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toruro · 9 months
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— ✧ the cake in the back
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pairing. choi seungcheol x reader
description. cheol is a regular at your bakery, and it's all because his son loves the banana bread you make—at least that's what he tells himself. it also doesn't hurt that you're cute. and polite. and totally someone he'd like to fuck.
genre. smut, fluff
tags. rich dilf cheol, bakery owner reader, or4l (f receiving), car s3x, kitchen s3x, pet names (angel), cr3ampi3, aprons ... hehe
w/c. 3.8k+
a/n. IGNORE THE TITLE OKAY I THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY. look i know it's corny and i literally am writing this on a whim but happy father's day
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"soobin's not with you today?" your voice is cheery and gentle when you greet your regular.
mr. choi smiles and shakes his head. "shocking, i know," he laughs in that deep and velvety tone that has you bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet out of pure giddiness.
"a pleasant surprise," you reply, putting on some gloves as mr. choi approaches the counter. it's near closing, and it's around that time of day where people usually don't come in as much, so you've been alone and just cleaning up the space yourself. "what can i get you, mr. choi?"
the handsome man chuckles, flicking his wrist as he pushes some hair back, the reflective surface of his wrist watch (that you definitely don't want to know the price of because it might just make you pass out) glinting under your bakery's warm lights. "thought i told you to stop calling me that. seungcheol is much better considering ..." he searches for the words for a moment. "... we see each other so regularly," he concludes.
"i've got to maintain some level of professionalism, don't you agree, mr. choi?" you tease. "the regular, i'm assuming? two banana breads?"
"you already know it."
grinning, you nod and pull up a box. "how's soobin? i haven't seen him or you in a while. i'm starting to miss my favorite customer."
"i'm sure soobin would be flattered to hear that. he's doing well, i couldn't bring him today since he's got a swimming class this evening," seungcheol explains, pulling out his wallet that's donned in some brand name that looks so expensive you don't even know how to pronounce it. you move down the counter grab some of the bread which is on your far left, and he walks down on the other side to match you, keeping up the conversation.
"ah yes. he seems to be around that age to start learning. better now than never, honestly. my younger brother didn't learn until he was older and it did not seem easy," you say with a giggle, bringing out the tongs to grab two small loaves.
seungcheol nods in agreement. "that, and i'm planning on taking the two of us on a vacation spot in a few months ... not sure where yet, but soobin's been wanting to go to a beach location for ages," he tells you, and your heart swells.
the image of soobin and seungcheol, goofing around on a beach send a warm feeling through your body. it's also maybe an added plus that there's a flicker in your mind of what seungcheol would look like in nothing but swim trunks, skin shining from the water under the beaming sun, dark hair splayed across his forehead.
you wonder what he's hiding beneath that plain, beige t-shirt of his. his arms are somewhat exposed, and from just the little bit of muscle that peeks out and flexes when he moves around, you think you can safely assume he's got much more going on in the places where your eyes can't reach.
realizing he's still right in front of you, you blink down hard as an attempt to pull yourself back into reality, eyes flickering up at the handsome man in front of you.
"s-sounds fun," you say honestly, packing the bread and handing it to him over the counter. in this moment, seungcheol catches sight of the apron you've got on. it's light pink and hugs your figure so nicely, he can't help but comment on it.
"new apron, huh?"
shyly, you look down and nod. you hadn't expected him to notice. "uh, yeah. my employees got it for me as a birthday gift, actually."
seungcheol furrows his brows as he hands you his card so you can charge him. "it's cute. was your birthday, um, recent?"
you nod casually, tapping at your machine for a second before handing back his card, trying to ignore the way his comment first comment has your stomach flipping and flopping around. "yeah, it was a few days ago."
"i'm sorry, i didn't know," he says sincerely, causing you to frown.
"hey, don't worry about it. it's not something i expect my customers to know and—"
"let me treat you to something," seungcheol says abruptly, cutting you off mid-sentence. he realizes after that it's a bit rude, but something about the way you brush him off as just a customer makes him feel the need to prove you wrong.
"i—i'm sorry?" you ask, and for a moment seungcheol almost mistakes your confusion for apprehension, but then he drinks in the way you look up at him curiously, lips slightly parted, and he relaxes.
"you're closing soon, right? let me ... treat you to something," he repeats. "a coffee or something, if you don't mind."
"oh, i can't possibly impose like that, especially when you've got to pick up soobin and—"
"i wouldn't be offering if you were imposing. he's getting picked up by my friend anyways—his son and soobin are going to have a play date and stuff and—" he's rambling, seungcheol knows that, but he can't seem to care. "basically what i'm saying is you don't have to worry about that. seriously. wait—not that i'm forcing you. you can totally say no, i just ..." he sighs, "don't want you to say no because you think you'll be imposing. 'cause you won't be."
when you smile brightly up at him, eyes glittering and laugh cheery, a wave of relief washes over seungcheol. "i—thank you for the reassurance. i'd love to get coffee, but i do have around twenty more minutes before closing and i still have some stuff i need to clean up and i'm not sure if you—"
"i'll wait." he pauses, then adds, "and help."
you're a bit apprehensive at first—a customer helping you out with closing? but you're quick to learn that once cheol has his mind set on something, it isn't the easiest to pull him away from it—and right now cheol is determined to treat you, as he put it.
the next forty-five minutes is spent with you directing seungcheol around your bakery. he's a surprisingly fast learner and before you know it, all the pastries are loaded in the back, the dishes are cleaned, your floors are swept, and suddenly you find yourself outside of your shop with the doors locked, standing next to seungcheol who watches with you a clouded expression.
"thank you so much for the help," you say bashfully. "you're already taking me—" is it too soon to say he's taking you out? oh well, what's done is done. "—taking me out. isn't this a little too much?" you joke, wiggling your brows.
seungcheol chuckles and shakes his head, pulling his eyes out of his pocket and twirling around the chain around his fingers. fuck, he has really nice fingers—
seungcheol's voice interrupts your thoughts "do you have a car or—"
"i usually take the bus home," you explain, rocking back and forth on your feet. cheol frowns, but doesn't say anything. maybe he can fix that, but that's an thought for another time as he points at his suv, all black from top to bottom, with tinted windows and full black wheels.
there's a silence that envelopes the two of you when you slip into the passenger seat, placing your work bag on the floor. seungcheol is already in the driver's seat, key stuck in but not turning on the engine just yet.
you glance between the sight of your bakery out the window, and back at seungcheol who already has his gaze on you.
"you're going to have to be transparent with me for a second," seungcheol says seriously, locking eyes with you as you shift your body to face him. "and i want to make sure we're on the same page about ..." about whatever is going to go down.
you bite down on your lip, and even though cheol knows you're doing it absentmindedly, he can't help but feel his pants grow tighter at the way it puffs up when your teeth release it.
"i ... i think you know we're on the same page," you reply shyly, shifting a little in your seat to try and make up for the silence.
"you want this?" cheol clarifies, one eyebrow cocked up.
a feeling of pride swelters in his chest when you reply without hesitation, "i do." and then a bit more quietly, you add, "i, uh, have for a while."
now cheol usually likes to tread lightly; he doesn't want to mess around and is great at keeping his dick in his pants but there's just something about the way you look at him so cutely.
you look at him like you know all the nasty things he wants to do to you, and you bat your eyelashes like you don't care—like you'd let him. like you'd take every damn thing he gives you without a single word of complaint, and it's driving him crazy.
again, cheol is great at keeping his foot on the brake, but then you swipe your tongue over your bottom lip and suddenly he's slamming his feet on the accelerator.
wrapping one hand around your neck, he pulls you to smash his lips onto yours. it's a gentle kiss—tentative, as if you're both testing the waters. pressing against each other as your faces tilt, your hands find purchase in his hair when cheol laps at your bottom lip. that's where it all takes off.
the kiss turns from innocent and sweet to sloppy and fast within a matter of moments and suddenly you're grappling at his arms, his hands are searching for your tits, gripping at the flesh and before you know it, you're being thrown to the back.
seungcheol nearly slams your back down onto the seats, your loose shirt riding up your stomach in the process to reveal the lower half of your bra. "fuck," he mutters, low and under his breath in that raspy sort of way that has your clothes feeling too hot and your cunt too empty.
"seungcheol," you moan, unbuttoning your work pants and shoving them off your legs, along with your panties in one go, leaving your wet cunt open and bare. he doesn't take a moment to shuffle back and bring his face down to be level with your core, eyes looking up at you with some kind of mischievous glint that has your stomach churning.
with a bit of hesitance, he places a soft kiss over your clit, watching you carefully to see how you react. when you whine and arch your back against the leather seats, he figures that that reaction is good enough, and this time lets his tongue out, swiping it against the throbbing bad.
"sweet," he murmurs, lips moving down against your folds. the movement and vibrations send sparks through your core and up your spine, and you shudder at the feeling as one hand flies down to grip at his dark hair. "so fuckin' sweet," he repeats before diving his tongue back, swiping it up and down between your folds.
"ah-h-h, seungcheol—fuck," you whimper when he presses the wet muscle flat against your drooling hole, continue to circle around and tease you. fervently, cheol—to put it bluntly—makes out with your cunt. digging his face in between your legs, his nose brushes against your clit when he adjusts his neck to lap and suck against unexplored areas, leaving you mewling into your arm as you try and sit still for him.
there isn't much room in the back, and to be frank, your limbs are in an uncomfy position, and you can only imagine the strain cheol is feeling, bent over and legs in an awkward position when he holds your hips and pulls you closer so he can smother himself in your pussy. he doesn't seem to mind though, lifting his head every few moments to grin up at you with hazy eyes, glossy lips, and a drenched chin, off-handedly commenting something dirty about how nice you taste, how he could live between your legs, how you're driving him fucking insane.
it's the meticulous flicks of his tongue, the deep and guttural words that escape his honeyed lips, and the girth of his fingers when he finally plunges them into your warm cunt that bring you to your edge. it only takes a few rubs and curls against your aching walls before your shaking, crying out his name as you thrust upwards, holding his face down so you can grind against him.
and he whispers the words, "cum angel," so sweetly—a complete contrast to the way his tongue is scooping up all your arousal—and so you cum like you never have before.
fuck my life, you think to yourself as the waves of your orgasm finally hit you. cheol rides you through the high, and he does it good. so good, you're left breathless when he pulls away from your cunt with a dopey smile and feather light kisses all up your thigh and stomach, and then finally your lips.
"my place?" he asks, stroking your cheek gingerly as you blink up at him. and when you nod hazily, he pats you lightly, helping you back to the passenger seat before helping you slip on your panties and pants back on. this time, when cheol gets back into the driver's seat, he places one hand on the steering wheel, the other secure over your still quivering thigh. "relax angel," he murmurs, and you can't help but burn at the gentle words. this can't be the same man who ate you out like you were damn piece of cake just moments earlier.
the drive is quiet, but not uncomfortable. if anything, you're fucking enthralled. when he stops at a red light, cheol looks over at you and when your eyes meet you can't help but giggle together until you're cheeky, grinning mess by the time you pull up to his house.
parking in the lavish drive way, cheol tells you to hold on for a second, getting out of the car and making his way to your side, to open the door for you.
"i didn't know that this what you meant by coffee," you giggle, stumbling out next to him and letting him wrap an arm around your waist to help you up the steps to his house. it's a beautiful estate, really, but you aren't too focused on admiring the luxury right now—you're much more interested in what's to come between you and cheol.
and you're about to find out soon enough because as soon as he opens the door, lets you in, and closes it behind you, cheol's hands are all over you. with your eyes closed as you two engage in a hot mess of tongue and teeth and lips, your rocking back and forth in his arms, his legs leading to you to some place you're not really aware of until you feel something hard and cool press against your lower back.
"wear the apron," cheol tells you firmly when he pulls away, pressing you against his cold stone counter. you knit your eyebrows together in confusion, but let your bag that's still on your shoulder drop onto the counter, taking out your apron without hesitation.
it's now that you realize you're in his kitchen. if you weren't in such a ... intimate setting, you would have admired the design, the appliances—all of it. perhaps you'd even wonder what it's like to bake in here, cooking up soobin's favorite banana bread with cheol by your side and—you save those thoughts for another time.
"w-why?" you murmur in response to cheol's request, as you pull the apron out, pulling the pink strap over your head, tying it behind your back as the ache between your legs begins to creep up on you again. cheol's big hands find purchase on your hips again, holding down you down with a firm grip as he turns you around and pushes your back down.
"'cause," he grunts out, and you nearly moan when you hear the sound of his belt unbuckling and fabric rustling as he shoves his pants and boxers down. it hardly takes a second before his hands are at the hem of your own pants, yanking them down and giving you a moment so you can step out of them.
you wiggle your ass around for a second, turning to look back at cheol with pleading eyes and ask him to just fuck you already, but then he locks a hand under your jaw, cupping the underside of your face and pulling it up so your back arches into his touch. you can feel the angry, hard head of his cock prodding against the plush of your ass and the feeling of him brush against you has you whining.
"patience, angel," he coos, pressing his face next to the shell of your ear and placing a soft kiss on the crown of your head before easing his way through your folds. you can't even see him but you just know he's big—fat length rubbing up and down your folds as he coats himself in your arousal as you whisper incoherent pleas for more.
"cheolie ..." the nickname slips from your lips with out as much as a brainless thought but it has cheol's head rewiring.
"fuck, say that again," he demands, snaking the hand that's not holding your face down your back until it's gripping the cute little bow of your apron.
you hum as you feel him tugging at the fabric, jerking your body backwards and pushing your cunt harder against him, the fat tip brushing against your sensitive clit. "cheolie!" you mewl again, and you're really not expecting the way he jams his cock into you in one go. not that you're complaining of course.
'cause how could you complain when he's stretching you out so nicely? when his cock is so long it's already hitting kissing your cervix and hitting spots inside of you that you didn't even think were possible to reach? when he's so deep that his balls are pressed against your burning core and his pelvis is flush against your ass?
"you feel so good," cheol moans, and you squeeze around him even tighter when you hear the low, gruff words escape his lips. "this pussy was made for me, huh?" he breathes out with a chuckle, as he pulls out halfway before pulling the strings of the apron so your core meets him halfway, slamming his cock back into you.
"oh god," you moan loudly, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you try and swivel your hips against his for some added stimulation.
"gonna think abt this every time you wear this, won't you?" cheol grunts, twisting his fingers around the bow in the back so he hold onto it tighter.
the thought runs through your fucked out mind for a moment; you're gonna have to walk into work tomorrow, and if you're wearing the apron, you'll have to sit through the day knowing that you had cheol's cock buried inside of you under this same fabric—if you aren't wearing it, you'll have to come up with an excuse for your lovely employees as to why you're not wearing their precious gift.
which option you're going to go with, though, is swept from your mind when cheol sticks a finger into your mouth and presses down on your tongue as he fucks into you harder.
what a moment, you think. getting railed on the counter of a man who you always thought was out of reach. your insides feel like jelly as his fat cock runs against your walls, veins and curves pressing and dragging through you as heat envelopes you.
and as his thrusts increase in force, you start to realize that cheol is nothing if he is not relentless. just when you think you've whimpered his name so much you think you might lose your voice, he's ramming into you harder, punching the air right out of your lungs as broken moans and squeaks that have him losing his damn mind.
"what a fuckin' angel, creaming me cock so well," he praises, yanking you back and forth at an unforgiving pace to match his calculated thrusts. you feel like you're being thrown around in the best way possible, body throttling every time his hips crash against your ass and cause you to lurch forward and arch your back even more.
and as he goes on, the rub of his cock against you, the press of his balls against your clit, his hand in your mouth and pressing against your jaw—it's all so much and so fast and so good until you're shaking and thrashing in his hold.
"mmf—cheolie, wan' cum," you choke out when you feel his cock twitch inside of you.
"yeah? my pretty angel's gon' cum on my cock?"
"yeah-huh," you answer dazedly, body jerking back and forth as his hips snap more haphazardly now, but still hitting that one sweet spot that has your vision going bleary. "can i cum, cheolie?"
and you ask him so fucking sweetly, he can't hold it in anymore, dazedly grunting out something along the lines of, "yeah, angel, cum f'me," before he spills his hot seed inside of you. the sensation of his cum painting your walls white is the final thing you need before joining cheol with your own orgasm, clenching around him so tightly that it has him gripping down on your hips in a way that you know you'll have bruises tomorrow. not that you mind.
how could you, when you just had the most mind blowing orgasm of your life with the hottest guy you've ever met. as you twitch against him, cheol finally pulls himself out and you whimper lowly at the feeling of being empty even though you know you'd probably pass out if you had his dick in you any longer.
gently, cheol strokes your back and caresses the taught muscles, untying the apron that quite literally had you in a chokehold, letting it fall from your figure. "'m sorry," he murmurs into your neck, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder, "was i too rough?"
"n-no," you say, face burning when you realize just how croaky and fucked your voice has become. cheol only laughs at you as you dig your face into your hands as you mumble bashfully, "it was ... great." you're slightly embarrassed, yes, but when you catch the look of endearment on cheol's face, you start to think twice.
as you both attempt to even out your breaths, cheol looks down at you panting against the counter, cum spilling out of your fluttering folds. vaguely, he wonders what you'll look like in a bikini in the bahamas. huh, he thinks, maybe he'll have to ask soobin if it's okay to bring an extra certain someone with them on their vacation this summer.
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a/n. how i managed to get this out in one day i don't know. the cheol effect i guess. anyways, hope u enjoyed!
tags. @xcynthiaaa @synthetickitsune @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @blinkjunhui @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji @marzmeltdown @todorokiskitten (strikethrough could not be tagged)
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spitdrunken · 2 months
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Vox x Reader Relationship Headcanons
This post contains SPOILERS in the sense that it is based off of the version of Vox as presented in episode 2. None of the actual plot points featured within are discussed. notes: background vox x valentino / polyamory (reader only dates vox), extremely unhealthy relationships, stalking, manipulation, hypnosis, power imbalance. kidnapping + physical abuse mention (neither done by vox)
To catch the eye of a demon as powerful as Vox is not an ideal situation. While he could be considered more levelheaded than your average demon, and certainly is when compared to his associates, he still has things that rile him up like no other. No, he doesn’t have a whole string of sexual partners to use and abuse like Valentino does, but that makes the weight of his gaze all the more crushing when it does fall upon someone.
Once you’ve got his interest, it’s practically impossible to slip away from him. He’s got vantage points all across the Pride Ring, being able to slip in and out of its many scattered screens with ease. While the usual tracking Vox Media subjects its customers to is already an invasion of privacy, yours would be on a whole other level.
With how inescapable his company is amongst Sinner demons, it’s more than likely you’ve at least got some kind of device he’d be able to peer into. As soon as your phone is being plugged into a port, he’d be skimming through your messages and search history. Though your face-to-face meetings might have been minimal or non-existent at this point, he would already know far more about you than most of your friends. …You should really clear out your search history more often. But, hey, he’s not unhappy about it! There’s no traces of his presence as soon as he’s done.
Vox cares a great deal about his reputation and image. Not only because he’s the very face of a high-earning brand, but it is also simply the kind of person he is. Whereas someone like Valentino might have gone right ahead and shot any possible partner in the head, Vox is much more careful than that. What would people think, if he simply went around and started electrocuting a bunch of unknowns to death? No, that’s just not his way of doing things whatsoever.
Even besides that, there’s also much more satisfaction in it, to him, to convince you to leave them and join him, of your own accord. Vox has always been the brain behind all operations, the meticulous and thoughtful one, the one who got investors on board and appeared in interviews. In other words, he’s become quite good with words, and can easily come off as charming whenever he so wishes. That is exactly the way he will present himself to you, at least at first: a demon unlike other demons, practically a gentleman.
You wouldn’t have known him from his early days, the time where he still made mistakes, and nobody knew his name. When he invites you over for dinner (through an email that you’re convinced is fake spam, the first couple of times you receive it), he wants to appear nothing but infallible and powerful to you. You, who is only familiar with him through screens, as a flawless news presenter, gameshow host, and much more. A smile would never leave his screen, and he is constantly courteous.
He’s got a couple of expensive gifts at the ready as well, ones that hail from his own company. Perhaps it’s the newest iteration in his own line of phones, or a brand-new kind of security system. He’ll wave off any kind of dismissal of his gift, telling to just take it, you don’t even know how many of those he has lying around! Trust him. (In fact, they are modified to grant him even more easy access into your life. A constant stream of information directed at him, with Vox never even having to enter your device anymore.)
In a place like the Pride Ring in Hell, existence is demeaning at best, and utterly miserable at worst, for the average demon. Vox is more than aware of this and, at first, doesn’t even try his absolute best to sweep you off your feet. The power and the safety net someone such as himself would provide would be more than enough for most people. For the average demon, time spent by his side would be a vast improvement, and no one can deny that.
And, in this case, he is most likely interested in someone with far less power than him: you. Whether actively aware of it or not, and if he was, he’d never admit it, a part of Vox desires to be with someone from whom affection comes more easily. And that is… Not Valentino. Not that he’d ever separate from him, mind you, you’d simply be the antithesis to him. If you aren’t, he’ll make you something closer to that.
One of the largest drawbacks that immediately becomes noticeable, is the political target spending time around Vox makes you. Whether he purposefully makes the two of you appear in Hell’s largest tabloid, or only goes someplace where the two of you are sure to be spotted, you’ll surely become a demon worthy of kidnapping after this. It is exactly this, and the fear that comes along with it, that Vox would weaponize against you.
Wouldn’t it be much better, and safer, to stay in one of the company’s buildings? You’re bound to get kidnapped anywhere else, you know. He’s just looking out for you! Really though, he’d never let something like that happened to you. Not only because such an occurence would cause his reputation to take a great hit, but also because he cares! The praises he heaps on top of you are never outright lies, though some are perhaps exaggerated. He wouldn’t spend so much time on a demon he wasn’t genuinely interested in.
Vox, to the vast majority of people, would come on too strong, and too fast. The kind of attention that comes from someone who hasn’t been denied anything in a long time. At the same time, underneath his collected demeanor, seen in his stalking and meticulous collection of information, there is something that could be seen as a glimmer of desperation.
One might stop and think that, if he truly were as capable and faultless as he makes himself out to be, why would he go through all of this trouble? Wouldn’t simply being himself, or something rather close to it, be enough? This is truly where the heart of the issue, his deeply-hidden insecurity, shines through. Besides just the way the thought of being rejected by you upsets him, as well as he tries to hide it, he can’t simply back out, now that he’s spent so much time around you. He’d never live it down.
If, for some reason, ‘diplomacy’ and his usual wooing doesn’t work… He’s an Overlord for a reason. He still has plenty of tricks left up his sleeve. He can manipulate any digital image he wants, including video, without ever touching editing software. Vox can show you the people closest to you saying outright brutal things about you, with their exact mannerisms and voice. All data gathered through the various devices of his he owns, then capable of creating replicas. In a limited way, he can bend reality to his will.
If even that doesn’t work, he has his powers of hypnosis as a last resort. In this case, he doesn’t like having to use them, would have preferred the satisfaction over getting you to fawn over him all on your own… But it’s just so much easier to plant a little trigger inside your brain. For him to snap his fingers, and have you become more agreeable. Your thoughts growing that tiniest bit hazier, your head the slightest bit heavier.
All you have to do is look into his eyes, and take a deep breath… That’s better, isn’t it? What were you even getting so upset about before, huh? (And again, hypnosis is a last resort here. He’s spent so many years dealing with Valentino’s temper tantrums that he’s an expert at diffusing any kind of argument, and nothing surprises anymore.)
Vox wouldn’t be likely to physically hurt you at all. He sees himself as being capable of more self-control than that, even when in the throes of jealousy. Really, the one you should be most afraid of during this entire ordeal is Valentino. While their relationship is by no means monogamous, and it never will be, he’s still used to being the center of attention. He uses violence and unpredictability to have Vox, largely, at his every beck and call. While Vox isn’t used to having denied things, Valentino’s is many times worse about it.
Initially, he ignores you. Designating you as some kind of fling, not even worthy of being one of his whores, soon ready to be forgotten. Vox doesn’t do those kinds of things all that often but, hey, anything’s bound to happen with an eternity of time to kill, right? It’s only when you become a more permanent fixture in their life that he really becomes more of a threat.
He’ll let his temper cut loose, specifically during times where the two of you are spending time together, causing mayhem around the company. If Vox’s attention is entirely unwanted, this may even be a welcome reprieve for you. Still, Valentino being jealous of you should be about the last thing you want. Frankly, it makes you liable to get shot on a bad day, or because of a poorly worded comment.
…Perhaps it would be better to stay close to Vox, then.
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shadowfoxsilver · 4 days
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Some tips on how to spot a blog that’s trying to scam you by pretending to be in Palestine:
Check the date of the pinned post if they have one. It likely is only a few hours old at best or a few days old.
Check how many posts the account has and if they’re all just reblogs of a trending post or popular post. Usually scammers reblog just a few then nothing else. Their only original post is the pinned one and maybe a few asks they answered.
Search the contents of their pinned post/aid post and see if it comes up on a real fundraiser site. Scammers tend to steal their info off of real people and real fundraisers hoping no one will notice. They’ll claim their fundraiser is pending but they don’t run or own anything they’re taking from. Some will even steal names to impersonate people.
You’ll only get these asks if you actively post about Palestine or share Palestine related posts. These accounts will often share the same posts then contact you via asks asking you to share their post. They will continue asking even if you tell them you don’t have money. They won’t read your blog so even having a ‘don’t sent donation asks’ in the bio or pinned won’t stop them. They just want you to share their post and won’t take no for an answer.
Often times you’ll get the same ask from entirely different accounts or the ask is tweaked by using parts of another ask. But the post itself will always be the same as the previous account before it was removed for being a scam. These scammers reuse the same exact ask so often searching the ask will pull up past accounts who sent it.
The pfp and images are often stolen from the real fundraiser that the scammers have copied. When you call them out on it, they’ll usually send you hate mail instead of explaining anything. And then block you only to send you the same mutual aid ask from another blog because they think you won’t notice.
If you answer these asks, and know it’s a scam, call out the scammer and link to legitimate fundraisers or useful links to verified charities. This way the scammers ask will be seen if searched and people who see it will find sources for supporting actual people.
Not all mutual aid posts for Palestine is a scam. It’s just suggested to do some research into a brand new account asking you for money. Please support verified charities and fundraisers made by people who have confirmed their legitimacy in some way or have proved they are the person that it was made for. It’s unfortunate these scams are happening, but they do exist.
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kaciebello · 2 months
Text
Delivery fees
Slytherin boys x Hufflepuff! reader (use of she/her, no use of y/n)
Masterlist
Delivery Express ✿
Summary: The reader sees an opportunity to run an untapped market in Hogwarts. Business opportunities arise and brands need to be made.
warnings: mention cigarettes, nothing else really
Authors note: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. I want to spread this into a one-shot series. Proofread by me and me only :(
Previously: Don’t shoot the messenger
Next part: Left on delivered
Word count: 1262
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Notes to deliver - 14
The group of boys was relaxing in the courtyard, some sitting on the uncomfortable stone benches, one individual was leaning against a tree that provided them shade and two more sat on the floor forming a semi-circle of their friend group. Nobody dares to approach the ‘ dangerous’ group of individuals for their own sake. Well, nobody but a certain Hufflepuff girl with a bright yellow bow in her hair.
Who, coincidentally, was making her way over to them. As fast as she appeared she sat down and made herself comfortable between her friend's legs who was sitting on a bench. A string of greetings could be heard from the group but the girl paid them no mind. She had business to take care of.
“ Hello, Sunshine. All good?” Asked Lorenzo leaning over the girl nested between his legs hoping to catch a glimpse of her face. She shook her head and dug out her trust notebook from her bag. “ I can't come up with a name.” she just says and ignores the stares the group gives her. Lorenzo gives up and just plays with the bow in her hair. 
“ Name for what?” Asks The boy leaning on the tree, Theodor. Now too, sitting down at the base of it. She looks up from her notebook with a sigh. “Isn't it obvious? My delivery business. I can’t go nameless for long.”  Nods and hums of agreement sound from the boys yet no suggestion in sight so she continues. “ I was going to name it Badger Express, but my muggle friends informed me that something called Panda Express exists and that they deliver Chinese food. I simply can not rival that.” She whines and crosses something out of her notebook.
“ You talk to muggles?” Asked Draco, seemingly offended by even being in the existence of the word. To his dismay no answer just a pencil is thrown his way. “Royal Mail is also taken, so that's that one crossed out.”  A huff makes them all turn their heads to Blaise, making his eyes widen with all the attention. “ Hogwarts express?” He suggests with a sheepish shoulder shrug. “ You mean like the train that takes us here and back every year?” argues Mattheo on behalf of the girl. “ What else was I supposed to say?” Snaps back Blaise. “ A better idea” whispers Draco and some heads turn to him immediately. A laugh can be heard leaving Theodor as a playful argument breaks out between the boys. 
The girl just sighed and turned her head up to look at Lorenzo. “ Your friends lack creativity love, we shall find you new ones.” Lorenzo just nods wordlessly after observing them himself. “ I think badger delivery could work nicely.” He suggests, the girl just nods, as this is as good as it’s gonna get from any of them.
“ The name does not matter right now. I have gotten complaints about the charge.” She announces effectively stopping the fight as all the heads turn to her. Confusion on their faces and pure despair of hers. “ How much do you charge?” Asks Mattheo opening his cigarette packet and passing it over to Theodor. 
“ 5 galleons.”
“Pocket change.” Ignoring his remark and declining the cigarette Theo was offering to her. “ I think I am going to charge depending on what they want. Because if I have to deliver one more love note dosed in amortentia my head will burst” She wonders aloud, not looking for an answer from them. Her hand searches for a pencil that now rests behind Malfoy's ear and immediately gives up when she notices its place.” What does it smell like to you?” Asks her Theodor as if they were girls at a sleepover doing facemasks and sharing who their crushes are. “Wouldn't you like to know.” She answers her eyes narrowing at the boy.
“ I bet I can guess who it smells like.” Says Mattheo with way more confidence than needed. A sigh leaves her, fully aware she can no longer stop teenage boy shenanigans. Wild-named queues are thrown into the circle as it looks more like a game of Guess Who at this point. “ I guess it's one of us.” Answers Blaise who, in the meantime, managed to pull out a book and actually read some words. ‘ This tomfoolery…’ she whispered and leaned into her friend sitting behind her.
Silence falls upon the group, the sun decides to peek from behind the could blanket and expose them to direct sunlight for a few seconds. Lorenzo declines a cigarette from Matthew as he continues to play with the girl's hair. A little ‘aha’ from her breaks the silence and they all turn to her like lazy cats disturbed from their sunbathing.
“I can ask the twins if they wanna partner up!” She says with excitement, almost jumping from her spot with it. “ The twins?” Asks Blaise. “ Weasely Twins.” Scoff can be heard from the blond of the group before he lays down to soak up more of the sun, seeming not aware of what sunburn is. “ No think about it, I can distribute their little trinkets and get some money from it! It's a brilliant idea!” The girl gets up and brushes her skirt with newfound determination. Few eyes followed her, some didn't even bother to pick up their gaze from a book or opening their eyes. 
Taking a few steps to the blond she snatches her pencil back before he even registers a shadow is now covering him. Packing her bags she hears her friend. “ Why are you even doing this?” He asks with genuine curiosity.
“Money.”
“Why?”
“ Merlin, not everyone comes from old wizard money, Berkshire.”
“ You do tho.” Silence falls upon them again as the girl has no valid answer to the argument. Deciding to pack her bags instead when a few notes fall out of her bag. “ You have something for us there, mail girl?” Asks Mattheo with a raised eyebrow and points to the notes. Frantic nods are her answer as she picks them up and starts distributing the right notes. “ Each of you have one, well, not you Theodor you have two, for some reason.” She says. “ Maybe I am just that popular with the ladies. “ I don't know man, one was really pissed when she gave it to me.” His smile flatters a bit before returning to the smirk he normally wears.
Her friend forms a pout on his face and grabs her wrist from his sitting position. “ Nothing for me?” He asks. “ Boy, you told me not to deliver you anything, the only notes you're getting from me are the ones I take in potions.” A smile spreads on his face and he lets go.
“Oi, sunshine. Do you think I can get those potions notes too-” “Oh Is that Fred and George? I've got to go, bye!” She grabs her stuff and hurries to the ginger twin boys that heard her calling. An offended scoff can be heard from Blaise before the group remembers that they actually have potions homework and all scurry like mice in a hurry.
Notes to deliver - 9
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eilidh-eternal · 2 months
Text
Touch Up
Part of the Martyr in the Making series | Part 1 | Masterlist |
| 18 + MDNI | TattooArtist!Ghost x f!reader | cw for dub con/non con themes and heavy implications of grooming |
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There's an insatiable itch beneath your skin that has nothing to do with the fresh ink and plasma that seeps from punctured flesh, and everything to do with a smug bastard named Simon fucking Riley.
Five days earlier…
“How ya doin’ sweetheart?” He has no right to sound this way. No right to let honey and smoke mix in his throat and spill from his lips in dark, dulcet tones. You blame the buzzing in your head, ricocheting off of your skull with each searing stroke of the needle he wields.
“Fine,” you say in a whispery breath. The hum of the needle goes quiet. That’s okay. The trilling heart in your chest is doing a fine job of replacing it. 
Pools of liquid amber, dark and rich like brandy, slide from the nearly finished linework to your face, half hidden in your hoodie, and flood your gaze with an intoxicating warmth. There’s no running from it, from the fire he’s started. The flames he fans and tends to with each murmuration of praise licks up your spine in searing tendrils, smothers the remnants of a fragmented rationale in a blanket of smoldering cinders.
A pierced brow glides up towards the fraying hem of his black knit cap as he straightens from his hunched over position. “I’ll ask one more time, an’ I expect an honest answer—d’ya need a break?” Amber petrifies under his scrutiny, as if you’re some antediluvian creature, suspended in the thrall of his gaze. Something pretty to perch on a shelf and marvel at.
Your eyes dart away, searching the patterns in the woodgrain of the cabinets for answers, divining particle board like a tarot spread. As if any of them would sound less pathetic than the truth. 
His hand slides, branding weight upon your skin, away from your waist and you fight the whine clawing up your throat. Swallow it down with the rest of the bad ideas right behind it. Plastic wheels scuff across fading concrete floors and the frayed edges of distressed denim replaces wood. Black, like everything else he wears, down to the powdery gloves and surgical mask. Bet his boxers are black, too.
When your eyes dare to meet his again the flames licking up your spine splutter, send sparks dancing up your vertebrae in shivery, glittering plumes. “I’m okay. Could use some water,” you settle on. It’s a shaky truth, flimsy and liable to crumble, but a truth nonetheless. You’d rather suffer whatever consequence comes with lying to him than lay yourself bare.
As if you aren’t already half naked in front of the man. As if he hasn't been toying with the waistband of your thong the entire session.
Your admission seems to mollify him, but the black titanium bar curving through a dusting of blond twitches. Remains cocked as he rocks back, leans across the counter in a truly obscene display, long tee clinging to every dip and curve, and plucks your water bottle from your bag.
It looks silly and small in his hand, dented metal covered in a collage of overlapping stickers, no trace of the scratched black paint besides the exposed underside. The tendons in his forearms shift beneath fabric as he turns it over to study the sticker Gaz had given you, ‘141 collective’ printed in a gothic font. There’s a similar font inked across the sliver of skin peeking out at his wrist, black ink still richly pigmented even though it looks to be more than a few years old. Must not get a lot of sun.
“Open.” You blink, several times, and come to the hazy realization that while your eyes have been busy mapping every groove and plane, tracing the prominent veins on the back of the hand draped over his knee, he’s maneuvered the water bottle to your lips. 
They part at the subtle pressure of the spout, and he tips it forward, pressing plastic between chapped lips that close around it to take a hesitant sip.
“Another,” he demands, and you try not to notice the way his focus settles on your throat, tracking each contraction of delicate muscle as you drink. “Good girl.”
You nearly choke.
And he pays it no mind. Gives no pause to the widening of your eyes, pupils flared to the limbus, or the palpable heat radiating from your skin. He merely sets the bottle back on the counter and folds his arms over the bulk of his chest.
“Just water?” he questions, and you start to nod in answer, but quickly remember your—or rather, his—rules. 
“Just water,” you echo in confirmation, and it’s received with a critical grunt. Like he can see through the paper thin restraints you cling to, the only thing keeping your lips from speaking on behalf of those between your legs.
He shifts back to his tray of inks with a glint in his eye that makes you wonder if maybe you should have said something more. Feigned hunger or fatigue.
“Just this section here–” He taps at the remaining carbon stenciling over your hip. “–and we’ll move on to shading.”
“Okay,” you mumble, and a gloved thumb brushes over raw, freshly tattooed skin. Traces his work in a gesture akin to reverence, sweetened by the lingering sting left in its wake—and you fail to stifle the moan that’s been building in the back of your throat for several hours.
When he repeats the motion and receives an identical response, the mask stretches over his face, pulls taut over the prominent bridge of his nose, and he curls his fingers into your hip. His chest rumbles with muted laughter at the whine that punches out of you, thighs clenching around the pillow wedged between them. 
“Gonna need ya a bit closer,” he croons, and gives you no warning before he hooks his fingers through the elastic pulled taut over your waist, giving it a sharp tug. “C’mon, on your tummy for me…atta girl.” He takes to arranging your limbs how he wants them, left leg practically in his lap to keep the skin from creasing, ass on full display.
You bury your face in the pillow and crook of your own arm, vehemently ignoring the way he grips your backside to work on the remaining outline, and the surge of wanton arousal warming your neck and cheeks.
Present… 
Delicate, looping letters, woven seamlessly into the outline. Hardly noticeable if you aren’t looking for them. 
They glare at you in the mirror, the memory of strong hands a phantom touch against the surrounding tender skin.
S.R.
Simon fucking Riley.
It’s not enough that he’s under your skin, he has to be inked on it too.
“Well, angel, I know you come often, but I didn’t expect to see—”
“—Where’s Simon?” You cut John off, in no mood for his dilatory remarks, and he cants a quizzical brow.
“He’s finishing up a consult right now, is there—”
“—I need to speak with him. Now,” you demand, trembling fingers curling into fists at your side. 
You couldn’t care less what he’s doing presently. You’ll drag him off the studio floor by that stupid spiked bar in his damn brow. He’s going to—
“Hey, hunny bunny!” Kyle appears behind him, walking out of what you assume to be an office with a tablet in hand and his usual sunny disposition. Rhinestones and pointed canines catch in the studio lighting when he smiles and tucks his tablet under his arm, coming to stand beside John. His gaze dips to the healing skin of your thigh. “That the piece Si did?” It’s barely visible below the hemline of your skirt.
“Yeah,” you grit through your teeth, jaw tense with the effort to maintain a modicum of decorum. “It needs touching up in a few places.”
His eyes catch on something behind you, and you’re about to reiterate your demand, but you fall short when an all too familiar weight settles on your nape. 
“‘S all this fussing about?” Simon questions, and you jerk away from his grasp.
Your first mistake.
“You—” you hiss and lift the hem of your skirt, “—need to fix this.”
He tilts his head to study the healing tattoo. “What about it?”
“You know damn well what I’m talking about.” You know he does because the smug bastard is smirking beneath his mask, fabric stretched tight over his jaw and eyes narrowed in amusement.
He motions towards the hallway, “Let’s have a look, then,” and doesn’t wait to see if you follow him. Knows that you’re on his heels as he leads you back to the same private room. You don’t sit on the chair, electing to stand beside it instead with your arms folded tight to your chest, and you scowl at where he leans against the counter, posture mirroring yours in a decidedly mocking manner. “What’s got ya all riled up sweetheart?”
Definitely mocking
“This isn’t the design I agreed to,” you huff indignantly.
“Sure it is.”
“No, it isn’t.” You take a step closer, the toes of your sneakers nearly touching his beat up combat boots. “I never fucking agreed to have your name tattooed on me. I’m not some tramp for you to—”
“—‘S not my name,” he corrects, and you don’t know what heats your blood more; the fact that he has the gall to correct you or that he isn’t even trying to deny what he’s done. “Jus’ my initials.”
“Same fucking thing,” you seethe, jabbing an angry finger into his chest.
Your second, and final, mistake.
Calloused fingers curl around your wrist and pull, yanking you further into his space until you’re standing chest to chest. He holds you there by your wrist and the firm grasp he has on your jaw, cheeks pinched between his thumb and forefinger.
“Someone needs a reminder about manners,” he tuts, and you whine against the pressure on your jaw. “A reminder about her rules.” His hand drops from your face to settle on your shoulder and the scathing retort coiled on your tongue withers to ash amid disbelief when he pushes down against your shoulder, forcing you onto the stool beside the chair. “Stay,” he warns when you shift forward, already halfway onto your feet again, and the undercurrent of a growl is warning enough.
“What are the rules I gave you last time?” He leans back against the counter again, arms folded loosely over his chest, and his fingers tap rhythmically against his bicep, staring down at you expectantly. 
You glare up at him, fingers curling into the fabric of your skirt on top of your thighs, and he cocks that stupid pierced brow.
This is ridiculous. 
But if there’s any chance at getting him to erase the brand he’s inked into your skin…
“Give a verbal answer,” you bite out.
“And?”
“Tell you what I need.”
“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He stalks forward to press a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to his when you don’t deign to look at him. Amid the infuriating rush of warmth to your core, you briefly consider what would happen if you were to rear back and bite him.
“No,” you admit reluctantly, and he hums low in his chest, clearly pleased with your answer. 
“So tell me what you need.” His thumb sweeps over your chin, traces the contour of your bottom lip, and you press your legs further together. 
All the anger, hot and swirling in your chest, mixes with the smoky whorls of his words until you can't distinguish between the two. Can’t untangle the intrepid need to rebel from the desire to yield in supplication to the enigmatic man towering over you. 
“I- I want…” Your words get tangled up with it, coming out in a stuttering mess. “Fix it.”
“Fix what, sweetheart?” The way he stares into your eyes is nothing short of maddening. Fathomless pools of amber, beckoning you to bathe in their warmth, and like a moth to a flame you go willingly.
“Fix me,” you croak, and he shakes his head. “Please.” 
“Don’t need to fix ya, sweetheart. You’re mine–” He crouches down before you and slides a roughened palm over your knee, up your thigh to the tender skin beneath your skirt. “–Says so, right here.” He traces each letter of his initials inked onto your skin. “And what’s mine is perfect. Just the way it is. Understand?”
No. But you nod anyway.
“Words,” he insists. “Need to hear it.”
“I understand,” you murmur, still sifting through the haze in his eyes.
“Good girl,” he croons, sickeningly sweet, and pets a hand over your hair, thumb tracing the shell of your ear and sending a shiver skittering down your spine. “All soft and sweet for me, told ya we’d get ya there. Just need a little training, hm? Gonna let me train that pretty, empty head, aren’t ya?”
“Yeah,” you respond absently, and his eyes flare with a molten, ravenous desire.
Next>>>
©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.
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ssinboo · 1 year
Text
Midnights To Come
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summary: After finding campus heartthrob Kim Mingyu absolutely butchering his trousers trying to fix the hole he'd busted in them, you offer his your sewing abilities. As retribution, he thinks that nothing is more fitting than his ultimate mission: getting you laid.
or
You and Mingyu spend an unforgettable night together.
pairing: University!AU - Popular!Mingyu x Unpopular!F!Reader, reader does read on the thicker side? Nothing specific.
word count: 6.8k (30~ minute read)
warnings: protected sex (finally), fingering (F rec), drinking, partying
a/n: Thank you so much for the love <3 This is mostly inspired by Taylor Swift's older music lol I'm starting a new job soon, so I'll be mostly MIA for march and perhaps april TT
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Kim Mingyu was the ex-boyfriend of a friend’s friend’s cousin, unforgettably handsome with the sort of beauty that belonged in Hollywood. A very tall glass of gorgeous with an incredible personality to boot, that’s why everyone adored him. He was majoring in business to follow in his father’s footsteps but was a star at football and made sure no one would forget just who was the best lineman on their amateur team. 
And you’d met once or twice, briefly. Definitely not enough for him to come even close to becoming acquainted with your existence, but more than sufficient for him to leave his mark. He was a campus Idol, a guy you admired for his popularity and his way with people.
It was at a senior’s party your friend had dragged you to, that you met again. You were quietly searching for some solace in an empty room upstairs, when you saw him fiddling with his pants – It was hard not to notice his large frame struggling with a pair of jeans in the dark bedroom corner.
Being quite fair, at first you believed he was relieving himself, carnally. That was a puzzling sight as horrifying as it would be— I mean, the man had lines of women throwing themselves to be his, why would he just jerk off?  And then, you noticed the stapler he was using to completely butcher the fabric in a desperate way to fix the large hole. 
“Oh my God, just stop!” You exclaim, not being able to watch such abuse any longer. He was known to wear brand-name goods and just the thought of high quality fabric being assaulted by staples made your skin churn.
You, however, had totally forgotten to announce your presence. 
Mingyu jumps, falling off the bed in a split-second, clashing into the carpet with a thunderous thump. Eyes blown wide like a moose in headlights, he stares at you from his half-down half-on-the-bed position, suddenly, completely aware of his nakedness.
“Oh- Fuck–!” He exclaims, stumbling off the bed and pulling the jeans to cover his brand-name boxers.
“OH!” You also seem to realise how inappropriate it was to simply barge into his intimate moment with the stapler. “I’m sorry!” You yell from behind your palms, eyes tightly shut. 
“...No problem?” It sounds more of a question than anything. I mean, it was the polite thing to say when someone says “I’m sorry” however, there was a problem. 
“Do you need any help?” You ask, still muffled and hidden behind your hands. Mingyu has no idea on how to reply, he is familiar with those words, especially coming from a lady, but this scenario is totally different from the sexy ones he’s accustomed to. “I’m a seamstress,” Your brain urges for an explanation, as to make the situation somewhat less awkward.
He seems to be content with that. “You are?”
“Yes!” You turn around, fishing around your purse for a small sewing kit, pink plastic box with teeny tiny everything. “I have some needles and thread.” 
“Oh, thank God!”
That’s how you find yourself sitting on some stranger’s bed with a half-naked Mingyu – You’re carefully patching up the seams on his jeans while he sits cross-legged with a pillow between his legs. 
Who would’ve known that years into University, your closest call with a boy would be such a weird scenario. Sitting with the campus heartthrob as you stitch up his busted trousers. What a story to tell your friends. 
“I’m Mingyu, by the way,” He breaks the awkward silence, reaching out his hand; He then realises you are occupied and takes it back.
You tell him your name, eyes glued to the intricate detailing on the garment.
“Are you new here?” He asks, curiously studying your face.
“No,” You mutter, holding a needle between your lips so you can inspect your stitches. 
“How come we’ve never met?” 
“We have.”
Mingyu adjusts himself, leaning closer, “No”
“Yes?” 
“No!” 
“You dated my friend’s friend’s cousin,” You explain, though it doesn’t help.
“I’ve dated plenty of friends’ friends’ cousins’,” Mingyu half-chuckles, practically patting himself on the back for that one. 
You roll your eyes, “We met once or twice, nothing major.”
“I would’ve remembered you.” 
“You didn’t,” Laughing, you don’t even notice he’s taken offence to his own forgetfulness.
“I don’t forget a pretty girl,” It is said as a matter of factly, a worldly known truth of sorts.
“You haven’t.” 
“I forgot you, apparently,” Mingyu is more frustrated than you’d expect – Than anyone would expect for such a laid back guy.
“I’m not pretty, though?” 
Oh, he is furious at such a statement, “What?! Of course you are. You are a solid 7.5, no joke, dude.”
A solid seven point five? Wow. Coming from anyone else, that could be taken as an offence, I mean, what about you made them go so high up the scale yet not even give a full number? But you were talking about THE Kim Mingyu.
That not only tickles your ego in the right spot, but does get a good laugh out of you. Mingyu laughs along, not fully grasping the humour of it, but enjoying the sound of your giggles. 
“Thanks,” You smile, pulling out your scissors to clip the last of your thread. “Here, it’s done.” 
He widens his eyes, “So fast?!” 
With a nod, you put everything back in your pocket kit. Mingyu excitedly inspects his trousers and his jaw falls open once he can’t locate where your repairs are. 
“It’s perfect!”
You smile, “Great!” 
“Wow. You are some kind of sewing genius! Thanks! You saved my life”
Mingyu proceeds to rant about how great you are and how amazing your skills are and you should totally work with sewing – you are, and that you should make clothes – you do. All because you are just that good – from a small repair. 
You were happy with just helping him, seeing it as a finished mission, ready to pack up and head home but he would not have that, oh, no. Mingyu was laser focused on repaying your kindness – he said he hates owing people so you had to accept.   His manner of retribution? Partying and maybe, if you got lucky, getting you laid. It was his mission now.
So he dragged you downstairs to meet his inebriated friends, all surprisingly welcoming and not nearly as douchy as you’d expected – Soonyoung was especially keen on having you accompany him on the dance floor. Even drunk, his abilities surpassed any of your own and he absolutely demolished the floor with his intricate choreo. 
Seokmin pulled you from the dance floor to join him on a cheesy karaoke battle, the one feat no man can accomplish being as stone-cold sober as you were. His usually impeccable vocals suffered under the alcohol and strained over high-notes. So you just plucked the first poor soul you saw in the crowd to substitute you as Seokmin’s duet.  
Stumbling through the crowd and away from the karaoke, you finally find Mingyu, giving him “Help me” eyes. He laughs softly at your predicament, stumbling from his friend’s shoulder to wrap his arm around your neck — his exaggerated stature almost sent you crashing down. 
“Come on, no one caught your eye?” He slurs his words, wild tongue running over his pretty lips, classic red solo cup dangerously dangling from his long fingers. You can see from up close the drunken blurriness that glazes his pretty eyes with unhinged impulsiveness.
You chuckle, remembering his goal was to set you up for a “Hot date”. 
“Not at all. But I had fun.” 
“Whaat?!” He whines in frustration, stepping forward so you’re facing each other. His arm is still heavily draped over your shoulders. “You didn’t have fun!” 
“I did!” You argue.
“No…” Mingyu pouts.
“I did! I promise,” Offering him a smile, you await his response. 
“Have a drink with me?” 
God, he was a pro at puppy-dog-eyes. With pouty lips, glistening under the remnants of his drink and sparkling eyes with furrowed brows. 
“I don’t– I don’t drink,” You’re so upset with the idea of disappointing him and his adorable pout though he barely pays it any mind. 
“Then we can do something else! Come on!” 
“No, Mingyu–!” 
But he’s dragging you away from the party, placing the edge of his cup between his teeth so he can snatch his coat from the hangers on his way out. You’re stumbling under his weight and hurried steps, but the night air feels so refreshing after the stuffy frat house you practically forget his intentions. 
The house behind you thumps under the song that blasts through its brick walls, colourful LEDs flashing from open windows. The front yard feels almost completely separate from the party inside, a world apart from the drunk atmosphere that holds the stifling rooms. 
Mingyu drags you toward the pavement and standing before his car, you feel your stomach drop once you see him press the button to open the door. 
“Mingyu– You– You’re drunk. You can’t drive,” You stumble over your words, nervously fidgeting with your clothes, even if you left right now, would he still drive?
“I won’t. You’re sober,” He says as a matter of factly and you hadn’t even considered driving this insanely expensive sports car. 
Mingyu opens the driver’s door and stands there, gesturing for you to get in. A true gentleman. With a relieved breath, you do. 
It’s a convertible – Of course, it is, no other car would fit his personality as well. The chassis is coloured a blinding firetruck red and the rims are a polished silver, it’s so clearly well-maintained you feel nervous about driving it. The leather seats smell so vividly of his cologne, woody and fresh.
Mingyu closes your door and jogs to his seat, he jumps over his door with ease, settling onto the beige leather seat with a soft thump.
“Here’s ignition, turn signals, speed and all that,” He leans over and points to each item. 
“Is it stick?”
“Nah, I had it modified, it’s completely automatic.” 
“Wow, disappointed in you… I thought you’d drive stick like a real man,” You tease, leaning over to check the height for the seat – It’s obviously too far back so you adjust it forward.
“Too busy getting my dick sucked to worry about changin’ gears,” He sticks his tongue between his teeth, leaning back with a proud smile. 
“Oh, god,” You groan, “Should I be touching any surface on this car?”
“Nope.”
You laugh.
After putting on your seatbelt, you look over and notice that of course, he’s not wearing his. With a roll of your eyes, you lean over and pull the seat belt over his chest. Mingyu would’ve flinched had he not been tipsy, his eyes linger on your body over his, how your left hand holds the belt at his chest while your right hand fiddles with the lock. 
And you have such pretty long lashes that flutter along your cheeks as you focus on finding the clip for the belt. A soft furrow between your brows, you’re sighing and biting on your lower lip; He notices the pretty shade of red that you wear.
But you’re already done and it’s clipped on with a satisfying click. 
“Driver’s rules, shotgun shuts his mouth,”  You say before he can protest the safety measures.
You smile so brightly, happily turning back to the wheel, excited over this incredible machine that lays in your hands. More than the alcohol in his bloodstream, your joy is intoxicating.  
And the car comes alive with a satisfying roar, you feel the soft vibrating from the wheel course up your wrists. For you, following the speed limit felt perfect, the wheel turned so smoothly and the pedals felt the perfect height. But the little devil on the passenger’s seat kept egging you on to go faster. 
Caving to his wishes, you take the highway out of town, breezing through asphalt with no sight of other cars. The confidence that such a smooth ride gives is true, you feel yourself steadily increasing the speed much to Mingyu’s satisfaction.
The wind in your hair, caressing your face with the exhilarating night air, the thrilling constant hum of such a potent engine working to your heart’s content. Nothing could beat the constellation of artificial lighting that lit the night scenery, every building held its own collection.
“Where should I go?” You ask, suddenly remembering you’re supposed to have a destination, your eyes absolutely glued to the road. 
“Somewhere nice,” Mingyu hums, thinking for a second.
He leans back, his left hand is carelessly draped over your headrest and you can feel his fingers fidget with your hair so unconsciously. Any of his go-to destinations were made for getting hot and heavy, which wasn’t the goal tonight; He wanted to repay you for helping him out and you hadn’t shown any interest in… other manners of payment. So it left him with only one option. 
“Take a left next turn,” He says, leaning forward to dig through the glovebox. 
Mingyu finds a pair of sunglasses, putting them on despite the very obvious lack of Sunlight. He offers you a spare set, and though you’d love to enjoy wearing Prada sunglasses that probably cost more than your entire net worth, you also enjoy seeing anything on the road. So you push them on top of your head, pushing your hair back. 
Somewhere along the deserted road, Mingyu grabs the AUX cord, connecting it to his phone and going through his very generic musical taste. But the atmosphere is so perfect you can’t help but enjoy the bubblegum pop blasting from the dashboard. You even sing along. 
It’s a comfortable silence, filled with Pop music and laughter. 
You drive for almost an hour under his strict directions, until you reach a dirt road. There’s an alarm blaring in your mind, realising that you’re far from civilization, in the middle of nowhere with a total stranger. I mean, serial killers were always described as charismatic, right? 
Making a deal with yourself, you decide that if he does anything even remotely suspicious you’re running the car off the road. You’ll die, but he’ll go with you.
Against your anxiety, however, he tells you to pull up at a clearing just ahead and once you arrive, there’s no doubt on why he chose this place.
From atop this hill, you can see far into the city, its blinding lights nothing but tiny stars on the horizon, the noise pollution of a bustling metropolis is totally gone and replaced by the calming murmurs of nature. Before he can even say anything, you’re leaving the car to admire such a view. 
The moon is full, a pale veil over both of you, standing in the starry sky as the queen, ruling over her stars. The light caressing your body with the warmth of the perfect Summer night.
“What do you think?” Mingyu asks, leaning against the hood of his car. 
You can’t help but to briefly admire the picturesque scene he paints with his playboy aura and Hollywoodian beauty, leaning against this straight-out-of-a-movie convertible. He has this side smirk, knowing this breathtaking landscape can’t be topped by any of your past experiences. 
“It’s…” There aren’t words you can find to describe such a view.  “I– Thank you. It’s gorgeous.”
He visibly relaxes, as if he was waiting anxiously for your opinion, “It’s my favourite place.”
“I can see why,” You laugh, joining him, though you have a little trouble stabilising your butt over the hood.
“Everything feels small when I come here,” He explains. 
Turning to face him, your stomach is filled with annoying little butterflies that flutter around and tickle your insides with foolish thoughts. 
His moonlit profile is somehow prettier than his beauty in any other lighting, his perfect nose and high cheekbones and his eyes, God, his eyes. They hold in their dark orbs, all of the stars and worlds, in its ethereal shine. 
You hum, prying your gaze from him before your brain gets any outlandish rushes of dopamine and creates unattainable ideas. 
Mingyu leans back, his lanky body hitting the windshield, his eyes stare up at the stars. At this moment, he wishes he knew constellations from the top of his head, then maybe, he could impress you with his astronomical knowledge. 
“You look like a movie star right now… I feel like I’m in a movie,” Joking, you lean on your elbow, unconsciously following his body with your own. 
“What do you wanna be when you grow up?” He asks on a spur of the moment.
You laugh, “When I grow up?”
Mingyu realises what you meant by your question and laughs along, “You know what I meant.”
Though you’re caught aback, there’s not much thinking to be done, “I want to design clothes.”
He hums, “It suits you, I think.” He didn’t know you that well, but it seemed fitting.
You chuckle, “You?”
Mingyu lets out a long sigh, leaning on his elbows to stare up at you, “CEO, I guess.”
“Have you always wanted to be a CEO?”
His lips press into a thin line and he hesitates on how much he should tell, throwing caution into the air, Mingyu decides to open up. “I honestly… Don’t want to.”
You furrow your brows, “Won’t you take over your father’s company?” 
He nods, “That’s what I should do.”
“Then what do you want to be?”
It’s such an innocent question and in all honesty, sort of childish almost? Something you would ask a small child and just agree with whatever they come up with. But it’s something he was never allowed to question.
“I… Don’t think I know.” 
You hum, “You could be an actor,” It’s a bit of a tease as much as it is the truth. 
Mingyu raises an eyebrow, sitting up so he can face you properly. You have this soft smile on your face that holds so much warmth for a stranger like him, it almost feels undeserving. 
“An actor?” He prods. 
“Yeah,” You shrug, “You just have the vibes for it… Living a thousand lives in just one, I think you could play any character really well. Plus, you have the looks. I always told my friends you have a face that belongs in Hollywood.” It comes out so naturally, you barely realise what you’ve said until he’s staring at you. “I– Sorr–”
Mingyu smashes his lips into yours. 
You squeak, but don’t shy away from his plush lips. 
His left hand reaches for your jaw, fingers softly tracing your cheek with certain hesitancy but you lean into his touch so willingly he can’t help the bubbling feeling that comes to life deep in his belly. 
When your lips part, you feel the night breeze caress the parts of your body he touched and you find your body misses his warmth. 
Your brain simply can’t function. 
In your brilliant academic journey, romance had never been an aspect you entertained. You quickly learned at thirteen that a fairytale story only happens to cute girls with nice hair and pretty bodies. And not the one repeatedly being used as the butt-end of a cruel joke. 
Mingyu represented everything you would never have; A popular, rich guy with amazing hair and looks out of this world. And he was nice, too. Took time of his day to hang out with you and to repay what had been an instinctive action; help out someone. 
It could only have been a mistake, right?
Mingyu, noticing the dread that paints your pretty face, can’t help the cold shiver that takes over his body, “I… I’m sorry.” 
“It’s fine! I won’t tell anyone.” You reply all too fast.
“What?” He blinks a couple of times, “What do you mean?”
“Y’know, I won’t ruin your reputation…”
He practically jumps from the car, standing in front of you, “Say it again.” 
You look up, his towering height has never once been intimidating, until now, “...I won’t tell anyone. I promise.” 
“No, what the fuck do you mean ruin my reputation, why would kissing you ruin it?” His voice possesses such anger you couldn’t even think he was capable of. But you feel yourself getting upset, how long will he torture you with this? Do you need to say with all words how undesirable you are?
“Because no one in their right mind should be seen with a girl like me!” You blurt out, feeling his anger seep into your body.
“A girl like you?” He huffs in disbelief. “A girl that indulged me, was nice to my friends and let me drag her to the middle of nowhere?” Mingyu leans forward, caging your body in between his arms. “ A pretty, kind girl, who helped me without asking anything for it? What kind of girl, tell me.” He orders, his voice in a low, hushed tone that tickles your nose when he speaks.
Speechless, you’re sitting there, face to face with a guy that genuinely shows interest in you, told you you’re pretty for the nth time tonight and has the most kissable lips you’ve seen. 
His jaw is tight with anger, almost as if he’s got a personal vendetta against you self-hatred, but your stupid lustful brain can’t focus on anything but the sharp cut of his jaw, deep veins bulging from tanned skin. 
“Can I kiss you?” He asks, so quietly you think you hallucinated it. But it’s very much true. 
He looks so irresistible, half-lidded eyes staring at your lips while he bites his own. 
“Please,” you exhale, melting into his body when he leans forward. 
You were never a woman of action, preferring when others make the move, but in this moment you have this newfound confidence, meeting his lips halfway, crashing into a fervorous kiss.
It’s nothing like your first, you feel the heat emanating from his body, scorching hot seeping into your skin, burning every nerve it touches with fervorous want. 
His tongue is in your mouth, anxious and exploring and he is humming against your lips such an intoxicating melody that for a second, you’re a stranded sailor falling for the voice of a siren and dipping into the arms of unimaginable beauty.
Saliva drips from your connected lips but he refuses to end the kiss, no. Because you taste of cherry flavoured hard candies, provocatively luscious with a delicious aftertaste that can only leave you longing for more. 
He parts the kiss, leaning back and practically tearing his varsity jacket from his body. You’re watching closely as he lays it behind you, over the car.
Right hand moving to your waist, Mingyu pushes forward until you’re laying on the hood, so pretty. Your body is still finding his, your chest leaning forward so you can mould into his warmth, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, closer, closer. 
You’re breathless, eyes trained on his every move with such incredulity as if you believed you were in a dream, hallucinating every moment so far. 
He can feel every curve of your body pressing tightly against his. It’s evident the effect you’re having on him, blood boiling in his veins with unadulterated desire.
There has never been a moment in his life where he genuinely cared to go slow, to show his passion and intent; Every partner of his had been as much into the act as he had been. 
But you, you’re so fragile and every moment he spends in your presence feels so ephemeral, he can not help the panic that rushes into his body to make it worth it, to make every second last.
His lips trace along your jaw, saliva coating the path he trails down your neck until he reaches your collarbones. And his lips are so gentle and enticing, with their sugary kisses that you lean into because you’ve never felt something so wonderful. 
He nibbles and kisses on your exposed skin, teeth grazing across the teeniest bit of cleavage showing from your borrowed dress. So far, you had done an amazing job at keeping the sounds he elicited from leaving your lips, however this once, you couldn’t hold the breathy mewl that escapes. 
Mingyu freezes, eyes slowly rising up until they meet your face. 
“Oh my god, do it again,” He huffs against your sensitive skin.
“W-What?” You ask.
“That sound you just did, god, you sound so fucking hot,” And he slurs against your chest. Not because of alcohol, no, he had sobered up on the windy car ride, but intoxicated on the effortless warmth that you exude. 
You lit a flame on his chest that burns incandescently with nothing but greedy lust, burning its way through his body with an unfathomable hunger that could only be satisfied by your sweetest moans. 
He struggles with the buttons that decorate the cleavage of your dress, trying to undo them and seriously questioning his soberness when they do not separate.
“It’s got a zipper,” You admit, but he looks so relieved. 
Mingyu leans back, pulling you by your hand until you crash into his chest and he can finally reach the back of your dress. You’re breathing so heavily against his skin, your soft hands grazing along the nape of his neck, fingers tangling into his hair; He can hardly focus on the task at hand. 
His right hand runs under the skirt of your dress, clawing at your flesh with heavy hands, almost as if he wanted to hold you fully in his touch. Toying with the band of your panties, he sighs, watching your chest heave at the contact.
You pull your dress sleeves off, letting the fabric bundle around your waist, though you can’t be arsed to properly take it off. Mingyu does not mind at all, no, he’s absolutely hypnotised by the sight of your tits.
Shoving his face onto your cleavage, he’s pulling you closer into his body by your hips, sucking love bites on your unblemished skin. Leaving a trace of him that would last longer than your moments together, a mark of momentary possession that allowed his brain to indulge.  
And you’re contaminated with his boldness, clawing at his shirt with relentless anticipation. You suddenly have this peculiar urge to feel his skin on yours, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. 
Mingyu smiles against your skin, finding your hands that touch him fervently, wrapping his fingers around yours. And for a brief moment, you feel as though you might’ve wronged him, but he pulls your hands to wrap around his neck as he finds your lips again while his hands are pulling on the hem of his shirt.
The kiss is only parted once, when he pulls the white shirt above his shoulders and discards it somewhere across the soft grass; completely unimportant at the moment. 
And god, Mingyu is divinely sculpted with defined pecs and hardened abs that tense under your touch. You sigh at the dreamy sight of his tan skin completely exposed for your viewing only. 
He relishes in the adoring look you exhibit, eyes dripping wholly in an exquisite hunger you’ve never felt before; And he coerces this scandalous reaction from you with pride. Your hands are eager to touch him, so you do. You run your fingers down his supple skin, fingernails grazing in teasing lines. 
Smoothing out your hands up his chest, you find his neck and pull him toward your lips, wanting to feel his bare skin on yours, stealing his heat until your bodies are running at the exact same temperature.
His hands, large and calloused from playing professional sports, lay heavy on your thighs. Mingyu pulls at the waistband of your panties and takes a second to lock eyes with you, guaranteeing your approval. 
You can only hope you’ve got the good pair of underwear on. 
But it doesn’t matter, because he pulls it off at once, discarding it above his shoulder to fall somewhere along his shirt. 
Your dress is bunched up around your waist and you should’ve felt more embarrassed to be completely exposed before him but Mingyu looks at you with such reverent eyes, taking every inch of abundant flesh with care. 
“Fuck–” He groans, eyes glued to the spot between your legs. You can’t even close them in an attempt at modesty because he is standing right there and not going anywhere. 
He runs a slender finger across your slit, breathing heavier at the sight of moisture that pools along the lips. 
When you bite your lower lip, unknowingly coquettish and staring at him all bright eyed and pleading, Mingyu let out a strained sound that could barely be classified as a groan. 
“Can I?” 
His finger dances around your slit and he looks unsure. You nod with a soft “Yeah.”
Nothing like anything you’ve felt or done before.
That’s the only way to explain the feeling of having his long finger prodding at your hole with gentle movement. He soon joins another one, stretching you out with delicate scissoring motions, he’s not focused on making you cum, he wants to prepare you for him. 
And that very thought makes your stomach tighten in anticipation. 
You don’t even realise when your hips are thrusting against his hand, matching his pace. And you’re definitely not thinking when you ask in a gasp:
“A… Another one–”
Mingyu stills. 
“You don’t fuckin–” He leans forward, forehead flushed to yours, uneven breath tickling your sensitive lips. “You have no idea what you’re doin’ to me, babygirl.” 
You feel your body consumed with an unstoppable amount of confidence, knowing the grip you hold over Mingyu at this moment, you’re dizzy with power.
“Show me, then,” The lazy smile that finds your red stained lips is a sight to bear.
He smirks, knowing he will make you eat your words soon. 
As he pulls his fingers from your cunt, there is a thick string of arousal that coats his skin in a sinful glaze. With a confident smirk, Mingyu 
But he doesn’t expect when you lean forward, letting your tongue run all over, cleaning his fingers and tasting first-hand the pleasure he brings you. 
Oh, fucking hell. 
Mingyu could’ve cum right then and there. 
You’re giggling as he fumbles with his belt, he wishes he could’ve stopped to appreciate such a sweet sound, but he was way too horny to think about anything other than plunging his cock into you at once. 
When the night breeze hits his throbbing erection, Mingyu shivers.
You’re chewing on your lower lip, equal parts excited and terrified at his sheer size. He is large. And fat, with bulging veins running down his length and a thick head that’s trickling with pre-cum. 
“Oh my god.” 
Mingyu cowers at your gasp, “What?”
“You’re huge, fuck.” 
Oh, your praise runs straight down to his erection. His chest puffs out with absolute pride.
“Do you have a condom?” It was a silly question when aimed toward Mingyu, of course he did. He always does. 
He fishes out his wallet and pulls a fresh packet, tearing the foil apart with his teeth and pulling the pre-lubed rubber. Mingyu is about to roll it over himself when your hands find his. 
“Can I–?” You ask and he almost sighs. 
He watches you with bated breath. You’re delicate, small hands quietly rolling the condom over his seemingly unending length until you’ve reached the base. Your fingers linger in curiosity and he can’t help but to find it adorable.
Properly protected, Mingyu grasps his length as you position yourself better on the hood, legs wide open, dripping in anticipation. Oh, you couldn’t fault his desire to tease, could you?
Running his tip over and over your drenched core, he groans. You’re clenching around nothing, hands fidgeting with the bunched up fabric of your dress. Mingyu has a stupid confident smirk on his lips, watching you squirm at his minimal touch. 
“Mingyu!” You whine when he brushes against your clit. Reaching your right hand, you claw at his heaving chest. He doesn’t budge, however.
“What?” He plays dumb, toying with your hole. 
“F-Fuck me? Please…?”
Fuck seven point five, you were a ten, a twenty, a one-hundred, no fucking numbers could quantify your allure, no. You could charm your way out of any crime if you pursed your brows and pouted your lips like this, smeared red lipstick painting your soft skin, saliva dripping down your chin so indecently. 
And your hand was still, caressing his stomach, like a succubus ready to pounce and devour him like a five course-meal. Consume him whole, body and soul until he has nothing left to give. He would let you have him, any way you wanted, you just needed to say the word.
Just needed to let his name fall out of your pretty lips in a breathy gasp and he would be at your call. 
Mingyu enters you slowly, stretching out every millimetre of your walls with a burning feeling of fullness.
“Fuck–” He groans, “Relax for me, baby.” 
You take a deep breath, allowing your body to relax as much as your brain allows at the moment and he takes the chance to stretch you out further, hips pistoning forward. 
Mingyu feels the pleasure seep into his body in one fell swoop, dissolving in his bloodstream, filling his lungs with heat. You’re snug around him, clamping down on his sensitive erection, pulsing alive and throbbing. 
“Are you in?” You ask, not risking looking down and disappointing yourself at the remaining length. Mingyu is hovering just inches above you, hand taut on the hood, using every bit of restraint imaginable to not pound you into tomorrow.
“Just a little more,” He breathes out, head coming to rest on the crook of your neck as his hip comes to meet yours.
He allows you a moment to let the stretch lessen, to allow your discomfort to slowly morph into pleasure. And soon, you’ve got your arms wrapped tight around his broad shoulders, his almond eyes have completely surrendered to the dark gaze of lust, devouring you alive with their insatiable hunger. 
“You can move now…” You breathe out, fingers tangling around his silky smooth hair. 
“You sure?”
“Oh, yeah.” He smiles against your lips, hips finding themselves a languid, slow and torturous pace until you’re begging for more. 
The way his body feels against your is something unforgettably wonderful, every curve of his torso giving into your own, every inch of you filling into the gaps of his in an imperfectly perfect little puzzle.
With every thrust, you’re pulling at the roots of his hair, gaining yourself sharp hisses from Mingyu. Though he enjoys the tugging, leans into your scratching, presents his lips to you with total eagerness.
He fastens his movement, thrusting into you with sheer fervour. His hands are exploring your body, kneading at abundant flesh with excited fingers that leave trails of crescent moons shapes along your skin. 
Out here, in the middle of nowhere, caressed by the breeze and the moonlight, you’re whispering his name in an unanswered prayer, letting the syllables dance around in your tongue before you let them slip away into the starry night sky to be forgotten. 
You’re clenching around him with pleasure, feeling the knot in your belly tighten and tighten. 
“Feels– So good,” Mingyu hisses against your kisses, hips not stuttering even once. 
Brain an absolute mush, you can’t find any words to respond other than strained moans.
“So– Fucking good…” Nuzzling along your jaw, he grazes his teeth on your neck, painting your skin with love bites.
“I–” You gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He doesn’t even need you to finish your sentence to know what you meant.
“Yeah? Me too– Let go, baby.” 
Digging his hands into your hips, Mingyu hurries his thrusts, hitting your sweet spot again and again until you’re melting in his arms, singing praise of his name with your candied voice and luring him into his own orgasm. 
He leans forward, capturing your lips in a harsh kiss, hips slowing down as he comes undone, tainting the condom with heavy spurts. 
You’re both gasping in complicity, blanketed in the summer night.
Once the condom is discarded, Mingyu lays by your side and pulls you into his heaving chest. You both lay there in comfortable silence, letting the orgasms fade out into strained sleepiness. 
“Will you promise to remember me?” You ask, watching the twinkling stars that lay before you two.
“Where did that come from?” Mingyu chuckles. 
“Do you promise?” Your voice is a soft whisper that dissipates into a shaky, hesitant breath, “Do you promise to remember me?”
He laughs, but your eyes hold such urgency, he can not ignore the human need to sympathise with your woes. “...Why– Why do you say that?”
“Because…” You sigh, “Because I’ll remember you, – this,” Hands vaguely gesturing toward your conjoined bodies, “For the rest of my life… And I’m afraid even a decade from now, you won’t be able to recall my name or what I look like.” 
It’s serious, it’s a concern that has plagued your mind since the moment you laid down. However, Mingyu can only focus on the fact that you’ve assumed the two of you won’t see each other again, ever. 
Leaning forward, his slight smile does nothing to hide the clearly confused look that is plastered across his handsome face, “It’s like you plan to disappear. We’ll see each other again.”
You shake your head, “What are the chances, Mingyu? We’re just… Fleeting seconds in centuries. What are the chances alumni – Not even from the same major, – will meet again?”
“What if we promise to meet?” Oh, he’s absolutely set on it, but you find it adorable; this fervorous intent on defying the hands fate has laid before you.
“Then, what happens when we’re bored of each other?” You chew on your lower lip, but he discards your argument. 
“That might not happen,” He points out.
“We’re too different. It defeats fate to force it,” You sigh.
Mingyu doesn’t have an answer right now, but he’s seeking one with furrowed brows and pouted lips.
“Remember me like this, no wait–” You run your fingers through tangled hair in an attempt to fix the messing he’d done before. “Done. Like this.” You flash a smile, posing your body in the best angle it has, to construct the perfect memory.
But Mingyu sees your flustered cheeks, smeared lipstick that leaves behind a stained trail of hot red over swollen-kissed lips. Sleep hazed eyes that gaze at him with such warmth, that hold a longing he wouldn’t be able to grasp for another decade. You liked him, you truly did. And that’s why you would never allow your memories of him to be tainted by the grasps of time. 
You’d forever remember his dorky smile and dad jokes, his clumsy hands and warmth.
And Mingyu doesn’t realise it yet, but he would forever remember you as someone who marked him forever. To disregard the cards you’re dealt, make your own memories, remember it all fondly. 
Maybe in a couple years, you will have a wild dream about this very moment, a fuzzy memory that leaves behind a nostalgic smile that will follow you for the day, reminding you of this perfect feeling. You’ll look back with wistful thinking of the good days. 
And will keep it close to your heart.
Where it belongs.
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You thought about it often the day after, but days turned into weeks, turned into months, turned into years. And a decade later, you found yourself having a dream about the distant memory, and the sweet nostalgic feeling accompanied you throughout your routine. 
After university, you had found a simple job in your area that sufficed the need for experience and filled the empty stop in your resume. Though it was far from fulfilling. There was no creative liberty allowed and you often found yourself overworked and constricted by tight deadlines. 
The dream of your own line had yet to die, however. That’s why you had volunteered for such a demanding gig: designing for a historical movie. Luckily, your resume had allowed you a good position, overseeing the wardrobe and designing the pieces that would be forever captured on film.
The main character, a pretty young thing with curly hair, was extremely excited to work with you and almost cried when she saw the dresses she would be wearing. 
Today, you would be fitting for the lead male role and designing him some characteristic James Dean style clothes. Your assistant led him to your office while you were gathering your materials. 
When you enter the room and you’re met with those gorgeous almond eyes, you can’t help the stupid smile that finds your lips.
“This is the lead actor, Kim Mingyu,” Your assistant explains. 
“Yeah, I know,” You laugh. 
He stands up, a charming smirk plastered on his pretty face, “Hey.”
Your assistant looks at you with a puzzled look, “You know each other?”
Mingyu nods. 
“Yeah, I never forget a pretty face.” 
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drabblesandimagines · 3 months
Text
Dove (part six)
Leon Kennedy x female reader - the slowest, slow burn I swear Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five.
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After the two of you had finished dinner, you’d began clicking through the channels in search of something to watch. It was far too early to go to bed, or even pretend to go to it - you’d just be staring at the ceiling, alone with your thoughts. Leon had insisted on taking the dishes to the kitchen despite your offer to help, said he’d leave them in the sink to soak. You know that’s a task you’re not going to be able to handle until your arm is free of the sling, fingers unsplintered. You want to say you’ll do all the cooking and cleaning when you can, but that implies that you think you’ll still be in the safe house, with him, in however long it’ll take to be free of the sling...
By all intents and purposes, Leon had planned to wait until you’d gone to bed to pull together his report, but the fact that Hunnigan hadn’t replied to his text yet was giving him an unsettled feeling in his gut. Maybe she was doing it on purpose, tit for tat - no information for him until he gave information to her.
After setting the dishes and pan in soapy water to return to later, he’d come back to the sofa and picked the laptop up off the coffee table, almost reluctantly.
“Er, I’m gonna start my report now, if that’s all right?”
You look at him, noting the laptop now tucked under his arm. The report, of course – he hadn’t typed it up yet, couldn’t have, not when you’d sobbed and then napped all over him.
It’s like emotional whiplash - the soft, almost domestic moments where you could pretend this whole situation was normal - it’s dinner and a movie with a friend, first date vibes but both of you too cautious to make a move.
And then there’s the startling reminder that, no, actually, you’re not even home, in a one-bedroom bungalow, no idea where you are in the state, or what state, with a man, a bodyguard you hardly know, after very nearly being murdered the day before and could possibly be murdered in the days to come.
You must’ve stared too long in response as he raises his arm to rub the back of his head – you wonder if it’s a nervous habit.
“It’s nothing to worry about, Dove. The report’s just a formality after the interview earlier, and it’s better that I submit today. It’s fine if you’d prefer not to be in the room, though. If you’re not comfortable, I can wait until you’ve gone to bed.”
“Oh… No, go ahead.”
“Are you sure? I’ll be listening over the audio again but I’ll use headphones, so…”
“Yeah. It’s fine – needs to be done, as you said.” You smile, turning your head back to the TV to end the conversation.
Leon had sat on the other couch, laptop resting on his knees, plugged in a pair of in-ear headphones. For over an hour, you’d heard him tap away at the keys, brows furrowed in concentration when you’d chance a look his way. The last few times his eyes haven’t been on the laptop screen but that of the TV, watching the dumb romance movie you’d settled on during your channel searching, hoping it would prove a good distraction.
“Leon…” You feel rude for interrupting his work, but he’d tugged out an earbud, hasn’t typed anything in a good while now, definitely not since the last ad break.
Not that you were keeping track.
“Mm?” He hums in response.
“Can I…?” He looks over as you clear your throat - start over. “Can I ask you something? If you’ve got a minute.”
There it is - the encouraging smile. “Of course, Dove.”
“It’s going to sound stupid, but those things – were they BOWs?”
“The Lickers?” The smile drops as he tugs out the other earbud. “Yeah, they are.”
“Lickers?” It sounds too cutesy for what they are, like a lollipop brand for kids and not indescribable monstrosities.
“There’s probably some scientific name that Umbrella would use, but that term came from a cop that first saw them in the Raccoon City Police Department. I guess we kinda kept the name as a weird tribute.”
“Right.” Maybe it was the cop’s way of trying to make them less terrifying on first sight.
“Why do you ask?”
“I didn’t think BOWs were actually…” You swallow, though you know it’s not going to dislodge the lump in your throat now. “..things, if that makes sense. Like, I knew we were trying to protect the public from biological warfare threats, but I thought it was man-made diseases, or poisoning the water supply… That sort of stuff.”
“You’re not wrong. Those things were once human, mutated by a man-made virus. I’ve had a fair amount of experience with different iterations of the virus over the years, unfortunately.”
“Mutated…?” You feel sick as the image once again flashes in your mind���s eye, the grotesque features of the Lickers juxtaposed with those of humans, your colleagues… “Fuck.”
“Yeah - fuck.”
“God,” you exhale, but it doesn’t feel enough. “I’ve been so naïve to what I’ve even been doing all these years - I didn’t know what we were actually trying to prevent.”
“You sound like you think you’ve been doing something wrong.”
“Well, maybe I have.” You protest. “What if I missed something that led to that the other day?”
“You did not miss anything.” He says firmly, closing the laptop – you’re not sure if he’s concluded his report or not. “Is that what happened to everyone - they were infected and then they mutated into those… those things?” You can’t bring yourself to say the identifier out loud.
“No, Dove, the… The bodies they recovered matched with the amount of people signed into the premises. Excluding you, obviously.”
“So, someone brought them there and set them on us?”
“Maybe. They’re still working on how they got in the building. They don’t exactly use doors, so…” He laughs, though it’s half-hearted.
The lump feels too big in your throat, tears burn at your eyes as you drop your head down but you know you’re not quick enough.   
Leon stands, soft footsteps on the carpet as he circles round the coffee table and sits down a cushion’s width away from you.
“Sorry – it was a bad joke.”
You shake your head, sniffling a little, eyes fixed on your thighs. “No, it’s not that, or you. It’s so stupid, but I wish I could go back and stop it…”
“I know.” He places a hand down on the sofa, swivels his knees in your direction. “But it doesn’t help to think like that – trust me. And I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to keep going.”
“And you’ve faced those things before.”
“More times than I’d like to count.”
“How do you stop them?” You look up then, wiping away the tears from your cheek with the heel of your left hand.
“You couldn’t have done anything differently back there, if that’s what you’re thinking. A couple of gunshots to the head or an explosion is the only thing that’ll stop them.”
“You can’t… you know, turn them back?”
He shakes his head, looking solemn. “Afraid not.”
“Maybe for the best. I don’t think I’d want to be turned back if I’d…” If you’d ripped off your colleague’s head.
“Hey, that is not going to happen to you.” He leans forward, places his hand on your knee - having you fall asleep in his arms earlier has removed all sort of boundaries, it seems. “I promise.”
You shake your head then. “You can’t promise that.”
“I can. I am going to keep you safe.” He pauses – wind it in a little, Kennedy. “And if it makes you feel better, you won’t be the first. Want my credentials? I rescued the President’s daughter from a cult, got her home safe.”
“The President’s daughter?” You hadn’t heard about that, but then again why would you? Probably wouldn’t want it announced to the world that the leader of the free world’s daughter had been abducted.
“Mm. She had a codename and all – Baby Eagle.”
“But you would know her name.”
“Yeah, but still used codenames on official comms.”
“So, what would happen if I told you my name?”
“Er, well, I’d…” There’s the arm raise, rubbing the back of his neck again. “I’d have to report in to HQ that your identity had been compromised, I’d be redeployed elsewhere and you’d get a new security detail.”
“Why?”
“Part of your protection is that I’m not a risk of revealing your identity if hostile forces used… certain methods of interrogation if we were to be captured.”
Your stomach twists at the code. “Torture?”
“I suppose.” He shrugs, like he’s going to collect your mail or water your plants when you’re on vacation as a favour.
“No, you can’t… How can you shrug at the prospect of being tortured for me? You don’t even know me.”
Leon wants to say he does know you, not completely but there’s things he’s picked up over the course of the day that he feels reasonably confident on. You don’t do good with sitting idle, has the feeling you keep yourself busy when you’re not locked in four walls. He got the feeling you’re thorough and proud of your work, or you were before this doubt crept in.
You like coffee with a splash of creamer, honey in your oatmeal. You don’t have any close friends or family nearby that will be wondering why you’ve gone AWOL just yet… ..and you’re definitely single, because if you had someone waiting at home you would’ve mentioned it they spoke about whisking you away to a safe house, or when Hunnigan said she was going to search your place.
He smiles. “I know you don’t deserve any of what’s happened to you over the last 24 hours, and that’s reason enough.”
“How can you be so sure I don’t?”
“Experience, Dove. Been in this line of work for a long time and, more importantly, I’ve been where you’ve been, okay?”
“Okay.” You nod, relenting. “Sorry, my head’s just…”
He squeezes your knee. “I know.”
--
You leave the bathroom later that evening – Leon had ducked in at some point and prepared your toothbrush again – and find him leaned over the sink, scrubbing at a pan and a cloth draped over his shoulder. He’s left out the medicine – two painkillers, two sleeping pills - on the counter, next to a glass of water. It feels oddly domesticated again for what all of this is.
You walk over to the counter, slowly, as he continues washing the dishes.
“I forgot to ask earlier. Have there been any updates?”
He turns, gives you a sympathetic smile. “Not yet. But it’s only the first full day of the investigation, so I’m sure I’ll hear something soon, especially since I’ve sent the report over.”
He’d sent it whilst you were in the bathroom, half-expected Hunnigan to ring right there and then but his cell had remained silent, so he’d moved his attention to the dishes.
“Yeah, suppose other things will take precedence too.” Other things meaning families to inform… What would they tell them?
You take a swig of water before picking up the pills, swallowing them all down in one. Knowing how quick the sleeping aids helped yesterday, you’re aware there’s only a limited time before you’ll feel the effects kick in.
“Well, goodnight, Leon.”
“Wait a sec.” He pulls the cloth off his shoulders and hurriedly dries his hands as you watch on, curiously. He fiddles with the watch around his wrist, pressing a button on the side, then undoing the strap before he holds it out to you. “Here, so you can tell the time. I know there’s no clock in there, so…”
You stare at the offering, not raising your hand to take it. “But what about you?”
“Got my cell.” He pats his pocket, then holds the watch out again. “It’s yours, if you want it.”
You step forward to take it, gripping it a little too tightly in your fingers. It must be your imagination because it feels warm, but that can’t be right.
“Sleep well, Dove.”
Without another thought, you lean up on your tip-toes and press a kiss on his stubbled cheek.
“Thank you.”
You swivel on your heels and walk into the bedroom, closing the door without looking back, missing out on the sight of a flustered DSO agent in the kitchen.
If it wasn’t for the sleeping pills now coursing their way through your system, you would’ve been up for hours longer, heart pounding at what you just did. Instead, you climb into bed, close your eyes and it isn’t long at all until sleep washes over you, his watch still clasped in your hand.
--
Leon’s phone finally vibrates with Hunnigan’s caller ID as he enters back into the living area after finishing his perimeter check. Had to do two rounds of the building because he knew he was too distracted on the first by your kiss, admonishing himself for being so put out of joint by a simple gesture. After his second, more thorough check of the area and confident there was still no sign of any unwanted guests, he’d headed back into the building, making sure everything was locked up before he answered the call – placing the phone up to his ear on the opposite cheek that you had kissed.
“Hunnigan!” He answers, a little too jovial, would lower if his voice if he wasn’t confident you’ll be fast asleep by the amount of time that’s passed since you took your medication. “I was getting worried you’d forgotten all about me.”
“I’m sure.” Her voice is a little tense, but he can tell she’s tired. “Just finished your report.”
“And?”
“Well, it’s not exactly airtight.”
He rubs the bridge of his nose, holding in a sigh. “What happened to innocent before proven guilty?”
“That’s why I’ve put Dove in a safehouse with you, rather than in a cell.”
“So, restrictions remain?”
“Restrictions remain.”
He rolls his eyes, grateful it’s not a video call. “Did you search her place?”
“Unfortunately not. The President wanted the surveillance department back up and running ASAP, so all available manpower had been diverted to that. The tech analyst, however, has confirmed that the breach on the database yesterday wasn’t what you’d call successful.”
Leon walks around the sofa, drops on it a little too heavy. “You don’t sound particularly thrilled by that.”
 “I’m not - the attempt itself was successful, but as soon as the system detected the forced entry, it wiped itself. Every subject that was still under surveillance has been lost.”
“Maybe that’s what they were trying to achieve.” He frowns. “Is there seriously no back-up server?”
“Analyst seemed to think it was their protocol, but it’s just a theory. Everyone who knew exactly how that division had their server set up is no longer with us.”
There’s a pause and he can hear Hunnigan tapping away at her keyboard as usual. “There is something I need to inform you of, though.”
“Right.”
“The tech analyst found the CCTV feeds have been tapped. They couldn’t trace where the feed was being diverted to, but it was definitely a system not within the DSO infrastructure. It’d been active since the attack, but they cut the connection when they discovered it.”
Leon frowns. “So, you’re saying that whoever orchestrated the attack could’ve been watching the cameras since.”
“Mm.”
“And if their objective was to leave no survivors…” Leon’s eyes focus on your bedroom door.
Hunnigan stops typing. “They’ll know they’ve failed.”
--
Part seven.
Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi
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sxtaep · 1 year
Text
WILD THOUGHTS - JJK
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sometimes, being an esteemed photographer had its ups and downs. this time, it was a bit of both.
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pairing — jungkook x female reader
genre — smut, angst
word count — 1.7k
warnings/tags — photographer!jk x spoilt!reader, dom!jk, sub!reader (implied), swearing/cursing, insults, praise, bros got the biggest boner in public, male masturbation, jk is big mean, degradation, oral (implied m receiving), mentions of pussy eating, mentions of unprotected sex, mentions of cumshots/creampies
a/n: this was something i was going to write a while ago, with the brains of @mercurygguk but i figured i’d keep it short and simple for the sake of ramadan 😭
btw!! this isn’t my last post before ramadan, i have another post scheduled to automatically post next month 🥳
hope everyone has a blessed month! 💗
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Oh, the absolute fucking nerve you had to walk into his studio and cause a commotion, boss around his employees like you owned the place.
His week had been utter hell, running from one studio to the other, taking photos of his models but being back at his usual studio, Jungkook thought he could have a relaxed session with you.
Yeah, he did his research on you just to see what he was getting himself into and honestly, he wasn’t surprised.
Upon entering your name into the search engine, before your wiki page even came up, his screen was plastered with tons of articles about you, and they were nothing to be proud of.
‘Spoilt brat.’
‘Rude.’
‘Disrespectful.’
The list went on.
That was when he discovered you were handed this modelling opportunity because of the high status your parents held among designer brands, being the most sought after celebrities.
Your mother pulled a few strings and here you were.
With a bit of back and forth arguing, Jungkook instructed you to head to the dressing room with his assistant to get you ready for the shoot and surprisingly, you obeyed.
It wasn’t long before you stepped out onto the set, a silk robe shielding your body as his assistant did some final touch-ups on you.
The silence on set was deafening as you pulled off the robe, donned in a white lace bra and a thong, with the addition of a short lace skirt that barely covered your most intimate parts.
Now don’t get him wrong, Jungkook had come across thousands of models, all beautiful in their own way, and never affected by them, but something about you… your curves straining against the tight bands of the undergarments, tits sitting perfectly within the confines of your bra…
He fucking loved it.
It was such a shame you had the desired genes for this industry, but fucking hell, your personality made him wanna throw a brick at your face.
You were completely unaware of the commotion stirring within him, going about as usual and climbing onto the bed on set and ignoring the unwarranted stares you were receiving from everyone, “How do you want me?”
It takes Jungkook a couple seconds to gather himself before instructing you to lie on your stomach and lean on your forearms, giving you the freedom to position your hands as you please.
“Give me sexy, and seductive, I’m sure you’ll have no trouble with that,” he says, bringing the camera up to his eye without realising what he’d just said.
You promptly ignore him, trying to contain the little bubble of excitement building in your stomach as you posed, hands gracing your face, fingers occasionally grazing your jawline.
Jungkook hums in approval, taking a couple more snaps and putting you in different positions before instructing you further, “Good, now take the skirt off and lie on your back,” he says, pulling the camera away from his face to gaze down at you.
You sit up on your knees, unbuttoning the skirt from the waist band and pulling it off, handing it too him and now being extremely aware of how exposed you were.
This is what it meant modelling for a lingerie brand; exposed skin and provocative photos.
Despite how you felt, you laid back on the bed, bringing one leg up to a slight bend as you threw your arms above your head, face turned to the side with your eyes closed as Jungkook snapped away, moving around you to capture every perfect angle.
All you could hear from him was praise and validation, the occasional ‘good girl’ slipping from his lips. You usually didn’t care for validation, knowing you were good at everything, but Jungkook… There was something about that asshole that made your skin crawl with goosebumps and you were certain he must’ve noticed.
And he did notice, being on his knees next to you, but he assumed it was due to the cold so didn’t comment on it. He was far more focused on capturing every angle possible because he wanted to wrap this up asap.
He rises up to his feet again, “Okay, on your hands and knees for me.”
Your breath hitches in your throat, but you don’t have time to process his words already being on a tight schedule. You did as told, standing on all fours on the bed, your spine arching perfectly and ass raised in the air slightly.
Jungkook bites back a smile, eyeing your current state as he stood before you.
Now would be a good time to shut you up with his cock.
He hides his face with the large camera, adjusting the lens to pick up everything from your perfectly raised ass peeking out behind your head, the sensual lighting drawing in the shadows along your body, accentuating your curves.
He’d be lying if he said his dick didn’t jump at the sight.
You were completely unaware of the affect your body had on him, continuing your job as expected and after a solid 2 hours, Jungkook called everything a wrap.
He sets his camera down on and extends his hand out to help you off the bed, his hand burning upon holding yours, “You’re free to leave, I’ll be in contact with you in the next couple days to discuss what comes next,” he tells you, dropping your hand and dismissing you rather quickly as you tried to stand up straight.
“Have a good night, Miss L/N.”
He didn’t wanna be in your presence any longer, nor did he wanna deal with your incessant complaining, when the boner in his pants was bound to burst any minute now.
You don’t even get a chance to open your mouth before he’s out the door, wondering why he was in a rush.
Why was he in a rush?
Because the moment he jumped into his car, driving out onto the streets, his boner was doing up a madness; relentlessly straining against his trousers as he gripped harshly onto the steering wheel.
He replays the moment he was spotting you in that vulnerable position; ass up, face down, the seamless arch of your spine adding a hint of elegance and sweetness to your appearance, though you were the complete opposite.
Rude and vile.
Taking photos of you from behind, your barely clothed cunt on display, sitting snug against the flimsy material.
Just one small movement of shifting your thong to the side and he could be burying his face in your pussy, eating you out to his desires—
“Fuck!” Jungkook slams his fist against the wheel, using his free hand to palm his throbbing cock for some relief.
He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this.
He was clearly wound up and full of sexual frustration after that shoot and it was unknown to him why this occurred so easily and why you of all people, had to be the cause.
Within a matter of minutes, Jungkook was pulling into his apartment garage, climbing out of his car and locking the door, using his bag as a shield to hide his erection from anyone he walks past.
He takes the elevator up to his penthouse suite, unlocking the door with a shaky hand and entering, dropping his bag to the floor and slamming the door shut behind him.
Good thing he was alone, he didn’t know if he was angry or horny right now, pacing up and down the room and pinching the bridge of his nose.
Maybe he was both.
He shouldn’t.
He really shouldn’t…
Fuck it, he could deal with the consequences later.
Jungkook throws himself on the couch, slouched back and thighs spread apart. Like this, his boner looked far bigger than he thought which made him wonder if anyone within distance from the garage and the building actually noticed it.
He removes the buttons of his shirt, leaving it open to give himself some air before reaches down to pull his pants off along with his boxers, letting his hardened cock slap against his abdomen, aching for a girl it shouldn’t.
He doesn’t waste another minute, wrapping a firm hand around the base of his cock, pumping himself up and down slowly as his head falls back against the couch.
“Shit…” he grits, bucking his hips up into his fist to get himself off, spreading the small beads of precum at his tip along the entirety of his cock.
Jungkook’s mind wanders far, conjuring up the sinful image of you riding him, your sweet little pussy clutching onto his cock like a tight glove and perfectly rounded tits bouncing in his face.
“Fucking hell…” he curses under his breath, using his free hand to massage his balls, squeezing and pulling at them for something more. He shook his head, tightening his grip, “That fucking bitch…” he seethes, picking up the pace as his thighs twitched, “How dare she do this to me…”
With a raspy moan, he continues to think about you, your plush lips wrapped around his cock, mouth taking him whole as he uses one hand to grasp at your skull, pushing your head further down till the tip of your nose was brushing against him.
He imagines you touching yourself with your mouth stuffed full of his cock, unable to wait like a desperate bitch.
Jungkook would do everything he could to hurt you in all the right ways; using you as his personal fleshlight, his very own cumdump who’d be there for him on-call because spoilt brats like you didn’t deserve the luxury of a comfort fuck.
No, spoilt girls like you deserved to be treated like whores; broken down into nothing because that’s what they deserve.
Maybe that would teach you a lesson; you can’t always get what you want.
“Gonna give her a piece of my mind,” he tells himself between panting breaths, stroking his hard cock and pushing himself closer to his orgasm.
He was so close.
The undying urge he had to paint your face with his cum, splay your tits white and bury himself balls deep in your pussy till you drained him of every last drop—
And that did it.
Thick ropes of cum were landing on his lap, all over his hands, some of it dripping down the base of his cock and he jerked himself off slowly, getting the last of what he could before letting go with a heavy sigh.
His thighs had tensed up and shirt all creased from the lack of care he took while sitting, and it was now when he realised he got off to you.
Little did he know, you were doing the exact same thing, touching yourself to the thought of him.
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luveline · 8 months
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More zombie au! Steve!!! Please! It’s literally so good I love how you write Steve all protective <3
thank you ♡ steve zombie au —steve gets sick. you meet a dark-haired stranger while looking for meds. fem!reader 2k
You compare your arm to the bottle in your hand. You've written a list of generic and brand name antibiotics in biro on your forearm, but they're smudging from nervous sweat. You're getting desperate. 
Nothing seems to match. You're shaking with aching arms and legs, fucking terrified as you sift through a floor of orange and white pill bottles that nothing is going to match your list, and worse, the pharmacy grows darker by the hour. You don't have a torch. 
Things are getting pretty bad at camp. There's not enough food to go around, no batteries, and now Steve's… 
A bottle slips out of your hand and knocks into another. You cringe and pick up the next. You've been searching for hours without sitting down, as hiding underneath the bottles is a carpeting of grainy glass from the smashed shelves. Three of your fingertips have cut and scabbed since you got here. 
"Fuck," you whisper, glaring at another wrong medication. "Fuck, fuck." 
Amoxicillin, ciprofloxacin, flucloxacillin. Anything to stop Steve's infection from getting into his blood. It's a gross wound, oozy and inflamed, and when you'd left him with Robin dutiful at his side his skin had glowed with heat like glass held in the centre of a furnace. Even with his eyes closed, he'd known what you were about to do. 
"Don't fucking leave," he'd grit out, fingers twitching up for your hand. 
You'd leaned forward and kissed his damp forehead. "I have to go. I love you. I'll be right back." 
That was ten hours ago at least. You have no idea what condition Steve might be in, so sure you'd find the pills and be back in arm's reach by noon. How sick can he get before it's too much? 
"Shit," you whisper, your fingers tingling. 
"What are you looking for?" 
You fall backward with a sharp gasp, pill bottles biting into your thighs. Your face swings around but the source of the voice is unclear, empty shelves and aisles either side of you. 
"Chill out–" 
"Where the fuck are you?" you demand, scrambling onto your feet with the use of one sacrificed palm. Glass like needles serrates your skin. "Fuck! Come out, loser!" 
"Hey, no need to be mean. I'm up in the ceiling." 
You look up. Peeking out from a displaced ceiling tile is a pale face silhouetted by a matt of dark hair. 
"You fucking little freak," you say, though you feel bad immediately. He's smiling and he isn't pointing any weapons at you, which is more than most strangers allow on the road. "Why are you up there?"
"I wanted to see if you had a gun, stupid." 
"You're stupid, stupid. What if it was in my bag?" 
"Point it at me, then!" 
You stare at him in silence. 
"That's what I thought," he says, framing a face in two hands like a baby angel on a gift card. "Can I come down or are you gonna keep bitchin'?" 
"Don't fucking come down here." 
"Or what?" he asks. 
"I'll get my gun out." 
"Mm, okay," he mocks. "I'll come help you find whatever it is that has your panties in a twist." 
"I swear to god–" 
"Listen. I'm a good guy, I swear." 
"That's what bad guys say." 
The stranger laughs a weird giggly laugh and climbs backwards. The ceiling tiles stress visibly under his weight but make no noise as he disappears from view. He swears a couple of times on the way down, unseen, before the stockroom door swings open and he appears in his intimidating glory in the doorway.
"If you kill me," you say, eyeing his spiked wristbands and the machete strapped to his waist with horrified apprehension, "my boyfriend will avenge me. Like, hunt you to the ends of the earth and slice you into little tiny pieces of vengeance." 
"That sounds like my kind of party, but your boyfriend has nothing to worry about. I got a girl." 
"Don't say rock and roll." 
"How the fuck would you guess that?" he asks, hand flying to the back of his neck for a bashful scratch. 
"My life feels like a shitty gimmicky horror movie, and you look the part." You bite the inside of your cheek. "I need antibiotics." 
"You and everybody else in the world. This for your vengeful boyfriend?" 
You don't need him knowing who they're for. He could be an evil guy, and the threat of Steve waiting for you might be your trump card. "No. My vengeful boyfriend left to look for cans in the shelter." 
"He'll be back soon, then." 
You take a step back. "I'll gouge your eyes out if you try anything, I'm serious. I don't care how big your knife is–" 
"I'm Eddie." Eddie smiles at you, shoving his hands into cargo pockets. Despite his weird questions and his choice of apparel, he looks less intimidating in the lingering light of the setting sun as it seeps between window shutters. "I don't want to hurt you." He frowns. "Any kind of hurt." 
"Can I have the machete?" 
"Nope. I can go put it down somewhere, though, if that's less scary." 
You shake your head, and with a great big sigh, lean down to sift through bottles. If he's going to hurt you, he might as well get on with it. The longer you spend talking to him, the sicker your Steve becomes. 
"You need antibiotics bad?" Eddie asks, his voice softening. 
"My best friend is sick." You toss a bottle, pick up another. "Infection probably getting into his blood. If I don't find something tonight, he's gonna die." 
"Well, we can't have that," Eddie says, crouching down to help. 
You sweep through bottle after bottle of things you wish you needed. Painkillers, sleeping pills, laxatives. Good shit, and nothing you need. 
"You know…" Eddie sighs. "I know you could lie to me, but is it just you, boyfriend and the dying bestie, or?"
You're not sure what the right answer is. Better for him to think you have an army waiting if you get lost, or better to hide them? He could belong to a cult of cannibals. Only… his clothes are squeaky clean. His curls shine with a gloss that comes solely with conditioner, which means he has the time and security to really wash things. 
But murders can wash their clothes, right?
"There's a couple of us," you say. 
"You're not from that place west, are you?" 
You put a pill bottle down slowly. "West?" 
"Yeah, there were people there, hundreds of 'em. We got a few stragglers, survivors from the fucking massacre that happened a few weeks ago. One girl said there must've been thirty, forty kids there, it's fucking awful." 
You swallow a lump. "Awful," you agree.
"Hopper says we can track down the people who did it if we just follow the blood trail," Eddie says, slipping into a theatrical bravado that won't stick. "I don't know… someone needs to stop them." 
You choke, "Hopper? Chief Hopper?" 
"Wait, you're from Hawkins?" Eddie asks. 
You give each other boggled looks, a thrumming hope building in your chest like a flickering flame in the dead of winter. 
"I think you better come back with me," Eddie says. 
"I need antibiotics," you say, wanting to explain it to him and now knowing how. Or even if you should. Awesome, Hopper's alive, but that doesn't mean Eddie's group are good people, or that they can help you. There's nothing anyone in the world can do for you right now if they don't have a handful of Augmentin. 
"You're from The College." 
"I don't have time for this," you say, half apology and half frustration. "Yeah, we were from The College, and now it's gone, and my boyfriend's gonna die if you don't help me find the right pills." You wince and snatch up another stupid bottle. 
"I can get you antibiotics," Eddie says, "but you're gonna have to trust me. Can you do that?"
"No." 
Steve wakes up two days later in an unfamiliar building. 
His eyes are made of sand, he can hardly breathe it's that cold, each breath as sharp as a needle as he sucks it in, but there's a roof over his head, a blanket over his chest, and your voice, your laugh rings like a song in the air. 
"He didn't do that, you're lying," you say with a laugh, pulling Steve's hand to your chest. 
"He did." Steve stiffens at the voice. Deeper, rougher than yours. "I swear on my life, he jumped right into Lover's Lake and swam backstroke to prove he could beat Louisa Park's best." 
"Did he beat her time?" 
"No, but he had a condom stuck to his ankle when he got out. Wasn't worth it." 
"Steve," you say. Steve thinks you've noticed he's waking up, but you hug his hand with a sympathetic sigh. "That's so embarrassing. You better wake up soon, I have making fun of you to do." 
"I think I'll stay asleep," he says hoarsely. 
You gasp and choke his fingers between yours. "Steve?" You climb up onto the bed, your weight dipping the mattress under his back. Your hand comes careful and warm against his chilled cheek. "You're awake. You're awake?" 
He strains to unglue his top lashes from his bottom lashes. You beam at him, the little scars around your mouth from a cruel hand shining in the white morning light. 
"What time is it?" he asks. 
"It's, like, seven in the morning." 
"I've been asleep that long?" 
"You've been unconscious for nearly two days," you correct. 
Steve can't remember anything. He has the barest memory of your lips on his forehead. Robin splashing cold water on him and calling him an asshole, and then, much quieter, her best friend. 
"Where's Robin?" he asks. 
"She's being Robin somewhere, you know, she loves being helpful. The kids need help getting settled." 
"And you're being lazy," Steve pokes. 
He lifts his chin so your kiss lands exactly where he wants it, the stubbly space below his jaw. You wrap your arms around him and hug him severely, squeezing his tender ribs. 
"I wasn't lazy, I had to go save you by myself." 
"Save everybody," the familiar but impossible voice adds. Steve doesn't want to believe it. He refuses to. "Like, an entire generation." 
"I didn't do anything," you say, kissing Steve again, a short path to his chapped lips. "Honey," —your voice lowers, your confession for Steve's ears alone— "I'm so happy you're okay. I was really, really scared." 
Steve feels the weight of your fear like a dumbell on his chest, but he's uber confused. Propping his chin over your shoulder and hugging you back, the evil wound on his arm that caused this whole mess throbbing like fire under his bandage, Steve sets his eyes on the boy sitting on the chair next to yours. 
"Hey, Harrington," Eddie says warmly, eyes dripping with a put upon affection. "Miss me?" 
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Steve asks. 
"Saving the day, obviously." 
"I can't believe I found one of your friends," you say, sitting up a little to smile at him. You really are gorgeous in his eyes, better than any movie star. Your beatific little grin stirs something, but Eddie's snort stomps it dead. 
"We're not friends," Steve says. 
You stroke Steve's face with the back of your hand. "Don't be like that. He's really nice…" Your smile melds itself to a concerned frown. "I thought you were kicking it, Stevie. How's your arm feeling? Does it hurt a lot?" 
"It's fine," he says dismissively, wrapping his stronger arm around your waist. He's not jealous or anything, it's just cold in here, honest. "Munson, where the fuck did you come from?" 
"Right here, Stevie." 
"We're not far from the camp," you explain, stroking his face once again. "Or, we weren't when it was there. We're merging with this one to make a mega camp." 
"Why would we do that? We don't know that we can trust these people." 
"No, but we can trust Hopper." You smile. Steve knows things are gonna be okay, as long as you can smile like that. He leans his cheek into your hand, loved and relieved and– 
"Hopper?" Steve asks. 
"Jesus, Harrington," Eddie says, rolling his shoulders. "Keep up. If you can't comprehend the easy stuff, you're not gonna believe what we haven't told you." 
"What haven't you told me?" Steve asks. 
You push his shoulders down into the pillows. "I think you better lay down first." 
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katsus-world · 3 months
Text
Keys
Bakugou fluff! Just something small because I haven’t posted in a while! Not proof read so sorry about any misspellings 😣!
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Your hands smell like metal as hangers make their way to some racks in front of you. The lanyard around your neck making you sore as you reach to rub the back of your skin.
A yawn pulls to your lips as you continue to walk around the store, today’s been pretty slow and nothing interesting ever happens so you’re always bored out of your mind.
Or that was until now. Heavy footsteps hit the hardwood floor, ash blonde hair catches your eye as he walks up to the register.
“Fuck, what is he doing here?” You thought to yourself as you see your super hero roommate walk in, his handsome face covered in dry blood and ash.
“I lost the fuckin’ key at work, gimme yours and I’ll pick you up later.” He grumbled as he looks at a little all might key chain that was on display.
“Couldn’t you have texted me about it and I would have dropped it off at your agency kat.” You sigh as you walk over to a cabinet, unlocking it and grabbing the key from your coach purse.
“Tch, I lost my fuckin’ phone too. The stupid villain took our shit to make a weapon.” He’s walking around now, eyes looking at everything, and all your coworkers hiding behind shelves and racks of clothes, trying to find out what your conversation was about.
“Be careful out there, dumbass. You’re filthy right now, I might just have to mop the floor once you leave.” He shoots you a look and snaps his lips.
“Wish you could do that in the house, ya pig.” He chuckles to himself, finding his comeback clever. You roll your eyes, but the sound of him makes your heart melt.
You walk out the register and follow to where he’s standing. His suit is ripped from the back, his muscular shoulder blade on display. His boots leave little marks on the floor, shit now you might actually need to mop when he leaves.
“Fuck this place is boring, can’t believe you work a nine to five y/n.” He snorts as he sees some knock off gucci shirt, walking over to the shoes where there’s knock off Jordan’s and literally every other brand.
“Sorry, not all of us have to luxury of being heros.” You replied, hitting his rip playfully.
“You could have.”
“I’m not talking about this anymore, Kat don’t you needa be saving people or something?” He turns to look at you, eyes annoyed that you’re kicking him out of your shitty store.
“Rushing me outta your job ain’t nice sweets.” His finger hooks at the bottom of your chin, heat fills your face as you pull away from his touch, now your coworkers are DEFINITELY staring.
“Since when do you like nice? Shut up and take the key.” The jingle of the dynamight keychain pulls his attention. His gloved hand takes the key and shoves it in his pocket.
“Let me know when you get off of work and I’ll come get ya. Ima’ cook tonight, don’t order nothin’.” You nod as he reaches down to kiss you, you smile softly at him as his lips brush against yours.
“Get me that all might keychain.” He whispers in your ear so no one else could hear, his ears pink with embarrassment. With a giggle you “mhm” in response and watch as your hero boyfriend walks out.
Your coworkers are gonna have a FIELD DAY with this now.
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊
Bonus! :
“Katsuki where’s my key, ima be late to work!” You call out as you search around the living room table.
“Fuck about that, I lost it.” He walks into the room, hands in his sweat pockets as he looks at you with a bored expression.
“Fuck do you mean you lost it!? Bakugou I swear to god.” You pinch the bridge of your nose as you try to calm yourself down. He smacks his lips at you using his last name.
“Don’t go to work today then. Stay with me.” His voice is horse with neediness as he walks up to you, rough hands finding home at the curves of your waist.
“Katsuki..” you bite your lip at the thought of going back to bed with your boyfriend. Fuck it.
“Lemme go call in, but you’re buying me lunch!” He grins at your words and plants a kiss on your forehead.
“Whatever you want sweets, come back to bed when you’re done.” As katsuki walks away, he can’t help but play with the dynamight figure that was in his pocket, his fingers careful to not touch the keys. 😉
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mariondeux · 2 years
Text
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PRETTY D-O-L-L
— SYNOPSIS ; Mika orders a voodoo sex doll to be made of you, and the moment it arrives he doesn’t think he can wait to use it.
CW ; NSFW, Non-con(?), Voodoo sex doll, obsessiveness, mentions of public humiliation
WORD COUNT ; 1295
PAIRING ; Obsessed!Mika Kagehira x Male!Reader
A/N ; Back at it again with procrastinating on requests and writing long self indulgent fics! I also used this fic idea as an excuse to finally use this card of Mika’s hehe
FEMALE ALIGNED DNI.
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A miniature doll of you, complete with all of the same features as you, including the recognizable outfit you professed to love, was in Mika's hands. 
He had been anxiously awaiting the mail delivery of this item for a few months, and when it eventually came, he was overjoyed to have something that was connected to you. You felt so out of reach to him, that this really was the next best thing to resort to.
He noticed the tiny tag on your neck as he rolled the doll over onto its belly. It bore the brand name he had paid for, but that wasn't really important. 
Now comes the anticipated moment.
Mika took the doll's clothes off, and as he did so, he gasped as he saw it stripped bare. Everything he wanted was in the doll, including a perfectly sized hole to grip his cock and a little penis. 
By this point, you may have surmised that the doll he was holding was a voodoo sex doll of you. Mika made a special effort to search for another way to be closer to you, and he had it in his hands.
He was unzipping his pants, unbuttoning them, and slipping his cock out of his boxers while holding the doll in his left hand. Mika couldn't wait to use you—or, more specifically, the doll version of you. In either case, you would feel him fucking you full. The only way to test if this was legit was to fuck the doll he had in his hands.
Your eyes were entirely fixed on the screen directly in front of you as you slouched over your desk. You put off doing your assignment for the past few days even though the due date was tomorrow. Now as 12 AM is approaching, you're scrambling to finish your work.
A tingling feeling had crawled its way up your body, but you paid no mind to it. It’s probably because of the air conditioner.
That is, up until your body temperature started to gradually increase and your groin started to slowly harden. It felt so strange—almost like someone was stroking your dick, yet nobody was there!
As you stumbled away from your desk, you let out a tiny whine and pushed your pencil and papers out of the way. Your body fell directly onto your bed, flipping over and landing on your stomach as this strange sensation persisted. Shit, you were hard now. Why was this happening? One second you were perfectly fine, and god now you’re humping your mattress.
You slapped a hand over your mouth as something had entered your asshole. Or— What felt like something entered you. Your hand moved over and slid your pants off of you, using a single finger to feel around your hole till you realized nothing was there. It was just air.
Now you are completely confused. This all didn’t make sense!
You nearly choked on your own spit as your body propelled itself into the bed, and along with that a powerful thrust was delivered into your ass. You moan and hide your face in your bedsheets out of humiliation. As the sensation persisted—your hole being being constantly stimulated from nothing and the little moans leaving you without wanting to.
Mika fought to suppress a groan as his cock was buried into the doll and his hand was forcefully cupped over his mouth. You wouldn't mind if he fucked your brains out, wouldn't you? This felt much better than he had anticipated.
He swiftly brought the hand up and down on his cock while maintaining a strong grasp on the doll. His hips occasionally bucked up into the doll to heighten the pleasure. You had no idea how badly he wanted and needed to feel his cock completely violate your insides. And if you were being affected by this? Well, he’s hoping you remember this for the rest of your life.
The doll nearly felt like a fleshlight. Although it was a doll version of you, it essentially served the same purpose. God, wasn't he really fucking you like you were nothing more than a sex doll?
“(name).. Fuck— I bet you have such a fucked out face right now, don’t ya? Such a whore for my cock~ I wish I could see the way yer reactin’ to me fuckin’ you stupid..” Mika couldn’t help but say out loud. He did wish he could see you now; perhaps he ought to have done this closer to you. If he did this while you were in public, it would be entertaining to see as you keel over and let out whorish cries in response to him dicking you down.
He wanted you so badly, to bend you over his bed and fuck you into it. He wanted you to be here rather than this doll, but this doll was just a step closer to you. His moans grew louder, as did the force of his thrusts, as the back of Mika's hand pressed against his mouth. He was so turned on just thinking about you; only you could give him this sensation.
Your thoughts were all over the place, and the strange thrusts into your ass were too much for you to bear. Wanton moans were coming out of you continuously, you wouldn’t doubt that at least one person had to have heard you by now. 
You’ve never felt anything like this, you didn’t know what else to do besides to just lay down and accept it like a good dog. All of this was really annoying! You were supposed to be working, but instead you were just lying in bed having nothing fuck you into some brainless idiot. Your hand shakily made its way over to your cock, rubbing at the tip to smear the pre-cum before fully stroking the entire thing. Your cock was a throbbing red.
You needed to come so bad, if you came untouched because of whatever the hell was happening to you you’d cry. Your voice was so hoarse from the profuse amounts of moans you’d been letting out, it was so embarrassing. You didn’t want this to be happening to you, not right now!
You wailed as you came onto your bed and completely collapsed on top of the cum, which was now stuck into the mattress. You felt so dirty, the thrusts into your ass didn’t stop at all. You were overstimulated and felt so filthy that you could feel tears starting to well up in your eyes.
You don’t know how much longer of this you could take.
Mika was so close to pumping this tiny doll with all of his seed. He had to taint this doll with his essence; in fact, he might even be able to leave it in your room or at your door. You were being fucked so nicely to prove to you that he had been thinking of you and that it wasn't a fever dream. It was him all along, only he could have you kneeling for him, begging for more. 
In order to make sure that all of his cum had filled the poor tiny doll, he proceeded to use it, fucking it just a few more times before totally burying his cock within. Mika exhaled heavily as he collapsed on his bed and allowed the doll to rest on his cock, its head drooping to the side from the doll's imbalanced weight. 
A droopy grin came on Mika's face as he raised his head a little to look at the doll, and an image of you all fucked up, sitting on his cock, appeared in his thoughts.
He couldn’t wait to go see you in a few minutes after he dresses himself properly.
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aloneinthehellfire · 3 months
Text
The Introduction
A (possible) brand new series featuring Robin Buckley x Reader set in ST4
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Summary: When Vecna comes to town, Robin and her friends need all the help they can get in the final battle. The gang searches for an old friend she's never met before. But what Robin didn't know, was that the help would catch her attention in more ways than one.
Word Count: 4.1k
Warnings: canon deaths (mentions of vecna killings), reader appears at the end it is mostly a set up for the series, nothing really to report here tbh
[A/N: well hello there. I have *finally* storyboarded a new series that would be an episode by episode ST4 fic where Reader and Robin are endgame. It's something new and something I've been dying to create for a while now so I wanted to test the waters and see if anyone would be interested in reading this? I will literally take one person's yes and go with it, I am very persuadable]
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The Introduction
Since when was it too much to ask for a normal spring break?
Robin had enough of the excitement in Hawkins last summer when she ended up in a secret Russian lab, tortured and shot full of some serum she was sure was unsanctioned.
The horrors of that day were flushed down that bathroom toilet along with those drugs, some kind of wave of reality hitting her hard when she realised she didn’t want to be alone anymore. She confided in her new friend, her closest friend, and hoped that it would end a horrible day with a weight off her shoulders.
And then she was crashing a car into a possessed guy and hurling fireworks at some freaky flesh monster. So, nothing good lasts forever.
But after that, it all had been pretty quiet. Robin worked Family Video every other evening and weekends, had Steve drive her to school for the first couple of weeks before it became a habit, secured her place in band and forgot that anything ever really happened. She didn’t want to remember. She wanted to graduate, to have that silly little crush on her bandmate, to save enough money to get out of Hawkins for good.
Then the first day of spring break hit. The first day. And she was stood there staring up at that TV, feeling nauseas in her uniform, knowing that the brutal death of a high school student wouldn’t be as simple as murder.
“So we got, uh, some good news and some bad news.” Dustin says awkwardly and Robin’s lips tighten, looking at where Eddie sat munching through Honeycomb cereal like it was his first meal in days. “How do you prefer it?”
“Bad news first, always.” Eddie responds with his mouth full.
Robin shifts on her feet. It would be dishonest to say that Dustin and Max dragged her into this. All they had done really was show up demanding their computers and a name. She didn’t have to help, or find the address, or go with them anywhere.
The urge to be a part of something always had been a habit of hers. The only reason she joined the marching band was because she figured she’d be safe there. The Russian radio communication was only of interest because she craved involvement. And now she had Steve, her best friend. Where he went, she followed. Which is why she was stood here now, contemplating her decisions.
She was scared, afraid that last year would have only been the baby of all problems she would have to face in Hawkins. And it was understandable, she wasn’t built for pressure situations. If anyone could take a look inside her brain, they’d be questioning why she was even here in the first place.
She has this theory where her mind and her body act completely differently. She’ll rethink everything until she’s overthinking it, but her body will never not react immediately. Whether its her mouth rambling or her legs running, her mind and body haven’t been in sync for a while now.
“Alright, bad news.” Dustin shifts in his seat and Robin exchanges a wary look with Steve. “We tapped into the Hawkins PD dispatch with our Cerebro, and they’re definitely looking for you.”
Eddie’s face falls and Robin hates seeing the way the light in his eyes dim even darker.
“Also, they’re, uh, pretty convinced you killed Chrissy.”
“Like, 100% kind of convinced.” Max chimes in.
“And the good news?” Eddie looks for Dustin’s answer but Robin spoke first.
“Your name hasn’t gone public yet.” She says, resting her arm against a shelf. She really felt for him. He didn’t deserve this. “But if we found out about you, it’s a matter of time before others do, too. And once that gets out, everyone and their shallow-minded mother is gonna be gunning for you.”
“Hunt the freak, right?” Eddie spits and Robin feels that little stab in her chest. Hunt the freak.
“Exactly.” She says and Eddie curses under his breath.
“So, before that happens, we need to find Vecna, kill him, and prove your innocence.” Dustin tries to bring a positive note, Eddie’s face remaining unswayed.
“That’s all, Dustin? That’s all?”
“Yeah, no, that’s pretty much it.” He concludes, the older boy looking very unconvinced. Robin can’t help but think that Dustin almost was as bad as she was in these situations.
“Listen, Eddie, I know everything Dustin is saying sounds totally delusional, but we’ve actually been through this kind of thing before. I mean, they have... a -a few times, and- and I have… once.” Robin adds, hoping that somewhere in her ramble there was a coherent message that he shouldn’t be afraid. “Mine was more human-flesh-based, and theirs was more smoke-related, but bottom line is, collectively, I really feel like we got this.”
“Yeah, see, we usually rely on this girl who has super powers.” Steve follows her direction and Robin nods, “But, uh, those went bye-bye, so…”
Everyone’s faces start to scrunch in realisation.
Robin searches for words. “So, we’re technically in- in more of the…”
“Kinda…”
“Brainstorming phase.” Max decides and they all hum in agreement.
“Brainstorming.” Steve snaps his fingers.
“There… there’s nothing to worry about.” Dustin splutters and Steve nods along with him.
If Eddie had been following on at all before, he was completely lost now, looking at them like they were maniacs. They tried their best, Robin thought just as a high-pitched noise started approaching in the distance. Sirens.
“Tarp.” Robin immediately says, pointing to Eddie. “Tarp. Tarp.”
Everyone starts scrambling to their feet and rushing to the windows, Robin’s heart rate unusually high. She hadn’t even experienced what she would assume to be the worst of it yet and she was already hating every second.
Her eyes follow the police cars and the ambulances drive directly past the boathouse, further down the road. Towards the trailer park.
“Trailer park.” Steve mutters, on the same page as her.
“They might have found something new.” Max suggests, looking at her friends in worry.
“Or someone new.” Robin grimaces and they all frown. “The ambulance.”
“Shit, okay, we need to-” Steve turns around, “Hey, Eddie.”
The tarp comes flying off once again, his hair looking a little dishevelled as he still tightly hugged the cereal box.
“You gonna be alright here?” He asks, and the boy simply shrugs.
“We’ll be back when we find out more.” Dustin promises, nodding. “With food.”
Either he didn’t mind or was too freaked out to argue, but Eddie remained impartial on their decision. It was a matter of time before they’re all clambering into Steve’s car, following the same route the police had taken earlier.
“What if the place is completely cornered off and we can’t see anything?” Robin voices her worry, Dustin’s eyes flickering to hers in the rear view mirror.
“It’s too early for that. Plus Max lives there, we can just say we’re dropping her off.”
The girl in question nods her head, her bottom lip stuck between her teeth.
“Doesn’t look like we need to worry about that.” Steve says and everyone’s heads turn to look ahead, focusing on a familiar girl stood among the cops, looking like she wanted to be anywhere else.
Once the car stops, their doors are opened and they all stand, patiently waiting. Even from a distance, Robin could see Nancy’s face light up with gratitude that she wasn’t alone.
Just as Nancy makes an excuse to walk over, Robin’s eyes are already scanning the place, actively ignoring the sheet covering something on the ground. There was this pit in her stomach, an unsettling mix of regret and panic. Whatever they were dealing with this time, she knew it was going to take more than an array of fireworks.
They were alone now, any help shipped away to California, and she was still barely caught up with their previous battles.
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Robin really didn’t remember life before sitting around a picnic bench discussing freaky incidents that always seemed to link back to the Upside Down. Maybe that day in the lab had ruined her brain chemistry in a way that reduced her life before as meaningless. Or maybe her life before just wasn’t any better. Either way, a police report of a dead student wasn’t normally followed by a theory of some weird mind wizard from an alternate dimension. Then again, anything was possible in Hawkins.
“So you’re saying that this thing that killed Fred and Chrissy, it’s from the Upside Down?” Nancy asks, but it wasn’t the same scepticism Eddie had.
“If the shoe fits.” Steve raises his brow with a sigh.
“Our working theory is that he attacks with a spell, or... a curse.” Dustin says, “Now, whether or not he’s doing the bidding of the Mind Flayer or just loves killing teens, we don’t know.”
“All we know is this is something different.” Max frowns. “Something new.”
“Doesn’t make sense.” Nancy mutters beside her, looking down.
“It’s only a theory.” Dustin defends but Nancy shakes her head.
“No, Fred and Chrissy don’t make sense. I mean… why them?”
Dustin shrugs. “Maybe they were just in the wrong place? They were both at the game.”
“And near the trailer park.” Max cuts in.
“We’re at the trailer park.” Steve comments, looking around. “Uh… should we maybe not be here?”
A shiver rolls down Robin’s neck as she peers around, the wind picking up at the worst moment. It was eerie here, even without the knowledge of two murdered kids.
“There is something about this place.” Nancy shares, “Fred started acting weird the second we got here.”
Robin’s heart jumps. “Acting weird as in…?”
“Scared, on edge, upset.” Nancy explains, her brows permanently scrunched together.
“Max said Chrissy was upset too.” Dustin looks at her.
“Yeah, but not here.” She frowns. “She was crying in the bathroom at school.”
Robin’s mind began flittering around with theories, nonsensical ones for the most part until she pulled out something that felt comprehensible to their case.
“Serial killers stalk their prey before they strike, right?” Robin begins, forcing herself to reduce the speed of her words to ensure they were properly heard. “So, maybe Fred and Chrissy saw this Vecman.”
“Vecna.” Dustin corrects and she represses the urge to roll her eyes.
“I dunno about you guys, but if I saw some freaky wizard monster, I would mention it to someone.” Steve expresses.
“Maybe they did.” Max theorises, “I saw Chrissy leaving Ms Kelley’s office. If you saw a monster, you… you wouldn’t go to the police. They’d never believe you. But you might go to your-”
“Your shrink.” Robin finishes and the younger girl nods. “They keep files, right? Maybe something in Chrissy’s file will point us in the right direction of who, uh… Vecna is.”
“It’s worth a shot.” Max says and Dustin nods.
“But how are we meant to get it?” Steve frowns, “It’s the counsellor's office, wouldn’t they be locking that thing up tight? The whole school, even.”
“I can get the key.” Max says with confidence, “Ms Kelley said I could come to her house out of hours if I need it, maybe I can find where she keeps her keys and sneak out before she realises.”
Rather than question her alibi, it seemed like everyone was in agreement. They were off that bench in a second flat and following Steve to his car. Robin was trying to push away that fear of the unknown, the anxiety that they would find an answer they wouldn’t like.
She always loved puzzles, brain teasers, classic crosswords. Solving that Russian broadcast was a riddle she enjoyed, assuming it would be nothing but a small summer project to cure her boredom of the ice cream slinging world. But beyond games and word scrambles, she felt completely useless.
“Woah, woah, Nance.”
Robin snaps out of her haze to turn back around, her hand still steady on the passenger door.
“Nance!” Steve calls out and Nancy guiltily turns around from where she was straying from the group. “Nance, where you going?”
“Oh, there’s just something I wanna check on first.” She dismisses, her footsteps still leading her back to her own car. She looked like a woman on a mission.
“Something you maybe wanna share with the rest of us?” Dustin says and Nancy scrunches her face.
“I don’t wanna waste your time, it’s a real shot in the dark.”
“Yeah, okay. Are you out of your mind?” Steve expresses and Robin’s eyebrow raises. “Flying solo with this Vecna creep on the loose? No, it’s too dangerous. You need… you need someone to…”
There’s a pause and Robin’s mind is already drifting when keys are suddenly being hurled at her, only catching them in the last second.
“Here. I’ll stick with Nance, alright? You guys take the car, check out the shrink.” Steve says and she blinks at the metal in her palm.
“I don’t think you want me driving your car.” She points at it.
“Why?”
“I don’t have a license.”
“Why don’t you have a license?”
“I’m poor.”
“I can drive.” Max suggests and Steve is quick to protest.
“No, no, never again. Please. Anybody but you, no.” His eyes drift to Dustin’s smile. “No chance.”
“Look, if it helps, I’m not gonna be alone for very long, okay?” Nancy interjects with a smile. “I… I need to call in a favour.”
“Call in a favour?” Steve frowns, “Who?”
Nancy purses her lips and looks down, shrugging. Robin notices Steve’s stance shifting into one she had labelled ‘the annoyed babysitter’; hands on hips, a slight furrow in the brows and a pouty lip. She had to refrain from pointing it out as she had done many times before, usually resulting in a random object thrown at her head.
“Y/n.” Nancy eventually says and Steve groans.
“No, come on. Literally anyone else.” He protests, shoulders dropping in defeat.
“What’s wrong with Y/n?” Dustin frowns, shaking his head.
“She’s just…” Steve sighs, not bothering to finish the sentence. Robin mouths your name, no familiar face ringing a bell.
“Whatever she is, she’s saved our asses on multiple occasions.” Max spoke up, Dustin nodding in agreement.
“It’s…” Steve starts, shaking his head. “She’s not even in town, is she?”
“She’s visiting her grandparents.” Nancy shrugs. “Look, we don’t have time to argue about it, I’m heading to the library.”
“And what if you don’t make it there, huh?” Steve objects, “What if Y/n is busy? Do we really want to drag another person into this?”
“We need all the help we can get.” Nancy says.
“Do we really want to drag Y/n into this?” He rephrases and Robin watches Nancy’s eyes dart away. Whoever you were, you were a sore subject it seemed. But they didn’t have time to be arguing about this.
“All right, okay. This is stupid.” Robin finally breaks, snagging the exposed radio from Dustin’s backpack and thrusting Steve’s keys back at him. “Us ladies will stick together. Unless you think we need you to protect us.”
Steve pulls a face at her and she laughs, already walking away.
“Be careful!” He shouts after her and she throws up a peace sign.
In all honesty, she was relieved to be heading to a library instead of sitting around in a silent car with her own thoughts. Anything but that.
“So, um… who’s Y/n?” Robin queries as Nancy starts up the car.
“An old friend.” She explains briefly, waiting until the others had driven off before following them out.
“She wasn’t at Starcourt, right?” Robin frowns, repeating your name in her head over and over.
“Uh, no. I don’t think you would’ve met her. She was with me and Jonathan, at the hospital, and…” Her voice trailed off, lips tightening.
“And?” Robin prompts but Nancy simply shakes her head with a smile.
“It doesn’t matter.”
As she looked over, she could just read a hint of guilt on her expression, a hard stare on the road ahead as she turns towards the public library. Robin wasn’t always the greatest at reading social cues, only when she was rambling and paying more attention on getting her thoughts out than how people were receiving them. There was something different about the way they were talking about you, however, like there was something unspoken.
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The first thing Nancy did was find a phone.
Robin could just make out Nancy’s expressions in the payphone as she stood waiting by the car, her brows scrunched and mouth constantly moving. When she finally hung up, she wrapped her arms around herself and headed back to the Robin, nodding.
“She’s meeting us in a few minutes.” She explained, and Robin figured she didn’t want to talk about it any further. So, as she made a turn to the library, Robin decided on a different bugging query.
“Okay so, help me get this straight.” She starts as they climb the steps, the bell tolling above the building. She was recalling Nancy’s brief summary on the drive over. “Eddie’s uncle, Wayne, thinks that Victor Creel escaped from Pennhurst Asylum and that he’s the one running around Hawkins committing all these murders?”
“Pretty much.” Nancy responds with a tight-lipped smile. Robin wasn’t finished.
“But Victor committed the eyeball murders, like, way back in the ‘50s.” Robin frowns and Nancy pulls open the door.
“Well, ‘59.” She says.
“So, that means these murders predate Eleven in the Upside Down by about 30 years?” She continued as they walk up to the librarian’s desk.
“Yeah.” Nancy responds bluntly.
“Which makes spooky Victor Creel like 70 years old.”
“Yep.” She reaches out and dings the bell.
“So…” Robin keeps talking, occupying her brain with this theory so she didn’t have to worry about anything else. “He’s a grandpa murderer who can turn invisible and lift people into the air.”
Nancy takes a breath. “It doesn’t make sense. I know. That’s why I said it was a shot in the dark.”
She rings the bell again and, once again, Robin doesn’t catch the hint Nancy’s throwing her way.
“I know. I just thought that by ‘shot in the dark’ you were being modest or hiding something super solid up your sleeve that you were gonna wow us with later.”
Nancy rings the bell twice this time but Robin barely registers it.
“But this is really, truly a shot in the dark. Like, we are snipers with blindfolds on who’ve been spun around 50 times.”
She starts ringing the bell rapidly and Robin looks down at it with a frown, finally realising she’s yet again talked too much.
“Coming!” The librarian calls out, carrying a stack of books.
“Hi, sorry, we’re in a bit of a rush.” Nancy smiles apologetically at her, “Could we get the keys to the basement archives?”
“Of course. Give me one sec.” The woman nods, turning away.
Robin stares down at her hands before the anxiety takes over.
“Did I come off mean or condescending or something?” She blurts and Nancy hesitates.
“No.”
“Right.” Robin sighs, still staring at her, “Sorry. It’s just, you seem annoyed. You don’t know me very well. I don’t really have a filter or a strong grasp of social cues.”
“Okay.” Nancy whispers.
“So if I say something that upsets you, just know that I know it’s a flaw. Believe me, my mother reminds me daily.”
Nancy nods quickly, pretending to be interested. “Got it.”
“Alright, ladies.” The librarian returns with a smile, holding out a set of keys. “Here you go. Have fun.”
“Yep.” Nancy accepts them, forcing a smile. “We’ll… try.”
She starts walking away while Robin remains there frozen, earning a grin from the woman opposite. Robin simply shrugs and begrudgingly follows Nancy.
The archive room was… dusty. A little too dusty to Robin’s liking. Everything was old and smelt weird. Nancy starting looking over some books, inspecting the covers before spotting the Microfilm Readers.
“We should probably get a start while we wait for Y/n.” Nancy says, sitting at the machine and Robin hesitantly leans against it, pursing her lips. Nancy notices and looks up at her, already anticipating another ramble. “Yes?”
“So… Y/n?” Robin holds out her hands, “I don’t want to keep being nosy but, uh… how does she fit into all of this?”
Nancy reluctantly turns towards her with a smile. “She’s been a part of our, uh, group for a while now. Since Will was possessed.”
Robin blinks. “Right.”
“She was the one who figured out heat was their weakness – the things that live in the Upside Down. I’ve known her since we were kids and she’s always been amazing at…” Nancy searches for a term, “Detective stuff.”
“Detective stuff, right.” Robin nods and Nancy slowly turns back to what she was doing. “So, like…”
Nancy sighs and Robin shuts her mouth.
“Sorry, I’ll shut up.” She raises her hands in surrender and Nancy scrunches her face.
“No, I’m sorry. It’s just… I haven’t seen her in a while so I… I’m not trying to be rude, there’s just a lot going on.” She explains apologetically, surrendering her attempt at scrolling through the machine. “I can’t believe I’m dragging her into this.”
“Why are you?” Robin asks genuinely and Nancy tilts her head in contemplation.
“She did a project a few years back on the Creels.” Nancy begins, resting her chin on her hand. “She was researching into small town murders. Y/n was obsessed with the unexplained ones. She likes uncovering truths, solving the mystery. I don’t remember how far she got with this but she’ll have more than enough information to get us started.”
“Right, right.” Robin slowly nods, thinking it all over. You weren’t the new addition she assumed you would be. In fact, she was the only one here who was really new to everything.“Should I be here?”
“Sorry?” Nancy frowns.
“I mean, it sounds like you two are pretty close. And I- I don’t want to ruin the reunion or whatever, I don’t even know how to- I suck at meeting new people, basically.” Robin stresses, holding up her hand when Nancy tries to protest, “I already know. Everyone I meet pretty much hates me from the get go. I’m already ruining it with you and we’ve literally met before. Briefly. But still, I- I don’t know this Y/n and I don’t want to annoy her out of helping you-”
“Robin.” Nancy laughs, “It’s fine. Y/n isn’t like that. To be honest… you’ll probably get along.”
“What does that-”
Her words are cut off by the sound of the door opening and slamming shut, the wooden steps creaking beneath the weight of descending footsteps. They both whip their heads to the noise to see someone stood there with a folder in their hands.
“Got here as fast as I could.” You say, letting out a breath and smiling Nancy. You quickly notice the girl standing beside her with a startled look on her face. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“No, you- we were, just- I’m Robin.” She stuttered, her face flushing with embarrassment before she turns away from you. Calm down, she begs herself.
Nancy looks at her in confusion, “Are you-”
“I’m good.” She insists and Nancy shakes her head, getting up from her seat.
“Hi, Y/n.” She smiles, walking over to you. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course.” You say, but your heart didn’t really feel in it. “I brought the project you wanted. It’s got the newspaper reports from the original killings. If that’s of any help.”
“It is, thank you so much.” Nancy takes it from your hands and starts flipping through, carefully reading each of your headings and findings.
You shift on your feet before glancing at Robin, her eyes widening slightly when you look at her.
“I’m Y/n.” You offer and she nods quickly.
“Yeah, I, uh, I know.” She laughs awkwardly, “Nice to put a face to the name.”
An incredibly gorgeous face, Robin screams inside. Of all the problems she was facing today, this shouldn’t be one of them. Monsters, Russians, that was pretty much up her alley right now. Sudden introductions of pretty girls that literally took her breath away? Not on her bingo card.
Robin noticed the tension in the air between you and Nancy, that same unspoken theory recycling in her mind. What happened last year? Why weren’t you there at Starcourt? Why were you back?
She didn’t really know if she would regret knowing the answers. All she knew was that you had been here all of two minutes and Robin already felt like you were going to change her life.
Because, you were. In more ways than one.
[if you want there to be more chapters, pls comment below or leave it in my asks to be added to a taglist, i don't want to post something no one wants to read <3]
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mqsi · 1 year
Note
Can you do one where reader is a model and gavi has the biggest crush on her when he saw her walking in a fashion show and his teammates were making fun of him in the locker room and the rest can be up to you
Hey anon, thank you for requesting. I changed up the request a bit, since I already did a story about the team making fun of him,so I hope you don’t mind. 🫶🏻
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Pedri and him were driving around the city,when of course fans stopped by the car asking for photos. Pedri pulled down the windows of his mini so they can take pictures. Gavi was smiling at some girls phone when he noticed a billboard in the distance. It was an ad for some clothing brand, the girl advertising it really pulled Gavi’s attention and he probably ended up looking in the wrong direction in the pic.
When Pedri finally managed to slip out of the crowd, Gavi turned to him “Can you pass here one more time?”
“What? You want me to go in circles when I barely managed to pass trough?” Pedri said, confusion and irritation evident in his tone.
“Please, I have to check something” Gavi replied making Pedri sigh and take a turn.
They were passing by the same spot again when Gavi pointed at the billboard.
“There. That girl, I need to know her name”
Pedri took a few glances off the road to see what the hell Gavi was talking about.
“I think I’ve seen her on instagram or something, but I don’t know her name” said Pedri “Can you see what brand she’s working for?”
The billboard was pretty far from the road, Gavi was stuggling to read the letters but he ended up recognizing the logo.
“I got it” he said before opening his phone to dig out the information about the model, that being you. He found you on the brands instagram page, also finding out that they were having a fashion show this weekend.
“We need to go” Gavi said.
“Where now?”
“To her fashion show”
“You want us to go to a random fashion show? And for what? It’s not like you can do anything from going to her fashion show exept watch her” Pedri replied now laughing at his friends ideas.
“Bet” Gavi replied, already searching the way to get tickets.
Gavi ended up convincing Pedri to come and they both agreed this should stay between them. Since they were famous themselves, they got seated first row. Gavi spent most of his time looking around the room instead watching what was presented to him, until you came out on the stage.
His eyes instantly locked with your body, analyzing your features. You on the other end, had to stay professional and not let your eyes wandre the room. But duting the entirety of your part, you felt an intense gaze. As you were walking back, you stole a glance at the boy that was looking at you. Your eyes locked for a second, making Gavi smile. You quickly turned your head, basically rushing off the stage.
When the show ended, Pedri and Gavi had a plan. Pedri was going to stand in the middle of the entrance practically presenting himself to public, making a crowd and letting Gavi slip behind, hopefully unnoticed. And they did just that. Gavi managed to rush in an empty hallway where he was hoping to find your changing room. As he was walking, looking around, he suddenly felt a hand on his chest stopping him in his tracks.
“Hey there big guy” the man said “you can’t go back here”
Gavi usually hated using his reputation for private life occurrences but this was a must.
“Do you know who I am?” He said.
“Woah golden boy slow down, your football doesn’t mean nothing here, it ain’t a football pitch” the man said.
You were in your room, just a few steps away and had already changed into a pair of sweats and a hoodie when you heard the commotion outside. At first, you just brushed it off proceeding to take off your earings but you got curious. Stepping out of the room, you were met with the same eyes from before. Gavi was looking at you, chewing on the inside of his cheek in hopes of you letting him trough. The man, seemingly your body guard or something, was still ordering him to leave.
“No, it’s okay let him” your voice inturrupted him.
“What? You know we can’t do this”
“As my manager, you can decide stuff I do for work. This definietly isn’t work so you might as well leave us be” you said, making your manager leave down the hall. Both you and Gavi followed him with your eyes until he was out of sight,before turning to each other.
“Hi, Im Pablo-”
“Gavi” you inturrupted him “ I know. And I’m guessing you know me as well, since you came all the way here”
“Well yeah, I wanted to see If I can get your number or something?” He said making you chukle.
“You’re a bold one, aren’t you?” You said taking a step closer.
Gavi’s face got hot, why were you so close to him all of the sudden? He put his hands in his pockets cause otherwise he would fidget with them.
“Listen, I can’t give you my number right here, there are cameras around and that would make a headline everywhere, don’t you think? But..” you said before slowly reaching to your pocket and signaling Gavi to look in that direction. He got the memo and took a step closer and you slipped a card in his hand, which he quickly stuffed in his pocket.
“There’s my manager’s number written on it. Call tomorrow, and I will answer. We have a meeting and I’ll make sure to answer the call myself and step away from him. After all,he is always distracted at meetings,trying to organize my schedule” you said smiling at him.
Gavi smirked, biting his lip.
“Thanks”
“Well, I’ll see if it was worth it” you smiled back, now turning away from him so you can get back in the room “Oh and take a second exit down the hall so people don’t see you come from here” you said before dissapearing into the room. Gavi stood there for a few moments, just smiling at the thought of you.
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a/n: poor Pedri still being outside alone with the fans
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madametrashbin · 11 months
Text
Brainrot? Brainrot... or Drabble. Idk
I’m alive! Sort of? Honkai: Star Rail has viciously grabbed my brain the second I saw it and now I have thoughts... and this is also because I got yanked in by the throat from both the silly content and beautiful artwork.
And if it wasn’t enough to nail a coffin to my grave, Tumblr dropped a post from @channelinglament (which is this post right here) and now my brain’s keeping me up with thoughts.
Not sure if I’ll have enough energy to spare for actual posts, but maybe with enough food for thought, I might actually make a piece or two... might. Due to HSR’s brand of silliness, it might just be Shenanigans the Fic.
The thing that gets to me the most is the highest of Aeons part, like... the Aeon of Aeons and you know, while I still know almost nothing about how Aeons come to be, what if there’s that one Entity that just exists and gives power that basically ascends whatever is sentient.
Of course the term “Aeon” would not be applied until numerous of the ascended beings are present and people are suddenly aware that there are these powerful beings in the universe now that can literally affect everything and bring about a permanent change to their livelihood. One moment the universe is all calm and normal and then here comes the Aeons. People do not know how to feel about them at first.
Naturally, there will always be the curious type of people who would try to search for the cause of it.
Pop in lil old You, just trying to help everyone you come across who look to be in desperate need power to be able to change their unfortunate circumstances. Too pure of heart, harmless mischief maker, just overall the sweetest entity with the power to turn anything into gods... yes, this is how beings like Qlipoth and Nous are born.
Now this gets me thinking that the Paths existed as one big, singular Path with you as the origin point and the ending point. When you gift a part of your power to someone/something, a piece of the path branches out of the main path but still remains connected to you... whether out of devotion or because it cannot exist without you is up in the air (your choice tbh).
The people/Aeons would just feel so grateful to be chosen, to be given so much power to do what they wished to change/do most... this was before they discovered there were others like them, doing things different from them that may clash with their ideals and suddenly there’s an all out war because each of the Aeons believed that the others were sullying your name by abusing your gifts.
(While the Dusk Wars are happening, you remain in ignorance to the wars because there are mortals that are calling for help and you just can’t look away from them.)
Eventually most of the Aeons are either killed off by each other (i.e, Tayzzyronth the Propagation) or assimilated into another Aeon (i.e Ena the Order), leaving a great many Paths masterless and fraying in shards, which suddenly starts to affect you badly and the poor Aeons who were just trying to do your name justice are panicking.
No one knows what happened, or what was happening to you, and when Akivili disappears/died, you disappear as well. Everyone is grieving, and there are no more new Aeons appearing anymore.
Thus you are assumed dead by the universe  (this part came from another post that I can’t quite find ;-;) and later become forgotten just because... idk. Haven’t thought much past this.
Plot twist for the universe (not really a plot twist because there would be no story without the star of the show), you are not. You just got a bit (super) sleepy because the Paths that are masterless are without an ending point and therefore drains you because there is no one there to receive the power from the separated Path. You spent a lot of your energy mending the masterless Paths back to you which made you fall asleep by the time you were done.
When you wake back up is when the game starts, and being so out of touch with the timeline of the universe, you’re just one curious bean trying to figure out what’s going on.
No one can see you now though, which is just sad for you, but you realized they can sense you so you’re just doing your best to help them now. Kafka and Silver Wolf do not understand what’s going on except the strange warm and homely feeling that makes them feel invincible is suddenly there.
Also a mischief maker if the randomly destroyed property by the subtle urging is anything to go by... yeah, there’s something there.
Kafka and Silver Wolf feel oddly disappointed when the sensation leaves, but returns to Elio and mentions it to him. He then tells them that he may or may not have withheld information from them that an Aeon (the OG of Aeons) was going to be helping them. However they react is up to your thoughts... I haven’t thought of something for that part yet.
When MC (could be either) wakes up, the first thing they actually see is You... which makes you delighted because Yay, a friend to communicate with!. Neither March 7th nor Dan Heng could understand why the MC is talking to nothing, until they felt the warm and fuzzy presence nestled into them that they are suddenly aware that MC might be interacting with a higher existence that might be an Aeon.
They are naturally wary of you at first, but upon seeing the way MC interacts with you, doing some silly stuff by your apparent urging... they realized you’re pretty harmless and also very nice (in what way, also up in the air).
[Going back to the subject of other Aeons who are essentially your Emanators by all but name, they do not know you are alive until Nanook catches sight of you/felt your very real presence with the MC when the Doomsday Beast battle happens. They are very happy you’re back, but they’re very upset because why didn’t you tell them you were back? For what reason, you guys can think about it. 
Anyways, you’ve got an Aeon stalking you and MC now, keeping a close eye on you especially because they nearly lost you once and would like it if you didn’t actually die this time. When MC starts getting acknowledged by more of the Aeons, more of them are also going to notice you too and then join Nanook with the stalking thing.
Eventually if they do find you in reality... well, that’s up to your imagination. It can also be a race between them and the mortals who start to see you physically too since you’re the sweetest existence to ever come into the universe and it’s a must to protect that innocence of yours (or for some other reason).
Also highly debating if Aeon!You would be either Aeon of Origin (the beginning of the Paths/the Origin of the Paths if going by this type of story) or Aeon of Guidance because of the in-game thing that we all do.]
Uhh... that’s all my brain can come up with here... so I shall see myself out now! ;D
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kisskawa · 2 years
Text
⁠— a sight for sore eyes
“don’t stay up too late,” your voice cuts through a softer version of shoes squeaking on polished floors and rubber balls slapping against skin.
oikawa nods earnestly, daring to pause his recording of an old match gone by as you lean down over the back of the sofa, pressing a kiss onto his cheek. as always, oikawa finds his breath hitches when you draw near, a reminder that you chose to be so close, that you chose him. padding away to bed, your fingertips drag a path across his broad shoulders, prolonging your contact by sacred seconds and leaving goosebumps in their wake.
your touch has softened, fingers readying to part from the expanse of his back when oikawa calls out. your name breaks up the midst of the night, and coming from oikawa’s tongue, it feels it was always meant to.
you turn, hardly a question in your smile but the words flow suddenly from oikawa’s lips nonetheless, “before you go, have you seen my glasses?”
you pause, “your what?”
“my glasses, have you seen them?”
“not once,” your reply is instantaneous, lined with bewilderment.
“i could’ve sworn they were somewhere here...in a navy case...leather...” oikawa murmurs, tone amused as he trails off in a silent plea for you to help his search.
lucky for him, your curiousity wins.
oikawa is folding blankets in his lap, elbow jutting out to press down and secure an unsteady stack of cushions, when you let out an enthusiastic “oh!”
your hand is hidden down the side of the sofa, fingers wiggling as they dig around the gap. your pointer and middle prod at supple leather.
they slip once, then twice, before managing to hook around the item and the joy in your triumph has oikawa branding the memory to his mind. your proud cry of “got it!” seems to echo as both the case and your hand escapes the confines of the sofa.
“thanks,” tooru hums, word honeyed by the gentle smile stretching his lips.
you return his expression, looking equally as fond, and with no more patience left within, you open the box.
the obvious fascination in your eyes has oikawa suppressing a tiny laugh, wondering how you could find such a mundane object so interesting. you know the truth - it only takes the simplest of connections to oikawa to hold your attention.
his glasses are half framed and squarish and light, you notice, taking them carefully out the case. and as if porcelain, you slide them delicately onto tooru’s face, balancing them on his ears. you decide, pointedly, to ignore how they darken under your attention, blooming a deep red.
it’s out of habit that your hand makes it’s way into your hair after, finding a purpose in brushing away rebellious flicks before you can convince yourself to increase the distance between the two of you once more.
“so?” tooru asks, eyes catching your own, “what do you think?”
you weigh the question in your mind, turning it over and over as you keep tooru’s gaze, hardly risking blinking and breaking such an affectionate stare. instead, you let yourself drown in familiarity and warmth and mirrored love that you know has nothing to do with the frames that perch on tooru’s nose.
you grin, “i like them.”
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lemonlover1110 · 1 year
Text
Baby Steps
Satoru Gojo
[Chapter 13] Labels
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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader
Chapter Warnings: Angst
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Satoru makes a list of everything that is needed at home, making sure to not miss a single item. Missing even the most insignificant item can cause you to burst into tears because out of all other things, that specific item was what you were craving. It always ends up with Satoru going back to the store, of course, a bit annoyed. But there isn’t a single thing he wouldn’t do.
“Is there anything else you need?” Satoru questions, staring at the almost-finished list. You end up shaking your head, and he raises his brow before asking, “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” You nod in response as you walk to the fridge to look at what you can feast on. Lately you’ve been having this issue where you’re hungry and all the food in the kitchen is just not appetizing enough for you to eat. It always leads you to say how “there’s nothing to eat” and Satoru can’t help but get annoyed because he knows there’s a lot of food to eat. But he’ll try to accommodate your needs and make something that he knows you’ll like.
“Alright, just call me if you need anything from the store.” Satoru tells you, and you hum in response. Satoru folds the piece of paper and shoves it into his pocket before standing up and grabbing his car keys. “I’ll be back soon, honey.”
Your heart melts at the cute pet names that he’s picked out for you. You haven’t made things official yet, but at this point you doubt it’s necessary. You’re living together and you’re expecting a baby, a label is the last thing you’re worried about.
Even if you were to bring it up, Satoru doesn’t want to put a label on it. It’s the last thing on his mind, and he wouldn’t like the idea of putting a label on it, unlike you. You’re carrying his child, that’s that. It seems like that’s all it’ll be. But he likes calling you honey. He likes kissing you, cuddling with you, sleeping next to you. And it’s not just because you’re carrying his child.
Regardless, he doesn’t want to put a label on it. A label is certainly the last thing he thinks about while searching and picking out the groceries you need. He has to make sure every product is healthy and good for you. He has to make sure it’s the right brand. He has to make sure he gets you the best of the best from the store.
Satoru is so focused on getting groceries that he almost misses someone that walks by. But nothing goes unseen by Satoru. Yet when he turns, there’s no one there. He’s almost a hundred percent sure that an old friend walked by.
He doesn’t put the effort into walking around the store to find them. Instead he focuses on finding the groceries that aren’t crossed out on the list. He still has so much to pick out and he’s impatient to go back home. The store is full, and he can’t stand being around so many people at once.
Satoru picks out what he needs and walks out of the store, hands and arms filled with groceries. He has so much, yet he knows that there’s something missing because you always forget about something that’s crucial to your cravings. He walks to his car, and his heart drops when he makes out the person that leans on his car. The same person he thought of earlier.
Satoru sighs as he walks up to the car, and up to the person he was thinking about earlier. He opens the trunk, ignoring Suguru as he puts everything in the trunk. Suguru clears his throat, trying to catch Satoru’s attention, but Satoru is unbothered. They have nothing to talk about anymore– Although they do, neither of them want to talk about it though.
“Stocking up on diapers?” Suguru asks, making Satoru’s blood run cold. He completely freezes, wondering how the hell Suguru got hold of that information. “There’s a rumor in Jujutsu society, and you know, everything comes back to me. Based on your reaction, it’s true.”
“No, I was just confused. Why the hell would I be stocking up on diapers?” Satoru tries to play off, hiding the bags that contain items for his baby; stuff that he just couldn’t resist buying. He slams the trunk shut and begins to walk to the driver’s side. “I’m supposed to execute you, so be warned. Don’t come around.”
Suguru says your name, and Satoru freezes again. How the hell is Suguru finding out about this? Satoru has done everything in his willpower to make sure that Jujutsu society doesn’t find out about you, but somehow the word is getting out. Obviously Megumi and Tsumiki aren’t to blame. “I saw her. She’s pretty.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Satoru responds, getting into the car. He rolls down the window and says, “Now, if you’ll take my advice. Next time I won’t be so nice and just let you walk off. You’re a murderer.”
“Like we’re really any different.” Suguru chuckles. “Is she a sorcerer? I doubt she is.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Satoru says before he rolls up the window. Suguru wickedly smiles as Satoru begins to back out of the parking spot. Of course, Suguru knows, but Satoru wonders just how much Suguru knows. 
Satoru is agitated, but he knows as much as to not drive straight home. Instead he drives to Daisuke’s place, scared that Suguru or someone else might follow him home. He has to ensure that you’re safe above anything else.
-
At around eight in the night is when Satoru comes back. You worriedly sit on the couch, wondering why Satoru hasn’t been back yet. When he finally walks into the place, he doesn’t look too ecstatic either. You aren’t too sure on how to initially approach him. 
“Was the place packed?” You question as he puts the majority of the groceries on the kitchen counter. It’s been hours since he left, so of course that’s the only thought you have. All other horrible thoughts disappear since he’s alive and looks fine in front of you. He doesn’t answer though.
It takes a moment for him to finally come up with a response. “I have to go back. They didn’t have any milk, and I couldn’t find any chocolate ice cream.”
The milk that he had bought was spoiled after spending so much time in the trunk, and the ice cream melted. He really isn’t in the mood to go back to the grocery store now of all times. Truthfully, he’s worried.
“It’s fine.” You end up responding which lifts so much weight from his shoulders. He begins to put away the groceries, but you end up patting the space beside you on the couch, telling him, “Come sit with me for a bit.”
“Let me put these away first.” He says, and you pat the space beside you again, this time much harder.
“C’mon. I’ve been alone all day. I can put those away later.” You reply, and he comes to a stop, sighing. He takes off his shades, putting them on the kitchen counter with the groceries before walking over to you. His mind goes a thousand miles per hour, thinking of what to do. Not about sitting next to you, but more about the encounter he faced earlier. 
Someone has clearly been informing Suguru about everything. But he wonders who. Nobody knows about your pregnancy apart from your friends, and they clearly don’t know who Suguru is. At least that’s what he hopes. 
Satoru walks over to you and takes a seat. Usually he lays his head on your lap and you run your fingers through his hair. You two act too much like a couple but he’ll refuse to admit that you are one. Especially now then ever. But tonight he doesn’t do what he usually does, which leads you to question,
“What happened?” You sense something is up. He’s extremely late from the grocery store and he isn’t acting like his usual self. He’d talk a while of what he saw in the grocery store. It usually annoys you while you try to watch something. He ends up shaking his head at the question, making your hand go on top of his. “Is it about the ice cream? I’ll be fine without it.”
He feels his heart flutter. He bites his bottom lip, thinking of what to say or do. Worst comes to worst, he’ll kill Suguru. He won’t hesitate. But still, killing Suguru won’t finish the job. God knows how many people Suguru has told and how many would take action. 
“Is there something wrong, Satoru?” You question, realizing he’s lost in the clouds. You wonder what runs through his mind. He was perfectly fine in the morning.
“I’ve been hiding something from you.” He begins, and your face goes from a worried to a curious expression. You patiently wait for what he has to say, and you expect maybe a lot of things except for what he actually says. Because he made sure to make clear and convince you otherwise, “I’m seeing someone.”
“What?” You blink slowly. Your brain slowly processes what he said. You feel the tears well up in your eyes. “Huh? Are you messing with me?”
“I’m sorry… But I’m seeing Leiko.” He tells you, and you feel your heart shatter into pieces. You turn your face so he doesn’t see the tears that you can’t stop from streaming down your face. “It just sort of… Happened. I’m sorry.”
“Satoru, I thought we were–” You have to stop yourself from talking. Your voice is breaking and you don’t like the idea of letting him know that you’re crying. Lately you’re an emotional mess, he knows more than anyone. “I hope you two are happy.”
You stand up and begin to walk away, not wanting to let him see you cry. His heart burns, knowing that you’re hurting, but he doesn’t say anything. Pushing you away is what’s best right now, while he figures out what to do.
“I guess you’ll be moving out soon. Doubt that Leiko wants her boyfriend to be living with some other woman.” You say, which gives him that great idea. He has to move out. It was the last thing he was thinking about in the morning, but there’s a sudden change of plans.
“You’re right.” He responds. “I’ll be packing my stuff and moving out soon.”
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