#maybe this is all BAD Karma coming back to bite me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shaguro · 25 days

Note

I HOPE NOBODY REQUESTED THIS. needy geto :)) he’s a whiner, he begs, he’s so hard that it hurts - i hope this was good 🥹🙏🏾

synposis: you use geto’s unusual, needy mood to your advantage.

ੈ✩‧₊˚tags: needy whiney geto! (with a soft dom!fem reader. p in v, riding, choking (geto receiving), dirty talk, creampies, pet names used (mama, baby and good boy) slightt overstim but not really. — wc: 1.5k

an: i actually like this one fr. hope u enjoy it mirahhh 🩷

“fuck, i . . . i need you so bad, mama. stop t-teasin’ me.”

you don’t know what’s gotten into your boyfriend but by no means are you complaining. a sight this rare, you wish it could last forever if possible — geto completely at your mercy, a stuttering mess as you arch over his lap, a dainty hand on his thick base as you stroke him tantalizingly slow, dragging his angry tip along your puffy folds, just missing your entrance.

“aww, need me bad, huh?” you coo, purely teasing. your free hand reaches for his cheek, the pad of your thumb resting on his plush bottom lip. “i’ll give you what you want, if you say please.”

this is definitely geto’s karma.

a taste of his own medicine. all the times he’d tease you, edge you till you were on the brink of tears? they’re coming back to bite him right in the ass. really, he couldn’t be mad. not when he’s so hard it fucking hurts — maybe you’d see just how desperate he is, go a little easy on him, even though geto knows he’s undeserving of such humility.

and with that deceivingly sweet smile on your face? geto knows you’re gonna give him hell.

“couldn’t wait for the opportunity to g-get back at me . . . you’re really enjoyin’ this, huh?” he murmurs, rolling his eyes when you respond with a quick yes. his hands are on your hips now, idly rubbing circles into the soft skin. he knows better than to move without permission because if you’re anything like him, you’ll make him suffer longer.

he mutters out a “. . . please.” so low and meek, you almost didn’t catch it.

clicking your tongue, you lean forward slightly — just enough to align his leaky tip with your hole. “now, suguru . . . you can do better than that.” and that’s when he feels it — warm, gummy walls suddenly mold around his aching length, so perfectly that geto sucks in a sharp breath, tilts his head back onto the headboard. god, he’s been waiting for this all day.

you sink down slowly, biting your lip as you adjust to the stinging stretch of his dick. so insanely thick and long, it takes a few long minutes before he completely bottoms out, inch after inch until you’re stuffed full.

geto quirks a brow, his breaths short and uneven as he studies your pretty face intently. “why . . . why’d you stop?”

you simper, your palms planted firmly on his pecs to steady yourself. “told you, baby. you can do better and ‘m not moving till you say it right.” giggling at his annoyed, flushed expression, you tilt your head to the side all innocent, waiting and watching. “say pretty please.”

just impatient, geto kisses his teeth, biting back a moan as his eyes land on where your bodies connect, the lewd view of his cock sheathed so comfortably in your cunt. he wants, no, needs more and at this point, he’ll do whatever it takes to get it.

even if that means he has to beg.

“i want you to fuck me, want you so bad right now, mama . . want you to make me feel good, pretty please?”

just what you wanted to hear.

“good boy.” your honeyed praise had his dick pulsing inside you, brick as ever. wholly satisfied, you lift your hips a fraction before slamming them back down suddenly and geto whines — trimmed fingernails dig crescents into your love handles as you repeat that motion, again and again.

once you get a good groove, the pace you set is steady, sensual — manicured nails anchored into his toned pectorals leave red cat-like marks on the smooh skin as you let out your own sweet moans, mending with the addicting melody of your plush ass clapping on his thighs with each calculated bounce and geto is losing the little sanity he has left.

and, as hard as he tries, he can’t swallow the pretty, broken sounds you’re eliciting from his throat. “fuck, mama. fuckk,” his mouth is stretched in the shape of an “o” and glistening pupils, blown wide are staring up at you through thick, black eyelashes. stray, shiny hairs stick to his sweaty forehead. a few shiny beads trickle from his temple, down the side of his sharp jaw when he mutters a raspy, “ngh-uh, don’t stop, please.”

who would’ve known that suguru geto was such a needy whore?

“love the way this pussy feels, huh?” you pant out, a smug smile stretched from each end of your face, cheek to cheek. he gives a half nod, too fucked out to remember his manners. suguru’s eyes are too focused on your bouncing tits, ricocheting off your ribcage as your hips gyrate, round n round in rhythmic circles — a sight so obscene, he’s convinced you’re heaven-sent, an angel of some sort. “tell me, baby. let me hear you.”

no . . . you’re more like a demon, that’s what you are.

suguru does, indeed, love the way your pussy feels. you’re wicked to think he could even voice such thoughts while you’re literally fucking the shit out of him. so wicked, downright foul. no fair, no fair.

“i said,” snapping him out his reverie, you lean down — hand rising to cup his cheeks between your thumb and other fingers, his lips puff and purse. “tell me how much you love this pussy.”

that’s when you do something new. moving from his face to his neck, your hand curls around the column of his throat, right over his adam’s apple. glassy obsidians filt to your face, widening as that hand squeezes snug against his windpipe and suguru inhales deeply, you feel the lift and expand of his lungs under your palm, the vibration rattling your fingers when suguru finally exhales a strained moan that physically hurt to hold.

to suguru’s surprise, he doesn’t paint your insides white with cum.

“i love-“ he gasps when the pressure on his neck intensifies, vision blurred and speckled with twinkly stars. “i love this p-pussy, so so-“ another inhale, exhale as he breathes out “muchhh.”

“i know baby, i know.” you knew that he’s close, too. a telltale sign, it’s as though his cock swelled in size and god, did it feel fucking good — dragging along the grooves of your inner walls, throbbing and throbbing, with every single drop of your hips, his balls smack dead on your globes — dripping with your milky cream, tight and full with the kids you desperately wanted him to gift you. “gonna cum for me? gonna fill this pussy up, mm?”

“yes, yes, yes,” dribble forms on the corner of his lips, he doesn’t bother to wipe it as he incessantly babbles, “gonna be g-good for you, fuuuck, feels so fucking good, baby, need it, need you, please-“

his breath hitches in his throat when the bed shifts, the mattress dipping under your weight as you plant your feet into the soft memory foam. you bounce, bounce, bounce until you adjust to the new, deep angle this position provided. just like suguru, you feel your own orgasm building. fighting the urge to roll your eyes back into the depths of your skull, you divert your attention back to suguru who’s staring at you dazedly, mouth agape.

he is so, so pretty like this.

“s’pretty under me like this, suguru.” you voice your thoughts in a salacious purr, a pretty smile curls on your lips. “doing so good f’me.”

shaky hands find themselves beneath the curve of your ass and suguru’s legs move into a bend, lifting you slightly so he can match your rhythm, the movement smooth and fluid from how wet you are. “mm, shit.” suguru’s head tilts back into cushiony pillows, eyes screwed shut. heat bubbles in his stomach, tingling through his bones. it’s coming. “don’t think ‘m gonna l-last, mama.” he’s almost distracted by the filthy sound of your cunny, singing a tune akin to gooey macaroni. “c-can’t hold it, g-god.”

“then don’t.”

suguru’s toes flex and twitch, muscles in his thighs jumping simultaneously.

“already told you to fill me up, right? d-do it, don’t hold back.”

fuck, fuck, fuck.

“s’your pussy, sugu . . . all yours. so take what’s yours.”

fuck!

with a long, pitchy groan, suguru’s back arches, whole body wracked with quivers and tremors as he shoots his heavy thick load deep inside your awaiting cunt and you don’t stop moving, no — in fact, you grind harder, milking every last drop of cum from his balls. that’s what brings you to your end, the warmth spreading deep within your tummy as you cry out your boyfriends name — a sticky gush flowing down his glistening length, uncontrollable as you ride out your high.

there’s a mess between your bodies, a nasty mix of fluids on thighs, stomachs, all over the bed beneath you. albeit, neither of you care, electing to lay in the mess you’ve created, a tangle of sore, weak limbs.

you let out a soft hiss as you pull off suguru’s softening cock, shakily resting your weight atop him. one of his arms wrapped around the small of your back and your fingertips skim across the surface of his chest, right over his heart, the beat of it a slow, soothing drum. with suguru’s cheek on your forehead, his eyes settle on the ceiling, lids heavy as sleep calls him.

suguru decides he’ll let you take control more often.

@screampied @preciousamethyst since yall wanted a tagggg

#geto smut #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #jjk geto smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

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narcissarina · 2 months

Text

Darkened Desires

Prologue and Chapter 1: The sun

Pairings: Mafia!Scaramouche × Barista!Reader

Word count: 1,006

Tw: praise kink, degradation, kidnapping, tourture, dub/non-con, forced breeding, dismembering, gore, deaths, age-gap, corruption, use of force, trauma, use of drugs, stalking, mentions of human trafficking on the near chapters, slowburn.

Warning: This fanfiction may contain kidnapping, torture, dub/non-con, forced breeding, dismembering, age-gap, corruption, vigilante Scaramouche, use of force, trauma, use of drugs, stalking, and more. This fiction will continue to grow darker as chapters goes by.

Your mental health matters.

CHAPTER 2:

THE MOON

I should’ve just killed this fucker earlier, but here I am interrogating him in a public place and inside this fucking café. I knew I shouldn’t have taken and agree on this meet-up. Maybe this is my karma after killing another fucker earlier too or that I’m just too kind to this person.

“So,” I spoke, my tone threatening and so is my aura, I could spread a lot of negative energy right now as my mood is bad as shit. “What happened to the person I told you to give me information about?” I finally asked, wicked grin across my face, trying my best to seem… friendly. Even though I want to reach out to him across the table and slam his head until he bleeds to death. But no, we don’t want that kind of attention out in this open, right?

All he could do was stammer and fidget, fuck. I don’t have time for this.

“You shitheads deal with him.” I told to my bodyguards and they started muttering deadly threats, telling him that I, the boss, don’t have time to deal his bullshit.

I lean my head back and feel the soft cushion of the seat, I saw a glimpse of someone in the corner of my eye. Someone caught my attention.

It was the barista, the way she smiles at the two customers—probably a mother and her daughter. As if in her eyes she saw a glimpse of reflection of herself and her own mother. I clicked my tongue and shakes my head as I continue watching her.

She was gentle, her smile like a ray of sunlight.

I could only bite my bottom lip, snap my fingers and whispered to one of my men, “give me her personal background.” I spoke in a demanding and authorizing tone, “will do, sir.” One of my men nodded.

So fucking pretty, would be much more prettier if she became one of my priced belongings.

He shuts up, that’s it.

I’m going to kill this bitch after we’re out of here and when we do I’m gonna—

“Excuse me?” a voice filled my raging thoughts and pulled my full attention to her. What the fuck, she’s much prettier up close.

Oh.

Oh, shit, shit, shit! Did we get caught?!

Before I could open my mouth, she starts asking us questions and how me and my men were here for quite a long time and hasn’t ordered anything… yet. Then asking us to leave, pfft, that’s cute. Trying to put on a brave face and act when I could clearly see that she’s intimidated by us too, I could hear her stammer her words and almost eat her words up too. So fucking cute.

But before messing around, I got to deal with this situation first then him. I relax my eyes and looked at her, “so we just need to order and you’ll leave us alone?” I asked, fuck, I didn’t mean to sound so cold and flat. But I need her away from us, away from danger.

I click my tongue with irritation and rest my elbow on the table and my chin resting on my palm, “whatever, get me some dark coffee.” I hiss, and focus my attention to my men and the man in the middle, I place a smile and told them they could order. It’s on me all right.

After she wrote down all of our orders, my eyes were on the man and he’s sweating, trembling with fear and fidgeting. She noticed.

“I’m sorry sir but are these gentle folks seems to bother you nor are they intimidating you?”

I frowned, she gave her attention to him and not me? Well, I hope he comes back alive and well tomorrow.

“You know,” I start, shifting her attention to me as she turn her head and straight her posture, the notebook in hand. “Don’t you think it’s better to get our order done?” I asked with a smile, trying to soften my tone but she still seems intimidated by me. That sucks.

Well, it doesn’t matter does it? In the end, I will claim her no matter what. She’ll be mine, she doesn’t need to know it yet.

I could only laugh a little, grinning to myself on how cute she walks away. She was a little stiff and her legs look like it’s gonna give out, I hope I made her excited—even for just one bit…

Minutes later, our order came. My little sunshine here is too kind to delivery it to us, to our table and left—still as stiff as a board when she walks away from our table.

It'd be fun to break her, to have her submit.

Every now and then I would steal a glance while speaking to the man who “broke” my trust and my contract with him, oh well. I’ll just kill him after I eye-fuck the most beautiful barista I laid my eyes upon.

“Time is up and it’s time we leave.” I stood up, belly full and muscles and bones stretched and cracked. I point to one of my men, tell him to come closer and whispered, “Don’t let him out of our sight, bring him with us and you know what to do.”

I smiled and lend out a hand, “Well then, Mr. Parfez let me offer you a ride home.” I emphasize the word home so much that he knew he’s in trouble, two of my men went behind him and escorted him first as I walked up to the counter up front—took my wallet out and gave a 100$ tip.

She was so confused and I fucking love seeing her scared of me. I’m fucking addicted.

I turn and walked out, and took one last glance at her. Thinking to myself that I can have her all to myself and for it to work is that I need her to warm up bit by bit.

She doesn’t have a choice.

Link:

Chapter 3: THE MOON

#genshin impact #scaramouche x you #scaramouche fanfic #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche smut #Darkened Desires Series #genshin smut #sorry if the story is short TT #I'm trying out if chapter by chapter are suited to me lol #will be writing chapter 3!#Mafia!Scaramouche #Mafia!Scara

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 4 months

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Hi!! I absolutely love your fanfics. I was wondering if you could do a Gideon (Gordon) x reader fic that’s kinda angsty to fluff? Maybe the reader and him were close, but he ended up leaving because of how successful G-Man studios was. Then, when Matthew humbled him, he realized that he never should have left?

Awh thank you! For this one, Reader is just replacing Julia more or less

..............

"Are you okay? That looked pretty rough.."

Blinking in surprise, Gordon gazed up at you for a brief moment, seeing the look of concern written all over your face. Yet he didn't have the courage to say anything, as he just sniffled and shook his head, trying to bite back tears.

He thought you were going to make fun of him..just like the rest of this stupid school did after he tried asking out one of the popular girls.

Finally, he had gotten such a burst of confidence, thinking his "fearless" nature was going to score him a date.

But that was all gone now.

He made a damn fool out of himself in front of everyone.

"I think this is yours, Gordon."

Looking back at you, he was shocked to see you kneeling down, the book dusted off and being handed over to him. He quickly snatched it back, cradling it to his chest. "Th-Thanks.." He mumbled. "I'm surprised you even know who I am in all honesty.."

"Well, we do share classes." You mentioned, smiling a little as you both stood up. "You know, they can laugh all they want. But I bet none of those jerks would have the balls to ask her out like you did. I'd say you're truly living up to the "fearless" title."

He was frozen in-place, unsure of what to say as you alluded to his shirt, which he bashfully covered with his oversized coat. When you footsteps walked past him, however, he spun around and saw you going to your locker.

He stumbled after you. "W-Wait!"

"Yeah?"

"You know my name, but I'm afraid yours has slipped by me. What was it again?"

"[Y/n]."

"[Y/n]...well..thank you for the kind words, [y/n]. I wish more people in this stupid school were like you." He tried mustering a smile, although at the moment he seemed self-conscious about his braces. "Would you...l-like to come by my place to study for that test we have tomorrow?"

"...damn it's tomorrow? I was working on a whole flash card set but I kinda fell behind and-"

"Oh I have my own set, too! Maybe we can exchange them and quiz each other!"

"Sounds good." You chuckled, entering your lock combination to grab your notebook. Once you shut the door, you glanced at him, smiling. "I'll catch you after school then, G-Man."

Gordon blinked, jaw-dropped in disbelief as you walked away from him. He just stood there, watching you vanish into the crowd of students on their way to their next class.

A few people whispered and giggled at the way he was staring at you, some even calling him a weirdo or creep.

But this time, he didn't pay them any mind.

You just gave him the coolest nickname ever.

G-Man..

"Wait, the G-Man Empire has fallen, you said?"

"Yeah! Don't you ever watch the news? Apparently Matthew Patel is the new CEO!"

"...hah, I figured karma was gonna catch up to that son of a bitch sooner or later."

"Woah, [y/n]..that's kinda harsh. Didn't you go out with that guy and start on it together? I thought you'd be pissed off about it."

"Why would I be pissed off? He pushed me aside when it got successful and claimed he didn't have "time" for a relationship anymore. And it made me think "well shit, maybe it was never a real one to begin with...maybe he saw us as business partners and nothing more"."

"...damn, I didn't know all of that. My bad."

"No, it's..." Pausing, you held the phone away from your ear for a moment, taking a deep breath before you could get too upset. "Look, I'm over it. I'm not glazing over everything I might've done wrong..it was all him. He turned into a rich douchebag."

"Right, and now he's a broke douchebag." Your friend laughed. "Anyways, if I see him on the streets..I'll deck him in the face for ya, alright?"

"Thanks. Maybe I'll do that, too, if I happen to see him.." You joked as well, already feeling a bit better after ending the conversation, hanging up the phone.

With a small sigh, you turned back to the TV and put on some anime episode, relaxing as you focused more on the show and less on the rainstorm outside...

And Gideon.

But unfortunately for you, a name like that was hard to forget.

Especially as you once knew him as that aloof yet sweet nerd who used to hang out with you after school and on the weekends. Most of your days were spent either studying or watching anime while he explained every bit of lore under the sun.

Sure, highschool had its cringy moments, but other times it was great.

Gid--Gordon made up the best parts of it.

He was the first person you ever saw the Sparks(tm) with.

You two were close, graduating and going into college together, and ultimately helping him form the G-Man business from the ground up. He was inspired by that cool nickname you've given him in highschool, assuring you that you deserved all the credit.

At some point, however, he suddenly changed his name..apparently because he felt like "Gordon Goose" was dead to him.

You agreed that being addressed as "Mr. Goose" was one way to ensure he's never taken seriously, so you accepted his name-change to Gideon.

Then...even more about him began to change.

And soon you barely recognized the man you fell in love with.

As soon as he discovered something called "The Glow", his wealth skyrocketed, but he refused to let you in on what this little secret of his was. And he barely gave you his fair share of the earnings anymore.

It wasn't long before you got shoved aside, and he stayed up on his high horse alongside all the other millionaires and billionaires while you worked at your drastically lower-leveled job that was connected to his business empire.

Yep. His empire.

Not yours and his.

He didn't speak to you again unless it was through some random agent.

You were livid for the way he just left you in the dust, and right as you thought you couldn't hate him even more...

He went out with Ramona Flowers, got broken up with, and formed some bizarre group that apparently included her six other "evil" exes.

Oh, how furious you were.

Not at her, though. You felt terrible after she told you about how controlling he was, but it made you wish that you had a time machine so you could go back and warn her NOT to date that prick.

Or better yet..go back and stop him from turning into a prick.

Now according to your friend, Matthew Patel--Ramona's first ex--won the rights to all of Gideon's properties after a tough fight. But oddly enough nobody knew of his current whereabouts.

They emphasized the point that he was kicked out and not killed..

That made you wonder where he is and if he's-

'Wait..why do I suddenly feel sorry for him?' You blinked, before shaking your head and deciding to pause the episode, realizing you weren't even focusing on the story anymore.

Only that jerk.

Okay, so maybe a small part of you did miss him..and hoped that Gordon would come back. But you had a feeling things won't ever change nor return to what they used to be..

Deciding to clear your thoughts, you threw on your coat and opened the front door, stepping out onto your porch. You didn't go any further, as you simply wanted to take in the sights, sounds, and smells of the rain.

Of course it was windy, too, making the air feel chillier than it actually was.

Through the downpour, however, you could make out a figure that was seemingly limping down the sidewalk.

They were barely lit by the streetlamps, but your heart sunk into your stomach the moment you realized who that was exactly..

"G....Gideon..?"

Sure enough, it was him.

Gideon Graves. The rich asshole who now looked as though he was dragged through the mud several times in a row..completely disheveled with bruises on his face and tears in his usually pristine clothes.

Not to mention he seemed utterly defeated.

Upon hearing his name, he stopped and looked over, stunned to see that you were still living on this same street. "[Y/n].."

You scowled, the words you've exchanged with your friend from earlier coming back into your mind. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

"Please..don't remind me.." He rasped, his voice sounding so broken and tired.

"I think I will, actually. Now you know how I felt when you kicked me to the curb."

"...I'll admit it..that was a stupid thing for me to do. And I'm sorry.."

Blinking, you were surprised by his sudden apology. But your guard remained up, as you just huffed. "What? Just because you lost your big empire..you finally decide to grovel at my doorstep in the cold rain and apologize? Where was this last year? Two years ago?"

"........"

You sighed. As much as you despised seeing how sad and pathetic he was acting...it did tug on your heartstrings a little bit. You were starting to catch glimpses of that sweet kid you once knew..

"Gordon?"

He perked up. "Yes?"

"...I see. You haven't entirely killed your old self, then.." You quietly mused.

"You were right, [y/n]. I..I-I never should have left you." He took off his glasses as he sniffled and put them in his pocket, shivering. "I don't have any right coming here, but..I used the last of my money to catch a bus. Just to see the one person I still care about...and...hopefully cares for me, too.."

You blinked. "You...still care about me?"

"I know it didn't seem like it, but...I never stopped.." He mumbled. "I got greedy, ambitious...and lost sight of who really loved me. Now I'm back to where I was before.."

"And that is...?"

"..being a loser.." He was even quieter this time around. So much so, you barely heard him at all...although you knew what he said exactly.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I said...I'm back to being a loser."

You smirked. "One more time?"

"I said I'm a LOSER!!" Gordon snapped, tears finally streaking down his sunken cheeks as he scowled at you. His shout was hoarse, yet pained at the same time. "I-I'm a loser, okay?! A loser who doesn't deserve to grovel at your doorstep like this. A loser who should just lay down and die-''

Then he heard your small laughter and stopped his pity party, sniffling as he stared at you. "Wh-What's so funny?"

"You are a real loser for leaving me...but I'm just as much of a loser for wanting to let you back into my life.." Sighing, you shook your head before you grabbed the umbrella beside your door, opening it and heading down the steps.

He stared at you, now seeing that you two were standing under the umbrella together, totally sheltered from the rain.

Why were you doing this?

You looked at him. "You know, I thought about decking you in the face earlier..but I'll take you admitting you're in the wrong any day. Now let's get out of this rain."

A small whimper left his lips as he shuddered, practically clinging to you while you wrapped an arm around him, leading him back into your house.

In that moment, sparks flew, and Gordon realized he was finally seeing them at their strongest.

#clanask #anonymous #scott pilgrim x reader #scott pilgrim takes off x reader #spto x reader #gideon graves #gordon goose #gideon graves x reader #gordon goose x reader #hurt/comfort #angst/fluff #angst to fluff

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jelluf1sh · 6 months

Note

*sends a peacock with my request to you*

Heyyyyyyy

Can I request Sukuna (of course), Gojo, and Nanami with a reader who just randomly bites out of love. Like nothing sexual, but just biting them as a show of love at random times! Just

c h o m p

Thank you! And of course, remember to take care of yourself and take your time!

𖦹 ˚ ✩ . ❝chomp !❞

★ synopsis. there's just something about him that looks so biteable……

★ includes. satoru gojo, nanami kento, ryoumen sukuna.

★ formatting. headcanons.

★ notes. established relationships, gn! reader, silliness. THIS ISN'T SMUT.

꒰— ๑ author’s note. *takes said peacock and names it vil schoenheit the 2nd and kisses it on the forehead* hey hi hello!! so happy to see u back in my inbox. ^_^ YOU REQUESTED NANAMI THIS TIME YIPPPIIIEEEE !!!!! ik you tell me to take it slow if i need to (and i appreciate you sm for that <3), but i always feel bad when i don't get these out to you in a timely manner :(( and i have terrible time management skills ok enjoy MWAH !!꒱

★彡 RYOUMEN SUKUNA.

“Remove your teeth from my cheek before I kill you, you rabid little brat. I have enough to deal with just putting up with your antics.”

He wants you so bad.

I promise he actually loves you. He just doesn’t know what he’s doing sometimes. And, to be fair, you’ve thrown him for a loop with this one.

One of Sukuna’s favorite ways to greet you is to pinch your cheek (he won’t pinch too hard — just until you start to complain), so consider this his karma.

He’s actually much more confused than he lets on.

Does his cheek look like a steamed dumpling to you? It’s not full of meat, you idiot.

When you explain that it was a show of love, he makes a face like you’ve just stepped in dog shit.

“Love is for idiots. Though I suppose that’s a satisfying explanation for you, isn’t it?”

★彡 SATORU GOJO.

“Ow! Where’d that even come from!? Are you feral or something? Maybe I mistook my sweet, innocent, cute Y/N for a stray cat... Hmph.”

Like the big baby he is, Satoru’s eyes immediately well with tears, and he asks in a whimper why you’re “attacking him.”

Shut up, Gojo.

It’s obvious he’s just acting. You couldn’t hurt him if you tried!

He puts his Infinity up when he sees you go in for the chomp, then cackles when your face gets all squished against the invisible barrier.

“That’s what you get for trying to eat your boyfriend!!”

He can take a few nibbles to his cheek, but you'd better be ready to take some right back.

Satoru fights dirty, though, so expect them to be in random places, just to spook you.

The fat of your upper arm, your fingers, your cheek — he’s an unpredictable little bastard.

★彡 NANAMI KENTO.

“Give me your phone. I'm limiting your screen time. I don't know which video gave you this idea, but hand it over.”

Please, Y/N, just let him be.

There’s only so much poor Nanami can keep up with when it comes to you. He’s fallen victim to so many challenges and tricks, it’s not even funny.

I’m just kidding. He wouldn’t have committed to you if he didn’t know what he was bargaining for!!

When you bite into his cheek (which took you a lot of courage to do),he takes a moment to sigh, then gives you the meanest side eye you have ever seen.

“My love.”

“Huh?”

“What was that.” It’s not even a question — its a hard statement.

You explain to him that it’s a show of your love! And… that you love him! And… that he shouldn’t be mad, because… because he loves you too! So he can’t get pissed, because the power of love is stronger than—

Another sigh cuts you off, and Nanami opens his hand to take your phone.

#moots. ★#꩜ inbox. ✉️#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo #ryomen sukuna #nanami kento #WHAT THIS TOOK ME SO LONG #ryker im so sorry :((#so soooo sorry #nanamin’s kinda made me giggle #꒰🪼꒱ jelly writes.

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justmeinadaze · 6 months

Text

We're a Family Part 20 (Steddie X You)

Warnings: Dad Steddie X Mom Fem Reader, SMUT, slight role-play, dirty talk, FLUFF, this little family loves each other and Steddie love being dads <3, AGNST, while trick of treating they run into someone they know, Dylan has feelings and so does the reader.

Word Count: 4325

“Dada. Da da.”, James cooed as his little hands lightly tap on Steve’s face.

You smile from your place on the floor as you continue doing Aurora’s hair. Tonight was his first Halloween and he seemed very excited for a baby who had no idea it was even an holiday. To be fair, he could have just been amused at his father’s attire who was currently dressed like Indiana Jones.

“Yes, sir. I’m dada. Now, let dada finish getting your costume on.”

“How are we doing in here?”, Eddie asked as he sauntered in dressed as Slash followed by Dylan in his Newt Scamander costume.

“Mommy’s almost done wit my hair.”, Ro announces.

“And this little troublemaker is finally ready.”, Steve exhales as he lifts James from the bed to display him in his little bat costume complete with little ears at the top.

“Aw. I should have gone as Ozzy this year!”, the metalhead playfully sighs.

“You are not biting my son’s head off.”, you scold.

“Jesus, sweetheart. Scared the hell out of me. I didn’t see you there. I thought there was actually a witch in our house.”

“A ha ha, Eddie Munson. Alright, my love. You’re ready.”

Aurora turns around to show everyone her Princess Leia costume from the new show her and Steve had been watching on Disney plus.

“You look beautiful, honey.”

“Yeah and you’re a pain in the butt like her to.” She scrunches her nose as she hits Eddie’s hip with her little fist.

“Ok, my hat is downstairs. Once we grab that we will be ready!”

***

“Dad, if…if James is still a baby…why does he get candy?”, Ro asks as the six of you head to the next house.

“Because you and your father are eating all the snacks we buy so any chance we can get for free food we take.”

His answer makes you cackle as Eddie sticks out his tongue at his husband. While heading up the stone steps of another home, you’re all blocked by a familiar face that gave you pause.

“Oh, wow, um, hey Y/N.”

“Hi Vivian.” Your eyes quickly scan her over before landing on the smiling toddler in her arms dressed like a lion making you smile as well. “Who is this?”

“This is my son, Brody. Can you say hi? Say hi, baby.” He answers with a tiny roar that makes you laugh and James clap his hands. She beams at everyone before he eyes finally land on Dylan. “Oh my god. Dylan? Look…look how big you’ve gotten. Can I—”

She doesn’t even get to finish her sentence as he wraps his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug.

“We’ll, uh, take them up to get candy.”, Steve nodded as Eddie lifted Aurora in his arms.

Your eyes meet your eldest’s and you asked the question he was too afraid to ask.

“How’s Charlie been doing? Is he with you two?”

“Oh, um, Charlie and I…we’re separated. I…I didn’t…he told me about signing over his rights and that just broke my heart. Things never got better after that.”, she whispered. “I caught him coming home late smelling like perfume…karma I deserved I guess.”

“Vivian, I—”

“No. No reason to apologize or…anything like that. I should have known, ya know?” Standing up straighter, she reaches out to hug Dylan again. “I still live in the same place if ever you want to come over and talk or hang out with this pain in the butt. Of course, if it’s ok with your mom and your dads.”

You son nods as she gives him one final smile and passes you both to head to the next house.

“Are you okay?”, you ask as he watches her leave.

“Yeah. I feel bad for Brody. Maybe…maybe he’ll get lucky to get an Eddie and Steve of his own one day.”

As if on cue, both men come back and Ro runs up to Dylan handing him a candy bar.

“I got this for you!”, she announces as he grins down at her.

##############

You softly smile from your spot on the couch as you watch the kids (and Eddie) dump all their candy out on the floor and begin sifting through it.

“Ah, ah, little man.”, Steve scolds as he quickly scoops up the baby. “No candy for you yet till you get some teeth.”

“Mama!” Your smile grows as your son reaches for you and his father swishes him around in a circle like he’s flying till he lands in your arms. “Ma ma ma ma.”

“Go ahead. Suck up to her but she won’t give you candy either.”

James rubs his eyes before falling against your shoulder.

“Oh, oh wait, my love. Let me get you bottle before you pass out.” As you stand and head for the kitchen, two set of eyes follow you worriedly as they hear the subtle crack in your voice.

Eddie gets up and cuts you off, preparing the bottle for you as he watches you hug James tighter to your body. Tapping your bicep, he hands you what you need and the baby takes it from you eagerly as his beautiful honey colored iris look up at you with love.

A tear falls down your cheek and the metalhead wipes it away as he pulls your head to his chest.

“I love you.”, you mumble smothered by his shirt.

“I love you to, sweetheart. Do you want me to take him?”

“No but if you could put Princess Leia to sleep—”

“Mommy! I’m not sleepy!”, Aurora whines.

“That’s so weird because it didn’t sound like to me she was asking.”, Eddie teases as he places his top hat on her head and she giggles as it slides over her eyes. Taking the opportunity, he picks her up and throws the toddler over his shoulder as he carries her up to her room.

“I’m going to put this one down to.”, you smile carefully scooting towards his room so your movement don’t wake James as he continues to eat with his eyes closed.

The sound of rustling and Dylan’s voice gives you pause as you linger in the doorway of the baby’s room.

“Do you want any of this candy, dad?”

“Is there anything sour in there?” Your son grins as he tosses something to Steve who thanks him as he tears it open. “Eddie always goes for those first so I imagine they will be gone by tomorrow afternoon.”, he chuckles as his eyes scan over Dylan.

“Are you alright, kid?”

“Yeah, I’m just thinking…”

“About?”

“Brody, Vivian’s son.”

“Your brother?” The boy’s eyes guiltily look away and you hear Steve pat the space on the couch next to him. “Dylan even though we’re your dad, we get that biologically Charlie was also your father. He helped create you and Brody. Just because you don’t think of him that way anymore doesn’t mean that that little boy isn’t a part of your family. Just like Ro and James, he’s a part of you and if you want him and even Vivi in your life, that’s ok. We all would have to talk about it but I’m sure Eddie and Y/N would be fine with it.”

“And you?”

“Yeah of course.”

“You always seemed so upset before…”

“Not at you though, kid. I hope you know that. I just…love you. I always have; since I met you and got to know you. Even before you started calling me dad. I hated seeing you get hurt.”, he sighs. “But remember what we said, no matter what you’re our son to even if you miss him or decide you want to see him again—”

“I don’t think Charlie ever wants to see me again. I don’t want Brody to feel that. I want to be there for him like you guys were with me and mom.”

Steve wraps his arm around the young boy’s shoulders and yanks him to his side.

“I love you, dad.”

“I love you to, Dylan.”

Footsteps echo from the stairs as Eddie enters the living room.

“Aw! Are we hugging?” The metalhead falls beside his son and dramatically pulls them both into an awkward embrace that has Dylan laughing. “Oh, this is nice. Steven, Princess Leia wants you to read her a story.”

“Of course she does.” The man rises to his feet and playfully pushes Eddie’s arm as he places his Indiana Jones hat on his head.

“Everything ok? Do you need me to read you a story to?”

“Not tonight no.”, he giggles. “Do you think Brody would like D & D?”

“Oh my god.”, the man sighs as he theatrically grabs his chest. “The fact that MY child wants to spread the wisdom that is Dungeons and Dragons to the younger generation just…ah…it makes my heart melt.”

“Wow, you are such a nerd.”, you jest as you head to put the now empty bottle in the sink after finally putting James in his crib.

“Takes one to know one, babe. Yeah, man. I think he will. Maybe you can start off by reading him some of those campaign books since he’s too little right now to actually play.”

“Cool. So…”, he lowers his voice so only his father would hear. “…you would be ok with me, maybe, spending time with Vivian’s son?”

“Dude…”, Eddie responds in an equally low register. “As long as your happy, I don’t care. You know we need to all talk about it but…”, the man lowers his voice even more as he points to his son’s chest. “I agree with Steve. Just like our other two demons, Brody is a part of you. If you want to spend time with them, that’s ok. I’ll still love you, weirdo. Alright?”

Dylan hugs him again and you smile from your place in the kitchen as you watch Eddie squeeze him tighter as he kisses the top of his head.

“I love you to, dad.”

***

“Alright, everyone except for the teenager is asleep but he’s in his room.”, Steve announces as he tosses you your favorite candy before shutting the bedroom door and climbing on to the mattress sitting across from you and Eddie. “What’s running through your mind, baby.”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, so you just normally cry when you give our son a bottle?”

“He’s just so cute. I can’t help it.” They both sigh at your deflection and your head hangs slightly. “I saw myself in her…when she was holding her son. I was thrust back to when I first moved into those apartments and how alone I felt. Before we started spending time together, of course.”

“I can understand that. Y/N, its ok for you to empathize with her even with your past history. It’s not like you two are going to become best friends or something.”

“I know… it’s… ugh you two are going to tease me!”, you laugh as you fall into Eddie’s chest beside you.

“Probably especially if it’s cute.”, he laughs. “But why don’t you tell us anyway.”

“After she left, Dylan told me he hopes that Vivian and Brody find an Eddie and Steve like we did. Hearing him say that reminded me of how heartbroken he was even before when Charlie and I were still married. James and Aurora even as babies have always been so bright and expressive. I never saw Dylan light up that way until he knocked on your door. I’m just really grateful you’re mine.”

When you started to cry, Steve laid beside you as both boys hugged you tightly to them.

##########

When you came home from work the follow afternoon, the house was eerily quiet. Steve had texted you saying your sister wanted to spend some time with the kids so she offered to pick them up but you didn’t realize she was taking them out entirely.

As you placed your bag on the countertop, you noticed a folded piece of paper next to a pair of your blue jean shorts and tank top.

“Y/N,

The kids are with Kierra for tonight so the ‘apartment’ is ours. Put these clothes on out here and knock on the bedroom door when you’re ready.

-Your neighbors Eddie and Steve”

Your eyebrows scrunched together as you tried to decipher their note. Apartment, your neighbors…even the clothes they laid out, you realized, were similar to the ones you were wearing the first time you three were together.

What could they be up to?

After doing what they asked, you slowly shuffled towards the bedroom door and cautiously knocked.

A few moments later it swung open and your jaw dropped as your eyes drunk in Steve who was currently dressed in jeans, a polo, and his Family Video vest complete with name tag and everything.

“Hey there neighbor. Took you long enough. I guess it all worked out though. I just got off myself.”

“Yes because staking videos is a lengthy task. Hey sweetheart.”, Eddie beamed as you scanned him over. His jeans hung low on his hips as his bare chest displayed his tattoos. He looked exactly like he did when Dylan knocked on their door minus the new ink over the years on his ribs of all three of the kid’s names.

“I…I…what’s going on?”

“We thought you could use a break, remember? That’s why we got little man and the other heathens a sitter and invited you over to our place.”

Steve gestured into the room and as you walked in you noticed the pizza on the bed with the beer on the end table. There was music playing on Eddie’s phone and beside it that little black lunch box that you hadn’t seen in a very long time.

“I made sure to keep the music down.”, the metalhead winked.

“What do you think?”, Steve asked as they both looked at you eagerly with anticipation.

“I think…”, you smile as you jump on to the bed and open the food container. “…I’m going to tell my kids you called them heathens. My daughter is going to pitch a fit.”

***

It had been so long since you saw this side of them, the carefree relaxed guys. Steve was always in protective mode making sure everything got done and everyone was where they should be where Eddie was always making sure everyone was happy and comfortable.

The three of you passed the joint Eddie rolled amongst yourselves as you laid your head on his lap and Steve did the same with your tummy while you absently ran your fingers through his hair.

“How are you feeling, honey? Better?”

“Much.”, you giggle. “I wasn’t exactly sad. I just had a lot of feelings. I’m a mom. It happens.”

“Hm. It’s ok to feel them, ya know? And, of course, you can talk to us about anything.”

“I remember, after he met you, Dylan told everyone about our new neighbors and ‘they like loud music.’”, you mimic his voice making them chuckle. “I was so happy just to hear him giggle and be excited but I was terrified of him getting his hopes up to have them broken again. Then you two came over and made us both laugh…” You feel yourself drift into the memory, shaking your head as you bring yourself back to your current moment.

“To bad we’re only neighbors and not living together.”, you over exaggeratedly sigh as you continue with their charade. “Can you imagine?!”

“I can.”, Steve cooed. “The first time I shook your hand I knew I’d never let you go.”

“Same. I told Harrington when I listened to your ex be a dick to you on those steps, I wanted to drive down there and beat his ass. I immediately felt protective over you and Dylan.”

“I have a question. More than anything I need my memory refreshed because this weed I guess is making me forget.”, you smile as you feel your body getting antsy as they continue to talk. “Have we been intimate yet or is this our first time?”

There’s something specific in this roleplay you’re trying to lead them to. Both men especially Steve were a bit more intimidating when you first entered their apartment. It had been so long since you felt that energy from them mostly because you got comfortable with them pretty early on.

“Oh, sweetheart. If we had fucked you already, you’d remember.”

Steve felt your breathing stutter at Eddie’s comment causing his cock to press almost painfully against the denim of his jeans. Rolling onto his knees, he hovers over you as his palm caresses your cheek.

“What do you think, honey? Do you think we should go easy on you?”

Craning your neck, you crash your lips to his, passionately kissing him with everything you had.

“Not this time.”, you whisper making Steve practically growl as he kisses you again, manhandling you till your head was resting on the pillows allowing Eddie the freedom to slide down and suck on your neck.

You whimpered softly as their hands roamed your body, lifting off your shirt and tossing it to the floor. The metalhead’s tongue drifted down the valley of your breasts, groaning as it found its way to your nipple as he flicked and sucked the sensitive skin while Steve glided down between your legs, pressing his lips along your thighs.

Your mouth fell open as his long tongue licked a long stripe up your folds while his fingers held you open completely on display for him.

“Fuck, baby. You taste so fucking good.”

Eddie’s lips found your own and he groaned as your own tongue caressed his. Moaning, you tilted your head away from him slightly as Steve devoured your pussy.

“Fuck that feels—”

“Feels good, sweetheart?”

You eagerly nod as the man wraps his mouth around your clit, sucking and flicking the nub noisily making you clench at the sound.

“Eddie? D-Did—mmm—Did you want him then to?”

The metalhead understood what you were asking as his finger ran gently moved your hair out of the way.

“Baby, this is about you.”, he whispers.

“Do you think I would h-have stopped you two that night if you had kissed him? If he had sucked your cock or even—fuck—fucked you in front of me?”

Your eyes roll back and flutter closed as Eddie heavily exhales against your lips.

“Yes, I wanted him then. I wanted him since the day I met him.” Threading his palm into Steve’s hair behind his head, he presses his face further into your cunt, and your head lulls back. “Now I have you both. I remember watching him pound into you on that sofa. Got me hard all over again. You both were so beautiful.”

Your back arched as you came, shouting Steve’s name, and thankful it was just you three in the house.

Climbing up your body, he reached out and roughly yanked Eddie’s lips to his; both men groaning at the taste of you.

“I wanted you to.”, he murmured. “I didn’t know how…or what to say…” Steve sighs in pleasure when he feels you lean up and softly kiss the skin along his stomach. “I love you both so fucking much.”

Unbuttoning his pants, you yank them down enough to free his cock and eagerly wrap your mouth around him. As he groans, Eddie helps him remove his shirt before climbing off his bed to undo his own jeans.

“Fuck, honey, that feels amazing.”

Grabbing your ankles, you giggle as Eddie brings you lower down the bed so your back was flat on the mattress. Steve chuckles at his earnestness, adjusting his body so both his knees were beside you as he guided his length back into your awaiting mouth.

The man watches with his hooded eyes, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as Eddie takes hold of your hips and glides his cock easily into your dripping core.

“Shit. She’s so wet. You really got her going, Steve.”

He blushes at his husband’s compliment making you smile as you look up at him.

“You like when Eddie says nice things about you?”, you tease. Tenderly petting your head, he beams as he nods. “Oh, Eddie. Steve likes being praised.”

“W-Who doesn’t, pretty girl?”

The metalhead crawls forward on his hands slightly, making sure your legs are circled tightly around him as he turns to look at Steve.

“Aw, sweetheart. You like when I compliment you? Telling you how much of a good boy you are?” Eddie’s plush lips kiss along his stomach and Steve whimpers when he feels you take him to the back of your throat. “Because you are… making Y/N cum hard with your tongue. Making her all nice and tight for me. E-Even now—mmm—every time she gags on your thick cock she clenches around mine.”

Both men thrust into you at a faster pace and you moan as you watch their lips mingle together.

Steve abruptly pulls back, chuckling to himself as he gets to his feet.

“Sorry. You both are going to make me cum and I want to cum inside you, Y/N.”

Eddie’s eyes roll back as he falls fully top of you, you two clinging to each other as his hips smack into yours. Whimpering his name, you and he cum at the same time, his pants warming your ear as you run your fingers through his hair.

Still holding you to him, the metalhead rolls onto his back and shifts his body further down the mattress.

“Come here, princess.”

You let him maneuver you till you were straddling his face with your back facing the headboard. Steve already seemed to know what to do as he climbed up behind you, taking hold of your waist as you leaned your chest against the other man’s stomach.

“Goddamn it.”, he mewled as his cock slid into your cunt.

“Don’t worry about me, baby. Focus on you and him, okay? I got you.”, Eddie purred before his lips attached to your swollen clit.

“Fuck me.”

“He’s right. You’re so fucking wet and warm, Y/N. Fuck.”

Both men groaned as you rolled your hips, grinding on Eddie’s face as you pushed back against Steve. The man behind you grabbed your shoulder and brought you up to his chest, wrapping his arms around you as he kissed and sucked on your neck.

“Yes. Just like that, Steve.”

“Like that? This what you need, honey?”

As he slammed into you harder, Eddie’s tongue flicked faster against your nub driving you wild as your moans once again turned to screams.

Your body trembled as you came, all energy leaving your body as you started to fall forward.

“I gotcha’, baby. You did so good.”, Steve praised gently as he held you to him.

His jaw went slack as his rhythm stuttered and after a few more thrusts painted your walls with his release. As you began to cry, Eddie moved out from under you as the other boy pulled himself out of your sore cunt and both of them guided you gently to the pillows as they held you.

“Are these good tears or bad tears?”, Steve asked making you smile.

“G-G-Good tears. You both just felt so good. I love you so much.”

“You both know I’m not good with words but thank you.”, Steve whispers as he runs his thumb under your eyes. “Because of you…this is our life. I know you went through a lot with your douchebag ex but we have you now and each other.”, he gestures towards Eddie.

“And you gave us those three weirdos. It’s still so surreal that these little things are calling us dad. But it was the same when we met you. ‘Damn, this beautiful woman is calling us boyfriend and telling us she loves us.’ Now I can’t picture my life without any of you.”

Tilting towards him, you kiss Eddie before turning around to do the same with Steve.

############

“Oh, hey Y/N. What’s going on?”, Vivian inquires with wide confused eyes.

“Dylan wanted to come hang out with you and Brody if that’s ok.”

“Yeah, oh my god. Of course, he’s watching tv.” She gestures inside and he hugs her before heading that way.

“I’m ok with this…we all are. As long as Charlie isn’t here to. Dylan still doesn’t want to talk to him at the moment.”

“No. I completely understand. I promise you, he’s safe with me.” When her eyes meet yours you know she’s telling the truth. “Thank you guys. I missed him so much. I tell Brody about his brother all the time.”

You nod as you turn to away from her to head back to the van.

“You alright?”, Eddie asks as he brushes some hair behind your ear.

“Why would mommy not be okay? Wha you do, daddy!?”

“Oh my god, nothing. I wasn’t asking you.”, he jokes. “Now hush or I’m going to eat all you’re candy when we get home.”

“Don’t worry, honey. I won’t let him.” Aurora smiles when Steve winks at her.

“Yeah, I’m ok. Thank you. I’m glad the whole gang came with me.”

James claps as he giggles and points towards you in the front seat.

“We’re an intimidating bunch, sweetheart. We can kick butt if we need to. Right, princess?”

“Yeah!”, she grins as she waves her hand pretending to use the force.

“We need to teach James to kick ass to.”

“Eddie!”, you and Steve shout at the same time making the man cackle as Ro covers her mouth at the curse word, giggling just like Dylan had all those years ago.

“I guess it’s time to bring out the swear jar again, huh baby?”, Steve purposes as he reaches around to rub your shoulders.

“Oh good. I make enough money now, I can swear all the time.”

###########

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#steddie x reader #steddie fluff #steddie smut #steddie fanfiction #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie fanfic #eddie stranger things #steve fanfic #steve smut #steve stranger things #joe keery #joseph quinn #stranger things #fan fiction

147 notes · View notes

yuzukult · 9 months

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yours, but not yours 06 || csc & reader

title: yours, but not yours 06 pairing: choi seungcheol x fem!reader/oc genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, fake dating!au, bad influence!seungcheol, nice guy syndrome!namjoon, mechanic!seungcheol wc: 6.7k (1k per month i disappeared lol) warnings: profanity, mentions of sex a/n: ... hopefully y'all didn't forget me,, if this chapter is mediocre i am so sorry i'm trying my best here T_T i had to rewrite the chapter a couple times & ended up going with a different route (which may be slightly unexpected) but the series isn't over yet !! this is the calm before the storm ok

There’s nothing worse than being proven wrong.

It’s like when you’re a toddler, your mom tells you to not eat the spicy slice of pork belly, knowing very well that you wouldn’t be able to handle it but you still beg her anyways. Then when you’d finally get a bite, your face contorts into a pained one, desperately wishing that water would be more relieving to the tongue as it is to a house fire. Or like when your high school best friend told you to maybe not get involved with the guy who has quite the reputation, but your constant urge to break the rules practically drowns you, so you go for him anyway. Then, when he left you crying outside on his porch, beseeching him to come back after you clearly saw him cheating on you with that other pretty girl in your Art class with that cool hot pink dyed strip of hair, you’re yet proven wrong again, only to be running to your best friend’s house after you regained your senses.

This is probably another one of those times. And truthfully, maybe you’ve evolved, but there’s this part of you that wishes you’re wrong.

Seungcheol is definitely nothing close to what you’d ever expect to be your type. He’s not the traditional kind of guy—office job, either living alone and saving for a house or lives in a house he owns, has a car, wears business casual clothes on the weekdays, maybe even into different types of beers, occasionally plays a gaming console—instead, he’s a mechanic with a motorcycle and likes to flirt with you whenever he gets the chance. He favors the torn up and stained attire, despite having money (which… you’d only find out not too long ago) but he does love alcohol. Whiskey being on the top of his list; beer is more of an option for social events, he mentions it the one night he stayed late in the garage when you came down with two bottles in hand. “I had leftovers. They were gonna go bad if I left it any longer,” you said as you handed over the Miller Lite. He popped the cap off on the edge of the workstation, swapping it with you after, then opening his own in the same way. “Let’s not put it to waste.”

And here you are, two days after the event, groggily putting laundry into the washer with your head full of—you guessed it!—Choi Seungcheol.

The last encounter was left with you exiting his childhood bedroom with disheveled hair, wet panties, and awkwardly adjusting the fabric of your dress. No phone call to follow up, no text—nothing. Fucking radio silence.

How does someone fucking rail you into the mattress, whisper the dirtiest things in your ear, then claim you as their own and suddenly just go off the grid right after? You didn’t see him for the rest of the night, and when you went back to Rowoon, he didn't interrogate you on your relationship with Seungcheol after he shut him up. The whole thing was eating you up inside to the point that you were fucking wishing that Rowoon would ask, just to have a soundboard for this dilemma.

Was that the finale of it all? Is this the end of You & Seungcheol: The Not-So Love Story? He hasn’t even been back to the garage yet, and it’s got you pondering why he didn’t even bother to send a fucking text. A text! It’s not that hard to send a text.

But maybe this is what that whole “karma” thing people keep talking about—what goes around comes around, right?

You groan. Slamming the door shut, you pull out the dispenser drawer of thr washing machine aggressively. Just like when he pushed you against the wall that night, knee shoving your legs apart as he looked at your lips with furrowed brows. You couldn’t help but grip onto his biceps—he was so thick in that shirt, hugging every curve of his body in waves you didn’t know would leave you breathless from the sight. How is he so hot when he’s angry? He didn’t even have a right to be, you weren’t his (even though he continuously thrusted his hips into yours, heated breath against your neck with the word, “mine,” constantly falling off his tongue effortlessly), but god he was good at convincing you that you were.

You shake your head. Fuck! This is frustrating. Not sexually frustrating, (you’re lying, that’s definitely part of it), but frustrating in the fact that you don’t know where this leaves you. Are you still fighting? Do you make up? What… now? And why the fuck do you keep finding yourself asking the same goddamn fucking question with him?

Nearly overflowing the compartment for the detergent, you quickly grab a wet rag to wipe off the excess that spills as you mutter a couple curses underneath your breath.

He’s got you in a chokehold; how is it that a guy who wasn’t even on your fucking radar suddenly the only one you can think about? Even when you’re vacuuming your living room, you don’t even recall grabbing it from the closet. All you have infiltrated your mind is Choi Seungcheol.

Honestly, you’re a dick.

For one, you’re finally coming to your senses that disregarding Seungcheol’s feelings isn’t fair. He’s been nothing but helpful the entire time you’ve known him; last month, he replaced your windshield wipers when he noticed the rubber was tearing off. He ended up pulling out the weeds from the front of your house after the awkward attempt to water them, and not to mention, he came up to your home when he heard a screech (you’re afraid of cockroaches, and you didn’t admit it even after Seungcheol killed it with a flip flop).

But who really is the dick here? He hasn’t called you, texted you, or anything really. Quite literally have given you the post-nut clarity you needed, only for him to ghost you.

To fucking ghost you! The guy who said he’s head over heels for you, swooning all your friends into believing he’s your boyfriend, and well—also pretending to be your boyfriend, even when he knows what the consequences for it are.

Then again, who cares… right? He’s just some buff mechanic, a fuckboy, and a tenant.

(You almost used the “tenant” excuse to text him, but you hold yourself back and don’t. Only because when the 25th rolls around, you actually have to ask him for rent.)

As you’re making your bed, throwing the sheets up to float down and align with the mattress, your phone rings.

At first, you think it’s your mom, so you let it ring for a little. She has the tendency to never pick up the phone, and although you never have the audacity to ignore her call, you let it ring a couple times out of pure pettiness.

That is, until you realize it’s actually Seungcheol’s name on the lockscreen.

“Hey,” he greets; it’s a mixture of uncertainty and excitement, probably because he knows what he did wrong in terms of leaving you hanging but he misses hearing your voice. “Um, how are you?”

“Not great.”

“Oh? What’s wrong?”

You roll your eyes, despite him not being able to see the action right now, he could feel the burn through the phone. “Actually, don’t answer that. I know, I—”

“What happened?” You snap, pacing in your bedroom. “You fucking told me that you were anything but a fuckboy, and the moment that I let myself be vulnerable, you just leave me hanging? What the fuck was that? Am I just wasting my time with you, Seungcheol?”

It stings.

Of course, everything with you stings. In both a good and a bad way, the words you say always seem to ache, tighten, and sting his chest, all from a variety of emotions you spew out so transparently. You’re so real and raw in the way that if he fully commits to you, that’s it—he’s done. There’s no going back to the lifestyle he had before, no fucking around and dicking around.

And as scary as that is for him, hearing that it’s with you, he’s okay with it.

But he’s now in the position where he doesn’t know how to make that happen. Not after all the current events.

“I got caught up,” he says, unable to even believe himself despite it being completely true. The night of the event, you found yourself scrambling out of his bedroom after sex and his dad called about some emergency with the company—Seungcheol has been in Malaysia since. “I really wanted to call and text—really, I just… didn’t know what to say.”

You scoff in disbelief. “Anything would’ve sufficed. I don’t know where that leaves us now. I’m trying, Seungcheol, I admit I was a jerk for disregarding your feelings and never taking you seriously. But when you pull a stunt like this, it doesn’t really make me believe that you’re not just setting me up.”

He stays silent for a moment; you could almost hear the ringing in your ears from the quietude, and you wonder what’s going through his mind.

“Seungcheol?”

“Yeah,” he says breathily. “Yeah, I—I’m still here.”

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Can you—Can you take off? Just the Friday. Can I get you on a plane on Thursday night, and you come meet me for the weekend? My treat.”

Choi Seungcheol never really lived an average life.

It all really started when his mom met his dad back in college; this innocent, bowl-cut boy with the thickest glasses of the century, eyesight nearing partial blindness had a crush on the prettiest girl in his economics class. His reputation was practically nonexistent other than for the fact that he looked nerdy, and hers was being… almost every positive adjective in the book. He’d gather the courage to ask her out, expecting a rejection, only for her to turn his way, those chocolate irises sparkling underneath the hallway lights while she said the word that was opposite to his predictions. Yes.

She stuck with him through all of college—even though she had a line of suitors waiting for her, she was always in love with the reputable nerdy boy. Despite what people thought of him, Seungcheol’s dad never failed to make sure she felt loved and supported through the entirety of their relationship. Even when he had these big goals to build a company from the ground up, he kept her as his priority and that never changed.

It’s a love story for the ages, one that his mom reiterated as she tucked Seungcheol into bed during his youth, but he didn’t quite resonate with it because how could someone like his dad be the one to make his mother swoon in that way? The man who sat at the end of the dining table, reading glasses at the tip of his nose even after getting lasik to rid himself of those stocky lenses, physically there but not… present.

Even now, as he’s sitting beside his father at his hotel room’s dining table, he still doesn’t feel him.

But to be fair, can anyone find comfort in a room full of stone tiles, high ceilings, and a chandelier that probably costs more than the average car times eighty?

“Tell your brother that he’s coming tomorrow,” he says, eyes never leaving the screen of his iPad. His father has since graduated from a newspaper to a tablet. “He has a presentation Friday, and he needs to rehearse everything he says. Can’t believe he fucked up the last one.”

Seungcheol sucks his cheeks. He clicks send on the message meant for his brother, feeling more and more like an assistant than someone who was next in line for the throne of the company. “Aight. Sent. Why am I here, by the way? You just so happened to drag me here? I thought there was a company emergency.”

He finally puts down his tablet. “There is. I’m dying.”

Seungcheol’s heart drops. “You’re… dying?”

“Well, not that I’m sick—god forbid, but you never know when I’ll die.”

That pretty much explains the origin of the majority of Seungcheol’s traumatic childhood.

“Dad, I don’t think it works like that,” he retorts with the quirk of his brow. “I thought it was a literal emergency. I left—”

“What? The garage? Come on, don’t act like I don’t know. I keep tabs on all my children—like right now, your brother is at his girlfriend’s house. The one he has yet to introduce to us, and in fact, I don’t think I like her.”

Seungcheol’s face contorts in confusion. He knows his dad like the back of his hand; if he didn’t know about the garage, Seungcheol would’ve been surprised. It’s almost an expectation that he would track both Seungcheol and his brother, and truthfully, it wouldn’t be totally out of character if he was tracking Seungcheol’s mother either.

“You’re always pressuring us to get married and run the company—isn’t him having a girlfriend just him going the right route? I’un get it. Isn’t that enough?”

Maybe that’s why Seungcheol only had flings; the girls weren’t ever disappointed in sex, and they never stuck around enough to figure out that he carried so much baggage. The wealth in his pockets might’ve been the reason for the hearts in their eyes (and his dick), but if they knew the weight of expectations from his parents that came with it, they’d run in a heartbeat. He didn’t want to bring anyone close enough that they’d meet his family, have to deal with the burdens he did, and it’s mostly why he’s been hesitant about telling you… everything. Even when he wanted to.

“I wanted him to date that girl, the one whose father owns KS Bank.”

Of course, everything loops back into business.

“Well,” Seungcheol begins, getting up from his seat. “He’s happy. Regardless if his girlfriend is a stripper or her dad owns KS Bank. If you want both of us to run the company, we should at least come home to a companion that we love and care for, shouldn’t we?”

His dad returns to his iPad, adjusting his glasses once again. “It’s not beneficial for the family business.”

Deja Vu hits—that same feeling he got when Namjoon swung at him returns, except the courier this time is his own father.

But just as he reacted with Namjoon, he remains cool.

Seungcheol probably rehearsed it a million times in front of the mirror, all the possible things he could say to refute his father’s beliefs. If his brother wasn’t in love with the girl he’s supposed to marry, sure, her status would definitely benefit the company, but… would he even want to help out anymore? Isn’t his happiness the priority?

Nonetheless, he knows that fighting back isn’t worth it.

Instead, he figures channeling that energy toward you would be more productive.

Although, with the last encounter the two of you had, it’s a bit doubtful he’d be able to achieve anything from being miles apart. For one, asking you to come see him when he had absolutely no plan whatsoever on what would happen when you arrive is… bold. Not to mention, you rejected his offer, saying something along the lines of, “that’s not how asking for forgiveness works,” and “things don’t get resolved on some ‘vacation high,’ Choi Seungcheol.”

And by all means, you’re 100% right.

This is an entirely new territory for him—he’s never actually had to ask or beg for forgiveness before because quite frankly, he never cared to. Burning bridges wasn’t a new concept for him, it was something he frequents. His mom never seemed disappointed, so he never felt the need to be apologetic, even if he felt the guilt, the words never emitted. Or when his father made that signature displeased ‘tsk’, Seungcheol had always been below the expectation that forgiveness wasn’t even worth chasing after.

But you—this experience with you, is a whole other thing.

That guilt gnaws on his insides brutally; he could physically see the impact that you have on him from his disheveled hair, bags underneath his eyes, and the sullen look on his face. Do you hate him? Do you want nothing to do with him? Did he ruin all his chances with you?

He’s never really had a serious relationship before—well, rephrase, Seungcheol has only ever had one serious relationship. “The Classic Couple,” was what they were called; they were the pair that the wealthiest parents would arrange for their children. The only thing wrong with them was that they didn’t work—or well, Seungcheol couldn’t make it work.

With a click of his tongue, reality settles in. If he really wants this, truly feels like there could potentially be more with you, then he has to make it work. This isn’t like the woman before you, you’re… you. Whether or not it lasts forever or just a couple months, he likes you—shouldn’t that be enough? Especially when you’re finally opening the door and hearing him out, stepping out of your own comfort zone?

“I’m gonna head back home then, since it seems like I’m not needed here,” Seungcheol says, grabbing his phones with a soft ‘thanks’ to the staff as they clear the plates. “I’m sure you two can handle things from here. If there really is an emergency—”

“You should’ve stayed with that girl,” Seungcheol’s dad interrupts, infamously cutting him off as usual. “The girl you dated a couple years ago. Margaret.”

“Maeri,” Seungcheol corrects. “Her name’s Maeri.”

And for the first time, his father’s lips curl into a smile. “So, you remember her.”

“Well, we dated for a while.”

“Shouldn’t have lost her,” he says, inhaling deeply. “I think I can reach out to her father and make an agreement. I’m sure she’d be happy to have you again. I ran into her at the banquet and when I brought up your name, her face lit up.”

Seungcheol stares at his father in disbelief. “Again, I feel like we should have more control over who we end up with, not you. I’m more than happy to try assisting you with whatever it is you need but I should be the one who chooses who I want to be with.”

“And? You chose her before, you can choose her again.”

Seungcheol quits this time, reminding himself again that he needs to preserve his energy for you.

There are a mixture of emotions that are flowing inside of you, eagerness and confusion, unsure of which to display. Do you showcase your excitement and elation or do you express the frustration and annoyance? Normally, it doesn’t really matter which you decide to promote; it’s only because this time, your reaction will result in what happens next.

Seungcheol sits on the hood of your car; in a leather clad jacket that hugs his arms so tightly, you’re almost tempted to spill an insult from between your lips on how he should get a size up (even though you most definitely can’t even stop staring), hair slicked back, and baggy black jeans, it’s the signature look of practically every label that Namjoon had given him. Seungcheol doesn’t say a word—instead, he watches you attentively, trying his best to determine what the expression on your face depicts.

He can’t quite tell what you’re thinking.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, finally shattering the silence. “Get off my car.” You don’t really mean that, you like him here, and the fact that he’s back, still himself with that smirk on his face, only comforts your heart.

“Come on, baby,” he calls out, ignoring your sharp words with his fingers barely grasping onto yours, tugging you in close. The pet name that’s disgusting from a stranger is somehow sweet when it slips off his tongue, luring you in like some hypnosis spell. “You don’t miss me?”

Of fucking course you do—if it’s one thing that you admit, it’s that you were wrong about him. He’s not what those labels people whispered through the grapevine, completely different from an unattached, apathetic guy who doesn’t want anything that lasts longer than a night.

But you’re not gonna let him know that. At least, not that easily.

“No,” you retort through your gritted teeth, almost as if it’ll filter the insincerity of that response. “What’s there to miss?”

His hand slips into yours, interlocking your fingers before pulling you nearer. “Everything. Was it quiet down here? Were you lonely? Did it feel weird not to see my motorcycle out front? Or the garage open? What about my company? I know you hate the way I chew on gum, but I’m sure you missed hearing it in the background.”

You chew the inside of your cheek.

He’s so cute, and you feel like an idiot for being another girl that ends up on the list of falling for his irresistible charms.

“I felt like a one-night stand, Seungcheol,” you confess, his full government name slipping off your tongue with bitterness that hits his ears. He couldn’t get a pet name out of you, but his nickname is enough and his smirk is wiped from his face within seconds. “We fucked then you suddenly pick up a phone call then I just—I never hear from you again.”

“I admit that it didn’t help my case,” he sighs, pushing himself off your car. You’ve got your arms crossed against your chest, a shield to protect yourself from him. “And I can fully explain.”

He starts off with his dad—this cold, distant man somehow ended up with a woman that’s the opposite. Underneath that hard facade, he’s a father who wants his two sons to run his business, only that neither of them inherited the drive to push the company the way that he does himself.

“… That night that I left, I didn’t come back to the party ‘cause my dad made it seem like the company was goin’ under,” he discloses, deciding that now, he isn’t going to hide anything from you anymore. “I thought I had to go into this big board meeting with my brother and sign off to sell shares of our company ‘cause my dad fucked up or something.”

You roll your lips. There’s a bit of regret for making him feel bad, but it doesn’t discount how he made you feel either. “And then?”

“It was some stupid trap,” he groans, shaking his head. “He’s really good at doing that ‘we’re blood,’ guilt scheme. But uh, listen… I don’t expect you to forgive me or for this to fix up overnight.”

“Then what do you expect?”

“Honestly, um,” and for a moment, he pauses before chuckling. “I really contemplated asking you to be my fake girlfriend. My dad has this thing where he’s constantly trying to set me up with other women—”

The fronts of your brows shift together.

“—but,” Seungcheol adds, hoping you pause your thoughts from going in a direction where you’d stray from him. “To me, there’s just you.”

You blink blankly. “And what does that mean for us then? Where do we go from here?”

He slowly eases his arms to wrap around your waist, hesitant in his movements to confirm that you’re okay with his touch, only to then feel the anxiety lift from his shoulders when the weight of your arms replaces it. “We can… fix us. If you can push aside all the prenotions you’ve had of me, view me as someone that could be your boyfriend, then I want this if you do.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks; Seungcheol always manages to make your heart skip in its beats and cause that churning in the pit of your stomach. “Okay… but—” his smile fades the moment the second word appears, “—but we have work to do. You can’t exactly say we started off on the right foot.”

That stupid grin pulls on his lips once again as he settles back down onto the hood of your car, legs parting for you to sit yourself in his thigh, arms never leaving your frame. “I agree, pretty. I’m ready to do this when you are.”

And with a soft kiss planted on your nose, the comfort and warmth it brings makes you feel like this… is right.

Seungcheol admits that within the last month, his life has been pretty mundane in comparison to what he’s used to.

For one, he hasn’t received a call from his parents. Maybe they’re way too occupied to be concerned about him or that there wasn’t enough going on for him to tag along for, but all he knows is that it’s been radio silent on their end. Plus, the garage has been rather busy lately—he credits you for the increase in foot traffic, recalling how you rolled your eyes and snatched his phone from his hands on a Saturday night lounging on your couch, muttering “how are you supposed to get any business if you don’t advertise yourself?” Truthfully, he’s been banking on word-of-mouth from your neighbors that found out he does car maintenance, but this newfound array of customers isn’t so bad.

He likes the simplicity of this—in the mornings, he’d get to the garage early in the morning and park his motorcycle right by your steps. Pushing the overhead door with a rumble, he’d brush his hands off from the dirt residue left on the rubber at the bottom before placing his hands on his waist to take a good look at his shop—yes, his shop. He’d gotten so accustomed with calling it a literal garage that he forgets that it’s really a shop. Brew a pot of coffee, turn on the little TV he got for waiting customers (really, it’s for himself) before he got to business.

Then, around 6PM, you’d be back from work, dragging your legs up the steps into your home and he’s behind shortly after closing up. He enjoys how domestic everything with you is—cooking dinner together, eating dinner together, and then washing the dishes with one person scrubbing and the other rinsing before settling onto the couch to watch something on TV. Last night, you suggested, “King the Land,” which he normally isn’t a fan of watching K-Dramas, but with you, he finds anything entertaining.

Although the old version of himself wouldn’t ever confess this but… he likes being a boyfriend.

Maybe it’s just specifically that he likes being your boyfriend, considering in his last relationship, he didn’t favor that title as much. But now, he finds himself getting a little giddy inside when you introduce him in that way, almost like little kids get when their crush approaches them.

There’s something about the way you’ve given him a spot in your dresser for him to leave his spare clothes in case he unexpectedly stays the night, and how there’s a toothbrush residing in the cup beside yours, or even the fact that you’ve bought another set of slippers that’s just for him… it makes him feel more at home than at his own home. Seungcheol didn’t sleepover during his wave of late night escapades, but with you, he finds that the left side of the bed unspokenly assigned to him is something he didn’t know he craved for.

Seungcheol loves it. He loves all of it. And truthfully, if he didn’t catch himself before spilling it, he would’ve said he loves you, too.

Today is slightly different than usual, deciding that he would leave the estate earlier (and weirdly enough, living under the same roof as his parents didn’t tempt them from bugging him recently, but they did live on the opposite side of the home) so he could stop by the local coffee shop and grab you a cold brew.

You’re so pretty when you look surprised to see him outside your front door thay morning.

“Hey gorgeous,” he greets, that cheesy smile never leaving his face. You grimace at the term of endearment, but your expression juxtaposes how you feel inside. “I thought you’d like a change of pace and enjoy something from the cafe instead.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, grabbing the drink from his hands. “Vanilla?”

“Three pumps. Just how you like it, baby.”

You’re still so awkward when he says things like that—it used to be so easy to roll your eyes and push him away when he’d do it in such a sleazy way. But now, knowing the genuinity behind the words, he leaves you flustered. Even if he’s annoying and it’s the grossest thing he’s ever said.

“I have about six appointments today,” Seungcheol reaches over to open the lid of his black coffee, the steam rising from the paper cup. “You said you had a doctor’s appointment? So you’ll be back earlier?”

“Mm,” you hum in agreement, zipping up your backpack. “I’ll grab lunch for us?” And shortly after, he watches you drive away to work before getting back to the garage so he could greet his next client.

If this is what it’s like to be part of the working class, Seungcheol could get used to this.

He acknowledges that ever since the two of you had resolved your issues, he got a bit carried away. Investing in his makeshift shop has become a whole ordeal, only because the constant drilling, clanging, and unnecessary constructing noises from the equipment installers weren’t exactly what he thought was going to come out of it for the first two weeks—but the realization that he could grow his business from the new customers made him excited. For the first time, Seungcheol felt like he was doing something he was proud of.

So yes, driving or walking by this garage in the middle of a city suburb underneath a house with a whole jacking up station for cars looks futile, but the abnormally high ceilings of your garage should be taken advantage of.

He likes this—beneath a car, pushing aside the plastic tray from this 2018 Honda Accord after unscrewing it and unplugging the drain plug before it falls into a bucket he uses as an oil receptacle. This is nice. This is calming. There’s no hollering from board members, no backhanded compliments from his father, and no attempts on pressuring him into doing things he doesn’t want to do like date a girl whose father has a monopoly on owning property the next town over.

Seungcheol just wants to watch a gallon of old oil release from a crankcase and into a bucket.

And honestly, he thinks his thoughts have spoken too soon when he notices a Rolls Royce Boat Tail pull into your driveway.

He hasn’t met everyone in your life, but one thing he knows for sure is that even the wealthiest people you know (Namjoon and Yubin) don’t flaunt their money in front of you. The rest of your friends are middle class, average working people, and the only way someone is driving to your home with a $28 million car is if they’re part of his life.

“Choi Seungcheol,” the person calls out; the door is shut behind him with a thud, Louis Vuitton sunglasses sitting comfortably on his nose with his long brunette hair combed away from his face. He dresses in a flamboyant shirt, the first couple buttons unraveled, and in sandals that cost four times your car. “I heard you do mods over here.”

Seungcheol comes out from the garage, brows furrowing when he realizes who makes an attendance at his shop. Juxtaposing in a stained white tank and the upper half of his overalls tied around his waist, for a moment, he felt like the two of them were part of two different worlds. “Yoon Jeonghan–do you really think you want to mod your car? Do you even know what that means?”

Jeonghan takes off his shades and slides it into his shirt pocket. “Absolutely not, I heard some guy mention it in a movie once,” he grins cheekily. “So, I heard you got a new place.”

“Well, I’m renting a garage.”

Jeonghan blinks blankly. “What’s renting?”

Seungcheol chuckles, walking back to his station as Jeonghan follows in suit. “It’s when you pay someone to use their space,” he grabs a rolling chair from behind a desk and gestures to Jeonghan for him to sit down. “What’s up? What are you doing here? You didn’t come here to get a lesson on renting.”

“I’m more surprised that you don’t own this place,” Jeonghan stares at the chair skeptically before glancing over at Seungcheol who points to it again. “And… not owning any new furniture.”

“It’s an autoshop, Hannie.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t afford clean chairs.”

“Alright, alright,” Seungcheol rolls his eyes, grabbing a rag to wipe the opening for any residual oil. “You come here to lecture me about my place or are you here with an actual reason?”

His friend sighs, finally deciding to plop onto the old swivel chair. “I know you briefly told me that you’re ready to move on from your parents…”

Seungcheol scrunches up his face, grabbing a cylindrical tool from off his cart as he eyes Jeonghan carefully. “Something like that, yeah.”

“And rumor has it, your dad hasn’t been happy about your brother and his new girlfriend.”

“I wouldn’t say new, but my dad has been acting new about her.”

“Well, he’s been making moves to target you instead.”

The tool wraps around the oil filter, and with a bit of strength, it loosens as more oil spills from the sides, flowing into the bucket in unison with Jeonghan’s news.

“He’s targeting me? Stop being so ominous and go straight to the point.”

“Maeri’s back,” Jeonghan finally spills, and Seungcheol pauses in his movements. “Your dad met up with hers the other day—I have this bad feeling he’s gonna try to set something up.”

Out of all the people that Seungcheol has met through his parents and from their “community” (aka the rich people cult), Jeonghan is the only person he trusts. Although Jeonghan will never cut ties from his generational wealth, his loyalty as friend and unconditional support for Seungcheol has always been admirable.

“I mean, he hasn’t called me and—”

“Hey! I’m back! I brought—” you stop in the middle of your driveway, staring at the car you could never afford in your lifetime before looking at Jeonghan and Seungcheol. “I—Oh, uh, hey.”

Jeonghan grins mischievously, stealing a glimpse of Seungcheol then back at you. “Hey, I’m Jeonghan. Seungcheol’s friend.”

You mimic his smile, and something in Seungcheol eats him up whole because he’s quick to speak before you do. “Jeonghan meet—” he says your name, then for a brief pause, he calls you by a label so confidently, he even surprises himself. “—my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend. He hears Pomp and Circumstance play inside of his head, the image of him receiving his diploma at the podium while in a cap and grown flashes before his eyes. Choi Seungcheol has finally graduated from the school of fuckboys, reaching that point in his life where he looks at the prettiest girl who manages to make his stomach tie into knots and call him his—truly his.

“Wow,” Jeonghan clicks his tongue. “Your girlfriend? Insane. I thought you said you weren’t gonna settle.”

He shrugs with that smirk on his face. “Wasn’t. But when you meet a girl like her, who are you to say no?”

Your cheeks heat up as you place the bag of food on the coffee table. “It’s uh… nice to meet you. I didn’t know Seungcheol had friends other than the girls he met at the club.”

Seungcheol shoots a glare but Jeonghan snickers. “I like you already,” he compliments, hand sliding into the pockets of his shorts. “I actually came to convince Seungcheol to attend a fundraiser that my mom is hosting this weekend,” the look Jeonghan gives his friend for a brief moment is suspicious, but the next inquiry gives it away. “… You should come too! Be his date.”

“Oh, um—”

“I’m not sure about that, Hannie,” Seungcheol interrupts, arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t think she’d want to see that part of our lives.”

Jeonghan quirks a brow. “And why not? She’s dating you, right? I’m sure she can answer for herself, and I’m sure she wants to see that side of you and your family.”

Both Seungcheol and Jeonghan divert their attention to you.

“You know, you didn’t have to say yes to Jeonghan,” Seungcheol’s standing outside of your bedroom door, leaning against the wall while waiting patiently for you to get dressed. “It’s a whole thing if we go—it ain’t like going to a work party.”

“Well, he—he made a, ugh,” you grunt, and he could hear you shifting inside with a struggle. “He made a point, if I’m dating you, I’m dating all of you.”

“Baby, why are you getting ready in private again? You’re acting like I haven't seen all of you.”

“I’m just—gah,” you knock your foot into the bed frame and wince. “I feel awkward.”

Truthfully, ever since the two of you had made it official, things haven’t… escalated, ironically. The nights he sleeps over are all pure and innocent; he’d nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, shower you with kisses, and wrap his arms around you to pull you close, resting your head on his chest.

But that was it.

Nothing more.

He hasn’t asked for it or initiated it, mostly because he’s slightly afraid you’d take it the wrong way but quite frankly, he’s been holding himself quite a bit. From when you come out the shower, the thin oversized shirt that hangs from your body is no match for your nipples protruding through the thin fabric, how you bend over to grab something and your sleeping shorts barely covering any skin, and there was even a time where you’d reach over his lap to grab something, breasts brushing against his thighs and ass up, he was wrestling with his sweatpants to hide his raging boner.

Trying to be a respectful gentleman, he keeps his distance. Normally, he’d be bold in his attempts to sway you—just as he did several times, including that night in his bedroom back at home, but now that you’re his girlfriend, it… feels inappropriate?

Weirdly enough?

A part of him is afraid you’d leave, especially when he’s got you now, but he admits that those cold showers aren’t doing any favors for him anymore.

“…Hey,” you call out again, this time it halts his train of thoughts with the door swinging open. Clutching onto the fabric of your dress in the front, his eyes immediately focus on your cleavage. Fuck. “The zipper is kind of low. Can you help me?”

He swallows that brick inside of his throat when you turn around.

Pushing your hair aside, you give him a view of your entire back. The zipper latch is right where your ass curves, and with a sharp inhale, he places a hand on your waist before pulling it up. It feels brutally slow, not to mention when he reaches up higher, he realizes where he expects your bra—there isn’t one. The smoothness of your skin is exposed and his dick twitches in his pants.

“Uh, um. I’m done,” he steps back, clearing his throat. “Ready?”

He feels like a vacuum sucked the air out of his lungs.

To him, you’re gorgeous all hours of the day. But something about today, in that tight fitting dress that hugs the outline of your body so well, and the makeup you applied only amplifies your beauty. He can’t help himself when he’s sneaking glances at your chest then back up to your eyes to the point he needed to get the fuck out of the house before he oversteps a boundary.

“Wow, uh, you look great!” Way to act natural. “Let’s uh, let’s head out.”

“Mkay,” you make your way before him to the front door, rummaging through the closet for your heels, and he turns away when your ass sticks out while you slip on your shoes. “Can you start the car?”

It’s going to be a long night.

← last chapter | next chapter →

#gyukultfics #seungcheol #scoups #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #svt fanfic

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esther-dot · 1 year

Note

I'm not even a Jon fan in particular, but as a Sansa and Dorne stan, Kit making twitter Targ stans lose what little was left of their pea-sized minds has been most pleasing to me. They really shouldn't have talked all that shit and karma is just coming back to bite as it always does with that fandom. I hope the Snow announcement comes soon and I hope we at least get a Sansa cameo in the show. However, if Kit is going to have his man pain over killing a genocidal tyrant be a main point in the show he can keep it lmao.

(Context: “Targ nation” was tweeting out revenge porn of Kit and making fun of his addiction and saying all sorts of horrible things about him and his wife after he recently defended Jon killing Dany. He used a lot of mitigating language, said he wished the characters had more time together, talked about how close his wife and Emilia are, but they were incensed.)

I try not to care too much about interviews because actors contradict themselves all the time. Kit said post s8 that supporting Dany made you “complicit” which means it’s possible he thinks that Jon was complicit too, that he might deal with that in the sequel, and that his show won’t glamorize Dany. So, I can simply take everything he says in interviews in the lead-up to his show as him trying not to estrange fans. Maybe Dany stans should be happy he still thinks they’re a gettable audience or he might be saying worse? 🤷🏻‍♀️

I mentioned the other day that I would enjoy a chance for Jon to deal with his trauma from dying, finding out about his parents, the wars he was involved in…I mean, there is a lot of stuff I would love for them to dig into which GoT totally neglected, but, grieving for a mass murderer is definitely not something I’m up for. Obviously, we don’t know for sure that’s where he’d take things, but there were quotes that seemed to point there. Or at least, that he thinks there’s still some question about the ethics of killing Dany. He said Ned wouldn’t approve since he didn’t approve of Jaime killing Aerys, but that ignores one tiny little detail. Ned didn’t know what Aerys wanted to do to KL, but Dany had already burned KL when Jon killed her. That kinda removes any moral ambiguity?

Furthermore, whatever code of honor Ned espoused and wanted to live by, he committed treason, betrayed his best friend and king, to protect an innocent life—Jon’s. To act like he would disapprove of Jon taking action to save thousands upon thousands of children, to save Winterfell, Ned’s daughters, to save Sansa, well, that’s just silly. I’m not saying he wouldn’t feel shame, Jon carries a lot of shame, but we can feel bad about having to take certain actions even if it is unequivocally the right thing to do. Not every choice is easy, and that’s certainly something Martin loves to explore. That could have been what Kit was trying to get at, who knows.

Anyway, I’m not sure which moral paradigm the sequel will be written from, and I’m not really looking forward to finding out 😂

#dot chat #jon show #< tag to filter

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spookyspaghettisundae · 1 year

Text

Like a Bad Habit

The dog barked with fury. In between barks, it growled out nonverbal threats. A German Shepherd of sizable proportions, Jericho bumped right backwards into the fence he had fallen over.

Though his leather jacket could probably weather a bite from the dog’s strong maw and long teeth, the cut legs on his jeans left his calves exposed. Though he had been dressed in a gimp suit only one hour prior, Jericho had never felt as naked and vulnerable as he did now.

Glass shattered, debris crunched, and footsteps resounded beyond the fence behind him. Grunts, groans. Karma and the FBI agent were fighting inside the neighboring house.

Rock? Meet hard place.

“Good doggie. Sweet doggie,” Jericho said with a smile so nervous and clenched, it made his teeth hurt.

With another burst of angry and menacing barks, the Shepherd snapped at him, held back only by a long chain that kept the dog tethered to a metal spike in the lawn near a doghouse. Jericho still reflexively slammed backwards into the tall white fence.

“No harm, no foul, doggo. I’m just, uh, I’m gonna see myself out, okay?”

The dog jumped at him with more barks and growls, jaws snapping with animal ferocity.

The stake wobbled in the soil, loosening with each violent leap and tug at its chain. The dog inched closer as it hopped in place, dancing to an angry, threatening tune.

Barking, snarling, growling.

Jericho’s heart pounded with fear. Panic.

Unwanted flashbacks to the Simmons mansion in Evergreen haunted his mind, painful glimpses to a time he tried to forget, flaring up in between the incessant and menacing barks and snarls.

Jericho whined, “Fuck me.”

Footfalls neared, cushioned on the lawn behind the fence he had fled over.

The damned FBI agent likely hadn’t come alone.

The dog continued snapping at him. Fear led Jericho to sidling along the fence, hoping the chain was set at a length so the dog couldn’t reach him.

The metal stake in the ground—the only thing holding this dog back from ripping him to shreds—it wobbled again. He had no inkling of how deep the spike went, or how dangerously close the dog was coming to yanking it out of the soil.

It couldn’t have felt any shorter to Jericho.

Someone stopped behind the fence, uttering a single word of profanity. Hesitating to jump the fence. Perhaps as afraid of the dog’s violent barking as Jericho was.

A man. Maybe the FBI agent’s partner. FBI agents come in pairs, right? Like that TV show?

This helped Jericho snap back into reality, centering him between the terror pounding his heart like a drum, and the drive to get the hell out of there in one piece.

He kept his hands raised, showing his palms in surrender to the snapping, snarling, barking dog, even if Mister Dog probably wouldn’t respect that human gesture. All the while, Jericho continued sidling along the fence, gaining more distance from the snapping jaws.

Then he finally dared to turn his back on the dog.

And run.

And then he heard something snap, and clank, and the rattle of a chain being dragged behind the dog—loose, having ripped the stake loose from the lawn.

Chasing him.

Jericho ran and his lungs, tormented by decades of smoking, screamed at him. He had struggled to jump the last two fences, but now he flew over the next one in his way. He never prayed—he only swore—and he swore in gratitude to all the gods of swearing that his left boot found traction on the smooth white fence. That he ignored all pain as he gripped the pointy tip at the top of the fence and went hurtling over the edge like a top-level athlete.

He still probably looked like a fool as he fell sideways over the side, plummeting and jamming his own elbow into his ribs with a pained grunt. The landing had knocked all the air out of his lungs, but the pumping adrenaline helped dull all flashes of pain.

The dog was scratching and growling and barking on the other side of the fence, having caught up to him just a split-second too late to bite his ankle.

BLAM-BLAM.

Gunshots. Both the dog and Jericho flinched on both sides of the fence; the dog even ceased its barking with a shocked whine and whimper. Jericho was just frozen in momentary shock at the sound of someone discharging a gun—until he put two and two together.

Nobody had shot the dog nor shot at him. The shots had come from inside one of the houses.

The agents. Karma. They were probably fighting.

Jericho flinched again as another series of gunshots ripped through the fancy suburban neighborhood. It helped him regain his composure, he was up on his feet again and running. The dog barked again behind him, but with a fence between them, only adrenaline kept him running as fast as he could. And the instinctive fear of getting caught by authorities again.

He may have failed his task at grabbing Agent Parker, but he was not going to get caught by the FBI agents, nor some dog, nor—

He ran. No time for thinking. No orientation. He cut across an empty road between houses, clueless as to where he was headed.

Gunshots in a neighborhood like this? There had to be police crawling all over the place in no time. And they would pin everything on a guy who looked like him.

If Karma had iced those FBI agents? He was going to take the fall. The crazy bitch could just teleport out of there.

New panic gave him even greater wings. Jericho’s body burned all over, where new bruises and welts would turn black and blue, and countless scrapes and jagged scratches turned a bright crimson. His lungs screamed, his breathing ran ragged as he ran down the sidewalk, coming to a stop at a crossing.

Unclear if he should go straight, left, or right.

Where the fuck am I?

Lost.

He had only followed Karma’s lead in getting to the house to find Parker.

With its wheels rolling at a steady, languid pace, a white stretch limousine drove down the empty road from his left. It slowed as it neared the crossing where Jericho stood, dumbfounded, blinking repeatedly to assure himself that coincidence, perhaps, did sometimes smile upon him.

Panting, he stared at the vehicle.

Aria’s limo.

At worst, a decent way to walk into jail if he was wrong and this was just some other rich asshole’s limo. At best, this was indeed Aria’s limo; his heavenly savior to get him out of his current jam.

He raised his hands in surrender again, waving them like a desperate survivor stranded on a lonely island, hoping to flag down the angelic airplane passing overhead.

The limo stopped entirely at the crossing, either because the driver conscientiously obeyed the nearby stop sign, or because Jericho jogged out in front of it, slapping the hood twice with a nervous grin. Inwardly pleading for his life.

One of the back windows rolled down.

A blonde woman poked her head out. Yellow-tinted contrast glasses rested on her nose. Traces of white powder clung to her nostril.

She squinted as she glimpsed Jericho, just standing there. The glaring sunlight blinded her.

“Jericho?” She sounded tired. Or slum drunk. “The hell are you doing here?”

“Jesus Christ on a fucking bicycle, Aria,” Jericho said, clapping his hands together in a gesture of fake prayer and genuine gratitude, as he rounded the vehicle and approached her. “I am so glad to see you here? You think I could bum a ride from you? I’m, uh, see; I’m in some real need of, uh—”

Gunshots ripped away in the distance again, causing him to flinch.

A door opened and one of the bodyguards grabbed Jericho. Dragged him inside.

He plopped into one of the limo seats with a weary groan. A meaty hand slammed the door shut behind them. The vehicle lurched into motion, resuming its previous speed of rolling through the neighborhood at a gentle pace.

All the while, Jericho’s gaze bounced back and forth between three faces. The two broad-shouldered goons working for Aria wore black sunglasses to hide their eyes, and their faces stayed straight and stern as they stared back at Jericho. Probably still pissed about their last encounter.

Aria, meanwhile, lazily lounged in a seat at the back, legs crossed, with that ominous skull-chalice in her hand.

A tiny umbrella crowned the open lid of the skull, and a purple drinking straw jutted out beside it. She sloshed around the skull’s contents.

The whole interior of the limo reeked of stale cigarette smoke and a blend of different alcohols. It all converged on Jericho as he caught his labored breath, sitting there, stewing in the stink of his own cold sweat.

“You know, Jericho honey, I hadn’t expected to see you again so soon. I didn’t get a chance to fetch the bourbon I mentioned, but I have plenty here to whet your whistle if you’re already done with your… business? Loosen your tongue. You know?”

She slurred for the entirety of her monologue. Jericho checked his wristwatch.

“It’s four o’ clock somewhere on this bright, beautiful planet,” she said.

Six in the afternoon, his wristwatch said.

“Well, yeah,” he mumbled.

Her tongue played with the tip of the straw until guiding it to her red-painted lips, taking another long sip from the skull.

His brain went through a mixture of busy ringtones and static. Thoughts and objectives and his basest desires all clashed and crashed into each other in slow motion.

His mind went blank.

Weirdly, the first coherent thought to surface from the soup was…

Karma. Gunshots.

That bitch hadn’t even taken her gun on the chase. Did the FBI shoot her ass?

Part of Jericho was relieved at the thought of Parker or other FBI agents having possibly shot and killed Karma.

Yes. Please. Good.

Aria wriggled her wrist, sloshing the drink in the skull around as she wagged the straw in Jericho’s direction.

“You wanna drink?”

“Yeah.” In response, he exhaled in what sounded like a relieved howl. Wagged a finger at the drink in her hand. “Yeah. Hey, by the way, what is up with that skull-cup thing? What the fuck is that?”

Her brow arched.

“You already asked me last night, and I already told you. You forgot already?”

One of the bodyguards opened a minibar and presented its contents to Jericho with a theatrically sweeping gesture.

Jericho shrugged. “Well, uh—yeah. Night’s still kind of a blur, no offense—and I almost turned into an angry German Shepherd’s chew toy just now. So, please forgive me if my brain-pan’s like Swiss cheese right now.”

He sidled along the seats to help himself to a tumbler of scotch from the limo’s minibar. The gaze of the bodyguards burned on him all the while.

Aria clicked her tongue and said, continuing to slur through her stupor, “It’s the skull of a dead former U.S. president, fashioned into a skull by a certain Yaqui sorcerer after I paid him with a hand of glory.”

Jericho paused, blinked, and then downed the cup of scotch in one go.

“Well, that’s one hell of a trade.” The bottle’s neck clinked against the glass’s rim as he refilled it immediately.

Four fingers instead of two.

Fuck it.

She was stinking drunk already, so why not join the party?

Jericho blew out air as he sighed and plopped back down into his seat. Aria patted the empty spot next to her, and he sighed again before hunching his way over to sit next to her in the back.

Glass clinked against bone as they toasted. And drank some more.

The scotch burned in the back of his throat. The kind of pain he preferred over the myriads of burning sensations now all catching up to him, all screaming at him from across his body; countless cuts and scratches and bruises he had suffered to escape the neighborhood.

The white picket fence idyll of Manor Knoll’s suburbia drifted by outside the tinted windows of the limo.

Aria sipped at her drink. Up close, the skull’s current contents smelled like a mojito.

Casting a sidelong glance after catching him staring into the skull, she said, “There’s GHB mixed in there.”

Because of course there is.

The part of him that hoped Karma was shot dead also kept circling back to what the Way King might do to punish his failure. Then, the nagging, cynical, and pragmatic parts of Jericho’s brain returned—a trio of angry little assholes knocking on the tiny door in the back of his mind.

After gulping down another sip, he said, “Sorry if this is a rude question, but what the fuck were you doing in this neck of the woods? I don’t really believe in coincidence or fate or destiny or some-such poetic horseshit smiling down upon me, after all.”

The tip of the straw bobbed against the tip of her tongue. She flicked it a few times before responding. Spellbound, he watched that spectacle, with vague images of their night together flashing back to him. The sensation of that tongue tangoing with his.

She grinned all the while.

“I’m starting to think we’re after the same thing, and we have been after the same thing all along, darling.”

She took another long sip. Her pupils were as dilated as dinner plates.

Jericho carefully reached out—expecting the two giant men in the limo to reach over and break his arms before the tip of his index finger could make contact—but nobody stopped him. Aria just kept her eyes locked onto his.

He wiped cocaine from her nose. Sucked on his fingertip as he maintained eye contact with her all the while. Chased it with another sip of scotch.

“You go first. Or—no, how about this. Count to three, then we say at the same time why we both wound up in the same shitty rich asshole neighborhood. I’m only willing to go so far in believing in synchronicity.”

She cocked her head to the side and a short laugh escaped her. It sent a tingle down his spine. His nostrils flared; he fought back every baser urge welling up in his gut.

He hated how much he liked the melody in her laugh.

“Okay,” she breathed. “One, two—”

“Three,” he said.

“The Thaum of Thritain,” Aria said at the same time as Jericho said, “Some stupid fucking magick book.”

A lightning bolt hit his brain. Something clicked, though he couldn’t pinpoint what exactly. The name gave him more shivers, but it sounded weirdly familiar. Like something he had dreamt of before, but never heard spoken aloud. Like something he had read, all blurry through the unreality of nightmares, now coming into focus.

He asked, “What the fuck is a Thaum of Thritain?”

She laughed again. He smiled a pained smile and produced a throaty sound of pained pleasure.

“I’m led to believe it’s a stupid fucking magick book,” she said with a giggle.

She hooked her arm around his and snuggled up to him.

“Well, look at that. I just learned something new, thanks to you, darling.” She punctuated her words with another sip from the skull. The straw sputtered, having reached only leftover bubbles at the bottom of the drink.

Jericho chewed on the inside of his cheek, pondering if he needed to make a run for it.

Police sirens howled in the distance, coming closer—likely headed for the house where they had intended to abduct the FBI agent from.

“You’re gonna not wanna go wherever you were headed right now, believe me,” Jericho said, never breaking eye contact with Aria.

She maintained the smoldering connection between them.

“We were just circling the neighborhood in search of something weird, following a tip from one of my sources—”

Jericho shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be talking to cops with whatever is playing out back there.”

She nodded and then cast a glance at her bodyguards. “You heard him. Take a scenic route back into the inner city.”

The bodyguard closer to the driver’s compartment knocked on the black separator panel. It slid down with an electric whirr, then the driver and the bodyguard conversed in hushed tones until the driver rolled the separator back up and changed course.

Jericho dropped his tone to murmurs and asked her, “You comfortable talking about all the mojo and juju in front of hired muscle like these guys?”

Despite the sunglasses, Jericho sensed the thug had been staring daggers at him all the while.

Maybe because Jericho had blown up his belt buckle and melted his earpiece earlier that day.

“Darling,” Aria breathed. “This is America. The almighty dollar is the most potent of all reagents. You can pay people to see what they’ve never seen, and ignorance has an affordable price tag once you front enough hard cash.”

The bodyguard peeled his gaze off Jericho, staring out the window. The man’s body looked rigid, like a living mountain. He also looked like he could squeeze water from rock between his fists.

Even so, Jericho harbored no respect for hired thugs.

“Cool,” Jericho said. “Very cool. Well—seems you know more than I do about this stupid fucking book, down to having a name for it I have never heard before.”

“And now I know your boss doesn’t even have it,” she replied, snatching the tumbler from Jericho’s hand. She took a sip from it before placing it in his palm again. “I was hoping I could use you to get close to him and take the book from the Way K—”

“Uh-uh-uh,” Jericho interrupted. He nervously shook his hand, his head, and urged her to stop with a glare. “Do not say that scary motherfucker’s name.”

“What is your problem with saying his name? I’ve said it several times before and nothing ever happened.”

He shook his head more fervently.

“It’s whenever anybody says it out loud around me. That’s when things get royally fucked. It’s like an ‘open sesame’ to the cursed open mic I must be to that asshole, like it feeds right back to him. And, please, take my word for it, you do not want him to be staring across the void at you. The last time someone tried that, I had to walk out of a building littered with a dozen dead bodies. The other bodies probably wished they were dead.”

It dawned on him how serious and gravely his tone had turned. How he had almost growled those words out. Her blitzed face expressed a specific breed of surprise he recognized from his early twenties, the kind of shock a drug addict would experience in moments of lucidity, when confronted with harsh and cruel realities, piercing the haze of their high.

He sipped more from the tumbler’s contents, resetting his brain and tone. Coughed. Downed the rest.

“So, yeah, the boss-man doesn’t have the book yet. I could tell you, but I’m not sure I want to do that to you. The less you know, and all that,” Jericho concluded.

Aria blinked until they made eye contact again.

“Bullshit,” she said.

“Huh?”

“Did I stutter? I’m calling bullshit.”

Jericho genuinely felt taken aback. He normally used bullshit to conceal his true feelings, and insecurity got the best of him. “N-no, I’m serious—”

“Bullshit,” she repeated. Her brow furrowed, a thin and crooked line projecting a simmering anger. “My source told me that book could be used to travel between worlds. Or time. You aren’t protecting jack-shit by withholding that from others. You’ve got plans to use it yourself, don’t you? Your boss and me and everybody else be damned, is that it?”

With a sharp blast of air through his nostrils, Jericho stifled his inevitable sigh.

“Yeah, no. If you tell me who your source is, I will tell you what little I know about the stupid fucking book. And a few other things, as a freebie.”

Her features softened. She snatched the glass from his hand again and held it out with an outstretched arm. The nearest bodyguard understood that cue and proceeded to refill the tumbler at the minibar.

“My source is trying his damnedest to stay anonymous, but I have reason to trust him. He has always spoken true. Actually, I think he’s someone like you, who works begrudgingly for the—for your boss.”

The refilled tumbler of scotch wound back up in Jericho’s hand. Like magic. He had been transfixed on Aria, absorbing the words and processing what they might mean.

Police cars with blaring sirens raced past the limo. Screeching tires transported them around a corner, speeding down suburban roads to the place of the shootout Jericho had miraculously escaped.

Thanks to her.

Finally, he said, “Nobody working for him is like me.” He licked his lips. “And I’m not, like, boasting, or anything. I mean to say I’m one of the few people in his little gang of mystic psychos who’s just… I’m just a fuck-up. I got in with them by fucking up, and if I knew how to get out, if I I knew I could somehow get the magick monkey off my back—I would. In a fuckin’ heartbeat.”

Aria leaned her head on his shoulder and mumbled. “I can only ask you to take my word for it. I’d tell you if I knew who my source was.”

Jericho sipped more scotch. Winced. “Tell you what. I kinda don’t care now, anyway.”

Maybe someone is going to fuck him over. One of those mystic psychos, playing their own long con, setting the big guy up to take a fall, so they can plunder his goods.

Softly, she sighed. “Well…”

Another sip. Liquid courage.

A calculated risk to spill the beans.

Fuck, he thought. I really do like her, huh? Can’t help feeling like I’m being played, though.

He shifted till her breath swept across his chin. Warm. Then he spilled the beans.

“Boss had me looking for that book first. Oracle of New York saw it in a vision. Made of jade or some green stone, engraved with alien language or some shit. I was sent to follow some leads, track some people cross-country. It apparently showed up first in Kentucky, somehow connected to the arrest of a serial killer and some whack job cult. I tried strong-arming anybody who might’ve known about it but kept walking into dead ends. Also couldn’t just walk into prison and talk to some of these jokers, 'cause I’m pretty sure they have feds monitoring them. Then, out of the blue, I’m taken off the job. Because fuck me, right? I’m the fuck-up in that crowd, the guy they always get to do the dirtiest of work.”

Another sip. Aria only listened to Jericho. His gaze blanked, lost in memory. Unwilling to bore her with all the details, he cut to the chase.

“Then, y'know, I’m tasked with getting this FBI Agent, Parker. I knew they’re connected. Her name first showed up when I grilled some loser in West Point to find the book. I wasn’t even supposed to bring her in myself, but the, uh—the thing to do the thing, it fucked up. So, the boss sent me to tie up loose ends next. And ever since, it seems like everybody and their fucking brother is after that FBI lady now. It’s so fucking stupid.”

He sipped more scotch. He could go on but had tired of talking about his work.

Wanted to crawl in a hole and hide, but he knew: he would need to face the music soon.

If he didn’t return to the Way King soon to check in, the Way King would summon him soon enough.

And Jericho despised those summons.

“I guess we won’t be doing business after all,” Aria said.

Her breathing, steady, almost sleepy, brushed over his skin.

It soothed him.

Aria continued, “I thought I could coax you into getting that book from your boss, then give it to me, but it turns out he doesn’t even have it.”

Eyeing the two bodyguards—and the two men eyeing him in return—Jericho asked her, “You gonna kick my ass out onto the street, then?”

From the corner of his eye, her dark red lips curled into a smile.

“Nope.”

“Why do you want that book? Even if anything the oracle said about it is true?”

“What? You’re really not tempted to use it? To unfuck your way out of service to your boss somehow?”

Jericho nursed the tumbler’s contents.

Stared at her intently.

“Nope.”

“Nope?”

“Nope,” he repeated. “I’d just—I dunno—I’d just up and fuck myself harder by meddling with reality like that. I am acutely aware of how my actions have consequences. You poke enough holes in the fabric of the universe, and the whole thing comes crashing down on you. Power and consequences. I do not regret my past decisions, because I always burn the past down, Aria. And I live in the ashes left behind. I fuckin’ wallow in them.”

“And… is that why I found my way here?”

She took the cup from his hand, another sip. Her breath reeked of five different brands of alcohol.

“What do you mean?”

She guided the cup to his lips. Eyes locked with hers, he drank. The liquid burned; the intense gaze of her steely blue eyes held him hostage.

“I let the universe guide me here, like I always let it. When I fall down some stairs, you know why I stay unharmed? Because I let the drink take the fall for me. I saw what you did in the hotel, slinging some serious magick. We’re different, and yet we’re very much alike. The philosopher dreamt he was a butterfly. Or was the butterfly dreaming of being a philosopher?”

Jericho narrowed his eyes. Remembered—she must have been high as a kite.

“What the fuck have you been taking?”

“I told you. It’s how I let the universe guide me. It keeps bringing us back together, too, doesn’t it?”

He swallowed. His throat burned from that emptiness more than any alcohol ever could.

The fire in his soul burned brightly.

The pressure of his failure, of the violence he had just fled from—drifting so very far away, now. Gunshots, a dog barking… floating away on a sea of oblivion.

Something new took its place—something he might be able to burn down again once he fucked up. As he inevitably always did.

Another memory to build. Another life to destroy.

More ashes.

“You’re makin’ a mistake, getting close to me,” he breathed.

Her fingers curled into his hair and pulled him closer. Warm liquid dampened his pants, trickled down his leg. The tumbler thumped onto the carpeted floors after slipping from his grasp.

They kissed.

Tongue. Lips like velvet.

This, he would remember.

Unlike the blackout drunk stupor that had swallowed all memories of his entire prior night, he would remember this.

Cling onto it.

The inherent danger. A release he would have ever dared to dream of. Melting into her like she melted into him. They kissed. Long and breathless, the tender caress endured.

Dreamy eyes met when their lips parted, leaving only little distance between them.

She breathed, “I thrive in my mistakes.”

Such a familiar sentiment. Maybe she understood him. Maybe she was the only person who would ever understand him.

He pulled her closer to seal their lips in another kiss.

The next thing he knew, more time had melted away. The world had transformed. The limousine sliced through busy inner-city streets, between tall buildings, valleys of concrete and steel.

He reeled, recovering his sense of time and space, while dizziness continued to rock his world. Her breath was bad, but the sweetest thing he had sampled in eons.

Reveling in the sensation of her fingers in his hair, he bit his lip and tasted that dark red lipstick.

A sigh. Whose sigh? Both of them? The borders blurred.

He asked, “Seriously, you… what do you want with that book?”

Fingernails danced, grazing skin, and gliding between the hair on the back of his head.

“Let’s just say there’s a lot of things I regret in life, and a little bit of time travel would go a long way in helping me fix some mistakes.”

“You’re not concerned you’d fuck things up even more?”

Gazing into each other’s eyes, she stroked the back of his head.

Spoke with a clarity that cut through the veils between worlds. It would echo into the next days, even invading Jericho’s dreams.

“Consequences be damned,” she whispered.

He shivered, feeling seen. Understood.

He nodded. Slowly.

Dared to close his eyes. Their noses brushed up against each other.

Basking in the heat of her presence, a closeness he had not been looking for, but so content in finding. Such unexpected delights.

She whispered, “Will you help me get that book? If you really don’t care about getting it for yourself, that is. Or you don’t really care about crossing your… boss.”

He cupped a palm around her cheek to meet her gaze anew.

“I don’t wanna promise anything. I’m starting to feel like that damned book is more trouble than it’s worth, but I will think about it. If you really want it that badly… I’ll think about it.”

The corners of her lips twitched. Another smile formed—furtive, faint.

Happy.

“Pretty sure you’ll do more than think about it.”

That melody in her voice, it drove him crazy.

Planting tender kisses along her jawline, then nuzzling her neck, her back arched and she sighed in their mutual embrace. The leather of their seats creaked as their weight shifted.

Staring up at him, her eyes sparkled. Dying light of the setting sun, filtered through tinted windows, scintillating in every reflective surface of the city; a thousand souls broken down like a sea of crushed glass and diamonds.

“Where do you want to be dropped off?” she asked.

He scoffed with a smirk.

“What did you do to my car? I had a bunch of useful junk in the trunk.”

“That old rust bucket? We didn’t do anything to your car. It’s probably right where you left it. Motel—”

“Where you kidnapped me from,” Jericho said, still smirking.

“You could have put up more of a fight.”

He traced her lips with his thumb, savoring the silky sensation.

“Fuck it,” he said, chuckling. “I’ll have to pick it up another time. Can you drop me off here?”

“Just here? The middle of the city? Do you even know where you are?”

Jericho smiled.

The most warmth and the most smile he had ever mustered in years. Years on the road, years of shoving a gun in people’s faces for coercion, years of smoking cigarettes in shitty roadhouses, and staring into the empty bottom of whiskey bottles; years of thinking there was nothing worth living for in this world, years of thinking he deserved nothing good but the sweet release of death.

“I haven’t got a fucking clue, but I need to move my sorry ass to meet the boss-man, or we’ll have the very real kind of vultures circling above us soon enough.”

Eyes locked, she absently waved. A bodyguard relayed the order forward till it reached the driver.

More time melted away. Car horns honked in the inner city, and the limo crawled to a stop. The world was spinning, under the influence, shit, Jericho’s mind had ascended into another plane of existence altogether. Intoxicated by this woman’s presence, by their strange connection, two strangers, stranger than the rest.

Was she fucking with him? Fucking him over? Going to fuck him over hard in the last minute?

Maybe.

A chunk of plastic ended up in his hand.

He blinked, some semblance of his senses returning to him.

A cell phone?

Aria whispered into his ear, “Can’t rely on synchronicity alone to keep bringing us back together, cowboy.”

Before he knew it, he stood on the curb, on the sidewalk, surrounded by an ocean of people, all walking in different directions, murmuring in conversations, someone talking to himself, a whole blur of humanity all around him.

He only had eyes for her. Staring back at him through yellow-tinted sunglasses. The window electrically rolled up while the bright white limousine cruised away.

“You need to get new pants,” was the last thing she had said.

The limo melted into traffic, swimming at a red light, until it slowly drifted around the next corner.

Jericho rubbed his face and slapped his cheeks, confirming the reality of his reality.

Not dreaming.

He looked down and swore again upon remembering he was wearing jeans with the legs crudely cut off, and now with a scotch stain that made it look like he had pissed his pants.

He looked like an idiot. Some of the passersby gave him according looks.

He sighed and set off. Walking.

Blending into the masses like everybody else. Some people probably looked stranger than him yet, and when everybody starts looking strange, nobody looks strange. That was something he appreciated about these big cities.

Everything else started catching up to him like a bad aftertaste. The agents from the House of Change who had tried to jump him outside the hotel. Karma—fucking Karma, the psycho bitch—he still felt the phantom of her gun’s muzzle, pressed against the back of his neck.

He rubbed his nape to rub it away.

That FBI agent, Parker—chasing after him like a madwoman, like she was some kind of Terminator from that movie.

And that dog. That fucking dog. Scary, sure. But if the dog would have just chomped out my jugular, I wouldn’t have to be worrying about getting back to the Way King and owning up to my fuck-up.

He shuddered at the thought.

Then again…

The cellphone in his hand. He stuffed it into a jacket pocket.

Aria.

He stood in a parking lot, removed from the main streets, waiting until no passersby could witness his next actions. With quick glances to stealthily scan his environs, he confirmed there were no cameras watching the space.

Too good to be true. Too fucking good.

He muttered out loud, “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

Biting his lip, he tried the first car door. Locked. Then another. Always expecting to set off an alarm yet staying lucky.

Look, maybe you’re just catching a break, he thought. Been down in the suck for so long that you can’t believe you’re catching a little break, for a change.

“Stupid,” he muttered. “Stupid. What am I fucking thinking?”

A car door yielded. Opened to his touch.

Another furtive glance: no witnesses nearby.

He swallowed. Dreaded what he had to do next. So simple, so subtle—yet reflecting a terrible price. A mystic transaction.

He fished a rock out of one of his leather jacket’s pockets. A brick someone had stolen from a museum. Jericho hunkered down and slapped the jagged brick down upon the asphalt.

Dragged it around, drawing a circle around the vehicle he was about to hijack. He stopped short of closing the circle by the back, pausing to marvel at the most idiotic license plate he had ever seen.

IFARTD

He scoffed and continued the circle with a deliberate gap, rounding the other side of the red Honda. Once more, he stopped short of closing the circle up front, then drew two lines, protruding from the ends of the front gap in the circle.

Putting the rock away, he produced a switchblade from his other pocket.

Click.

Winged his thumb with the blade, cringing at the sting. A tiny price to pay, but a price, nevertheless. Just a tiny mirror to the price he paid the Way King.

He was already hurting all over anyway, so what was another little cut? Jericho stared at the blood, pooling at the side of his thumb, until crimson dripped to the ground.

He squeezed and smeared it, coating his entire thumb in his own blood while he knelt, reached underneath the car’s front fender, and left a bloody fingerprint.

All set.

Fuck.

Ensuring again there were no passersby to witness his carjacking, he climbed into the Honda and busted open the ignition. After a few attempts at hotwiring the vehicle, mechanics chugging and choking, its engine grumbled and coughed and roared when he revved the gas pedal.

Swerving the car into traffic, the first red light stopped him at a crossing where glaring orange light from the setting sun blinded him.

He popped the sun visor. A spare key dropped into his lap.

“Motherfucker,” he spat.

Then he set his jaw. Gathered his courage.

“Show me the way to you, Way King.”

A name he hadn’t dared utter in a long time.

His own voice echoed in his ears, whispers lingering in his mind like knives. Sharp and shiny and pristine one moment, slicing and bloody in the next.

Way King.

WAY KING.

The engine growled in response. Not like a machine should sound. It growled like a beast.

Tremors shook the vehicle, as if a magnitude-six earthquake had seized Chicago. But the world around him? All looked normal.

The traffic light switched to green, and Jericho snapped out of the reverie. The nightmare bled into reality; the ritual took full effect.

The kind of magick he preferred not to use, but he had to face this music, sooner or later.

Fess up to his failure.

Driving into the sunset, crossings blended. The radio went on, went haywire, crackling with static and mixing a thousand voices and a thousand stations; horrendous noise filling the vehicle as it glided through traffic.

The digital clock on the dashboard only skipped forward a minute, but the stolen Honda had skipped out of the city in just that time.

Another minute later, he was speeding down Illinois Route 53. A blinding flash of lightning struck, engulfing Jericho’s vision, transforming the city into town. Lightning struck twice, and the engine roared like a demon. Another minute later, the town had turned into green acres and trees, framing

THE HIGHWAY.

Illinois melted away, and in under an hour, the stolen car crossed through Missouri, slicing across the country at impossible speeds.

Jericho had no idea how it truly worked. He only knew that it worked. He stewed in his jumble of thoughts and worries.

The radio calmed, and different environments flashed by in a matter of minutes. The car never felt like it was running faster than any speed limit, but it always permitted him to cross the whole country in a matter of hours—and neither cops nor toll booths ever stopped him when he traveled thus.

Soon, he would be back in Vegas. Unnaturally soon.

Back in front of the Way King.

Jericho frowned, staring into the horizon, never blinking, till his eyes hurt. He tried to cling on to the lingering impressions and sensations that had given him a reprieve from the never-ending nightmares, but all the nagging doubts returned, dragging him back down into his usual swampy darkness.

Wondering if he would be able to sleep again. If he would ever experience any sense of intimacy like that again.

Aria.

If the Way King wouldn’t just peel off his skin, and turn his skull into some demented artifact, just like that president’s skull she had been chugging booze from.

He cast a sidelong glance at the cell phone, where the small black plastic object rested on the passenger seat. Jericho wistfully envisioned Aria to be riding shotgun there, instead of the phone. Her long blonde hair fluttering in the wind from an open window, those steely blue eyes seeking something unknowable on the horizon.

Jericho shook his head and groaned. Doubted that a woman like her with money like that and savvy of the unnatural world would ever feel a damned thing for a thug like him.

He slapped his cheeks as if it would help center him, help ground him.

The engine growled again. The motor’s demon hungered. Uncaring of his state of mind, his inner being churned, twisting in turmoil. The demon snarled.

By the close of an hour, THE HIGHWAY had taken him through Kansas. Before two hours had passed, he would be back on the Strip. Surrounded by the same old gaggle of mystic psychos.

Back in Vegas, always running errands for the man who had saved his life—and forever ruined it.

Back.

Like a bad habit.

2 notes · View notes

hrodvitnon · 2 years

Note

��Madison, please. This… this isn’t you.”

“What isn’t me?” Go asks, incredulous. Smile growing on her draconic face. “This is me, Aunt Viv. I’ve finally realized that. Can’t you love me for being happy about that?” Shi winces as if hurt by the name she was called - the reminder of better times.

“Don’t call me that!”

“Or what are you gonna do? Ground me?” The girl giggles. As if to emphasize Shi’s powerlessness Madison rears her head back and fires yet another gravity beam into a building block. “WOO-HOO!” she hollers like she’d scored a headshot in a shooter game, though the sound comes out as a hideous Ghidorah screech. “What could be possibly better than this?” And from the look in Go’s eyes, Shi isn’t sure if she’s being sincere, or manically sarcastic.

Doesn’t love her she doesn’t love you HYPOCRITE not such a good aunt you are perfect little sister just perfect

For a long time after this exchange, Shi is silent. No matter what gruesomely clever death Go dishes out or goads her, or how much San pleads her to say something or at least try to have fun, the Fifth Head is met with silence. She laughs it off as Shi being a Debbie Downer. How did someone this pitiful introduce her to DOOM, anyway? What did Ichi expect to happen when he gobbled up a total nobody like her?

Ichi glares at Go mocking his decisions... and then Shi speaks up.

Oh, sorry, did I spoil your fun? I was busy thinking about inevitabilities. You should really get used to silence... and disappointment.

Go demands, And what the hell does that mean?

It means we're eventually going to run out of things to kill. Not just this planet – assuming by some miracle we don't get slaughtered by an avenging agent of karma, there might just come a time when we're the only living thing left in the universe. What do you suppose we do then?

Bullshit, we'll find something to do! Maybe we missed a spot somewhere, you never know!

Shi laughs, but it's a mirthless huff. Platinum that trophy, right? But I do hope you look forward to near-infinite stretches of silence. Everything is going to die and we'll still be around – we'll be able to watch stars die, the suns turn the planets around them into dust as they burn out. We may even witness the heat death of the universe. Too bad we won't find a giant reset button to start everything over.

Go snaps her teeth around Shi's horns in annoyance. Don't you dare patronize me, you doomsday-whining killjoy! Just because you wanna suck the fun out of everything like a black hole of self-loathing—

Now there's an idea! Shi almost smiles. We can fly into a black hole! Maybe it'll fling us backwards in time, or into another universe, or it'll completely reduce us to nothing! Wouldn't that be something?

Hey, here's a suggestion – why don't we find another Titan to kill? I need to render something extinct after listening to your nihilist bullshit!

Sure, sure. Fine by me. It's not like I can stop you. It's not like Mothra was special to you or anything, once upon a time. All those mornings you blew up my phone with excitement over her approaching birth, how happy you were to be there when it finally happened? Can't have been that amazing, in hindsight. It's not like you felt something so fleeting and unimportant as love for a giant bug of all things.

Go opens her mouth to snap back, or bite, maybe even spit lightning, but nothing comes out. She doesn't know why.

Shi's dead eyes survey the surrounding destruction. Be real nice if a black hole showed up. This whole world getting swallowed up by the event horizon would look so incredible.

#tardisspacemug #shi au

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cleverfandomurl · 2 years

Text

Miss Misery for the Last Time, Chapter One

Summary:

Y/N Is fresh off of a breakup with her long-term boyfriend John Walker. Her best friend Natasha keeps telling her that she just needs a rebound to make her feel better, and after-all, it's their senior year at NYU! Surely Y/N can find someone hot and good in bed to get over her cheating, dirty, no-good ex at her favorite bar, right?

Bucky Barnes is tired. He just wants to retire and leave the Arc Group life behind him and enjoy Sam's new bar, The Tower. Brooklyn is a whole new world to him, so he should enjoy it right? It has been two decades since he's been in New York City. The Arc Group has one last job for him though….send a message to John Walker demanding to make good on his promised goods. But what about the girl crying over him at Sam's Bar? Why is she hitting on him now?

I did it! Here's Chapter one!

Besties Before Boys

Y/N sat at the bar, tear tracks and runny mascara drying to her cheeks. She sighed, a little hitch hitting her at the intake, and took another long drag of the drink she ordered. The Tower’s lounge patrons tried to be discreet about their stares at this forlorn girl alone and crying at the bar but she could feel each pair of eyes as they followed her hand raising the glass to her lips.

“Excuse me, sir, can I get one more?” She asked quietly. The bartender behind the counter, Sam, smiled sadly and nodded, fixing you another Moscow Mule and slid you a few extra napkins to wipe your tears. “So, tell me about him. Or her, I don’t judge.” Sam murmured while drying some newly washed glasses.

“John fucking Walker…” Y/N ground out the name and trailed off. ‘About two hours ago, I showed up to his apartment for his birthday, as a surprise ya know? And this human shit stain is in his kitchen, on the kitchen island, fucking his neighbor. His neighbor! I dropped the wine bottle I bought and it shattered. He just stared at me and smiled. Smiled. Like he wanted me to find him. Eighteen months of my life I’ll never get back now. Bottoms up.” She licked her bottom lip before chugging the cocktail and putting it down a little too loudly.

“I just put so much into our relationship and he just openly displays his infidelity like that? I can’t believe….” Y/N trails off and bites her bottom lip in an effort to stop the rest of the tears in her eyes from falling. “This bar is where we met, you know. Maybe that’s why I came here, to see if it’s been ruined by that ass hat.” She frowned into the now empty glass.

Sam laughs at that, fixing a water and pushing it toward her gently. “Look, I know we don’t know each other but I hope he gets what’s coming to him. Karma has a funny way of working on people like that. Let’s call a friend and get you home, ok? Finish that water.” Sam turns to greet another patron at another bar stool and you pull out your phone. A photo of John displays on the screen and the tears start to swell again. Taking a deep breath, she unlocks it and calls Natasha, her roommate and best friend to take her home.

“Y/N?! Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere, I can’t get a hold of John and you weren’t answering your phone! Are you okay? What's going on?” A rush of questions pulse through the phone after ringing once and Y/N laughs sadly at the intense worry her best friend displays.

“Me and John are over, Nat. I walked into his apartment with the spare key he gave me, by the way, and he was balls deep in that bitchy neighbor he always said ‘was just a friend’. I’m at The Tower. Can you come get me?” She breathes out quickly. She starts chewing on her nails, waiting for her best friend and roommate's response. It’s a bad habit she picked up a long time ago that she thought she was over. Y/N wipes her hand on her dark denim jeans and shoves it into her back pocket, now self conscious.

“Yeah, bestie, I’m leaving John’s building now. I’ll restrain myself from beating him senseless tonight. For now.” The line goes dead and she sighs in relief, touching the phone to her forehead. She heads to the bathroom to clean up her face from crying and to wipe away the mascara trailing down her cheeks. Her reflection is awful. Red eyes, black streaks, nose puffy. Y/N nods and walks up to the dimly lit mirror. The lights in the women’s bathroom are warm to tint the mirror in a rose hue but it’s kept dark enough that details on your face are a little abstract. Y/N supposes it’s to hide how stringy and dehydrated drinking all night can make one look. She dampens a paper towel and blots her cheeks and under her eyes to clean up the watercolor painting her sobfest has given her face, reapplies lipstick and mascara and dries her last few unshed tears. She smiles and takes a deep breath, she can do this.

Ten minutes later, Natasha is pulling away from the curb in front of the entrance to The Tower. Y/N gave Sam a fifty as a tip, with a promise to come back next weekend to enjoy the place for once and not stare blankly in a booth as John schmoozed or to cry over his infidelity. She gazed at the lights of New York reflecting on the East River as they drove over the Manhattan Bridge back to the apartment Natasha's parents bought her.

Y/N knew how lucky she was that her best friend came from an extremely wealthy family. It was a total coincidence that they met in their freshman year at NYU. Nat and Y/N were in the campus Starbucks and grabbed each other’s coffee order. They laughed awkwardly and realized they were both headed to the same Art History course. They became inseparable after that first semester, despite their differences growing up. She came from a small town in North Carolina and Natasha was raised as Washington, DC socialite royalty.

Natasha family was rich. Her dad was a founder of some tech company in DC, and had an office in the city. Her mom was a former beauty queen, and took pride in being a trophy wife professionally. Natasha was beautiful. She had long, chestnut red hair, creamy skin and hazel eyes set into a heart shaped face and a petite frame. Nat wasn’t incredibly short, but smaller than Y/N at only 5’3”. She was soft, coming from a life of luxury but she was honest and kind. She hadn’t quite been jaded by life yet, she’d been protected from hardship by her father.

Y/N was average height at 5’7”, had her hair in a perpetual bun and a few patches of burned skin from being outside all summer. She had tired eyes that were set deep into her face. She was strong from years of hard labor working on her uncle’s tobacco farm and being raised with horses, cows and three boy cousins that treated her like the youngest sister. She hadn’t been afforded the same protections in life that Natasha took for granted. They couldn’t be more opposite. Y/N always joked that they were the real life Cry Baby without the romance.

Y/N was studying Art History with a desire to work with the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Natasha was studying film production to start her own TV series. They were seniors now, graduating in the upcoming spring, and staying in New York in the apartment. She was looking forward to working with the Brooklyn Museum and Nat was going to enjoy NYC living.

“Y/N? Are you even listening to me?” Natahsa's voice pulled her out of her head and back to the present. Sitting in the Tesla, in the parking garage of their building on South Street in Manhattan. “What were you thinking about so intently? Are you drunk?” She continued.Y/N smiled, tiredly. “No, I’m not drunk. I’m just thinking about everything. John, us, this being our senior year. Just overwhelmed right now.” The girls let out a soft laugh at each other and unbuckled their seatbelts to get into the elevator to the 18th floor. They chatted about the upcoming fall semester, their classes and how excited they were to finally graduate. Y/N waved to Charlie, the doorman, as Nat continued talking about the cute actor in one of her film classes and how she wanted to hook up with him at least once before Christmas break.

About halfway up to the apartment, Y/N's phone pinged. She pulled it out of her jacket pocket and frowned, and pinched her eyebrows together. “You okay?” Natasha asked, seeing her friend’s disgusted face.

“John texted me. He wants me to come back to talk. So he can explain. Does he think I’m stupid?” She half yelled out flinging the hand holding her phone up and out almost hitting another floor’s button. Good thing they were the only ones inside the elevator.

“I swear on my vintage Dior bag that if you so much as think of texting him back at all,” Natasha started with an emphasis on “all”, “ That I will throw your phone off the balcony and tie you to your desk chair and beat the notion out of you.” She laughed as Nat continued to get angry on her behalf. Walking in tandem out of the elevator, Y/N assured her that would not be happening anytime soon and she just wanted to get out of her clothes and into pajamas to watch a cheesy scary movie and eat cheap popcorn.

Across the bridge, a man was sitting in a dark corner booth of The Tower. His eyes were staring out the window where a dark brown-haired woman had just gotten walked by her friend into a white Tesla and driven toward the Manhattan Bridge. He left his seat to go talk to the bartender, an old friend named Sam, about her and why she was crying over his hit, John Walker.

John had made promises he couldn’t keep to the wrong people. The Arc, a group that traded in black market antiquities and art, was not a group you wanted to anger or disappoint. John had promised a member a particular Andy Warhol work that had yet to be procured and shipped. When members of the Arc wanted to make a statement, example or needed someone to express their dissatisfaction, they sent him. Bucky Barnes was treated like the leashed monster that everyone knew but hoped they would never meet. Owned by the Hathaways, controlled by the Arc and infamous even by underworld standards. Bucky hadn’t wanted this life but he didn’t have many options after leaving MI6 and disappearing completely off grid. His life now was comfortable if not a little too tight around his neck.

Sam was a former military friend. They both deployed to Iraq, before life went to shit and he was carted back to the UK and burned. Sam and The Tower were considered a place of business, protected from the underworld of New York by the Arc. It was the least he could do to thank Sam for everything he’d done for him over the last five years.

“Hey, Sam, who was that?” Bucky asked Sam, and sat in a stool.

“Why, you interested?” His friend’s smile was wide, as he put the glass away underneath the bar, and Bucky shot him a look that said he wasn’t amused or interested.

“No, I heard she’s involved with my mark. How?” Bucky deadpanned.

“She’s his long term girlfriend. Her name is Y/N. He’s brought her around her a few times, to impress some art people. She’s an art history major at NYU and graduates this year. I like her and she always tips me well. Apparently she walked into the guy and some chick fucking.” Sam answered easily. Though the Tower Bar might be connected to the Arc Group it was a high-class place that most of the elite class liked to visit to talk expensive gossip and make expensive friends. Y/N had come with a friend of Natasha's on a date and he ditched her for a c-list actress twenty minutes in. It’s how she got so close to Sam and why she always came with John.

Bucky rolled his eye and frowned in distaste at this other man’s actions. She wasn’t the kind of person he’d expected John to be with, and it certainly made the stream of other women filing in and out of his apartment seem even worse than he thought.

“Hard to believe with all the women i’ve seen visitng his brownstone through the last two months. How long they been together?” Bucky's quiet voice questioned.

Sam pursed his lips and breathed heavily out of his nose. “If I had to guess, maybe a year? I’m sure to her it feels like an eternity.” Sam shrugged his shoulders and walked away to serve someone waiting at the other end of the bar.

He brought his hand up and rested his chin on his knuckles. He sat and thought about his options with this Y/N problem. If she’d been together with him for that long and came here with him then she might know about John’s plans, or who John was really dealing with. She hadn’t visited his apartment often or showed up on his surveillance of him in the last few weeks. Odd that they've been together for that long and her not coming back on his intel.

Bucky debated tailing her to see what she might know, just to make sure she wasn’t involved. Also a good idea to make sure she isn’t the first person he runs to after he makes his employer's unhappiness known.

The next morning, Bucky watched from the small coffee shop across the street as Y/N stepped out from her building’s front door, partially hidden behind his laptop, a file on her life pulled up. He watched as she stopped to talk to the doorman, and handed him a bottle of water and a snack bar. His eye twitched and he huffed a short breath. She was one of those people wasn’t she? A little Orphan Annie who was good at heart despite being brought up in a rough home or whatever. He hated the perpetually happy. They were just so annoying.

He cleared his throat and adjusted his seat, continuing to watch her as she came up to the crosswalk light. She frequented the cafe he was sitting outside of currently, and made it part of her daily routine to visit. Dirty Bean Coffee Co. was a book shop and cafe that was made for the artsy collective that lived in the area. It was close to the subway, and Pike Street was full of the newly rich and married. Bucky watched as she walked up the steps and inside the propped door. She looked tired, he noticed. Not hungover, but she was definitely crying most of the night. Her bag had a Macbook covered in vinyl stickers, some magazines and a chunky art book, with some slightly frayed papers sticking out.

She was in ripped denim shorts, with a baggy orange tank top, black lace peeking out from underneath. She had a worn gold and red flannel shirt thrown on top, the cool breeze blowing it off her shoulder. She had tried to cover the bags under her eyes with some foundation that was a shade too fair for her and brushed on some more mascara. She smiled when the barista handed her a large iced coffee concoction and went to pay, but the barista laughed and said “I told you your money's no good here Y/N, now get to class!” The small elderly woman behind the coffee counter waved her out, with a promise to save a vanilla frosted cookie for her later. Bucky got up and set a path to run into her and get a reason to place a tracker in her partially open bag. He couldn’t tail her and John but he needed to keep tabs on both of them.

Y/N was looking down at her phone as she danced down the steps to Dirty Bean and danced straight into a solid wall of grey cotton and muscle. By some miracle, she only dropped her phone and spilled a few drops of her iced latte and not the whole thing.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry! I should be paying attention to where I’m going.” She groaned out, bending over to pick up her phone. She checked the glass and on the front screen and groaned in relief when it wasn’t shattered. She looked up and brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. The wall of muscle was an arm and chest covered in a tight grey t-shirt covered in a leather bike jacket and led up to a classically handsome man with stubble and dark brown hair pulled back in a low bun.

“No worries. Are you okay?” The brunette asked.

“Yeah, fine, didn’t lose my caffeine or break my phone. I’m sorry again. I’ve never seen you here before, are you new to the area?” she asked, shoving her phone in her bag and adjusting the strap on her shoulder. “I’m Y/N. I visit this place almost every day.” She smiled.

“I’m only here for a while. I’m James, but most people call me Bucky. It's nice to meet you. Sorry, but I have a meeting to go to. Maybe I’ll see you here again.” He gave a curt nod and walked off, pulling his phone out to check that the tracking disc was planted and connected. He huffed a breath and turned the corner, Y/N watching as he disappeared behind old brick.

Bucky mounted his bike, throwing his helmet on, and started the engine, and righted the bike and took off towards John Walker’s brownstone close to Central Park. John must want to be close to Sotheby’s, he suspected that’s how he had his items brought in and sent out. With a rich backer, a place like Sotheby’s could become the perfect place to fence blackmarket items. Greasing the right palms always made shady business easy.

Bucky pulled into a parking space a block away from John’s place, sticking his helmet in his storage bag and placing sunglasses on his face. This early, no one was out on the street, providing him an opportunity to slip up to the door and pick the lock. He crept into the darkened home and closed the door almost soundlessly. The place was a mess, with files and papers scattered everywhere, clothes of various cleanliness littering the floor and stairwell and dishes molding in the sink. You’d think he’d at least hire a maid. Bucky wondered if Y/N had beekeeping the place clean for him but with her not visiting the last two months….no wonder it was disgusting. That girl deserved so much more than this piece of trash. Bucky curled his top lip in disgust. Shaking his head to refocus, and got to work on leaving a message for John.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine

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shxma02 · 2 years

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A PROMISE IS TO KEEP - Jeon Jungkook X Reader

- Angst, Fluff, Sm R18+ TW: Infidelity

2.8K WORD COUNT

Monologue:

“I can’t believe we’re having this talk again.” Another night we spent sitting in his car, hours pass on by and the only thing bing discussed was going back around and around in circles. The glow of the sun rays peaked up past the building tops, knowing that I will regret this moment in a couple hours during my shift at the bar. Perhaps the bustling atmosphere and the alcohol after hours can help clear my mind.. but right now, the only thing I need to focus on was the raven haired boy sitting in the seat next to mine. We’ve been sitting outside of my apartment since one in the morning, though the endless silence and meaningless conversations have transported us to another five hours into the future.

“Look, i’m sorry. I don’t know what to do- I don’t know what to say or who to choose.” From my peripheral vision I see his silhouette turn towards me, his hands grabbed and held onto mine. His eyes begging me to look into his. “Don’t you feel bad or at least a little guilty at all?”

“Jungkook- Of course I feel guilty. There hasn’t been a day where I havent felt sorry towards Taehyung, but I can’t help feeling to way about you- I, you made me choose between the two of you and I made my choice. The fact that we even have to sit here for you to decide and see whether you want me or her-”

As I spoke, the emotions inside of me bubbled with anger and frustration before letting out a deep sigh. Back to the beginning of the year.. before meeting him I was happy, before meeting him I never had to cry to sleep in fear of getting abandoned. He let go of another deep groan before letting my fingers slip from his and slumping back on his car seat; I studied his face in silence. I know it was wrong. I know I was so, so wrong for messing with something that I shouldn’t even mean to touch. “Irene and I have been together for three years- I can’t throw everything away just like that.”

“I understand that Jungkook but for the past couple of months, you need to understand that I did everything for you, I did everything you asked me to, I did everything to be with you! And the fact that you can’t do the same for me, it shows how much you really did care about me..”

He opened his mouth to talk, to make another excuse, but I opened the door and got out before I could hear him utter another word. Slamming the door shut, I walked towards my apartment; tears falling down my face as my body shuddered from holding in my sobs. I could hear his engine revving off as I unlocked the door. I turned my head and see his car speeding off into the distance..maybe this is the last time I will ever see him..my heart aches as my mind filled with thought of him.

Maybe this is the karma coming back to bite me in the ass for lying, cheating and intervening my way into another relationship. I let out a laugh before shutting the door and locking it with a click. Ever since knowing Jeon Jungkook, I became the person I swore to never become. I know I don’t deserve to be happy but I can’t help but want to be selfish…

Chapter 1 –

“Hoshi, I need you to take the 3 margaritas out to table 6 for me and Jun, take the old fashioned to table 21 outside

“Yes boss!” The two boys shouted with gusto before taking the trays of drinks right out the door. I let a little laugh before turning my attention back towards the dockets in front of me. It was a Friday night, so the bar was as packed as usual. The loud shaking of the ice against the metal shaker and the dinging of the bell continued to ring endlessly throughout the night; my mind went blank as my arms took action to complete every order that came through. Two other bartenders called in sick tonight, so tonight was all on me, I swear to god if I’m not getting tipped a shit ton tonight, i’m going to walk out the door tomorrow morning. “Hey,” a dark voice interrupted my thoughts; I looked up at the man standing in front of me. “Babe!” My smile grew as Taehyung gave me a sweet smile in return. “I was gonna order a drink but I think you’re a bit busy at the moment Miss Bartender,” he laughed. “Funny,” I gave him a smirk in return before proceeding to slap the next drink onto the counter. “I can’t believe you’re here! You normally don’t come visit me you know.” Taehyung closed his eyes and gave a dramatic sigh, “yeah but I can’t help but miss my baby girl a bit more than usual tonight.” I turned my head to the side and squinted at the clock above the kitchen, “babe i’m sorry but I don’t finish until a couple hours later.”

He shook his head before placing his hand on my head, giving it a few gentle pats. “It’s okay babe, seeing you for a bit right now is enough for me. I’ll make you some dinner so i’ll see you at home okay? Don’t take too long. I love you.” Our eyes stayed locked before he leaned in and gave me a small peck. “I love you too.” The disappointed feeling inside me started to grow as I watch him leave, waving everyone goodbye as he did.

Taehyung and I started dating around a year ago. Never in a million years did I think I would date a man who I honestly could say I cherish more than anything or anyone I could think of. Taehyung has always been a man of tradition, which we’ve discussed thoroughly at the beginning of our relationship due to some conflicts due to his traditional background. When we walk together on the streets I notice the stares people give us.. He is always dressing his best, with his suits or business casual fits- I mean, which makes sense since he works in corporate (Unless we were at home together of course.) Though for me, I have a few tattoos and piercings here and there but that alone gives people to judge the difference between us- especially a few people from his family as it is something that is clearly far away from the usual “traditional’ trope that he was use to.

We first met through a mutual friend at a get together, where he sat in a corner by himself drowning in his thoughts, hand holding a glass of Cabernet. I remembered making my way over and initiated a conversation that started what is now ‘us.’ Thinking of my boyfriend made a small smile creep onto the corner of my lip, but that quickly went away as I focused my attention back onto the orders that came through.

The night went on bustling away and soon I found myself closing the bar and putting the alcohol away. Who the fuck drinks this many shots of vodka 20 minutes before we close? I swear we need to up the alcohol prices in the store, at this rate we’re barely making a buck to cover everything. I looked at the trays and trays of glasses that needed to be polished for tomorrow, my head was thumping but there was nothing I could do except picking up a cloth and going to work on the first glass. Majority of the lights in the bar were shut and the main light source shone onto the bar and onto me. It was a little eerie being the only one in the bar, the unusual blobs slowly shape shifted in the darkness but I threw my attention back onto the smudges on the glasses before I could creep myself out even more.

*knock knock knock*

My thumb tightly gripped onto the glass and my heart stopped from the knocks on the locked door.. it was 1:30am in the morning, we’ve been closed for a while now and the only people here in the bar was me and my manager who was in the back room, who would be knocking at this hour? I slowly placed the glass down onto the counter before walking towards the door cautiously. A dark silhouette stood tall outside, my hand clenched the handle tightly before opening it,

“Hey sorry, we’re closed.”

I spoke in a firm tone but looking at the man up and down to make sure he didn’t have a weapon on him to mutilate the first person he saw, it didn’t help that half his face was covered by a mask and his frame was concealed with black baggy clothing. “Hey, sorry I’m actually here to see Namjoon hyung.” Namjoon? “You’re expecting to see our manager after hours?” My body still stood behind the door with my head popped out to the side to talk to the stranger. “Uhhh yes..?” He responded. “If you’re so sure, why do you sound like you’re questioning yourself? He let out a chuckle at my comment. “Look I really am. I’m meeting him for a drink tonight and it’s freeezinggg outside so may I come in? I swear I don’t plan on killing anyone tonight.”

He leaned his frame onto the door and I hesitantly I moved to the side and let the unknown man come through. As he took a step inside, he took off his bucket and shook his head, drops of rain splattered everywhere. I took a step back and covered my face. “Hey, hey, I know that you’re wet from the rain but not everyone wants to smell like a wet dog okay?”

“Huh??? What? You wanna smell like a wet dog too? My pleasure!” He straightened up and ran towards me with his arms spread. Laughter filled the room as I immediately ran to the bar and grabbed a soda gun and pointed it at him. “Another step, you can smell like a dog and be sticky I dare you.” “Alright, alright miss feisty pants, i’ll stop.”

The bright smile stayed plastered on his face as he walked towards the bar countertop. He placed his arms onto the bench in a cross and looked around at the spirit stock before his gaze made his way back to me. “Nice collection you got here.” “Thanks, I love spending hours and hours restocking the shelves on my days off.” He gave an amused huff at the sarcasm before reaching his arm out for a shake. “My name’s Jungkook.” I placed the gun back into the socket before reciprocating his gesture, “(y/n).” “So (y/n), do you always threaten people you just met with soda? Or is this a special promotion going on at the moment?”

“Hmmm, nah only to people who look like they’ll murder me” I said before letting go of his hand. I turned my back around and grabbed the shaker, “So Jungkook. You want anything to drink while you wait? I think Namjoon is still doing some paper work in the back, there was a biggg fight today so I think he’ll be a while.” “That’s alright, I already sent him a message but yes, I’ll take you up on that offer. Give me a sweet drink.”

“Sweet?” I raised my eyebrow and I turned to question him. It’s not that I judge people based on how they look when they get a drink but there has been plenty of instances where men order the strongest, most disgusting drink to prove their “manliness.” He raised his arms up defensively, “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with a young man getting a drink he actually enjoys.” I rolled my eyes in amusement before grabbing the Midori and such. As I was throwing in liquor into the shaker, Jungkook’s voice echoed through the empty room. “So, how long have you been working here for?” As he looked around the establishment.

“Ummm around 2 years now? Namjoon offered me the job when he came to my last workplace. Seems like he really enjoyed my drinks, but honestly that place was hell to work for anyways, so why not move to a place I actually like and is treated with respect?” “Fair enough, your old work place must be real shitty,” he responded. “I mean it’s not that different here to be honest, but when you work at a bar you still get the creeps and drunks but at least here, there’s actual security doing their job.”

I placed the chilled martini glass in front of him before I poured the green drink into the glass and topping it off with a cherry. “And here is a Japanese Slipper for you Mr sweet drinks.” He gave me a smile before taking a sip; his eyes lit up and a grin appeared on his face, “not bad, not bad.” “Got any plans tonight? You should stay and drink with us,” he asked as he looked up at me whilst tilting the glass to his lips. “Ah, no i can’t. I have to go home, my boyfriend’s waiting for me.” He nodded as he kept sipping on the drink like water. “That’s cute, how long have you guys been together?” “Around a year now I think- how about you? Anyone?”

“Yeah I do, her name’s Irene. We’ve been together for about three years now but half of it was long distance; but i’m seeing her again tomorrow night.” Of course he has a girlfriend, he’s a nice guy. Honestly I don’t usually get along with this many people this early on. The only people who I could talk to like this is Namjoon and Jimin, maybe that’s why they’re all close friends. Even over the past couple years I’ve always felt uncomfortable talking to people this closely; ironic isn’t it? Working as a bartender in one of the most popular bars in Seoul and I don’t actually really like people.

“yeah I can imagine, I can’t see myself do long distance for so long.” He gave me a bitter sweet smile before putting his phone away and looking back at me. “Hey, why am I the only one drinking. You should have one too.” “Ummm, I don’t think that’s a good idea-“ He cut me off wit his loud tone, “Come on! Just one, you’re not staying with us tonight anyways. I don’t know when I’ll see you again.” Jungkook gave a small puppy dog pout before I laughed and gave in. “Any recommendations? Actually- do you wanna make it for me?” His eyes lit up, however a mixture of excitment and concern filled them. “Are you sure?” I gave him a small nod with my arms crossed. “Yeah feel free, anything in the bar.”

And with that, he hopped over to my side of the counter before looking at all the drinks available without another thought. Actually paying attention to his physic as he stood next to me made me realise how much he actually loomed over me, he’s gotta be at least around 180cm ish? Give or take. He grabbed the shaker and pour in a few bottle he picked out. My smile started to disappear as I see him add in the liquors one by one. Khalua..Vodka.. okayyy, not bad, olive juice..? Passionfruit purree- Tabasco??! “Hey, are you making me a drink or are you trying to kill me?!” Jungkook let out a cheeky laugh as he lifted the tabasco bottle into the air and out of my reach and I tried to snatch it out of his hands. “Hey, you said I could make a drink with anything in the bar!” “Yeah, but I didn’t expect you to make me a Bloody Mary mixed with pony piss-“ “It’ll taste good! I promise, go have a seat and I will bring you your special order.”

My face sat in a frown as he poured the drink into my glass, it was somehow brown and purple and green?? It was all murking together and I swear I could see faces appearing out of it like the souls in the Styx river. “Voila, have a sip.” “Now do I really have to?” His eyebrows furrowed and pouted once again, “Hey, how can you not? It’s only right since I worked so hard to make it for you” He turned away and crossed his arms In a sulk. I sent him a glare before picking up the glass, my hands trembled as I brought it to my lips and let the toxic cocktail hit my tongue.

The second it hit my tongue I felt nauseous, it was strong, bitter, spicy and sweet- I- “No offence, this taste like something I can find in the bottom of the sink.” He held his hands over his heart in exaggeration and let out a groan, “ah, you really know how to hurt someone deeply don’t you?” My eyebrows furrowed before grabbing the glass and held it up into the air to force feed him the poison, “You try it then!!” We pushed the glass back and forth before we heard a deep voice behind us. “I hope i’m not interrupting anything.” We both whipped our heads around to see a tired looking Namjoon leaning against the pillar with his arms crossed, sleeves pushed past up his elbows.

“Hyung!” Jungkook screamed before running over and giving him a hug. “Hey Jungkook, how have you been?” Namjoon greeted the younger man back whilst patting his back. The two of them exchanged a few more words before bringing their attention back to me. “I would introduce you guys but I see the two of you have already met.” Jungkook smiled before placing am arm around my shoulder. “Yeah, we became best friends while waiting for you to finish work.” “Since when did i become your best friend???” Namjoon chuckled. “You’re very lucky you know, a lot of people come to this place for her drinks.” “Well I am honoured,” Jungkook said making us all chuckle. “(Y/n) you should come join us, it’ll be fun.” “I-“ before I could reply, Jungkook chimed in and cut me off. “I already invited her before but have been rejected, sadly.” I jabbed his rib before smiling back at Namjoon, “yeah, I have to get back to Taehyung; he’s waiting for me to finish off, so since you’re here now, I might have to head off now.” My manager nodded before giving me a hug goodbye. “Tell Taehyung I said hi and don’t worry about the glasses, Jimin can do it tomorrow. “”Ahahaha, since you’re insisting. I’ll see you guys another time,” I laughed. I gave each of them a hug before walking off towards my stuff. As i opened the door, I glanced towards them one last time. Jungkook gave me a small smile before he I stepped out of the store and left.

#bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook #fanfiction #angst #romance #fluff #namjoon #rm #jhope #hoseok #jimin #v #taehyung #jin #suga #yoongi #kpop

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tommyboykaulitz · 3 months

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DSS(F)

Bam Margera x Reader Smut

fem reader, or@! fem/rec, the goods(ifykyk)

DSS(F)

“D! S! S! EFFFFFFFFFF!” I yell, walking into the living room. Bam shoots up and cheers with me, leaving the guys on the couch still. Steve-O and Dunn get up, not knowing what their cheering about but following us to the car. It’s 11pm and we’re just now leaving the house.

“Hey man I hate to burst your bubble but,” he turns the music down “what the hell is DSSF?”

“It’s kinda just a fun way we can blow off steam every night. Buttttt, we ain’t spillin’. Y’all gots to find out yourselves.” I pull into the parking lot of our favorite little bar. Just a nice bar with some country music, no house music and sweaty bodys flopping around the floor.

“Ahh man this place blows man, why don’t we go down to Karma real quick.” Dunn begs Bam, slamming his last can of beer.

“Nah man I’m not messing up DSSF, we don’t get F every night I’m not risking it.” Bam says slapping my ass as he runs by.

“FUCK YOU BAM!” I say laughing as I punch him. We walk in and I send them all to get us a table while I get some beers and shots.

“Damn little lady!” Bam shouts pulling me into his lap biting down on my shoulder as I bring the beers. I hand out there beers, using my belt buckle to open them all.

We pound back 4,6,8 beers each before paying,”Ok whose buying?” I ask almost slumped over Bams arm.

“Wait you weren’t buying?” Steve-O asks, dropping a bottle off the table.

“Nah man, fuck.” I whip off Bams hat and put my card in there,” Alright everyone put your cards in.” I shuffle the hat around reach in and pull out a card,”Dave…Dave?”

“Oh yeah man we traided cards the other day, forgot to get mine back.” Dunn says, reaching for Daves card.

I pull the card back, standing back from the table, “Alright thank you Dave…I guess?”

••••••••••••••••••••

We all fall back in line, loading back up into my van before continuing to D’S’SF. “Okaaay, RIGHT! LEFT! LEFT! STOP!” Bam was shouting random directions to get to the place. “This…this is it man.”

“Fuck baby,” I say, getting out of the van with him, standing on the side of this big ass hill. Overlooking the city, we had only been visiting so we never saw New York from this angle. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Does the S stand for suicide? What the hell are we doing here?” Dunn askes stumbling over Steve-O.

“Calm down man, we gotta set it up.” I pull open the side door on the van and started pulling the couch away from the wall.”BAM! HELP ME!” I yell, ready to sit down again. We get the couch out and we all get comfy. I jump up and run to my glove compartment. “Y’all readyy???”

I sit back down beside Bam before he pulls me up onto his lap. I put the bong between Bams legs as I load a bowl, making sure I don’t drop anything.”Ladies and gent,” I say, noddin my head to Bam “May I present to you, the first S of the night.” I snatch the lughter out of Bams pocket, seductively. Taking the biggest rip I ever had.

Passing it around the circle. I grab the speaker from the passanger seat and start playing HIM. 30 minutes go by and we end up getting cold so we get a little bit more high.(…6 more bowls) We loaded up the couch back into the van.

•••••••••••••••••••••

We had been driving around for maybe an hour before we found the place. “Y’all ready for the last letter of the night?”

“Fuck this man can’t we go out to eat? I got the muchies bad.” Dunn begs.

“No man, I’ll drop you off at home after this. Grab your boards.” As we get out we walk up to this abandoned hotel I had checked out earlier. “Be quiet, listen to me. Lay low, don’t break anything, single file.”

“What the he-“ Bam stops midsentence watching me run across the yard into the gates. I wave someone over and Bam sends Steve-O, Ry, and then himself.

“What are we doing yk?” Steve-O askes.

“Just follow me, we should be good now.” I run inside the building. An old familiar hotel I would stay in as a child, on the rare occasions we’d come here. “It’s the same way I remember it,” no decay, no damage, everything the exact same. I drop my board down and start skating around the halls, until I found it. The pool.

I sneak in flip on some flashlights and drop in. Thank god it was empty, I had never seen it full. The guys follow in and drop in with me. “Fuck man, where’d you find this place.”

“My mom used to live here, I’d get to visit her every now and then.” I scream, continuing around the bowl. About 2 hours pass and everyones getting tired. “Everyone get in the car.” I demand to the fallen boys.

••••••••••••••••••••

“Are you ready?” Bam asks, the guys sleeping on the couch mumbling.

“Yesss, lemme get these kids home.” I say making the turn as sharp as possible ontk their street.

“What the fuck man?!”

“Shut up and go inside Dunn.” I drive off and we get home around 5am. Bam runs around the car grabbing me out of my seat and wrapping my legs around him. He tightens his grip around my thighs as he carries me into the house. He sets me down and we makeout as we rush to the bedroom, thrusting each others on the walls on our way.

Bam pushes me back onto the bed as he pulls my pants down, revealing my black lacy thong he loved. I grab him on both sides of his face, leading him up to my lips, pulling his shirt off him and kissing his neck as he does the same. Kissing all down my neck, chest, stomach, ending on the inside of my thighs. Wrapping his fingers around my underwear as he pulls them off me.

He kisses me, before wrapping his tongue around my clit. Sucking as he inserts two fingers inside me. I gasp as I get comfortable around his fingers. He curls them as he licks all around my clit, squeezing my boobs with his other hand. “Ffu-uck” I moan pushing his head down more, wanting him more than I had him. He speeds up his pace as I moan and groan. Twitch and shake from the pleassure. Then he stops, causing this lingering feeling of emptiness.

He crawls up the bed as he plants kisses all over my body. Kissing my lips before sucking all over my neck. I slowly reach down and palm his boner before unbuckling his pants, exposing his red hot dick. He didn’t have the biggest dick but he knew how to use it. “Spit.” Holding his hand out under my mouth, I do. He reaches his hand down before running it up and down his dick before lining himself up with me.

He slowly pushes the tip inside of me before he starts to pick up the pace. Thrusting harder each time. He leans down to my neck again as I run my hands up and down his back, loving the amount of pleassure I feel with him. I had never felt it with anyone else. I moan load in his ear and he thrust harder, going faster each time. Everytime I forget how good he is. He how everytime I see him naked my lust for him grows…and it never dies. “Fuuuuck,” I moan. We both know whats coming He picks up the pace even more and plays with my clit with his thumb until we both reach our high.

The thrusts slow down and he rolls over, “Damn baby, that was definitely your best,” I chuckle shoving him away “stay here. Let me get you cleaned up.” I see his back as he walks to the bathroom.

I crawl off the bed following him to the bathroom. “Fuck baby, I fucked you up.”

He turns in the mirror to see his newly scar painted back. Laughing as he pulls me in for a kiss.

END

I’m going to be real. DSS(F) was inspired by GTL(Gym Tan Laundry) from Jersey Shore

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golbrocklovely · 7 months

Note

What's a superstition you either used to believe in or still believe in?

interesting question.

i feel like sometimes i'm really superstitious and other times i'm not at all. i think it depends on how paranoid i'm feeling lol

the one i do actually genuinely believe in tho is not wishing bad on someone. ever since i was a kid, my mom told me that if someone does you wrong, you don't wish them bad, but you don't wish them good either. which is why i wish ppl extremely mundane wednesdays very often sksksk

bc wishing bad just comes back to bite you in the ass. it's not worth it just bc ppl annoyed you or hurt you.

kinda of a funny story, but in a bit of a darker sense: my ex best friend of ten years was the type to always wish bad on ppl. bc she rarely gave out first chances, let alone seconds or thirds. so when ppl would do her wrong, she would wish them the worse. but not super morbid shit like 'i hope you die' or something like that, but she would be very happy when she would find out those that did her wrong were having a bad time. even if they fucked her over years ago, she still hated them the same way as if it had just happened. and i always wondered how the fuck nothing bad ever happened to her. how could she be that petty and mean and nothing terrible happen to her.

and i had pointed out to her on multiple occasions that maybe she should let things go and stop enjoying other ppl's misery just bc they wronged you in hs or something. but she didn't care.

it took until i stopped being her friend to kind of realize that she was a deeply hurt person, and she constantly had bad shit happening to her. her life wasn't a fairytale, so... her karma was definitely in full effect.

so yeah... don't wish bad onto others.

#ask #personal

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bewitchingfanfiction · 10 months

Text

AC (2021/05/06) #2

"K-Karma we talked about this..." Nagisa sighed as he walked up the mountain, heading for the E-class building. His boyfriend was hanging over his shoulder, trying to get at his neck while they walked.

The red haired boy pouted childishly. "Next week I won't be able to drink anything! Don't I deserve to be spoiled?"

Nagisa shook his head and looked around before pulling Karma behind some trees. "Five minutes, nothing more. And don't you dare tell Isogai!" Isogai had spent many days with Nagisa, trying to teach him when it was okay to give Karma blood and when it wasn't.

So far the lessons have been completely pointless.

He can't help it! Karma always looks so sad when he doesn't get blood, a little extra won't hurt right?

Well, it did kind of hurt, he grunted in pain when Karma's teeth sunk into his neck, but he was pretty use to the feeling by now. It didn't hurt as bad as some may think, and can even be slightly pleasant.

Nagisa sighed as he leaned against the drink. Karma had his hands on his waist and was drinking nice and slowly, trying to savor the blood.

When they first started going out, Nagisa seriously wondered if Karma fell for him, or if he fell for his blood.

"Nagisa!" His eyes widened a little when he saw Isogai and Maehara storming over. He must've smelled Nagisa's blood.

He sweat dropped and grinned awkwardly at them, Karma didn't even care and kept drinking.

"If you keep spoiling him it's not gonna end well." Isogai lectured lightly.

Maehara sighed. "Can't you let him drink at your house?"

Karma stopped drinking to hiss at Maehara, Isogai stepped in front of him on instinct and hissed back, causing their eyes to glow a bright yellow.

"Hey that's enough. Karma we don't hiss at our friends." Nagisa scolded, pulling Karma back a little to make him look at him.

Instantly, Karma looked like a child being scolded and looked at Nagisa with big wide eyes.

Sighing a little, Nagisa smiled sheepishly at Isogai and Maehara. "I'm sorry guys."

"It's fine Nagisa, you're right. I'm sorry about the hissing, my instincts took over." Isogai told him sheepishly.

"I think it's cute." Maehara kissed his cheek, making Isogai grin like an idiot.

Karma had his arms crossed and was pouting. Nagisa never found any of his vampire instincts cute...it wasn't fair.

"Come on Karma, we've gotta get to class." Nagisa tugged on his arm and pulled him away, heading for the school once more.

He sighed a little in defeat. This might've been his last meal for a while...

But to his surprise, Nagisa suddenly stopped walking and smiled at him. "Okay, hurry up and finish."

Karma's eyes widened but then he grinned brightly, showing off his slightly bloody fangs. He drank from Nagisa's neck again and after a couple minutes his meal was finish.

He knew Nagisa wasn't heartless, that's part of why he loved him.

~~~

"Okay children, before we begin class, Isogai had something to discuss with everyone." Koro-sensei told them all, causing Isogai to stand up and head to the front of the class.

He smiled at them. "For the next seven days me and Karma's blood urges will be kicked into over drive. Which means that regardless of who you are...we're probably gonna try and bite you. Nagisa, you and Maehara can't let us drink, during that time we won't be able to stop ourselves and we will suck you dry. Just try and be careful okay? That's all."

Nagisa swallowed hard. He was really bad at telling Karma no when he asked for blood...

But maybe it wouldn't be as terrible as Isogai made it sound.

~~~

IT WAS WORSE!

Karma was CONSTANTLY in a pissy mood, and Isogai was always on edge. Their eyes were a bright yellow and glowing constantly, and you could see their fangs sticking out of their mouths.

It was only the first day and both of them had tried to drink everyone's blood at least once.

Except for Nagisa and Maehara.

They're not entirely sure what the two agreed on, but they seemed to have an unspoken rule about going near the other's partner. As long as Karma didn't touch Maehara, Isogai wouldn't touch Nagisa.

Nagisa was glad, he shouldn't have to worry about Maehara now, but of course, out of the two of them he'd much rather deal with Maehara than Karma.

~~~

Nagisa and Karma were laying on Karma's bed, their legs were tangled together and they had their arms around each other cuddling. Even though he was still pissy, Karma had a soft spot for Nagisa and would never DARE raise his voice at the precious blueberry.

One time when Karma was in a particularly angry mood and starving for blood, he screamed at Nagisa until he cried. It was the worst feeling in the world, enough to make Karma starve himself.

The only reason he started eating again was because Nagisa literally forced Karma too. As in forced Karma's mouth open, shoved his arm in and made Karma bite down. From that point on, Karma swore to NEVER make Nagisa cry again.

He never wanted to be the reason that boy shed tears, he wanted to be the one to hold him and tell him it'd be okay.

"Sorry you can't have blood..." Nagisa told him gently.

Karma smiled softly. "It's fine..." He ran his hand through Nagisa's hair, which was out of its pigtails. Nagisa smiled as Karma picked up random strands of it and just sort of played with it.

They were resting in a peaceful silence until Nagisa's eyes widened.

'...Is he moving my hair away from my neck?'

Sure enough, his neck had been completely exposed, and Karma was staring at it like it was thanksgiving dinner.

Nagisa tensed as Karma leaned closer to his neck, opening his mouth slightly reveal his fangs.

Just because they could connect though, Nagisa yelled. "KARMA STOP!" In a panicked voice, filled with fear.

Truthfully, he wasn't scared at all, or panicked. He was actually just annoyed.

But he knew the only way to get Karma to stop in a state like this was to make him think he scared him.

Sure enough, Karma instantly backed up looking startled. His eyes widened in horror at what he almost did and he quickly turned into a bat and flew to the corner of the ceiling, facing the wall.

Nagisa sighed a little. Karma always went into bat form whenever his emotions got to be too much, whether it was anger or happiness. "Karma I'm not upset, I just had to get you to stop. I know you don't want to kill me and frankly I'd rather keep living."

He was ignored.

Nagisa huffed in annoyance. "Fine, be that way!" He snapped lightly before turning over on his side to take a nap.

A few moments later he heard a small noise and then felt something tiny pressing up against his back. He smiled lightly with his eyes closed and turned over, wrapping his arms around the bat. Karma snuggled into his hold and fell asleep on Nagisa's chest.

"You're so silly..." Nagisa whispered softly, petting him gently.

~~~

A few days later and saying things were uncomfortable would be an understatement.

Karma's pissy behavior had turned into something very violent, and Isogai was incredibly short tempered.

"Uh...are you guys okay?" Maehara asked awkwardly while they were waiting for Koro-sensei to show up.

Karma hissed loudly at him and threw his desk to the side, standing up. Isogai stood up in an instantly and hissed right back, standing in front of Maehara's desk protectively.

"Whoa whoa! Guys calm down!" Nagisa told them in a panic. The class was tense, knowing it'd be better to stay silent and let the two of them handle things.

Isogai turned his head to look at Nagisa and suddenly charged at him, making Nagisa gasp in shock.

But before he could reach Nagisa, Karma tackled him down and had his hands wrapped around Isogai's throat in an instantly, hissing at him in a dangerously low tone. His eyes showed it all.

He was going to kill him.

"ISOGAI!" Maehara cried out, trying to run over to them, but Karma hissed at him sharply, making Maehara freeze.

"Karma stop it!" Nagisa cried out, grabbing Karma by his arm.

The moment he touched him, Karma hissed at Nagisa in anger and his hands left Isogai's neck, instead going to Nagisa's neck with a tight grip.

Nagisa winced. "K-Karma it's okay...you know me...you trust me..." He spoke in a soft whisper, lifting up a shaking hand to caress Karma's cheek.

Under his touch, Karma slowly began to relax and just stare at Nagisa lazily, eyes half lidded and fangs hanging out. His hands left Nagisa's neck and he instead leaned into Nagisa's chest, resting his head on Nagisa's chest.

Maehara helped Isogai up and was also helping him relax by running his hand through Isogai's hair and whispering calming things.

Today was pretty bad, but they all knew tomorrow would be the worst day. It would be the sixth day, the day right before the final day.

The final day wasn't as bad, since things would start to calm down, but day six was when vampire's were at their limit. They'd have the get blood or they'd be in a LOT of pain mentally.

~~~

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Karma shrieked in pain. He was laying on his bed trembling. Because of how bad the symptoms got, Karma, Maehara, Isogai and Nagisa were allowed to stay home from school.

Nagisa rested Karma's head on his lap and gently massaged it. Karma had to keep his legs and arms tied up and wear things on his fangs to keep from hurting Nagisa. He no longer had any control, he barely even registered who Nagisa was.

The only thought in his mind was 'drink blood' and that thought was painful. His body and mind didn't understand why he was drinking, and that's why it hurt so badly.

"Shhhh...it's okay..." Nagisa spoke gently. He raised his arm over Karma's mouth and Karma instantly latched on, but because of the rubbery covers on his fangs he couldn't break the skin, but the feeling of biting something still helped him relax.

The day had been hell. Nagisa got many bruises from Karma biting his arms, he didn't get to sleep because of Karma's constantly screaming and he couldn't help wondering if this was happening to Maehara as well.

~~~

When the week was finally over, Karma was so joyful that he spent the entire day in bat mode. He was mostly on Nagisa's shoulder, only flying around every now and then. Isogai looked much happier too and was being a little more cuddly with Maehara, although he was much more subtle.

"I'm glad that week of torture is finally over." Isogai sighed happily.

"Me too..." Nagisa chuckled.

Isogai smiled sheepishly. "Sorry about going after you Nagisa...I wasn't really aware of my surroundings."

"It's fine, I understand. Besides, Karma protected me, didn't you?" Nagisa smiled sweetly at the bat on his shoulder.

Karma didn't respond and instead leaned on Nagisa's neck and seemed to fall asleep.

Maehara pouted. "You never go bat form for me." He crossed his arms childishly.

Rolling his eyes a little, Isogai changed into a little bat and sat on Maehara's desk.

Instantly, Maehara got out his phone and took a billion photos.

Nagisa gently picked up Karma in his hands and kissed his nose, making the bat stare at him with giant eyes, now fully awake. Nagisa chuckled a little and gave an eye closed smile.

Karma's wings held Nagisa's face still and Karma snuggled up against his cheek, as if hugging him.

There may be times where having a vampire boyfriend was a pain...

But honestly, Nagisa would go through all of it forever if it meant staying with Karma.

They'd have to talk about Nagisa turning into a vampire sooner or later, that way they really COULD be together forever.

But that was a conversation for another day, for now Nagisa would just enjoy Karma's adorable bat form.

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