurtful all of the time. Relationships can grow and evolve! Thank you for being here, if you’d ever love to visit my paid readings or tip me, you can always text me! 🥰💗

#asks

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llycaons · 1 year

Text

ep22 (pt 1): SOUPGATE

aw man look at them. up on the roof like old times

and wwx is SO fondly nostalgic of CR! iirc, he only has good things to say about it from the LP attack on out. they're probably some of the last happy memories he has, carefree and innocent and young where the worst he can fear is a whipping and a scolding. and lwj is clearly a bit baffled bc they fought all the time back then but wwx is like 🥰 about it

this is not great but it IS a step up from 'wicked tricks'

oh jesus. I don't think we hear him talk about BM a lot, but that's fucking bleak

oh here he's worried about what do you call it. qi deviation. had to google it 😭

iirc this was mistranslated. he was promising not qi deviate here, only that

aww his smile when lwj offers to help him. he's relieved he doesn't have to lose him! I think he knows having a relaitonship would be impossible under these conditions but he's just glad that they can be buddies again. which they are! for the rest of this episode, they are literally not five feet from each other in almost every scene

aww nhs. I've seen ppl joke abt lwj drinking vinegar here but I've been watching his face and it literally didn't change at all from when nhs was calling goodbye. lwj not being very expressive means ppl tend to project on him a lot it seems. if he is jealous here, he doesn't show it

that's like 20 people....such an army lmao

oh god oh fuck

so when people become puppetified they just...burst into flame sometimes and then emerge as puppets. man, but this is really so boring

this shot was kind of neat

and this was funny. a zombie grabbing a jin cultivator by the leg and bodily throwing him across the battlefield and it cutting to jzx looking concerned and mildly disgusted

this was dumb. you can KIND of tell it's meng yao and you hear his voice, but he's still blurry. weak reveal if it was meant to be

cool set deisgn here

it's very obvious they're just having people yell and growl...sounds a bit silly, they could have sound workshopped it maybe

nmj is a very brave and honorable leader, but this plan was not well thought out! was there REALLY nobody stronger or sneakier or more capable in the army? if he's taken alive, he would be a powerful hostage. and if he fails, the nie clan would fall to HUAISANG in the middle of a war. the army would lose one of its only leaders and maybe its strongest fighter besides wwx. it's a plan that makes sense given nmj's outlook that a leader should personally risk himself to do something important and spare his men, but it's not a wise choice. delegate, my man!

lxc's outfit is so pretty here. he may be in the middle of a war but that is no reason not to look sharp

HERE'S SOUPGATE. xuan lu is so good at crying I love her

mm voice: young master, you stupid fuck

oh this is so cruel. jyl is clearly timid and not graced with high self-esteem or social talents, and jzx is being dismissive of her in public. his men are snickering and he doesn't tell them to stop. DICK

out of context, an admirable perspective, but I feel like most of the time he doesn't really think about this. he just pulls it out to use as a weapon against someone like jyl who is of high birth but whose actions he's judging.

and then wwx physically attacks jzx and his men over it and lwj has to come in and calm him down kjahdksadkl

#cql re-rewatch

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nialltlynch · 2 years

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hii I read ur fic on ao3 “solipsism falsified” & it was v beautifully written and i was just very obsessed with the fact that you titled it that bc I haven’t seen anyone else talk about ronan’s solipsistic tendencies and fears which seemed very present in gw to me (was he awake or was he dreaming. the endless ronan’s in the mirror. on and on and so forth) and its something I deeply relate to and Feel a lot about so it just excited me to see someone else touch on it. guess I was wondering if u had any other thoughts on it cuz I could talk for hours about it - the ayhuasca-trip-ego-death-level-insanity that was the first few chapters of him in the sweetmetal sea, him remembering parts of himself by watching jordan and others, hennessy finding him and grounding him in his moment of terror, and the conclusion of him deciding who he is…. did it make u as insane as it made me

(also I’m on anon cuz my fandom blog is a sideblog but it’s @thotforest )

goddddddd okay hi sorry this took me a minute to respond i was letting it percolate you know how it is (and sorry AGAIN because my thoughts. are all over the place. so much for percolating lol)

of all the things in tdt i do feel like this was a theme or question or motif or whatever that held up all the way through !!! the question of what, if anything, exists outside of onself was presented in such an interesting way and i think it's present in all dreamers but ESPECIALLY ronan given his whole. yknow. thibg. i loved his gradual descent into isolation and the realization of the thinness of reality!! super compelling!! like!! he was a king!! he had a kingdom of his own making!! BUT AT WHAT COST ?? the tension between the enormity of What Ronan Is versus the intensity of What Ronan Knows and how these two things often conflict but still point to the same bleak possibility: maybe he is all there ever was and is and will be. and it's sooooo satisfying how the book teases this possibility but consistently dismisses it. tastefully balanced. loved that tension. (that might be more a craft thing but it's also a theming thing and it's sooooo good).

oh also the MIRRORS! the PORTRAITS! in attempting to reference the self through the self you only ever see what youre willing to look at WHICH will always be biased and incomplete. there's such an emphasis on knowing throughout this book. deep meaningful relationships are made or broken on how much the characters know one another and that in itself is such a response. experience!! is a tapestry!! of memory!! and history!! and yes!! your reality is woven by your hand!! but there are countless other people intersecting and weaving along with you.

anyway omg im so sorry i don't know that this has anything to do at all with what you were talking about. i hope you have a lovely night / day / week 🥰🥰

#asks and answers #i haven't had a cohesive thought in one thousand years.........#i am compelled by this so much tho #thanks for asking #really let the hamster wheel in my head go SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK #greywaren spoilers

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raivennxi · 1 year

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Thoughts 4 2Day

Hiya,My Loves. How are U all doin today? Did U eat today? How r things Going on this Tuesday?

Things have been kinda nutty for Urz truly. Been dealing with a health concern,as I have been writing about.. so that has Me a bit out of My norm;but Im here n Im still kicking.

Wen we get these bumps n monkeywrenches in our lives, it isnt the time to throw up our hands n scream n cry( no matter how much we’d like to. ) It is time to look around U and,especially wen u feel weary and bleak, count the blessings U have and b greatful.

Its so hard to have that much perspective wen we r afraid and feeling Afraid and less than ourselves.

The way to take our minds off of wat wud n cud b is to focus on wat is. Things cud ALWAYS be so much worse.

There are always some things we can be greatful for,even in the darkest of times.

Try n remember that.

Keep Ur heads Up,My Loves.

I Love and Treasure,U Guys. Truly.

U are my Blessings.

Thank U for that🥰

#BlessedEvenNow

#AlwaysNStill

#Grattitudinal

#MommaDiva💋

#thoughts42day #mommadiva💋#mentalhealth #thankful #keepgoing #bkind2u #breathe #gothy #apprciate #abandance #Thanku

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earthsickwithoutyou · 1 year

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Saw III 2006 - (contains spoilers)

This review may contain spoilers.

Okie dokie, time to try and evaluate this one. UHHH. There are great strengths and some jarring weaknesses.

Strengths: As a whole, I admire Whannell's writing in raising the suspense and tension to absolute fever pitch and keeping us guessing the whole time. There's also no denying that while I'm not a fan of how over-the-top Jeff's plotline was, the story and performances tug the heartstrings.

We got more Amanda. That is my baby girl who never did anything wrong in her life and was rejected by the surrogate father figure who twisted her mentality while she was recovering from hard drugs and trauma (which HE gave her!). So sassy, so cute, Ily Amanda 🥰

Characters were deeper and easier to root for at times: I believe this is because Jeff and Lynn were both good people. That has its pros and cons, though...to be discussed soon.

Traps were genius; particularly memorable were the angel and freezing devices; the pig one was just freaking gross, and the rack was horrifying.

Leave it to Jigsaw to bring back the most cruel, unjust form of torture from Tudor England. WOW so random yet so fucking mean for no good reason. That's Jigsaw alright, check check check (he designed all of these no matter who built them and carried them out; he also designed the entire game for Jeff and Lynn).

However, still have to rank that trap as a plus for the genuine fear factor.

We got a lil bit of my boyfriend Eric Matthews back, albeit in sequences that were a bit confusing in places. But it was enough to hold me over until I continue the rewatch and get to my husband, Peter Strahm.

The SCORE was tremendous in this one. I loved the way the movie quietly brought in the "game over/main theme" music, which is totally iconic, throughout the film instead of only at the end. Every time it happens I have to bob my head and dance a lil.

WEAKNESSES: It's no secret I hate it when movies spend long, indulgent amounts of time on the suffering of children or parents who lost their children tragically. First of all, and most problematically, it's repetitive, which after a while, naturally gets monotonous, punishing on the viewer not in the fun way, and irritating.

Secondly, there is no need to repeatedly hammer home the awful loss of that young boy, especially since -- as the supposed spark that sets off the whole game -- Jigsaw could not give a fuck that this kid died. Cah-learly.

If Jigsaw had one tiny bit of empathy in him, at least there would be some redeeming factor to this plotline. I understand that it's intended to be bleak, etc. But bleak works better when it's balanced with enough reasons to make it feel earned.

Jigsaw became sort of obsessed with poor Jeff, because it was easy to project his twisted hero complex by deceitfully forcing the man through room after room of torment "to prove you can spare a life and stop living in the past."

If I were Jeff and Jigsaw made me BURN the belongings of a cherished loved one who passed, I, too would use one of the cruel implements he so helpfully supplied at the end of the film.

Asshole behavior across the board. John is perfectly happy with these results. He barely cares when Amanda dies, because he had come to see her as too unstable/unpredictable to be a trustworthy continuer of his legacy. Cuz he really loves fooling himself that most of his traps are escapable. What a LOSER.

He smiles when Jeff comes for him with the saw, despite the fact that he fucking knows this is gonna kill Lynn, who helped him and had already suffered enough, plus who he seemed to almost connect with a tiny bit. That's like besties for him. But no, off with her face! Why? Because John HAS to be right. He wants to prove that Jeff is never going to live a good life, but will, instead continue striving for foolish revenge? Well, hey, bud, maybe don't fucking torture him and his wife and mess with his already-unstable and traumatized head. He goaded Jeff into killing him so he could lie there like Saint Jigsaw with a halo going "*oh, dear, I so hoped that he was going to change.* But he chose wrong, game over, goodbye innocent bystander who won her game and should be allowed to live. My rules only matter when they are entertaining and gratifying to me and mah ego."

After forcing us to suffer agonies along with Jeff, the ending just feels like a mean punch in the face with no redeeming virtues. I also find it hard to believe Jeff made it THAT far in his completely unfair game, having mercy on all those other people (even if he was too slow to act a couple times) and then suddenly he turns his back on progressing in and getting out of the game.

He's dumb enough to listen to Saint Jigsaw telling him not to do that because others will suffer and "our lives" are in the balance, and then go through with it? Since when?? Because true facts, my mans never would have made it all the way through to his Holiness' room if he was that stupid. PLEASE.

Direction was solid, I could do without the Mtv "edgy" / yellow acid rock video vibe that randomly comes in, but on the other hand, it is also super endearing.

I'm so excited to move onto Saw IV, my fave! Peter I'm coming for you 😍

from Letterboxd - Virginia Mae https://ift.tt/NXg0wIM

#letterboxd reviews #my film reviews #my ongoing battle with jigsaw #saw iii #horror

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see-fee · 2 years

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“Whens the next chapter???”

I still think about that anonymous ask that seemed innocuous yet rubbed me the wrong way. Up there in all its glory. (It came scarcely a few weeks after the latest chapter was posted.)

I don’t wish to make anyone feel bad, as I felt. I hope and suspect it was an honest faux pas by an enthused reader, a sweet summer child. Who hopefully grokked the slightly snarky response. I’ve really quite enjoyed interacting with folks here/on AO3—comments, banter, exchanging ideas, feedback, questions 🥰 Shoutout to those who’ve done or offered beta reading, and to my very first ever tipper who persevered a bunch of times over days, you’re awesome!

If I were at a different stage in life I might’ve answered more generically or flippantly, like “idk, it’s WIP tho.” But I want to be open and honest about it, because I myself appreciate hearing such personal background, warts and all, from creators whose work I enjoy.

Imagine the following scene: I’m sitting at some fan convention, sharing copies of my personal project to anyone who’s interested. Some folks come back to chat and give friendly feedback once they’re done with a chapter. Then, one person in an anon mask comes up and asks “when chapter???” Just that, nothing else; no smile, no friendly chatter. Zilch. Nada. Sad, no?

On AO3, I put a note of “Subscribe for updates.” That’s what subscribing is for. Because “When” is a question which cannot be answered honestly. The only true answer is “When it’s done.” (And the only reason I previously published with any semblance of regularity, with a brief twice-monthly cadence, was due to old circumstances: a period of unhealthily manic-obsessive pacing, an escapist burnout-recovery lifestyle funded by a blatantly sinking ship of a job/company/economy.)

Besides, I’m entirely averse to a situation where I ever feel pressured to write, because that would kill it for sure. That would be the death knell. (*cough* Foundation prequels & sequels *cough*) It’s a passion project, not a job!

My other personal point is this. Currently, my spouse and I are unemployed and living off our savings, amidst fighting for our health against a society that doesn’t care if it kills. A time when this indulgent activity must obviously make room for survival. Still, were the state of global affairs or my own not so bleak, it’s none too tactful or practical to uphold expectations of creators who are (or were) doing this in their spare time out of love.

Give a lil something back, too! Every little thing, every comment is appreciated. I hoard them all, keeping screenshots and saving the emails to a folder. It’s nice to hear something back after giving things out into the void :)

#my fic #my writing

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summerrainwinterbreeze · 3 years

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A Boyfriend for Christmas

Pairings⇝ Hueningkai x fem!reader

Genres⇝ Fluff, Crack, Smut

Warnings⇝ vaginal penetration, mild edging, drunken encounter, oral sex (both ways), profanity, fingering, sex with a stranger, I was angry while writing the sex scene, kai has a big dick.

Synopsis⇝ This Christmas season kicks off with a wishing well. Shall we see where it takes us?

Word count⇝ 7.7k

Credits⇝ @its-madi for being the editor of the year!! mwah! thank you🥰

A/N⇝ This is the first entry to the christmas series I'm working on. ('m sorry. 'm always sorry when I write a kai fic cuz I play with it a lot) hoping to get at least one more in before the end of the month, though two would be great. what I'm trying to say is that this series will most likely wrap up sometime in January😄

In your humble opinion: Christmas is severely overrated. And standing before the massive, glass sliding doors of the area’s nearest shopping mall, “Groovers,” you are once again reminded of your reasons for believing so.

There’s so much red and green and silver and gold, twirling blinking shadows across heaps of bleak, sodden snow. You look up to find the colors twisted, turned, molding to form the silhouette of reindeers with wreaths of holly berry and white-crusted evergreens strung about their necks. And their red, glistening noses flickering every other moment.

Sludge and sleet squelch beneath your heavy boots; wrapped like a marshmallow, you take a careful step forward, then one back.

Against the warm cups between your firmly clasped palms, you drum your fingers, a puff of white forming before you as a heavy sigh of disdain captures your lips.

It’s a gut-wrenching, feet-dragging, soul-hauling struggle to pull yourself from the street’s damp chill and into the blazing warmth rolling in waves about the building’s interior. You regret it the instant a child screams distantly, “...and a panda bear! Oh! And Santa! There was a pretty dress over down the aisle and I and she and…” lost is the nasal whine to the blaring buzz of Christmas carols.

You debate leaving right then and there. Damn Hannah — your closest friend and worst nightmare — and her stupid choices. Damn it all!

Ding “Attention all customers, Santa’s Station is closing in the next half hour. Santa’s Station is closing in the next half hour.”

Whatever they call her: an elf, a store assistant, clerk. You couldn’t bring yourself to care. Already busy with placing your coffee-filled drinks on the nearest countertop, pulling layer after layer of heavy cloth off of your body.

When the energy-draining task is done, you remain solely in an off-white turtleneck, paired with thick dark pants. A grumble has you turning to scrape your boots on the rugged surface of a dirt-baked “Welcome Mat.”

Finding Hannah is much harder than you anticipated it would be this morning when she called you. “I’m at the Christmas Wishing Well!” she had smiled into the phone, voice of brisk peppermint and dangling snowflakes, kissed by sweet, sweet crackling hearths. “You can’t miss it!”

Hannah seemed to have forgotten that you have zero sense of direction. And, in the face of a six-storey maze of a mall, every department filled by the same bitter cheer, strung in the same decorations? You were positively ho-ho-hopeless.

A mental spark has your fingers fishing into your pockets, catching and pulling on your phone’s smooth surface. It’s not long after you punch her contact that Hannah picks up. “Y/N? Are you here?”

You douse her hearth in sleet. “I’m at the front entrance. Find me.”

It takes a minute for her to respond, voice droning something about “Season’s Greetings!” to some customer, busying herself in a new conversation.

It is when you debate screaming that she returns to you. “Sorry, it’s really busy around here —” Once again, she gets cut off. “Yes, sir… Oh, it’s over there. I wish you the best as well!”

“Worthless,” you think. As soon as February rolls around, people will forget what kindness is.

“Y/N?” she calls for your attention, “why not ask one of the elves to help you up?” You feel the smile in her voice, her eyes shining like stars of the night. Those cheeky stars glinting with mischief.

You deadpan. “I’d cut off their goddamn pointed ears.”

A soft snicker filters down the line. Hannah says, “Take the escalator to the second floor. I’m in the very last department.”

Your response comes as a soft grunt, and before Hannah can tease, you press on the glowing end-call button.

In reality, nearing Hannah’s station didn’t take five minutes. Since you were so w-ho-ho-wholly thrown to the luscious, looming lilt of the Christmas spirit, however, five minutes equated to five hours.

They have always fascinated you — Hannah’s eyes, a blazing, frosted azure, shimmering as they shift to you. Her smile is impish, a hand waving about the air carelessly. “Over here!” she indicates.

There’s no room for debate when the fiery red-head rushes to you, taking a cup from your clammy fingers, replacing it with her bruising hold.

“Welcome to my Christmas Wishing Well!” her ritual begins. “Just toss in a coin, make a wish, and let the happy holiday fairies grant your desires!”

You say, “Are you gonna use the cash to get lunch?”

Hannah, for a moment, looks disappointed. “The cash goes toward buying presents for the needy.” Her scold melts to concern. “It’s already eight, Y/N. Have you eaten?”

She’s always been the one to remind you of the basic things: to eat, to sleep, to drink.

“I’m not a child; I can handle myself.” Hannah looks as though she would intervene but instead shakes her soft, doe-like features back to a pleasant — albeit sad — smile.

Running a quick assessment over her little setup — little undermines the effort put into it all. Twin trees decorated extravagantly from top to bottom sit parallel to one another across the redwood platform she constructed. A single, plush seat lays at its center. And before it, a crafted well built of bricks of cardboard, glitter, and paper. Within you count hundreds of shining coins of glitter, copper, silver… — you find it hard not to gape.

Hannah looks to you with eyes of hope. “Thoughts?”

“How much do I have to give?”

Light dances over those frozen, blue lakes. “As much as you’d like.”

Once again fishing through your pockets, you pull out your pouch — a small thing it is: a flat, black circle with a smaller silver ring attached at its side. You hook your finger through, emptying a few gold coins into your palm, already bending over to drop them into the makeshift wishing well.

Hannah stops you with a hand on your shoulder. “You’re supposed to make a wish,” she says, fire hair melting frosted eyes, the warmth sinking into your skin. You shake it off.

“I’m too old for making stupid wishes. Leave them for children.” Earlier in your connection, you would have feared the rasp and bite reigning your voice would throw Hannah off — push her away, even — but you’ve learnt time and time again that Hannah was not and could not be easily shaken. The woman was determined to a fault, especially in matters that pertained to you.

The woman in question says, “Always the grumpy Mc Grinchy pants. C’mon sour puss, make a wish.”

You pull woolen sleeves over your knuckles — sweater paws — and play absently with your fingers. “There is nothing that I want.”

Hannah furrows her brows, then they shoot apart. “Remember Lindsey?”

Ah, Lindsey. You were surprised to find that she wasn’t here right now — Hannah’s significant other, who she was always connected hip to hip, lip to lip. You’d admit that the pair are cute together, despite the constant sweet talk and tender embraces at the most inappropriate of times. Maybe, just maybe, you admired their connection. Lindsey and yourself were close, sure. You and Hannah, even closer, but maybe the sugary intimacy they share is something you were a tad bit envious of.

“What about her?”

“You could wish for something like that. Lord knows how long it’s been since you’ve had a bit of … fun.”

“Then tell me, Ed Sheeran, what are you suggesting?”

“I’m just saying,” she pauses. “That it’s about time that you, y’know, got out more.”

“I’m out now.”

A drawn-out sigh of frustration is pulled past Hannah’s lips, your adamancy wearing her thin. “Stop that. Enough playing dumb.”

You part your lips to protest, stopping only when she continues. “It’s been years, Y/N. Relationships don’t have to be serious, not all the time. There’s nothing wrong with a Christmas fling.”

“I didn’t ask for a lecture. And I’m not looking for love.”

“I’m just saying that if you stopped holding yourself back, you’d be better off. Think of all the fun you could have. No feelings attached.” Looking you over, pausing at your stone expression, she deducts, “Not that you’d have a problem with that.”

There is no bite to your eye roll, no venom in your scoff. “Would you leave me be if I did it?”

Love is what fuels her slow nod, eyes wide in astonishment, chest puffed, rising and falling delicately. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Feigning a dip to fix your belt, you cover an accidental smile — small but present. It alone would drive Hannah to a frenzy of mocks and teases which you were not in the mood for.

You lift yourself carefully, staring down into the little well of fate.

This is ridiculous. Christmas is only a week away, the possibility of meeting someone new is already a small one. How could anyone hope to even get to know someone within the time frame? And to think that they’d be simple-minded enough to trust them? To let that person into their home? No, no, that would —

“Y/N,” Hannah calls. “Just drop the coin.”

You size up the pool of gold. What if –

“Drop it,” she repeats. Perhaps your face of steel is enough to dupe Hannah. Perhaps she simply chooses to ignore it.

You listen anyway. And as the coin winks at you with its glaring golden glow, your stomach roils.

***

“And as temperatures reach their lowest in decades, citizens are reminded to bundle up and settle down for this white, white Christmas.” The face swimming upon a sea of neon blue is that of a woman.

Jamie — as her news associates call her — tucks a strand of her long, bronze tresses behind a jewelled ear, the dangling pearls dragging along her pale neck. Her lips twitch as she says, “Passing to you, John.”

John isn’t nearly as attractive. An old man of about a half-century who coughs before every sentence. “Yes, Jamie,” he says. “Tonight’s blizzard took even experts by surprise, and now as they struggle to gain some semblance of control over this matter, we are all advised to — ”

You outstretch a hand, fingers fumbling for the half-empty decanter sitting on your coffee table, pulling it, along with a glass from the crystal-cut set, into your lap.

You pour yourself a knuckle-full, swirling blue light into its amber glow, sighing blearily at the flickering television screen.

Truly, there was no reason to drink — nothing aside from the ticking scramble of worries scurrying about your mind, troubling your every waking moment. But control over the number of times that you lifted the glass to your lips was a sort of composure you had lost three glasses ago.

“Jamie!” you yell at the familiar face upon the screen. “You’re back on,” you hum, inebriated, smiling and swaying to her static crackling voice.

“Once again, we remind citizens to lock their doors and — ”

You cut her off with a fiendish laugh and slur. “Doors? Who would be at the door? It’s — ” you pause, squinting down at the glowing green numbers flashing on the square, black-thingy that’s too far away to read, but the floor is getting closer, and it looks really —

“Fuck!” you yelp, cold tiles connecting with your bared arm, hairs already raising like the fur of a bloodhound.

You blink rapidly, blood rushing to your churning stomach, head hot and shapes increasingly difficult to decipher.

There’s a knock at the door, and you pause before detonating the prior silence with fits of uproarious laughter.

“Get it, Jamie?” you ask the now dark screen. “Cause, y’know, just a minute ago, you said to lock the doors, and now there’s someone there!” You slap your thigh, hissing through your teeth as another wave of giggles recoils, preparing to unleash its riotous bouts upon your shaking husk of a frame.

When the thunderous knocks fail to cease, you do. “There’s someone at my door.” If anyone were to sight the ungoverned grin rending the creases of your lips, they would think you mad. Again, you say, “There’s someone at my door!”

It is the work of some cursed, jolly wind that gets you to the front door. And it wraps your fingers around the frosty metal handle, slowly cracking it open.

“I’m not into carolers, so if you’re gonna yap all night long about all that snowman shit, then you can leave.” Pointing into the brisk night, your arm droops, body going slack against your doorframe.

In a rushed murmur of rage, you continue, “So you should just take your tall, big, fluffy … oh,” you pause, grappling for the stranger’s head, you yank on their hair. “Your hair is like Jamie’s.” You give a drunken smile. “Only prettier; a lot prettier and darker and ooouuu!” Combing your fingers across its scalp, you sweep the soft velvety strands away from the stranger’s forehead. A sharp tug has it — him — yelping, a husky, rich sound.

At last, you look at it — him. And then look at him some more … and more. So much … person.

The colossal man shrinks beneath the cold, cheeks red and frostbitten. “You’re big,” you say, voice certain, ignoring his pale lips as they separate, dry and chapped. You run a finger over them and upwards, straying at the sharp jut of a nose. “That’s nice.” Again, you find his hair. Someone poured hot chocolate over it. There’s no other way. “So brown and fluffy and softy soft,” you giggle, tugging a strand, laying it flat against his snow-white neck, sloppily beaming at his shiver. “You’re pretty,” you sigh. “And handsome … And cute.” The stranger-man shuffles from foot to foot, bulky jacket swaying, boots crunching.

It hits you at that moment as a slosh of unprocessed alcohol and gastric juice. “You’re the boyfriend, right!?”

Your hand cups his cheeks. He’s weary but unmoving as he asks, “The what?” Ah,our boyfriend has such a glorious voice. The angels must be singing. “The boyfriend. The mall boyfriend. My boyfriend. Remember? I wished for you, and now you’re here!” you clarify proudly. This should be obvious. Was the cold getting to him? “Come inside, mall boyfriend.”

You snicker, amused by your accidental creativity. “Come inside, heh, heh. Would you like to come inside of my … house?” Mall boyfriend hesitates, cheeks no longer blushing rogue but bursting crimson. “You’re drunk.” He speaks more to himself.

“I’m perfectly sober.” As if to prove the falsity, you straighten, falling seconds later into the heat of his chest. “You’re so strong, Mall boyfriend,” you mutter into his warmth, chin worming to the slight dip of his sternum. Mall boyfriend smells like gingerbread.

“How much have you been drinking?” Mall boyfriend grabs your shoulders — assertive, but not harmful. Rushed but not pushy. Heh heh, doctor Seuss — “Inside,” he says. “I’ll get you something to sober you up.” He glances behind you, to the warm golden glow of your apartment lights. “And call me Kai.”

“Kai,” you sing. “Kai.”

Kai is slow to enter, peering about the basic — practically empty — living space interior. “Not into snowmen or carolers? Not even decorations?” He tries to joke, shrugging off the heavy fleece winter jacket. “This is the part where —- if you were … well, in your right state of mind — you ask me what I’m doing here? Call the police?”

Kai’s posture is similar to a keeper taming a wild beast, one that would pounce and bite at any moment. He rocks between his heel and toes, eyes darting to the shut door every other moment, hands eternally raised to his torso with downturned palms.

You cock your head. He flinches.

“I’m sorry, miss, but what may I call you?”

“Y/N,” you say.

Kai seems pleased with that. “At least you remember your name.” His shoulders slowly slacken. “Good. That’s good.” A hand meeting his nape, his lips curl at the edges, the right side dragged up his cheek in a pretty side smile. “Have you eaten, Y/N?”

Ah, food …

You feel like a child beneath his expectant stare, tugging sweater paws with lost fingers, slowly slogging through your sludged brain.

“That’s a no, then,” he concludes. And it’s amazing how easily he slips behind your countertop and into the role of the chef, completely comfortable in a kitchen so foreign to him. “We’ll need to get some water into you. It’ll flush out all the alcohol.” At your cringe, he pushes. “Unless, of course, you want a couple shots of pickle juice.” Silence meets his offer, and with a gummy smile, he chirps, “That’s what I thought.”

A heartbeat passes before Kai fumbles awkwardly. “Thank you for letting me in. Any longer, and I would have frozen completely. It was a crazy risk; coming here but being in the same room as a drunken who's going to forget my entire existence tomorrow morning is a lot better than taking my chances out on the streets.”

Does Kai breathe?

“Snowstorms these days are getting more unpredictable, huh? It wasn’t that bad when I left the airport, but it hit my driver and me about halfway to my sister’s house. He dropped me off on the streets and told me that no cash would move his vehicle further. And that’s how I ended up walking through the snow for an hour. Funny, Huh?

He laughs. You don’t.

Instead, you ask, “You have a sister?”

“Two, actually.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, we were all going to meet up for Christmas. I’ve been busy, so this is — was — supposed to be a short vacation celebration. For all of us. As you can see, though,” he waves unceremoniously at his surroundings. “Things didn’t exactly go as planned.”

A heartbeat passes before he asks, “Egg and bacon sandwich sounds good?”

You’re clueless to the facial expression that you make, but he reacts to it all funny and cute with a little nose scrunch and shy smile. “It’s the only thing I know how to cook,” he says.

Kai’s shuffling through the cabinets and fridge before you can stop him, a smooth current of heat from the cooktop fanning your forearms. It’s nice. You rest them closer.

“Drink this.” He pushes a glass of water to your seamed lips, pressing stubbornly when you pout.

“Don’t wanna,” you say, arms crossed.

He flusters at the stubborn response, pausing for a moment to consider, red rising rapidly to colour his neck, the tips of his ears. “Please.” It comes as more of a question than a demand. Kai’s voice cracks on the last syllable, eyes refusing to meet your own. “Don’t fuss,” he begs, and the sheer hopelessness encircling his tone is what gets you to unfasten the tightness holding your lips.

The first swallow washes away the sandalwood stuffing your throat and Kai smiles at the soft sigh you give but opts to cut a slice of butter into the already heated frying pan. It sizzles upon contact, coating your tongue with its creamed savoury scent. He brings a spoon down on the shell of an egg next, splitting fractured caramel encasings, gooey whites and yolk spilling into the pan with a mob of raging pops and crackles. He repeats this with another.

“Hey, Kai?”

“Yes?”

“Why are whites called whites when they’re clear?”

“Look,” Kai motions to the pan between you, more specifically, to the egg inside, yellow yolk bobbing in a sea of dipping, clear — can they be called whites when they’re clear? Clear thingygies sounds more appropriate — thingygies, the rim of which, steadily being invaded by an army of white, occasionally giving a lazy spit and bubble, propelling itself closer.

You slap a hand around Kai’s bicep. “Oh! That makes sense!”

At your touch, Kai jerks, tongue grappling shock-scattered words. “The what? Oh, no.” He sighs deeply, pulling your now empty glass from your loose fingers, placing it beneath the silver faucet before flipping the tap. “You need more water.”

You stick out your tongue. Kai returns the favour, a quiet gasp escaping as water flows over the cup’s lip, trickling over his fingers.

“Kai,” you whisper again. The pale-skinned boy hums, gentle in the way that he passes you the drink. “You’re my boyfriend, right?”

He gulps, suddenly finding the task at hand to be of greater interest. Muttering a quick curse, he clumsily scavenges the draws dug into the island sides, pulling the knobs with a bit more force than necessary. “The eggs are burning,” he says between each swish and slam.

“But,” your voice lowers. “They said at the mall that if I make a wish, it’ll come true, and I wished for you, and here you are. So you’re the boyfriend,” you repeat. “The mall boyfriend.”

Kai swallows thickly, enough that you trace the bob of his Adam’s apple, his lungs as they rise and fall. No sound leaves his throat, but a light exhale.

In your pursuit, you’re persistent. “Do you have a mall girlfriend, Kai?”

He finds the tongue to manage a brief response. “Drink more water.”

“I’ve had enough water.” As though for emphasis, a tear of it drips down the corner of your lip, kisses your chin.

He busies himself with your sandwich, stuffing slightly charred eggs onto a pale expanse of fluffy bread, a slice of cheese placed neatly on top of it next. With minimal consciousness, Kai slaps a few slices of bacon into the previously used pan, the edges already spewing foamed oil, adopting a brown pigment.

You stare him down unabashedly. The boy within the man’s body squirms. “No,” he blurts, fingers gripping your little silicone spatula. He doesn’t know his own strength, and it becomes clear when he flips a slice with too much power, droplets of liquid fat landing on your naked arms.

Kai repeats, “I don’t have a … mall girlfriend.” A pause. The otherwise silent space sullied with sounds of crack, crack, crackling. “I don’t have any girlfriend.”

He turns off the stove, bacon shuffled to complete the messy dinner. He prepared it by himself. For you.

You smile. A fragile little thing. “Am I just … that terrible.” The liquid courage that once soared through your veins now is none but fragments of shattered ice.

“You’re a stranger.” It surprises you when he chokes a little on the words, shaking his head as though trying to restore some truth.

“Everyone starts off as a stranger to someone else. Even friends. The way that they are promoted from stranger to friend, lover, enemy is just that: a way, a path, a road. That road may be unusual, but it leads to something. At least, if it’s given the chance to.”

Kai places the sandwich on a plate, fiddling with its border before he hands it to you. You fit in two generous bites — neither of which would receive a 5-star-rating, but it’s the thought that flavours it. That turns ash to ground pepper, unevenly melted cheese to a uniformed, stringy stretch — before he speaks, “That’s true.”

Again, you ask, “Am I that terrible?”

Kai’s lips open and shut in answer and hesitation. Before he proceeds, you warn over a mouthful, crumbs falling from your moving lips. He follows each one, eyes filled with not disgust but a shy sort of worry.

I want you to eat and be well, they say. The affection in them takes you aback.

“Yes or no, Kai.”

Fringe curtains shut eyelids. “Please, tell me you’re not drunk.”

The tender concern of those warbled words is what muzzles the feral offence within you. And with careful calm, you say, “I’m not drunk.”

Kai loses a breath and says, “Then no. You’re not terrible. Alcohol or no.”

A large bite has your dinner — lunch — finished, and you scrub the crumbs off of your palms. You flash him a toothy grin, asking with a giggle, “Kai?”

There’s more certainty in his, “Yes?”

You push out of your seat, employing a nonchalant stroll as you make your way to the other side of the island, drifting your fingers across its silken-smooth surface. Kai does his best — not flinching or failing a step as you near.

Your fingers tangle in the thick, woollen sweater he’s dawned, sporadically stroking the length of a knot stitch. You peer up at him through lowered lashes, feeling through your palms the very hitch of his breath, the jerk of rushing air spilling through after you smooth it into settling.

“Touch me,” you say.

He freezes. And his hands slowly come to cup your own, pulling them gingerly away. “I think you should rest.”

You baulk at the suggestion, stuttering on your words as you speak them. “I’m fine.”

“I still think you should rest.” You ponder the benefits of throwing a tantrum but the pacifying soothe of Kai’s voice, the steady gaze he levels you as he says, “Let’s just sleep for tonight.” gets you to breathe quietly, and settle in his arms.

The next thing you know, he’s slinking over to the couch, returning with throw pillows he rearranges swaddling you, and his smile — his small sweet smile — looking over you as he bunches a comforter around you for the cold.

***

The touch of cold to your chapped lips sends you recoiling and the sole thing that holds your scream is a familiar frantic hushing. “Just me,” it chants. “Just me.”

Your eyes snap open to find Kai balancing in one hand, a glass of water and the other, a capful of what you hope is Advil.

Your head pounds its agreement, a heavy, pulsing ache pressing firmly at its sides. An egg — that’s what you feel like, a stupid egg being crushed between merciless palms.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” Kai rambles, stumbling and pulling back clumsily the hand he tries to scratch behind his neck. “I thought you were awake cause you were talking a minute ago and—”

“Stop,” Your voice, a little shaky but stern, halts him mid-rant. “I talked?”

“Yeah.” A gulp bobs his throat. “You were going on about wishing wells and news associates, and eggs and,” he hesitates, “blue balls, and stuff.”

You regret your groan the instant it leaves you, only intensifying the dull ache. Half-heartedly, you outstretch a palm. “Gimmie.” You don’t bother looking at him, already known to you is the small pout of concern at his lips. The moment he passes you the pills, you place them against your tongue, a few gulps of water washing the taste before it settles. “Thank you,” you sag into your seat.

Kai gives a responding nod. “I– Are you feeling better?”

You’re deep in the throws of the night’s flashbacks when his question hits, and groggily, you say, “I am. Thank you. Again. You were a big help last night.” With your eyes scanning the kitchen space, the living area, you speak between thoughts, “Where did you, uh, sleep, last night?”

“The couch,” is Kai’s strong reply.

Your voice is whisper-soft and coupled with a slow hum. “Last night,” you nearly back out of the statement, “We didn’t. You didn’t want to–”

“I didn’t want to take advantage of you.”

A smile clashes with your scoff. “Not alotta guys follow through on that one.” With palms coming to cup your chin, your eyes pull to his. “But the offer is still on the table. No offence taken if you refuse.”

“Sure you’re not gonna puke mid-way?” At Kai’s jest, you show your middle finger. “Alright, alright,” he says but you both see and feel the positive shift in his demeanour. How he seems to loosen and relax.

“It’s yes or no, Kai.”

You’re pleased that he doesn’t tighten. “Then yes,” he says. “I’m willing if you are.”

A step forward and Kai is in front of you, now leeched of the gall to make a move.

Shaky breath fans your lips as Kai quietly composes himself, hands falling stiffly to your waist, nose brushing against yours. “I want this,” his whispered reassurance, directed towards himself. And he leans in with all the confidence of a teenage boy.

The first press of his lips to yours is an awkward little thing — no more than a velvety peck sliding against your softened lips, lingering with a pressure that mimics a butterfly’s meagre legs. And then, his star-filled eyes are darting about your face, lump, a blockage at his throat whenever he skates over your still-puckered lips.

You fail at stifling a chuckle. “We could do more than that if you’re okay with it,” you press, teething your lips to prevent another inappropriate chuckle lest you embarrass him further.

You decide to lean in this time, tilting your head to avoid any awkward bumps or collisions. “Relax,” you breathe, lips brushing against his, catching a glimpse of his lids as they flutter shut. A large sigh has his body going flaccid, hair shaking in a quick nod.

Kai gasps — a soft, shy sound of pleasure — the instant your lips seal with his and as you press further into him, hips settling against him, your hands locate his hair, digging to his roots and giving them a gentle tug as you do to his lips.

A breathy laugh has you meeting him again, with more intention than before. “Touch me,” you moan the words with hungry impatience.

Happy to please, he squeezes your sides — a trail of brazen, a rush of confidence, has his hands slipping over the base of your spine, grunting his arousal into your parted lips.

The ever-growing bulge pressing against your waist has you shuddering a breath of approval. “That’s it, keep going.”

Kai’s hands travel the curve of your ass, clutching and spreading you apart. Your whispered encouragement has him fondling with more enthusiasm, parting your thighs with his own. The rough material of his jeans grinding against the pulsing bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs pushes a groan past your lips, pulling away from Kai’s to drop your head to the crook of his neck.

You moan, “Let me.” Another drag of Kai’s leg has you pushing away completely, trembling from the blizzard of arousal he churns deep within you. You repeat, “Let me. You’ve taken care of me enough for tonight, Kai.” You rub your palm against his cheek. “My turn.”

You push his back against the island — far away enough from the currently cooling cooktop — and his fingers roughly grip the edges. Pleasure leaks into his quaking voice as he says, “Go ahead.”

With your hand drifting down his neck, chest, and stomach, you gently lower yourself to your knees. “Mhm.” You smile. “You’re so hard.” Kai, to your enjoyment, shivers when your hand cups his aching bulge. “Tell me,” You grind your palm against him, heavy pets leaving his cheeks dusted in fine pink and swollen lips being gnawed vulgarly between his teeth, “Am I the cause of this?” Kai tries to speak, but all he manages is a deep whine.

“Naww, baby,” you mock, tracing the strained length through his jeans. “I haven’t even touched you yet.” You laugh at his curse, giving him a few more lazy strokes.

Kai whimpers, “Don’t be cruel. Please. No teasing.”

Stifling a chuckle at his knuckle-snapping grip is not an option, and teasingly you slur, “Yessir.”

Before he can speak — mutter miserably — you’re unbuckling Kai’s belt, tossing it aside. “Oh, did you hear that?” You twiddle the zipper; Kai’s focus is a laser beam. “Jingle bells. Jingle bells, Jingle bells, Jingle all the —”

Kai cuts in, “Sure you’re sober?”

You pull him out of his jeans. He shuts up. You sing, “On the something day of Christmas, a wishing well gave to me: Seven twitching inches, boyfriend flushed and panting, and fat, pretty, blushing pink tip.”

Kai doesn’t get the chance to groan, not before you place a tender kiss atop his tip, drawing a slow lick against his precum-soaked slit. “Sucks,” you pout, eyes wide and sulkily peering up at him, “Was hoping you’d taste like Christmas.”

Kai looks like he’s about to throw hands. That is, until your lips wrap completely around his tip, sucking his slick, bitter, pre-spend into your awaiting mouth. You slip off of him a moment later, letting your lips catch — lap up — every dribble he leaks for you. “Y’know, you’re cute when you’re trying not to moan.” You pump a fist from his base to his head. Kai is too slow to catch his groan, a thick, husky thing, roughly milking slick from your already-throbbing centre.

Shakily, you say, “Don’t tell me this is too much for you. After all,” you lightly glide your nails against the skin of his shaft, fixed on the task with purposeful indifference, “You’re the one that asked me to hurry up, aren’t you?”

Kai’s hips falter. He barely murmurs a broken, “F-fuck.” You pity him then. Careful to keep your nails away as you grip his sex, guiding his cockhead to your puckered lips. Smearing about his pre-cum just before slipping him into your mouth, your pace is agonizingly slow as you fit in about half of his length.

The motion was a kick to the lungs, it seems. Kai buckles forward, a loud yelp tearing through him, body hunched over yours. You pay no mind and enclose the rest of his quivering shaft — well, try to but barely manage to wrap your fingers around him fully — with delicate fingers.

“You’re cute like this.” You pop off his length for long enough to praise Kai’s vibrating body. “Who would’ve thought that the giant could so easily crumble.” You grip him sharply. He releases a cry.

With every pump, every pleasure-stained wail, you suck Kai in deeper, tongue teasing the vein bulging at his underside, bobbing playfully up and down his increasingly hardening length.

A muttered, “Dammit,” tells you that he’s close, and you jerk when Kai’s fingers fist your hair, pulling you away wholly, angling you to meet his lust-soaked gaze. “Please,” is all he has to say for you to nod. And before you can register, he sheaths himself into your mouth, sloppily guiding himself in and out at a bruising speed.

Tears prick at your waterline as you gag over his thick girth, mushroom of a tip pressing uncomfortably at the back of your throat with each forward thrust.

You’re certain that your arousal is dripping past your underwear as drool slickly soaks your lips, falling freely to drench Kai as he uses you.

“A-ah, shit!” Kai makes no attempt to smother his moans, hips stalling, cock twitching fiercely inside of you. A few more rabid strokes has him howling his release, shooting a load down the back of your throat, fist tightening at your hair when you struggle, spit and cum spilling over your lips and chin.

Collecting it all on your fingers, you suck for him to see, already disposing of your stuffy pyjama-bottoms, left only in a top that breezes just above your hips. Leaning back on your shoulders, you unabashedly part your legs, pressing the same digits against your slit-soaked panties, stretching a string of fluid.

Looking at Kai, you digest the rough hitch and release of his lungs, the way that each jagged inhale and exhale sways him.

You grind against your fingers with a low groan. “C’mon, Kai, fuck me.”

Kai’s ability to compose himself comes as a surprise to you. He says, “We need to get you ready first.”

You part your legs wider with a grimace as if to prove a point. “No need to prepare. I’m already fucking soaked.”

Kai’s cock jumps to stress his own point.

It’s with a great, soul-shattering sigh that you stand, tearing off your panties like a fit-throwing two-year-old and slumping your body against the island where Kai was previously situated. “Hurry the fuck up.”

The utter demand of your voice sends feet clumsily shuffling behind you. And to your chagrin, you’re coaxed into a guttural moan when one of Kai’s digits locate your clitoral hood, pulling it back to expose to his circling finger your reddened, needy clit.

You thrust yourself against his hand; long gone are any available shits, any fucks. “No teasing-ahh!” A taunting finger slithering along your drenched slit knocks the air out of your lungs.

“Shit, no, fuck, Kai!” Two digits slide along the inner side of your vulva, pressing shut your puffy labia, rubbing the two together, the slick slide sending tremor after tremor coursing through you.

You were close the minute he held your hair, the minute he forced your lips along his length, and there’s this deep, knowing dread — this excitement — encircling you. You’re not going to last long.

He appears infatuated with the motion for some time, completely lost to the slow, silky strokes. Kai collects oozing arousal on his fingertips, dragging them up to your clit, encircling your sensitive, beating bundle a few times before drawing back down. He repeats until you’re squirming — writhing in utter abandon.

“Fuck me,” you beg, “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” Before you shred him to pieces, Kai eddies a long, slender finger around your fluttering entrance, dipping in ever so slightly, resurfacing seconds later and repeating the motion.

“It’s going to slip right in,” he moans. “You’re so wet.”

A sharp backwards jab of your hips buries his finger deep within your spasming walls, and your yelp fades into an abyssal groan of satisfaction. His finger isn’t enough to stretch you but the sheer ecstasy of a single-digit — the sheer heat that melts off your spine, like honey running along our insides, pushing past your softened, swollen folds, dousing your clit in heated slick — have your fingers biting into your palms, mouth hung open as whines breakthrough you in cries of primal bliss.

Kai flattens a palm against your hip, adjusting his finger for better control, taking up a slow pulsating in-and-out rhythm.

“Just put it in. Please. I can take it. Just fuck me.” Tears stream down your cheeks, droplets gathering on the warmed tiles you smack your cheek upon.

Kai says, “My fingers are pretty skinny.” He dips another one in, and you groan at the fill, the drag of them against your melted walls, your own need latching onto them, sucking them deeper and deeper within your growing heat. “You fit two perfectly, but my cock is worth at least three.” Kai tries to insert a third finger, but despite your oozing slick, your throbbing core, he barely fits it in knuckle-deep before you groan at the stretch, the burn. “See? We need to stretch you out more if you even want to take the tip.”

The thought has you spiralling. You snarl, “Just do it. I know my fucking body.” You do. And you know very well that with Kai’s length and girth, his bulbous head, the base that was just a bit wider than the rest of him, you’d be lucky if you could fit at least 5 inches of him.

Kai extracts his finger, and immediately you release a growl of frustration. “We need a condom,” he says.

Still, you grumble, bringing your ever-reliable pal, Ms Index Finger, between your trembling legs. Rubbing tight circles against your rapidly palpating clit, the muscles at your abdomen constrict with an oncoming release. You force your lips against your arm as drool trickles past.

Your breath hitches, pace doubling, fingers an aching blur against you. “Yes,” you pant. “Yes, yes, yes, yess — No! Kai! What the hell!” you scream, slickened fingers in Kai’s grasp, body twitching with the sudden halt.

“As you said,” he quotes, “Let me.” Kai vanishes in a blur of brown and red and white.

You mutter, “Fucking candy-cane looking shit. I swear to- fuck!” Tongue. His tongue smothers your entrance to your clit in an unyielding, wet stroke. Settling there, laving at the button while you shove into him, pressure hauling from you, colourful curses and lewd sighs.

“Don’t stop. Please.” your hand finds your babbling mouth, clasping securely over it, another jerk of your hips sending you slumping pathetically.

Without warning, Kai’s tip crowds your entrance, pushing softly against the hold of your clamping sex. He grunts, “Ready?” You arch your back in response, pressing upon your tippy-toes to give him better access.

Kai’s cock burns like the heat of a thousand goddamn suns; it’s pure, unrelenting, common sense-shredding, carnal desire that holds your tongue, with it, a stream of complaints about the ache, the stretch.

You feel his thighs quivering against your own, his breath hot and laboured against your nape. You tease, “And you were worried about me?” You’re at a loss for breath, trembling like a leaf in a storm. “Only an inch in, and you’re shaking.”

A finger at your clit has you hissing an apology while Kai stutters his pleasure to your harshly-clenching heat.

You hold your tongue, fearing that he’ll unpreparedly slide deeper inside. Kai, however, doesn’t share that respect. He throatily whines, “You feel so good, I can’t. Stop clamping down on me like that ….”

You have the mind to yell at him, the other half wanting to yell with him.

“Move,” is your bark of approval, and Kai eagerly obeys. Each of his hands finds your hips without issue, and slowly pushing himself forward, Kai stiffens — in more than one way — effortfully spearing himself into you.

“Does it hurt?” he asks.

“Of course, it hurts,” you grunt. And angling your hips farther, you ease the burn of him for a nanosecond, “But don’t stop.” It’s not even pleasurable. Just an unrelenting, uncomfortable stretch. Not even the soothing massage Kai delivers to your clit works to assist.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Kai pleads, chanting the words over and over, muttering them like a desperate mantra. And as you’re bared upon his cock, — if it can even fucking be called that — slowly rolling your hips into it, coaxing and controlling, mewling and breaking on each inch sinking inwards, you pray to any goddamn star atop a Christmas tree that you live through this.

“S-shit,” he squeaks, head falling to the dip between your trapezius, smearing warm, wet kisses down your spine. “It can’t go any further.” He gives a sharp thrust that knocks you forward, a cry at your lips when his tip brutally presses at your cervix.

“Back.” You reach back to slap his thigh, “Too much.”

Kai does so with many fumbled apologies. You heave distortedly and say, “Just g-give me a minute; need to adjust.”

He appears grateful for it and flaccidly lowers himself onto you, whispering praise as he massages the blooming bulge bursting your stomach. “I’m sorry,” he sighs again.

Kai’s only five inches deep, the stretch preventing his full length.

Measuring your inhales, timing your exhales, the pain slowly — very slowly — but surely ebbs, lifting to expose Kai’s subtle throb and your alleviating pulse. Kai measures his breaths with yours, you note, and a smile curls your lips as you finally say, “Go ahead, I’m ready.”

You feel the effort it takes Kai to keep his thrusts steady. A slow retreat. And it’s leaving you hopelessly empty as inch after inch after goddamn inch catches your walls, pulling outwards with a ginger sweetness, betrayed by his bruising grip at your hips.

“That’s it.” Your nails think themselves strong enough to dig dents, reaching above your head to the cool tiles, biting and biting as your teeth do to your lips which blaze bright vermillion, glossed and glowing like … what was the damned reindeer’s name?

Kai’s cockhead barely makes its way out of you, already plugging back in, spreading apart your clinging heat. “C-can you feel that? You wanna yap, but you’re tryna get impaled by this,” his cock twitches in response, “aren’t you?” Your reply is lost to a wail, trying but completely lost to every ridge rubbing against you, painful burn, now a pleasant stretch.

Kai doesn’t accept your lack of response, coiling around your hips to push brutally below your belly button. You scream, “Can’t! Can’t!” A snap of his hips has your breath recoiling, hitching at your throat. Similarly, this transpires at your heat, and all the edge Kai carried dissolves into a pitiful moan.

You’re both gone. So gone. Blizzard raging both outside your windows and at your core, churning and thrashing and brutally whipping your bodies into heaps of sorry snow against the single solid surface beneath you.

You bring your finger back to your clit but make a last-minute decision to slip it further, running them tenderly through the mix of skin and slick and heat where your bodies meet. Tracing over the soaked latex, you wrap your palm around Kai as he slowly but deeply penetrates you.

“Not gonna last long.” Kai is full of apologies and praise, smothering them as kisses and licks over your skin as his thrusts pick up speed.

You’re frantically fighting against your instincts to submit to his urgent strokes, slanting sideways to peel his other hand from your hip and bring it to your clit. Kai can take a message.

Kai rails you like a snowplough.

And truly a wonder — a Christmas miracle — is the way he controls his fingers, a blur of skin raining sharp pleasure-filled bolts of hail down on your worn figure.

You’re no more than a soggy puddle of melted sleet. And Kai splits you like a wishbone. He picks you up and throws you into the hearth of burning bliss, leaving you to splinter and crackle and burn. Pleasure consuming every splotch of skin, greedily coursing through your wrecked figure. Tearing you apart from the inside out, you’re stripped and sacrificed to each and every roaring flame, breaking you down into a barbaric holler of euphoric release.

Kai’s climax showers you in kerosene, and you swear that it destroys you further. You can’t comprehend the noises he makes — can’t even hear them over your own.

A final shuddering heave has you muttering your praise into a puddle of saliva, barely conscious as you guide Kai to a wet rag and basin to fill with warm water.

And it’s as the boy hurries along taut backside tutting from side to side, earlier persona lost in a purposeful frenzy to please, that you think: Maybe Christmas isn’t so bad after all.

326 notes · View notes

ready-steady-freddie · 2 years

Text

Learn to fly

Pure plot, what plot? Another excuse to write sexy stuff. As if I needed one. This isn't beta'ed!

Robert Bob Floyd x AFAB wife reader

Warnings: 18+! Explicit sexual acts, negative body image, post pregnancy body.

Word count: 2K

Notes: Guys, I guess I am officially obsessed with Bob and his role as a husband, father and lover?! Not that it surprises me. The title is so silly because it makes me think of Foo Fighters and that wasn't what I was going for. But I'll keep it for now. I find that writing from the reader's POV is quite interesting and fun. Let's see where this takes us. Might write a part two if there's any interest in this. Thanks for reading, commenting, liking and reblogging 🥰

Also, I don't know if I love or hate calling him Robert, and not Bob as usual??

You barely recognised the person gazing back at you in the full-length mirror. You had been changing your clothes, both consciously and unconsciously avoiding the mirror, and stood now staring at your almost naked form. The pale of your skin had caught your eye and you found yourself unable to look away, no matter how little you wanted to observe your own body.

You scrunched up your nose in distaste. Everything seemed off. Your hair was matted and lifeless. You could not remember the last time you had brushed your hair, let alone washed it. Your eyes were heavy, dark circles growing bigger by the day. Your lips, to which your complexion was a perfect match, were dry and almost cracked.

Your shoulders were slumped and you had never felt so tense for so long in your life. Your breasts were massive and sore, half of the day full of milk for your little one, and the other half they felt like they did not belong to you anymore. Your dear husband was so confused. He was deeply fascinated by their shape-shifting abilities and wanted to touch them constantly since they seemed so readily available - but you would not let him anywhere near them. Or you for that matter. Not in any sexual setting, anyway.

Your belly, which had carried your baby underneath its skin just six weeks ago, was riddled with stretch marks, running dark, deep and long. The skin around your belly button was crinkled and made your body look way older than it was. At least now your belly button was not protruding anymore. Your hips told the tale of giving birth as you could no longer fit into any of your jeans. There was no longer a gap between your thighs. They had also not been immune to the charms of the stretch marks, your skin apparently having invited the silvery streaks to spread about as they pleased. Everything was just so … Saggy and chunky. You honestly felt like a big blob.

You closed your eyes with a weighty sigh. You knew pregnancy and childbirth would change your body but you had not been prepared for how much it would change, how slow it would take to recover and how much those changes would affect you. Nobody had told you about these things. You had not looked at your body in the first couple of weeks after giving birth. You had simply not had the time and energy. So when you finally did see yourself in the mirror for the first time without your baby in your belly, you cried.

You were overwhelmed with bleakness. You felt sad for yourself. You felt sad for never appreciating your body before you fell pregnant. You felt sad for knowing it would never be the same again. You felt sad and ungrateful for spending even one minute thinking ill about this body that created life, kept it safe and nurtured it for nine months before delivering it to this world in a powerful performance that you were sure could never be matched by anything in your life ever again.

"Sweetheart?" Robert stood in the doorway. He relaxed against the frame with a slight smile. He seemed to have watched you for a little while. You tried to cover your midsection with your arms tight around your body. "What are you doing?"

"Just … Looking."

Robert came to stand behind you and your eyes locked through the mirror. He kissed your shoulder and your neck as he covered your arms with his own. He burrowed his face in the crook of your neck and murmured, "My gorgeous wife."

You pulled away from him with a deep sigh. You did not believe him and he knew it. He had always been so skilled at reading your thoughts and your feelings and often you hardly had to say anything before he knew exactly what you needed. You did not deserve him. He was too good for you. You stood about an arms length from him now and he took your hand in his.

"Listen, darling …" he started slowly, "I know these past weeks have been difficult for you. Since the baby was born our lives have been turned upside down. And yours more so than mine. Everything you do is about the baby. I'm just a service provider to make sure you're okay and staying healthy. And I'm trying my best to keep you afloat."

"I know you are, Robbie. I know. And you're doing so well. I appreciate it."

"Thank you. That's not what it's about, though." Robert looked you up and down now that you stood before him with your arms away from your body, something he had not been able to do since you brought home your child. "Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?"

"Hmmh."

He placed both of you in front of the mirror again, him behind you looking over your shoulder, his eyes searching yours. Your arms hung down by your sides and he cupped each of your shoulders with his hands. You felt so vulnerable and looked down at the floor. "I see a strong, beautiful woman who is giving up everything to make sure our little baby is safe and healthy. You are giving up your sleep, whatever little free time you have, your social life, your body, probably your sanity at some point ... I see your efforts, I see your sacrifices and I admire and I love you even more for it. I knew you would be the most amazing mother and I am so stunned and thankful to see you grow in that role every day. I see you, sweetheart."

Tears threatened to spill down your cheeks as your husband spoke honestly and gently about you. You had needed to hear those words. "Thank you. I love you."

He pressed a kiss to your temple. He slowly made his way down to your cheek, to your jaw, moving leisurely and softly, occasionally catching your eyes in the mirror. There was mischief in his eyes and you smiled through the few tears that had managed to escape.

"And," he added huskily as he moved further down to your neck and shoulder, "I find you incredibly sexy."

You gasped a little as his hands came to rest on your sides and stomach, his thumbs stroking along the underside of your bra-covered breasts. Moving back just a tiny step you felt his growing erection pressing into the small of your back. You missed that. Sex with Robert. The love, the passion, the intimacy. You reached behind to stroke the bulge in his pants and he sighed into your shoulder. You suddenly felt how starved you were for his touch, his kisses, his cock. It had been so long since you had been able to focus on anything other than the baby. You had definitely not been able to think about or even feel your own wants and needs. And Robert? Well, he had been left to tend to his own wants and needs. You needed him. You missed him. You turned to face him and pressed your lips against his. Your yearning for him exploded and settled between your thighs as a welcome warmth. You moved to unbutton his shirt as the kiss deepened.

"Come join me in the bathtub," he panted, "The baby should be sleeping for a little while yet."

"Don't jinx it," you said half smiling but all praying you would not be interrupted.

He had been sneaky. He had already filled the bathtub with water and lit candles around it. The sight and the sheer thoughtfulness of his actions brought tears to your eyes again. Robert had always been so attentive and considerate and you felt like the luckiest woman on Earth to be able to call him yours.

He undressed in front of you with a slight smile. You stood close, sharing kisses and caresses as his clothes fell to the floor. Your mouth almost watered at the sight of his naked form and his hard-on. You stirred to remove your underwear, full of hesitation and doubt, avoiding Robert's gaze. He came up to you almost covering your entire body with his own.

"May I help you?"

You nodded. He reached around to undo your bra and when that landed on the floor, he pushed down your panties. You had never felt more naked or exposed before - but somehow Robert's calm presence made it alright. He had a skill for making tense situations into something that was manageable for you. Hell, even enjoyable sometimes.

"Come here."

He helped you into the bathtub and eased himself in to sit behind you. You fell back to relax against him. His cock pressed hard against you and you squirmed a little to gain a soft moan from him. You smirked in turn. He nibbled playfully on the nape of your neck before dragging soapy hands across your back and shoulders. It was a heady mix of deep scents and soft strokes that sent you reeling. His strokes turned firmer as he sought to ease the tension from your neck and shoulders.

"I've missed you. I've missed us," you whispered and looked over your shoulder. His response was a hungry kiss that had you whimpering against his mouth. One of his hands rested on your stomach while the other lay across your collarbones and the hollow of your throat, holding you carefully, firmly against his chest. The kiss was all lips and tongues and moans and heat coiling in your core. You could practically feel your cunt aching with want for him.

You hurriedly guided his hand from your midriff to your pussy. He moaned when he felt the softness and the slick of it through the warm water. His fingers caressed along your folds, moving gently over your clit, loving the small sounds you made under his touch.

"Show me what you want me to do."

You let your head fall back onto his shoulder and he dotted tiny kisses along the side of your face. You placed your own hand on top of Robert's and settled it on your clit. You drew circles around it for a while together. You reached behind you with the other hand to grab the hair at the back of his head, pulling him closer as you devoured his mouth with your own.

His cock kept pressing into you from behind and you were overcome with the urge to feel him inside you. To let his cock fill your throbbing cunt, to come undone around his length, to be impossibly close with the man you loved. You tried inching your way up, hoping to angle your body just right so his erection would glide effortlessly inside you. Robert rumbled a low laugh and held you steady.

"Easy, darling. We will get to that."

You panted hard against his mouth as his slow rubbing of your clit continued. You whimpered, "More."

Robert sped up, still taking his time to savour your hips rocking against his hand, your moans and your clumsy kisses as you did not know what to focus on. His fingertips gave you the pressure you needed. The coiling in your body felt more and more intense, almost burning and you came undone under his touch with no warning, fast and deep and loud beyond your control with a gasping cry and a tremble.

He whispered against your temple, "Come for me, sweetheart. It's okay, I've got you. I've got you. It's okay."

Your body shook gently as you came down from your high. Robert had both arms around your body, holding you safe and warm and close in his embrace, breathing heavily into your shoulder. You felt everything he had to give you and it was comforting. It was home.

"That went fast," you said self-consciously. You were pretty sure you were blushing but could not tell from the heat of the water and your orgasm.

Robert grinned. "We'll just have to practice, won't we?"

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