#i love this au it’s so cunty
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artdcnaldson · 7 months ago
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OMGG HII I LITERALLY LOVE YOUR WORK AND IT TASTES LIKE THOSE HOME-MADE CHOCOLATE CRISP COOKIES /pos I JUST WANTED TO BRING SOMETHING TO CONSIDER ARHGHGJHR IM CLAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE SO HARD RN I DONT THINK IM NORMAL ABOUT PATRICK AND ART ANYMORE 😭 Okay so, we all talk about dilf art this or retirement era patrick and art that- BUT BUT TBUB BUT BUT BUTTTT WHAT ABOUT a standford era patrick and art that are training under a tennis celebrity that's almost double their age but they're literally obsessed with her and everything about her- And. She just kinda. Sugar mommy. iykyk AND IM JUST FERAL ABOUT THAT ARHGHTHGHHG so if you could write something (a blurb or headcanons) or simply give your thoughts™ on this au I would forever be grateful
No this is soooo good <3 And you’re so sweet wtf thank u <3
You’re trying to be a professional— to train them the way that Art and Patrick’s parents are paying you to.
Art clings to you like a lost puppy, asking about certain matches he had watched, or asking to see trophies and medals. It’s sweet, really, you know? The kid is clearly a fan, clearly relishing in his brushes with tennis fame. He does whatever you say with a quick nod, an easy smile, like just making eye contact with you is a privilege.
But Patrick leers, he flirts with you even when you try to brush him off. You try to ignore that he’s checking out your ass, or your tits, but he’s so fucking blatant about it, like he needs you to know he’s doing it. He’s so persistent in all things— never giving up when there’s still a snowball’s chance he could pull you.
And you shouldn’t be tempted, you know? You’re in your early thirties, and they’re both, what, nineteen? Still starry eyed and dreaming of a stellar tennis career, of being stars and signing rackets and fucking groupies. But maybe it’s that fresh-faced enthusiasm that’s so appealing, that makes you start laughing when Patrick makes a thinly-veiled lewd comment, or leaning in a little closer when Art’s sitting on the bench asking you questions.
It’s why you invite them to your home, to your private court, because it’s well maintained, it’s private, and you don’t have to deal with people approaching you for autographs or tennis advice. And since they’re already there, why don’t they just stay the night? They think they’ve worn you down, that all their persistence has paid off.
And maybe it has, or maybe you’re just interested in the two young, pretty boys who would give anything to make you cum, or, at least, have the bragging rights to say they’ve made you cum. One on one lessons, just like their parents were paying you for <3
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callsthefaithful · 11 months ago
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rly rly like @trissschmidt's swap!au design for angel so i wanted to draw it rq
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sereclarity · 5 months ago
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Alma is alive in my heart idc
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shippo-clan · 30 days ago
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A drabble into digital art + the traditional sketch I used as a base
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darabeatha · 4 months ago
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sexynetra · 9 months ago
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Imagine you walk into the office one morning and this is your new boss
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the-writing-mobster · 2 years ago
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| TMDG Teaser | Chapter 6 Excerpt | 💙🔪💔
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“This is about Hutchinson’s article, isn’t it?” Sighed Mr. Hughes. 
Frisk chuckled wry. “Glad to have skipped the prelude,” she joked and Mr. Hughes gave her a humorless laugh. 
“He writes fast and pumps out headlines, which is what we need right now when we compete with not only TV, but also the internet,” huffed Hughes. Frisk tilted her head. 
“I can tell he writes fast. He misspelled the word and,” grunted Frisk as she gracefully tossed the newspaper onto Hughes’s desk. His round face burned with a bright shade of pink as he snatched the paper up. 
Frisk crossed her arms and swayed on her heels. “This was irresponsible. Just repeating the facts of the case from the police statement is one thing, but Hutchinson also runs his mouth on his own theories, and the fear mongering? This is not what this publication is for,” she hissed. 
Mr. Hughes nodded along, before sighing. Before he could cut in, Frisk raised her hand and cleared her throat. 
“Our commissioner is a Monster. Our head pathologist is a Monster, and she was instrumental in discovering several things about this case. Is there any way to recall this?” She already knew the answer, and frankly, she didn’t understand why she’d asked it in the first place. Of course there was no way to recall it. 
This is so disrespectful to Jackie. 
“And hardly any dialogue about the victim, besides passing thoughts and prayers. I’m honestly disgusted you allowed this through.” 
Mr. Hughes raked a hand over his balding head, his body plummeting, defeated, into his office chair. 
“What do you want me to do? I can’t fire Hutchinson, his father is on the board,” he murmured as if it were a secret she wasn’t meant to know. 
Frisk rolled her eyes. “The Integrity of Journalism, my ass…” she scrunched up her lips and shot Hughes a withering look. 
“I want journalistic control of this case, or at least for my articles to be considered first from now on when it comes to homicide cases. I’ve been at the scenes, I’ve been interviewing witnesses and police, and down with the forensics team. I’m the only one on this team qualified to write this story. If Hutchinson touches it again, I… I’ll start doing some laundry.” 
For as talented as she was at investigative journalism, a threat like that rang loud and clear. Mr. Hughes swallowed his discomfort and nodded firmly. 
“I’ll see what I can do, Ms. Starling.” 
It was the best she could get, she knew that. So, in order to alleviate the tension, she let her shoulders melt, that pretty smile fluttering across her face as if it were only meant for him. 
“That’s all I needed to hear from you Hughes, thank you,” she said. He smiled back, grateful to have satiated her, their most valuable journalistic asset. She didn’t get this far in the industry just for people to ignore her when it mattered. 
“I’m glad we got that sorted out!” Hughes exclaimed as he toyed with his Newton’s Cradle. She listened to the clicking of magnets before humming to herself. 
“Agreed. And before you ask, I’ll have my article for you tomorrow,” she said. She would pull an all nighter if that’s what it took. And it would… 
“Go team!” He called and she pumped her fist as she walked out of the office. 
She made sure to smile at her fellow journalists. A cheerfully hollow, “go team,” echoing from her mouth as she made her way back to the stairwell. 
What a disaster.
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Theme~
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cepheusgalaxy · 7 months ago
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I'm gonna have so much fun redesigning Magnifico! ^^^
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depvotee · 1 year ago
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I've been looking into a lot of marine disasters lately and it has giving me ideas.
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holybibly · 2 months ago
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𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 𝔗𝔞𝔩𝔨 | Seonghwa x reader
♡ 𝔓𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: Owner Seonghwa x Bunny Hybrid Reader ♡ 𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: Park Seonghwa was truly the most amazing owner ever, who knew exactly how to take care of the little lusty bunnies. Or Seonghwa knows he should be harsher with you and maybe even punish you for your disobedience, but the sugary, whiny tone of your voice as you keep babbling incoherent apologies and your eyes full of unshed tears can't help but make him melt and show some leniency to his naughty little bunny princess. ♡ 𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 / 𝔄𝔲 / 𝔗𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔢: Smut, Hybrids!Au, Established Relationship, Mating Cycles/In Heat ♡ ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI ♡ 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 5.4k ♡ 𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Soft dom / daddy !Seonghwa, Bunny / sub!reader, unprotected sex, daddy kink, pet names, fingering, power play, dirty talk, oral, pillow humping, dry sex, сreampie, squirt, scent kink, collars, praise kink, explicit sexual content, explicit language, and more. ♡ 𝔫𝔢𝔱: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity ♡ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔦𝔟𝔩𝔶 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 - check for more ♡ 𝔄|𝔑: Something absolutely dirty sweet, depraved and insanely comfortable (if you know what I mean) ♡ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 at the end of the post. 𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖉
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A soft, airy moan escaped your open lips and became lost into the pile of whipped silk sheets beneath you as you pressed your needy pussy harder against Seonghwa's puffy, impossibly plushy pillow. Every time your swollen, sensitive clit made contact with the luxurious, smooth fabric, your long velour ears twitched slightly and your fluffy cotton tail clenched and quivered with the all-consuming euphoric feeling of pure pleasure that overwhelmed your body at that very moment.
Your sweet, round cheeks flashed with a scarlet blush, and you buried your pretty, blushing face even deeper into the aromatic, fluffy blankets, inhaling deeply and greedily the thick, rich, milky scent of vanilla and powder that belonged to your awesome owner. Your cute front bunny teeth dug into the thick material of the blanket in a futile attempt to stifle your loud whimpering as a new wave of slime poured out of your quivering hole. The pinkish-red marks of your thick, clammy lip gloss glistened on the material, reminding you of the sweet, crushed strawberries that Seonghwa loves so much.
You sob pathetically as you continue to slowly rock your deliciously thick thighs, pressing your leaking pussy against the cooling silky surface of the pillow again and again in the hope of getting more of that desirable and sweet release. You know that good girls shouldn't behave like this and that your handsome, loving owner wouldn't approve at all and might even punish you for behaving like this, but you're doing absolutely nothing to stop you. It was the part of your nature that was being stronger than you.
Seonghwa had always told you that you couldn't touch your pretty princess-pussy without his permission. But lately it had been so hard for you to resist the temptation to run your little fingers into your lacey panties and caress yourself between your legs. Your heat was fast approaching, and each day your craving for affection and touch was becoming more and more palpable, causing the knot of excitement at the bottom of your belly to grow tighter and tighter, until this morning your heat finally hit you with full force.
You told yourself that you would be able to handle this like a big girl and that you would wait until Seonghwa came home. You'd be a dutiful little princess that your daddy would be proud of, you told yourself over and over again, and it worked for a while, until you found yourself on your stomach, desperately rubbing your aching, slimy, wet core against the mattress and, however ashamed you were to admit it, on your favourite plush toy.
Your whole body felt like it was on fire, your cunty was so wet and sticky, your tiny clit was swollen and throbbing weakly with excitement, and a viscous, sweet-smelling slime gushed out of your hole, soaking the sheets beneath you and filling the room with the delicious smell of whipped cream and caramel.
Until now, you have never tried to satisfy yourself in this way before. You have always found it very embarrassing, uncomfortable, and even a little weird. Even though Seonghwa had offered you several times to try rubbing your pretty, princess pussy against his bare, muscular thigh or a plush cushion, you had never decided to do it, too embarrassed by this unusual way of masturbating. Hwa even showed you some videos where a girl was rubbing her cunt on the soft fabric of the sleeping pillow while playing with her hard nipples and occasionally slapping her clit, and something about it really turned you on a lot, but still you remained adamant.
But, God, you were so wrong to have denied yourself such unexpectedly delightful stimulation for so long. And you were even more convinced of this when, as an experimental, you hesitantly shoved Seonghwa's plump, silk pillow between your legs and slowly rubbed your needy cunt against the smooth material, which completely soaked in the scent of your adoring owner. You couldn't deny the fact that it felt really good. So pleasurable, in fact, that the little feeling of guilt you felt about breaking one of your handsome daddy's rules vanished without a trace along with your rapidly growing pleasure.
After so many weeks of wanting caresses and touches, you were in desperate need of them, and as you didn't expect your daddy to be back from work anytime soon, he wouldn't be able to find out about it, so it would be your little guilty pleasure. Or at least it was what you wanted to believe so very much. Your long, doll-like lashes fluttered, and you covered your eyes, enjoying the way your sticky, plump labia parted lustfully, exposing your delicate, quivering folds and small, super-sensitive clit as you rubbed against the fabric of the pillow and pressed harder against it. The hot sensation of euphoric pleasure that you were craving came closer and closer with each frantic movement of your succulent thighs.
The tugging sensation of impending orgasm at the pit of your stomach became more and more tangible with each passing second, and you began to thrust yourself into the pillow with even greater force. 
Everything around you was nothing more than a cacophony of the wet, squelching sounds of your pleasure-seeking, mixed with pathetic sobbing moans and high-pitched squeaks, punctuated only by the occasional loud squeal of Seonghwa's name when the pillow roughly grazed an especially delicate and sensitive area of your pussy. You were so lost in that sinful, voluptuous sensation of burning, forbidden pleasure that you could think of nothing else but the orgasm you wanted as you rubbed your swollen, throbbing clit harder and harder against the damp silk fabric. 
With each shuddering movement of your fleshy, slime-smeared thighs, the force of the friction became more and more overwhelming, pushing you over the edge and sending shocks of intense, electric pleasure straight into your heated, quivering core, causing your tiny, oozing little hole to contract with the desire to be filled with your daddy's thick cock and your fluffy cotton tail to quiver. Damn it, you'd give anything right now to feel Seonghwa's fingers gently squeezing your sensitive, sweet tail, like he used to do it when he was deep inside of you. You were so close, so fucking close, you could practically feel the intoxicating flavour of long-awaited release on your tongue, until the sharp clicking sound of the doorknob brought you back to reality in an instant.
'Princess, I thought it would be nice if tonight...' Seonghwa's deep, velvety voice trails off halfway through the sentence as he walks into his bedroom and sees his adored bunny princess rubbing her sugary, glistening cunt lewdly against his puffy bedroom pillow. Even from his seat in the bedroom doorway, he could see the thick slime of sexual arousal dripping from your quivering petalfolds, and your labia were swollen and lewdly parted by your rubbing on the surface of the pillow, exposing your quivering hole to his dark gaze. Damn, you looked so perfect to eat, and in any other situation he wouldn't have thought twice about immediately pressing his mouth to your cunt and feasting on it for hours, sucking and licking until you squirted, but not now. "I'll come home early." Seonghwa finishes and you squeak shamefully, burying your flushed face in the crumpled sheets and blankets.
To make yourself look more decent, you instinctively squeeze your legs together, forgetting that the puffy silk pillow is still between your thighs. Because of your sudden move, the smooth fabric once again clings to your clit, making you moan lingeringly. An embarrassed strawberry blush spreads across your round cheeks as you feel your gorgeous owner's large palm on your bare bottom.
"Mmm, Daddy... I'm... I'm so sorry." You whimper pitifully as Seonghwa deceptively sweetly caresses the soft, juicy flesh of your butty, lightly digging his fingers into it before roughly squeezing it and pulling your buttock aside, opening your pussy even more for him. There's no doubt in your mind that Seonghwa can see the viscous, sweet-smelling mucus oozing out of your little hole, which is clenching around nothing as a result of his actions.
"Ah, so you feel sorry about that, Princess, isn't it?" Seonghwa says in a condescending tone and digs his fingers even more roughly into your buttock. "Will you be a good girl and turn your pretty face towards your daddy, little bunny, and explain to me what you've been doing here in my absence, or are you going to continue shamelessly rubbing your plump, sticky cunt all over my pillow, like a real slut?"
'Daddy...' You sob helplessly, fidgeting awkwardly in your spot and clumsily pulling the pillow out from under your thighs, which are still trembling from your missed orgasm. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean to upset you." But despite all your pleading, Seonghwa only responds with a loud hum and clicks his tongue contemptuously when he sees the large, wet stain of your slime on the luxurious milky silk of his pillow. Without any soft support under your body, you fall onto the bed and immediately roll over onto your back, pressing yourself against the headboard. Your long velour ears sluggishly flopped back against your head, and you sank your front bunny teeth into your plump lower lip. "I just missed you so much, but Daddy's never home lately. And my heat… It was all so sudden, I felt like I was on fire and daddy wasn't there…I was just in need of some relief."
Right now you look so dishevelled and flushed; your juicy, fleshy thighs are still trembling slightly, covered in a thick, shiny layer of slime oozing from you, a trickle of saliva dripping from the corner of your pretty doll-like mouth, and your tender pussy is all swollen and quivering, just begging for his cock and tongue. And damn it, Seonghwa knows he should be harsher with you and maybe even punish you for your disobedience, but the sugary, whiny tone of your voice as you keep babbling incoherent apologies and your eyes full of unshed tears can't help but make him melt and show some leniency to his naughty little bunny princess. And as hard as it was for Seonghwa to admit, you were right about one thing—he really hadn't been home much lately. 
His new position as editor-in-chief of a fancy fashion magazine took up most of his time and energy. Of course, Seonghwa's promotion had brought him a lot more money, which was immediately reflected in you—luxurious lingerie made of the finest French lace, expensive jewellery, silk sheets, and even gem-encrusted sex toys were presented to you on a golden platter, but with all this, Seonghwa was almost never at home. His constant absence made you so sad and yet so needy at the same time, especially as you were very spoilt sexually and not used to going without sex or heavy erotic caresses for long, but in the last few weeks Hwa had been so busy with work that he hardly touched you, which of course couldn't help but affect your behaviour. 
He sighed heavily and pursed his sensual, overly plump lips slightly, admitting that he had indeed neglected with attention and caresses for you and that it couldn't help but upset him as much as it did you. Seonghwa has always been a very loving and caring owner, and he absolutely hated to see you depressed and frustrated. His sweet bunny should always need to be quality fucked and your pussy warm and fully filled with his cum. 
"So what should I do with my princess bunny?" Seonghwa asks you as he gently runs the tips of his fingers over your knee, sending a slight shiver through your entire body. You sob loudly, shrug your shoulders as you squeeze your thighs even tighter as you feel a new batch of deliciously viscous slime ooze out of your little hole at such a minor touch. "Come here, my little fluffy one." Hwa kneels down elegantly beside the bed and licks his perfectly formed lips lightly. "Daddy, will make it better for you." 
You don't need to be told twice; you slowly crawl over to the edge of the bed and let your feet sink down onto the cold parquet floor. You squeak softly, unconsciously stamping your heel, causing the diamond stars on the bracelet around your ankle to jingle softly as your feet touch the cold, polished wood. The sound Seonghwa likes to hear when he fucks you in the mating press position with your legs practically pressed against your shoulders and your face all wet with tears and saliva. 
"That's my good girl." He praises you, and your chubby cheeks burst into a rich, berry-coloured blush. His beautiful hands begin to stroke your thighs, lightly massaging your plump flesh and purring low at how always soft and warm you are. "Come on, Fluffy, tell Daddy what you've been doing here."
"I've been thinking about you." You confess shamefacedly, biting your lower lip. Seonghwa's touch on your body sends shivers down your spine and makes your pretty dark pink nipples tingle. "I have missed your touch so much, Daddy, your lips, and your cock. I didn't think my heat was going to come today, but I woke up all wet and hot, and I felt empty and frustrated. I'm sorry, I just couldn't help myself, and I touched my princess's parts without Daddy's permission. I'm so sorry, Daddy. I really didn't mean to upset you at all."
"Oh baby, it's Daddy who should apologise to you; I'm really sorry for not paying enough attention to you lately." Seonghwa starts to purr velvetily as he spreads your legs in a gentle but insistent motion so that he can get more comfortable between your juicy thighs. "Now Daddy's here, and he'll look after his little sweetheart. Do you want this, fluffy?" He will ask you as he begins to plant hot, open-mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs. Your sugary honey slime sticks on his plump lips and tongue with every exquisite movement of his mouth as he continues to kiss your tender, thin skin, leaving dark purple hickeys on it. 
"Please, daddy." You say, pouting sweetly, which glistening with saliva and strawberry lip gloss, your long, doll-like eyelashes fluttering. "Touch me, Daddy. I'm going to be so good for you." You press your hands to your heavy, plump tits, squeeze them together a little, and offer them to Seonghwa, knowing how much he loves kissing and licking your breasts and nipples. Hwa can't help but notice how adorable you look right now, all soft and fluffy and already completely fucked for him. That's what he loves most about you—your luscious sweetness and the natural sluttiness that comes with all bunny hybrids. And you've always been so easy to get excited by even the most innocent touch. 
"Do you want Daddy to kiss the pretty princess' pussy?" Your breathing accelerates, and you slap your heel against the floor a few times, squirming impatiently in your seat as Seonghwa's gorgeous face practically burrows into your pussy. His hot breath washes over your silky folds and sensitive clit and you moan loudly, squeezing your breasts harder and massaging the soft, juicy mounds with your tiny palms. Seeing your body's enthusiastic response to his touch, a soft, smug laugh escapes Seonghwa's throat, and he blows lightly on your pussy to tease you even more. "So, baby, should I kiss your beautiful pussy? I'm still waiting to hear if you want a kiss."
"Yes, please kiss my pussy daddy; I need it so badly. You moan, pushing your hips closer to Seonghwa's beautiful face, and his feline eyes darken as he sees a thick trickle of mucus oozing from your tiny hole before rolling down between your lush, juicy buttocks and dripping onto the silk sheet. 
"You're so beautiful, bunny, you're driving Daddy crazy. Do you know that, pretty thing?" Seonghwa whispers in a reverent tone and begins to shower your tender mound with short, airy kisses. "You are always so soft and so wet for me. Your sweet little cunt is just begging to be played with and to be filled with Daddy's sperm; do you know that, little bunny?"
"Mmm, daddy, don't say that; it's so embarrassing." Your tone is so terribly whiny, and you look up at him with your big innocent eyes, and from the outside you could really look embarrassed. But in reality, you spread your legs a little more for him and start slowly stroking your hard nipples with the pads of your thumbs. No matter how sweet and adorable a girl you were, your inner slutty bunny nature would always make itself known, and that made you all the more delightful in Songhwa's eyes. 
"There is no need to be embarrassed, my little bunny. Go and show your daddy what a good slut you can be for him. I want to see how you fall apart when I touch you, Princess." Seonghwa says. A thrill of pleasure runs through your body as he reaches out and squeezes your swollen, gooey labia together. He squeezes your tiny, sensitive clit between the soft, peachy halves of your pussy and massages it gently. Such erotic, lascivious stimulation causes a pleasant tingling sensation to run through your most intimate part, and you might feel a hot throbbing inside your vagina, the slippery walls of your cunt quivering with the desire to be filled by Daddy's thick cock. 
You sob softly as Seonghwa runs the tip of his long tongue along your smooth, slippery with sugary slick slit, pushing it lightly between your clenched labia, making the touch even more intense. Your eyes roll up in pleasure as you feel his tongue lick the wide strip of your cunt from your little hole to your swollen clit, dirtying your pretty pussy with his saliva and making it even more wet and messy. His fingers continue to sensually massage the tender, soft flesh of your cunt, and a loud, intermittent moan escapes your throat as Hwa quickly flicks his tongue over your small, throbbing bud. Intense pleasure shoots through your entire body, causing you to arch your back on the bed and tugging at your pretty nipples to intensify the sensation. 
'Please, Daddy, I need you so much... Please give me more.’ 
‘Oh bunny, look at you; you already need me so badly.’ The corner of Seonghwa's sensual, lush lips curves up in a lecherous smirk, and he wetly smacks your clit a few more times before letting go of your labia and instead rubbing the puffy, tender halves with his long, elegant fingers. ‘My bunny has the most beautiful cunt. I'm insanely glad I chose you as my pet, fluffy.’ And he really meant it, not only about being delighted to have you as his little pet baby bunny, but that you had the cutest cunt he'd ever seen. 
Seonghwa always liked to get drunk on pussy. He was the kind of man who could lick you for hours, lost in the feel of the silky folds on his lips, savouring the rich, creamy taste of sticky, honeyed secretions and the wet, sucking sounds interspersed with loud moans and whimpers. And your cunt was the sweetest and most delicious he'd ever tasted; you really were something special, his slutty princess bunny. 
"Daddy, please..." You whimper again, looking up at your owner with big, pleading eyes through of your long, trembling lashes, and squeeze your ample, milky tits together again, hoping that this will seduce your owner to finally fuck you with his tongue and then with his thick, wiry cock until your cunt is swollen with his rich, warm cum and your mouth is drooling. 
And it seems to work, as Seonghwa growls low and finally presses his hot, insatiable mouth against your quivering, oozing cunt. His long, deft tongue slips out of his mouth and swirls between your folds before sliding down to your wet, heated centre, sending waves of intense bliss over your body. 
Seonghwa's hot breath dances across your wet skin, making your lower lips tingle with excitement and your cunt quiver with need. Your juicy thighs trembled slightly as Seonghwa's thumbs pressed against your slit, widening it as he tasted your pussy. The sound he makes as your mucus drips into his mouth is almost pornographic, dark, and hungry—a constant hum of pleasure that vibrates against your clit and echoes deep in your core. 
You moan loudly, arching your back and wiggling your ample hips to press harder against his face as his tongue plunges deep into your quivering hole. His movements are wild, sloppy, and hungry as he digs greedily between your trembling thighs and dripping folds as Seonghwa selflessly sucks the sweet nectar of your arousal from your shrinking hole. 
Your owner's hot breath dances across your damp skin, soft, plump lips sucking roughly at the edge of your swollen pink flesh, your wet insides clenching with frustrating emptiness. Streams of viscous slime pour from you like a waterfall into that beautiful, insatiable mouth, and your entire body shudders in short spasms. 
The scalding heat of lust blossoms with renewed vigour beneath your flushed skin, and you feel the tight knot of pleasure begin to tighten inside you, telling you that orgasm is coming.
 "Ahhhh... Daddy". Your sweet voice trembling with intense excitement, you remove one hand from your chest and instead tangle your fingers in Seonghwa's long hair, clutching the luxurious, thick strands in your fist and pulling lightly at the roots. 
"It feels so good...' Seonghwa whispers drunkenly. "Daddy can never get enough of the sweet little cunt of his precious princess." His sensual, kissable lips stretch into a lazy grin before his mouth closes on your clit and he begins to mercilessly suck and lick it with his hot tongue. The slow, languorous licks quickly pick up speed, making you squirm on the silk sheets and pulling Seonghwa's hair even harder. He's so insatiable, possessively devouring the arousing cunt of his beautiful bunny, his divinely beautiful face practically drowning in your cunt.
Seonghwa, making you feel so good, giving you exactly what you have been craving so desperately for the past few weeks. Every muscle in your body was ready to burst from the sweet, overwhelming pleasure you felt from every deft movement of that long, slippery tongue and the sensual rubbing of those overly plump lips against your cunt.  
"Daddy... I... I...' You snort between stifled, panting moans, unable to form a coherent sentence.
As soon as the words escape your trembling lips, Hwa pulls away from you, causing you to whimper loudly and frustratedly. As his mouth pulls away from your pussy, thin strands of saliva and mucus stretch from your folds to his lips before breaking apart and falling to his chin.
"P-please, indulge me... I-I'm-I'm begging you, I need you so badly. Please, I need you so badly...' At this point, you are openly sobbing. Tears begin to flow down your soft, round cheeks, and you lewdly arch your hips, trying to lure Seonghwa back to your pussy. 
"You are so pretty in your begging, fluffy." Hwa chuckles, his lips still hovering just above your cunt, teasingly blowing his hot, wet breath over it with every word. "Daddy would like to play with you for a little while longer before you come for him. Think of this as a little punishment for your disobedience, my little bunny." The vibrations of Seonghwa's velvety voice caress your cunt, and even this slight stimulation makes you tremble. You're so lost in the sensation that you almost miss the sound of your belt unbuckling and the rustle of your fly, but your keen bunny hearing picks it up. The sound sends a new wave of excitement through your body, hoping that Daddy will give you more than just his magnificent tongue, and so you push your hips closer to Seonghwa in anticipation, spreading your legs wider for him, shamelessly offering him your swollen, messy cunt.  
"Oh, baby, what are you doing?' Hwa asks. His soft, deep voice is tinged with amusement as he looks up at you and touches the inside of your thigh with his fingertips in a light-hearted way. 
"Please, daddy...' You whimper loudly. 'I need you so much!"
"Bunny, you know that only obedient girls get special treatment from Daddy, and I don't think my little girl was on her best behaviour today, was she? Daddy has given you enough already, don't you think?"
'I'm sorry, please...' You whine pitifully. "I'll be a good girl for you. I'll be the best bunny you've ever  had." Your whole body twitches in a painful need for your long-awaited release. 'Please...'
An approving purr escapes Seonghwa's sensual lips as he hears your pleas. You look completely fucked and so seductive; how can he resist you? 
"Don't worry about it, Fluffy. Daddy will take care of everything." With these words, Hwa buries his face between your legs again to run his tongue over your drool and slime-smeared cunt. 
Lick, lick, lick. A hot, nimble tongue flicks skilfully between your labia, causing a loud, bawdy moan to escape your throat and your velour ears to twitch slightly. You can hear the ragged, hoarse breathing of Seonghwa as he caresses himself; the slippery, squelching sound of a graceful hand sliding up his thick, wiry length, punctuated only by his low, jerky moans and soft purrs between the splashes of his tongue across your folds. You can hear him driving his cock into his fist again and again, his heavy, straining testicles slapping against his crotch each time he pushes his magnificent hips into his hand. 
To intensify the stimulation, Hwa presses a finger against your slit and begins to stroke it up and down, from your clit to your little twitching hole and back again. Your hole tingles with anticipation every time the pad of his finger rubs the delicate, thin edges of your vagina. 
Lick, lick, lick. It felt so good, your clit throbbing with warm, sparkling pleasure, and you couldn't hold back a loud squeal as he gently pushed his finger into your pussy. Your cunt welcomed the sweet sensation of being filled, the slippery walls quivering and contracting around the long appendage, oozing hot, sweet juices. His tongue picked up speed again, the gentle, light movements becoming fast and aggressive, intensifying your pleasure, sending powerful waves of bliss over you, wave after wave, echoing the pace of Seonghwa's relentless tongue.
He slides his finger deep in and out of you several times, letting you feel the sweet sensation of fullness and full stretching without for a second interrupting the quick, jerky movements of his tongue on your twitching little clit. Before you can get enough of the sensation, Hwa turns his wrist and presses his fingertips right against your sweet spot. You squeal, jerking your hips and kicking the polished floorboards with your heel as stars explode behind your closed eyelids from the insistent, rough stroking of the tiny, spongy lump of nerves inside you. With each movement of Seonghwa's finger, pressing harder and harder against your G-spot, electrifying, wild bursts of bliss shake your entire body.
 You're both breathing hard, ready to explode in ecstasy. His tongue flicks across your clit, strong, quick strokes as he roughly slides his finger in and out, satisfying the all-consuming hunger you've felt for so long, deprived of sex and pleasure. You can feel Seonghwa's lips curl devilishly as he slides another finger into you, stretching your hole so that more and more of your sweet nectar oozes out of you, coating his fingers.    A steady stream of 'please' and 'daddy' mixed with soft squeaks, squeaky squeals, and the disgusting squelching sounds of your cunt and Seonghwa's hand sliding wetly over his cock fills the bedroom, driving Seonghwa crazy. He has you exactly where he wants you to be and will continue to torment you with his tongue until you pass out from the bliss.
"Oh God!" You cry out, your voice hoarse, high, and whimpering. "I'm so close! So close, Daddy!" You feel a stream of moisture gushing out of you, forming a huge puddle of sticky slime on the silk sheets beneath you. 
Your pussy clenches rhythmically around the long fingers; the sensation of being filled makes the contractions more intense. Wave after wave of euphoric pleasure washes over you, taking your breath away. The intense bliss continues to grow, filling you until it has nowhere else to go and you explode in an overwhelming, squirting orgasm. Your head throws back, your back arching, and your hips convulsively shaking as you press harder against your owner's beautiful face as the gentle movements of his tongue and the fierce sucking of his hot mouth prolong the sensation of pure ecstasy. The overwhelming sensation of orgasm runs through your bones and nerve endings. Barely breathing, you scream Seonghwa's name over and over again, bathing in your delicious bliss as he greedily drinks every last drop of your mucus. Your juices splash all over his face and the sheets as Hwa helps you come down from your high with light, airy kisses around your swollen labia and still twitching clit.
"That's my girl. Look at you, Princess; you've done so well for me." You're still trembling, the residual spasms of your orgasm still running through your body, tingling every inch of your skin, making your legs tremble and your hips shake as you try to become aware of your surroundings. So you don't notice Seonghwa pulling away from you to rub your pussy with his thick cock. 
You scream, overly sensitive from your previous orgasm, so much so that it almost hurts. Your eyes go wide, heavy, and swollen with tears, and you meet Hwa's dark, feline gaze that is fixed on your face as his cock slides between your labia, the swollen, dark pink head resting against your tortured clit with every smooth roll of his hips. Hwa smiles smugly at you and rubs his cock against your folds.
"Here's your favourite treat, bunny." Seonghwa moans lewdly, jamming the head of his cock into your tiny hole, causing your whole body to shake in the ecstasy of repeated orgasm, shuddering in sexual relief at the sensation of fullness as thick, milky cum begins to spurt from the swollen, throbbing head, staining the quivering walls of your cunt and claiming his rights over you.
'Daddy...'
'That's it, bunny...' Hwa let out a hoarse breath as his balls emptied and the wonderful contractions slowed down and then stopped, leaving him satisfied and relaxed. 'Your favourite treat, my little bunny. Daddy has been feeding this cunt a lot. I know how much you are in love with your owner's sweet, hot cum. Lusty little bunnies need to be stuffed with sperm until their little tummies swell up, don't you agree with me, fluffy? You like the feel of my cream inside you, don't you, Princess Bunny?" Seonghwa squeezes your thick, slippery thigh really hard one last time before letting you go. He pulls his cock out of you, and a thick stream of his cum follows out of your hole. Your little cunt continues to twitch in the afterglow of your intense orgasm, winking at him and pushing more of his load out of her. "Perfect.' He whispered, captivated by the mesmerising sight. Seonghwa reached out and began to rub his cum into your slit. "You are so beautiful, baby girl, well used, dripping with my cum, marked as my little favourite pet'.
All you can do is whimper in response to his words as you feel amazingly fucked and fed. Yes, Seonghwa was indeed an amazing owner who knew exactly how to take care of his lusty little bunny.
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❣ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part I @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity @0rangemilk @yellow-foxxing @claimmeyourprincess
❣ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part II @unholywriters @hey-syia @hrts4nohee @vnessalau @mlink64 @tessakleine @fr34k4c1dr41n @313hwa @lilyuwon @tiziamattaga @un-knew @wiaxul @siyah-staryis @seonghwasbbgirl @mingisfavgf @bunnyluvr25 @roserperfume @lose-lose07 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @lelaleleb @bubblebisk @silverlight-h @ chloe-elise-2000 @cookiesandcreammy @mxnsxngie @ghostlovesworld @i-love-ateez @mingisprincesss @vampscan @peachygiku @vampqueen777 @miyaluvvsyou @stay-tiny-things @moondanse94
❣ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part III @yyaurii @infrenchexit @sanniesbum @jaxyy219 @lostxxgirl @m1sss1mp @manipulatedstars @cotton-candycloudz @kienhawon @flowerxsin @londonbridges01 @fluffyyongbokie @sang-09 @hobarihope @sanniesaur @luvbit3z @sanriomilk @s4erin @sanhwalvr @mallielovssyou @slytherinslays @your-bloodbag @cherricola-star @passionandsuga @hwasangel
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l6ndry · 2 months ago
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summer sun forever, rafe cameron
band au!rafe x fan!reader (SMAU)
IN WHICH . . . one of the biggest warnings among celebrities is to avoid falling for a fan. rafe clearly does not consider this when he first notices his self proclaimed number one fan, you.
navigation: part 01 | part 02
viewed best on mobile + dark mode.
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rafecameron
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♡ liked by heypope, kiaracarrera and 428,541 others
rafecameron Who's ready for tour?
👥: kiaracarrera, heypope, topperthornton, jjmaybank, barrybarrybarry
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sarahcam Meeee I'm ready
user IM SO EXCITED PLS
user Omg the Barry cameo
heypope so ready 🎸🎸
user BOOM SHAKALAKA YES GAWDDDD           ↳ user hes genuinely so fine it should b illegal
user 3 days till ticket sales..
kiaracarrera ME ME ME
realjohnb 🙋‍♂️🙋‍♂️
user this might be their only tour before they go super mainstream 😢😢                     ↳ user literally the ONLY time i'll have a chance to go to a show
barrybarrybarry Hey sexy
elsyluvskie manifesting tickets for me and @ hrts4jj @ livelaughlovekp @ yourusername             ↳ livelaughlovekp 🧘‍♀️🧘‍♀️🧘‍♀️🕯️🕯️              ↳ yourusername i need to see the loml live!!!          ↳ hrts4jj giggle i love u elsy
jjmaybank first tour ever 🙂‍↕️
user Hand in marriage please?
topperthornton We're making history
cleeeeeoouuurrr seeing bf on stage soon ✊✊
yourusername the way i need him transcends human consciousness and comprehension like you'd just never understand                        ↳ rafecameron Really                   ↳ yourusername WHAT THEFUCK               ↳ yourusername rafe look away nonononojno         ↳ livelaughlovekp OH MY GOD. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ↳ yourusername im gonna kill myself              ↳ yourusername THIS IS SO BAD FOODBYE         ↳ yourusername rafe im not insane i promise          ↳ elsyluvskie yn the more you comment the worse it gets.
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yourusername yesterday
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♡ liked by elsyluvskie, hrts4jj and 1,028 others
yourusername how does it feel to be the sexiest man alive
view all comments
user he's so cutie ugh
user third slide is making me TWEAK
elsyluvskie hey girly.. ik u don't know me but um          ↳ yourusername this is why everyone leaves you on read in the gc                                             ↳ elsyluvskie STOP.
user SPEAK ON IT YN !!!!!!!
hrts4jj jj better i fear                         ↳ yourusername you can keep him!                         ↳ hrts4jj NO SLANDER ON MY HUSBANDS NAME.
livelaughlovekp ur insane but i get it                        ↳ yourusername this is why i love you ❤️❤️
user Rafe Cameron the only man ever
user all men who aren't rafe should just apologize
user when yn is the rafe girl ever                        ↳ yourusername YESSSSIRRRRR 🫡🫡
user when yn jas elsy and bel carry the entire fandom on their backs
user omg rafe on jj's drums?
user who is this man?? why is he so cunty???                       ↳ hrts4jj he's @ yourusername's husband                       ↳ yourusername yes ❤️❤️❤️
user no cus imagine if rafe sees this he'd think we're all insane
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rafecameron Woah thank you Yn                  ↳ yourusername STOP                  ↳ yourusername NO                       ↳ yourusername NO                       ↳ yourusername NO                       ↳ yourusername NO                       ↳ yourusername NO                       ↳ yourusername NO                       ↳ yourusername NO                    ↳ yourusername THISXISNR EEALXUR NOT REAL     ↳ hrts4jj YN DONT SAY THAT TO RAFE CAMERON???                     
rafecameron Do you think I'd understand the way you need me even though it transcends human consciousness and comprehension                       ↳ yourusername GET OUT                                       ↳ yourusername im fonan statt crying
rafecameron You should've used better pictures of me btw                       ↳ yourusername STOP COMMENTING                    ↳ yourusername 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭                ↳ rafecameron Okay                     ↳ yourusername WAIRNK COME BADK IM NORMAL PLEASE
hrts4jj IM LAUGHIGN SO HARD RIGHT NOW BYEBEBEHEE
elsyluvskie WHATXTHE FIXK JUST HAPPENED??? OH MY GOD?????
livelaughlovekp HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA 
livelaughlovekp HE PROBABLY HATES YOU                        ↳ yourusername WHAT THE FUCK JAS KYS
hrts4jj rafe noticed yn.. but at what cost           ↳ yourusername im deleting social media forever.
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amora speaks: hii!!! this is my first time writing a fic.. i hope u like this LOLLL rafe's a little dry rn but i swear he'll get better. also inspired by all the smau's ive seen on tumblr recently !!! i havent seen s4 part 2 yet no spoilers plz 😢
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maplesyrupsainz · 7 months ago
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˖⁺。˚⋆˙feels like | PG10˖⁺。˚⋆˙
pairing: pierre gasly x leclerc!singer!reader (she/her) x kika gomes
genre: social media au, polyamory
warnings: polyamory
summary: in which you meet the loves of ur life in the form of ur brother's best friend and his girlfriend
a/n: u've all been begging for this pairing HAHAH im finally delivering 🙏
request!!!: charles little sister and she doesn't really go to his races that often because she's a singer but she finally does and she hangs with kika & gets a crush on her & meets pierre & develops feelings for him too so then they finally get together and try to drop subtle hints but everyone just thinks they r good friends
my masterlist
fc: gracie abrams
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instagram ->
ynupdates
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liked by arthur_leclerc, user41, and others
ynupdates y/n seen today outside the airport in florence, italy !!
tagged: yourusername
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user1 hi arthur in the likes lol
user2 her biggest fan
user3 is she going to imola????
user4 omg 👀
user5 Y/N AT A RACE??!!
user6 omg i hope she's finally coming to a race we barely ever see her there
user7 i miss her
user8 welcome back to f1 y/n 😻
user9 why does she never go to races omgg
user10 she goes to most big ones imo but she's busy with her own career
user11 y/n and charles content i beg
user12 nah y/n and the other drivers content plsss 🙏
yourusername posted a story
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liked by charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, and others
user13 awwwwww omg
user14 so cute
charles_leclerc hanging out with my girlfriend before you even see me? okay!
yourusername get over it
user15 are u coming to imola 🙈
user16 see u at the race y/n 👀
alexandrasaintmleux my fav leclerc 😘
liked by yourusername
user17 imola imola imola
twitter ->
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messages ->
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instagram ->
yourusername posted a story
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liked by francisca.cgomes, arthur_leclerc, and others
user18 omggg is that kika
user19 kikayn the duo i didnt know i needed
charles_leclerc y/n please
yourusername im coming im coming
user20 this duo actually makes so much sense
user21 i love women
user22 need her to meet pierre i just know they'd get along they all got the same vibes
user23 im gay
twitter ->
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instagram ->
f1wagupdates
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liked by user18, user31, user4, and others
f1wagupdates pierre gasly and girlfriend kika gomes have been seen multiple times over the past few weeks with ‘i miss you, im sorry’ singer & sister of charles leclerc, y/n leclerc. they appear to have become good friends since their alleged first meeting in imola, but sources report some suggestive interactions including all three of them.
tagged: pierregasly, francisca.cgomes, yourusername
view all comments
user26 suggestive interactions...????
user27 omg obsessed with this trio lol
user28 the friendship we never knew we needed 😻
user29 what suggestive interactions lol it's TOO VAGUE!!! give us more
user30 i bet charles loves this 😂
user31 the first piccccc omg y/n and kika cuddling and pierre is just there
user32 y/n and kika tgthr is just so cunty
user33 someone ask charles what he thinks 😂
francisca.cgomes
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liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc, and others
francisca.cgomes 🌷 lil dump
tagged: pierregasly, yourusername
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user34 OMG hellooo y/n
user35 the last pic hahah so cuntyyy
user36 ugh OBSESSED with this trio
user37 i wish i was them
landonorris ugh set me up with y/n please kika
francisca.cgomes now why the hell would i do that
pierregasly not happening, sorry lando
landonorris ??? wtf why not
francisca.cgomes she's OURS
yourusername 😂😂
user38 sus
user39 ???? what is going awnnn
user40 SUSSSSSS
yourusername awww pierre in his lil suit 👔
pierregasly awww y/n with her lil lollypop 🍭
francisca.cgomes 🙄
user41 what is even happening lol
yourusername posted a story
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liked by francisca.cgomes, charles_leclerc, and others
charles_leclerc y/n
yourusername hi charlie
charles_leclerc maman misses you
yourusername is that code for u & arthur miss me 🤨
charles_leclerc perhaps...
yourusername lol i'll come visit home soon
francisca.cgomes leak it to me
yourusername 🤫 all in good time!
pierregasly about me?
yourusername in ur dreams
pierregasly 👀
user42 OMG
user43 new music new music new music
twitter ->
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instagram ->
yourusername 📍 monaco
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liked by pierregasly, francisca.cgomes, and others
yourusername & i would do whatever u wanted
tagged: francisca.cgomes, pierregasly
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user44 urmmm is that lyrics
user45 yea omg look at the notebook she's holding up
user46 this is what it feels like????
user47 drop the song
user48 love this friendship
francisca.cgomes love you gorgeous
yourusername love you sm
charles_leclerc ❤️
liked by yourusername
user49 ???
pierregasly met you at the right time
yourusername 👀
user50 ok what's going on
user51 ????
user52 wot
messages ->
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instagram ->
yourusername
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liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes, and others
yourusername jus dropped my new song ‘feels like’. the girls that get it, get it... thank u for ur unwavering support always 🫶
view all comments
user53 who else here is a girl that (finally) gets it
liked by yourusername
user54 get what😭😭😭
user55 SHE'S DATING THEM
user56 the hard hard launch i never knew i needed
charles_leclerc ❤️
yourusername love you
arthur_leclerc ❤️
yourusername ❤️ my biggest fan
arthur_leclerc always
user57 oh i love them sm
user58 i would do whatever you wanted we dont have to leave the apartment 😭
user59 MET YOU AT THE RIGHT TIME‼️
francisca.cgomes mon cœur 💓
yourusername oh i love you
francisca.cgomes 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹
user60 best girls omg
pierregasly world's sexiest leclerc!
yourusername i hold this title loudly & proudly
charles_leclerc 🙄
user61 😂 pierre is so real for this
user62 oh the song is soso beautiful
pierregasly
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liked by yourusername, francisca.cgomes, and others
pierregasly livin in a movie i've watched and...
tagged: yourusername, francisca.cgomes
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user63 FUNNY CAUSE I COULDNT HAVE CALLED IT!!???
user64 omggg
user65 this is a true love story frrr
user66 AHHHH I LOVE THEM SO BAD
charles_leclerc photo creds for the last pic!!
pierregasly ofc charles 😘
charles_leclerc dont flirt with me too
yourusername 😂😂 have a day off!
arthur_leclerc ily guys
francisca.cgomes oh hello fav leclerc brother
arthur_leclerc 😀
yourusername ily art
charles_leclerc 🙄
yourusername i met u both at the right time 😭
francisca.cgomes thank u imola paddock 🤩🤩🤩
pierregasly our place 🙏🙏🙏🙏
user67 omg.. OBSESSED!!!
THE END 🥹🩷
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box-architecture · 3 months ago
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They look upon their taller counterpart with a measured gaze. After a moment of intense, squinty staring, they blink, turning and ignoring him in favor of grabbing more knives for their inventory. When their counterpart joins them, they feel their approval rise up another tick.
Yes, this is definitely a proper Punz.
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catgame punz! first what's probably going to be a whole lot of designs
(pssst, i have comms!)
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sexynetra · 10 months ago
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Okay do we want a rawnsyf sss or a damerina sss or a grandekofi sss please let me know 🤔
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queenimmadolla · 11 months ago
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𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞
(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)
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next ┊ 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
Summary: After a series of unfortunate events in your life, and lonelier than ever, you often turn to a dead guy and his tombstone for comfort. Never in your wildest, fucked up dreams did you imagine he’d turn to you for the same thing, but you find yourself hiding a living corpse, bringing him further to life, reaping some justice, and cutting off a lot of body parts all while trying to fit in and falling in love.
a/n: Part One is here! Just want to say thank you to my friends for hearing me rant and rave about Lisa Frankenstein for weeks now, though I’ve been unbearable with this concept in my head. This will be the longest chapter, just to establish some stuff, but we’ll get to the slaying! Hope you love Undead!Zombie!Eddie as much as I do. Happy reading! (p.s.,there will be some romantic smut in a later part)
Chapter warnings: a bit steve harrington x reader, some eddie munson x other female, death of a family member, brief description of SA (bordered with RED DIVIDERS if you’d like to skip), mistreatment of Reader, suicidal ideation (reader just has dark humor), implied murder, very campy, very cunty.
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THEN, 1986.
  “Where you head’n too so in a hurry, boy?” Wayne Munson asked, sat on the couch with a mug of steaming hot coffee in one hand and the television remote in the other as he watched his nephew bounce around the trailer, grabbing all of the the items he let haphazardly around. 
  Wayne always told him to pick up his things, but like the rambunctious boy he was, there was no breaking out of his messy habits.
  “I got people to see, pops. Things to do. Trouble to ‘cause, cops to anger, you know the drill.” Eddie didn’t even need to turn around to know his uncle was scowling but he was proven correct when he turned to throw his father figure a shit eating grin over his shoulder, “Kidding, old man. Mom had me baptized when I was a baby, remember? I can do no wrong, like Achilles.” 
  “Wha’?”
  “Ugh, dad. If I have to explain the joke, it ruins it. I’ll be back by dinner, alright?”
  Wayne fixed him with a pointed look, “You best be on your best behavior, you hear me?”
  “Always.” Eddie gave a mock salute before dipping out the front door, still grinning as he tossed the keys of the van and caught them midair. 
  While he wasn’t necessarily going to cause trouble, he certainly would be providing the fun grass, powder and pills that were often behind it. Eddie knew Wayne was aware of what he did, had implied so when talking about how he knew Eddie was a good kid, just living in the wrong circumstances sometimes. Always said he wanted nothing but the best for his boy and for Eddie to realize he was meant for more than what this particular town forced on him. 
  Made Eddie’s chest tight, but seeing things like the broken patio board—Eddie had accidentally stomped through it after seeing a spider—reinforced Eddie’s belief that he’d much rather help out any way he could than let his uncle bear the financial weight of providing for him. 
  The van roared to life, after sputtering for a good seven seconds, and Eddie revved the engine a little. As he let her warm up, something in the side mirror caught his attention. 
  Someone. 
  Sheila. His neighbor in the trailer across the street. She was hauling a box to a car, looked rather heavy and Eddie would have dropped everything to scramble over and help her, had it not been for Mr.Brawn at her side. 
  Eddie watched as the guy, who stole the girl he was in love with right out of his arms, grabbed the box. The two lovers exchanged words which ended with them laughing at something as she followed him to the car.
  He slid the box into the packed car as she climbed into the passenger seat, and before Eddie knew it, he was watching her drive away, right out of his life forever.
  Eddie hadn’t even realized he was clutching his steering wheel so tight, his knuckles were straining against the skin, hot tears pooling at his waterline but he refused to let them fall. He’d shed more than enough tears over her, over what could have been.
  They started off so promising; throwing flirty waves from their bedroom windows, occasionally at school, before she approached him for weed. After that, came the whirlwind romance and Eddie hadn’t considered himself a romantic before—hadn’t had a whole lot of opportunities to make that discovery but he was so fucking romantic. A big sap. And he wasn’t ashamed of it. 
  Until she’d graduated, and he hadn’t. Again. Turns out, not trying at academics all year and then aiming to ace finals wasn’t enough. 
  Suddenly, all the bullshit naive plans they had to run away somewhere far from Hawkins weren’t possible. At least, Sheila couldn’t with Eddie. 
  He lost her to a guy in another band, had made the mistake of taking a piss after he and Corroded Coffin performed to their tiny ass crowd, and had come back to see her talking to the keyboardist of the band that had gone on before them. She looked entranced, leaning forward to hang on to whatever the fuck he was saying. When Eddie had gone over to ask her if she was ready to head out, fully prepared to tuck her under his arm and way from the keyboardist, she’d insisted and told him to his face, in front of his apparent competition, that she was gonna stick around a little longer and he should head out without her.
  He’d spent the entire night pacing in front of his window, glancing out of it every five minutes and every time he heard a pair of wheels turn onto the dirt road. Eddie got his confirmation when his car happened to be one of them. He’d watched, heart splintering, as the keyboardist got out of the car and walked around to open her door for her before they disappeared into her trailer. Eddie knew her dad worked nights. Knew what she and that musician were doing and he’d thrown up the entire contents of his stomach at the imagery before passing out.
  Eddie woke up to Sheila hovering above him and framed by the glow of the bathroom light like some angel. She’d dumped him right there and left the spare key he’d trusted her with on the table.
  And now, she was living her dream with someone else while Eddie got to stick around this shitty town with these people who could barely stand him for no reason (and yeah, okay, maybe he’d poke their buttons). In truth, while he was a little heartbroken over her, it was the fact that she still got her happy ending that hurt the most.
  The girls around Hawkins might have been interested in maybe hooking up with him, but they weren’t interested in being Eddie’s girl. Weren’t interested in falling stupid in love with him, making plans to start a life together. Didn’t want him in their plans.
  Eddie Munson was lonely. And it sucked.
  With a heavy sigh, he cranked on the radio, fingers twisting the volume dial up to the most obnoxious level before shifting the gear to drive.
  “It’ll get better, Munson. Love ain’t no stranger.” He mumbled, sucking on his teeth and pulling out on the road.
  If he had known then where it would lead him, where the night would take him, he would have at least hugged his uncle. It would be the last time he saw him, and it would be the last time Wayne Munson saw his nephew alive.
  Three days later, he’d be identifying and weeping over his boy’s body in the morgue after reporting Eddie missing when he didn’t come home.
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  NOW, 1989
  “Where are you going? It’s almost time for breakfast.” Chrissy called out, head poking out from her bedroom as she watched you race down the hall.
  “Not hungry! I’ll be back soon!” You called over your shoulder, the large sheet of craft paper wrinkling in your hand as you took the stairs two at a time before bounding down the short entryway.
  You’d almost crossed the foyer and then slammed yourself back against the wall as you saw Laura, Chrissy’s mom, fiddling with something at the table. She had the radio on, some garbage self help tape spewing nonsense to her, and that condescending smile on her face.
  Yeah, you’d be avoiding her, lest you wish to be verbally and eloquently belittled. How Chrissy came out of her toxic womb to be such a good person, you’d never understand. 
  When Laura crossed into the kitchen, you sprinted for the door, fumbling a little with the knob in your urgency, but once you got it open, you were out, running across the walkway and the fencing around the house until you were in the woods behind it.
  Only then did you feel safe, the trees a welcome reprieve from your living situation, the magnifying glass this new town had you under, and from the world in general.
  You’d come from a small town before Hawkins, so you were used to small town living. But these people were so judgemental. You hadn’t even grabbed a box from the moving van before your neighbors were casting you snide looks, noses turning up and backs to you as they watered their yard and lounged about.
  Four months later, nothing had changed. If anything, they were more open with their disdain for you, commenting on your demeanor (and you were a cool fucking person), outfits, hair, body. It was annoying. They were annoying. EVERYTHING was annoying. 
  You didn’t even want to be there but you had no real choice. You’d graduated high school a couple of years ago and despite the popular teenage notion that you’d simply pack up your things, go to college and be successful at whatever career you wanted, life did not happen like the movies. The freedom you’d been promised by your own delusions never came. That bitch came with a hefty price tag and you weren’t exactly jumping into a safe of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck with your minimum wage job. 
  You’d gotten into several schools of your choice, but scholarships wouldn’t be nearly enough to cover it, and you’d literally have to sell your entire body to science if you wanted to be able to afford the loans you were being offered, since their interest rates were higher than the standard human beings’ lifespan. 
  So, living with the ‘rents was checked off on your list of things you didn’t want to continue doing past your high school graduation. And hey—you were only 19 years-old! You were still young! Just save up a few years, and maybe one day you’d be able to think about taking a loan. You had time. What could possibly go wrong to throw your plans off?
  Your mother was murdered.
  Yeah, that was a bummer. Could’ve been worse, you supposed. You could have died with her, when your home had been broken into, and sometimes you wish you had. Alas, you were still breathing, albeit extremely traumatized. But only good ol’ mom was six feet in the ground, in an entirely different town, because your father had also moved on a mere few months after her death, with the worst woman to leave flaming footprints on the earth’s crust, and they’d eloped after like six dates before moving you to a town where you knew no one.
  Thinking about it actually made you sick and feel a little delusional. 
  The only real good thing about your entire soap opera of a year was the community college you’d been able to enroll in. You had no real idea what you wanted to do in life, had no real drive for career paths, but you were doing something, and that something kept the she-devil that was your stepmother off your back. Most of the time. Some of the time. She couldn’t say you were a deadbeat yet.
  Chrissy, your sweet to a definitive and insensitive fault step-sister had pushed you into going with her for registration. Convinced you it was the perfect way to make some friends. It was hard to say no to Chrissy, she had a way with people and could make the meekest soul feel like they were capable of anything and everything. She could always see the best in people, and she was outgoing. Your time in Hawkins had been brief, but you’d easily gathered Chrissy was popular, a former cheerleader (and she’d successfully tried out for the community college team) and beloved by all. While part of you felt a little jealous at her confidence, you admired her more. She was never intentionally mean to you, either. She made the occasional comment, but it seemed like Chrissy had more so a filter problem, rather than spitting anything out with sugar coated hostility like her mother. Chrissy was...nice. After everything you've been through, you could use a little nice in your life.
  And sometimes nice was also the woods behind your house, as it led to the Hawkins’ Cemetery. 
  Morbid, sure, but you couldn’t help yourself. After a particularly nasty encounter with Laura the first week of your Hawkins sentence, and feeling lonelier than you’d ever felt before, you’d gone for a walk, tears decorating your face with wet trails as you tried to physically hold yourself together, arms wrapped around yourself. 
  You’d arrived at the cemetery, and because you couldn’t pay your mother a visit, you decided the only decent thing to do was visit other lonely souls.
  You’d stopped to pay your respects to just about every tombstone and plaque, but one in particular caught your attention.
  Tucked away in a corner and separate from the other graves, under a weeping willow, was the most damaged tombstone of them all. Parts of it were broken off, a lot of the information pertaining to the individual underneath it was seemingly grated off. You had no idea who it was, the only remaining legible letters were MUN and you figured it was he simply because you’d taken some paper to the tombstone for etching and ran a black crayon over it. You’d been able to make out the word ‘he’ on the paper and deduced it had once read may he rest in peace. 
  The state of his tombstone surprised you, given how recent the date of death was. While his birth date had also been worn away, the year of death—1986–had been left. It was 1989. No way his grave should’ve looked like that.
  Apparently, even the groundskeeper avoided his part of the cemetery. The grass around his grave was overgrown, and pitiful. So, you’d gone home, grabbed the lawn mower, and pushed it all the way over. You’d ended up disgusting, covered in grass, dirt and sweating like a cheater on a Sunday morning, but his grave was looking better. You’d taken to caring for his grave after that. A bunch of your trinkets and things you'd seen that you immediately thought he’d like surrounded him now and you’d even planted some bluebells. 
  He also made surprisingly good conversation, even though he never talked to you. His presence, while mostly imaginary to you, was comforting. 
  So, during any free time you had, you were sat against his tombstone, chatting about your day, life, whatever you wanted. Felt like he was always listening, no matter the subject and it was really lovely to be heard.
  When you arrived at the cemetery, it was practically vacant, with just the red headed girl you normally saw. You didn’t see her all the time, she was just one of the faces you saw the most, and that was only a handful of occasions. For the most part, Hawkins didn’t seem keen on remembering the dead. 
  “Hope you haven’t been lonely without me,” You greeted as you approached his tombstone, ducking under a few low hanging willow branches that still brushed over you anyways. You’d have to ‘borrow’ Laura’s shears soon, the willow tree was hauntingly beautiful around his grave, but you wanted its branches and leaves to frame his grave, not conceal it, “I missed you.”
  It was a little odd, but you did. 
  When you weren’t at his grave, you were thinking about him, trying to put a face to MUN, wondering what his life had been like. Did he have any loved ones? What had his interests been? How had he died? Had he felt as lonely as you did?
  “I know, I know.” You settled onto the grass in front of his tombstone, securing the craft paper to his tombstone with some masking tape, “I was just here last night.” You imagined he would say.
  “I just can’t stay away from you. You have a very intriguing aura: I can’t see it because you’re dead, and that makes me want to know you more.” You pulled a black crayon from your pocket and went about scribbling on the paper, over where you knew MUN would be etched in stone, “I’ve said it a million times, and you’ve probably turned over in your coffin repeatedly because of it, but you’re the only one who understands me. And you’re the only one here that I care about—probably in the whole world actually, except maybe Chrissy but I know her friends think I’m weird, and I don’t want to drag her down with me.”
  Once the letters appeared on the paper, you sprawled out STER and you dropped the crayon to produce a pretty hot pink marker from your pocket instead, signing your name with a little heart to go with it just above the last name you’d crafted for him.
  The odds of this dude being a Munster were slim to none, but you thought it was fitting for someone who lived in a cemetery.
  You sat back on your haunches to admire it, it was a cute piece. Would look nice on your wall and whenever you missed him and found yourself longing to be near his grave, all you’d have to do is turn on your side and you'd be able to see part of him. 
  You ripped the paper off his tombstone, and weighed it down on the grass with a rock. With that out of the way, you gave him your full attention, shuffling until your head and shoulder were leaning against the stone, “Would you wanna be dragged down with me? Be seen with me? I’m somewhat of a pariah around here. Did you have better luck when you were still kicking?”
  You figured with how fucked up his tombstone had been, probably not. You imagined he’d confirm it, too. Just out right say, ‘Nah, these assholes hated me.’
  “Yeah, looks like we’re two peas in a pod.” Then you glanced down, fingers, twirling the blades of grass over his grave, “Or, you know. Casket.”
  You let silence fall over you, broken only by the chirping of birds in surrounding trees.
  “Goddamit, why do you have to be dead?” Your eyelids fluttered close, and instead of the cold stone, you imagined your head pressed against a warm chest, rising and falling with breaths, and a heartbeat thumping strong below your ear, pushing blood throughout his body. Imagined he was alive, arms slipping around you, firm and strong to hold you together so you didn't have to anymore.
  But he wasn’t, and you were reminded when the groundskeeper shouted, “HEY!”
  You shot up, glancing around until you saw him by the entrance with a leaf blower, “YOU AWAKE?”
  What kind of a dumbass question was that? Sure, it had looked like you were asleep but you were clearly alert now.
  “YEAH!” You shrieked back to be heard, and he went back to not caring. 
  “He can see me leaning against your tombstone, but he can’t see overgrown grass, weeds, rocks, or your grave in general when I’m not here. Men, always so selective, amirite?”
  You glanced at the stone, half expecting it to respond. “Eh, what do you know, you’re just a man, too.” You reached your arm back, knuckles trailing over MUN.
  “Despite you mouthing off to me most of the time, I brought you something.” You reached into your other pocket and pulled out a necklace, lined with black pearls and a cross pendant. It had been your mother’s. While she had a pension for religion, it wasn’t something you thought about. Dying, sure, but whatever afterlife? Not so much. Felt wrong, sometimes, to carry it around with you—felt like you were disrespecting her a little bit to not believe what she did, even though she had no qualms with it when she was alive. So, you figured why not trust it with the other important person in your life?
  “Pretty, huh? It was my mom’s. She’s dead, like you. You wouldn’t happen to have seen her around, would you?” You joked, fingers stroking over the pearls. There was no risk in leaving them with your dead friend, people avoided him and you had a feeling even grave robbers wouldn’t dare step near the willow, so they’d probably be with him for the rest of eternity, “I want you to have them, take care of them for me.”
  You placed the necklace over the peak of his tombstone, smiling when they didn’t fall from their place, “Mm, you look good in them. Better than I do, I’m not big on pearls. More of a silver jewelry kind of girl. I could do gold and diamonds, though, only for a wedding ring.”
  You held your arm out, admiring your ring hand void of any actual rings, “Nothing too gaudy, of course. That’s what my earrings are for.” 
  Your eyes trailed from your outstretched fingers, to your wrist, and the watch decorating it. The time made you heave a heavy sigh, “I gotta go. Chrissy’s dragging me to a party tonight, so I’ve got to mentally prepare for that. You’ll think of me while I’m away, won’t you?”
  Trailing a finger down the stone, you leaned forward to press your lips to it in a sweet kiss. 
  “I’ll be back soon, and this time I won’t forget my book of sonnets. I know how much you love the cynical poems I force on you.”
  And though you announced your departure, you found it hard to leave him, like you always did. It took all you had to gather your crayon, marker, and your new poster (and you kept dropping all three to have an excuse to linger) and leave the cemetery behind, glancing back impulsively every couple of steps until it was no longer in view, and the moment it wasn’t you wanted to drop everything and run back to him.
  You had to remind yourself he was a stranger, who didn’t care for you, rotting in the ground. And it sucked. 
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  “I don’t wanna go.” You announced, staring into the bathroom mirror you shared with Chrissy. You’d just finished your makeup, eyes heavily lined, and lashes coated an electric blue that made your eyes pop. You were always a little heavy handed with your makeup, you figured the whole point of it was to use it as you wanted. Your hair had been manipulated to hell and back, but regardless of what you did, you were unsatisfied with the girl staring back at you, “I’ll just stay home.”
  “Not on my watch!” Chrissy declared, reaching in front of you for her pink lipstick. The bathroom counter was littered with your combined beauty products, “This is the first major rager of the year, the perfect social gathering. You need to meet people, sissy.” 
  You scowled at the idea, “I have met people.”
  Chrissy tubed the lipstick bullet, rubbing her lips together as she gave you a concerned side-eye, “People who like you, sissy.”
  Ouch, there’s that brutal honesty.
  “It’s not good for you to be on your own all the time,” She set the lipstick down so she could place a dainty hand on your shoulder, big blue eyes focused on you, “I worry about you. Daddy and mom worry about you. Your doctor worries about you. You need to get out more.” Chrissy stressed, pink lips pulling into a reassuring smile before she went back to focusing on the mirror and her makeup.
  You let out a heavy sigh, mulling her words over. Definitely could have been phrased better, but Chrissy was right. You were currently the town recluse, and occupying your room and the town cemetery wouldn’t change that. 
  “That blush isn’t the right shade for you, sissy.” Chrissy broke you from your thoughts and your eyes drifted back over to your reflection, the girl looking so unsure and right back at you, “You really have to accentuate your features, compliment them, because you’re already beautiful.” 
  Didn’t feel like it.
  Your expression must have given your inner thoughts away because Chrissy turned to you again, practically bouncing, “Wait a minute, you could use my tanning bed!”
  You deadpanned at the mention of the ridiculous full on salon tanning bed that Chrissy owned. There was a dedicated mini garage in the backyard for it, next to the pool, and complete with neon lights, her beauty pageant trophies and sashes as well as her cheer trophies. The PG&E bill was always through the roof for the Tan Shack alone, and you still had no idea how Laura could afford it.
  “No, Chrissy I-I don’t think that would work on me. At all.”
  Chrissy waved off your concerns, “It’s not about the tan, or even if you can tan. It’s the experience. When I lay in that tanning bed, with those little goggles on my eyes and I can hear the buzzing, I feel myself blooming. Regardless of whether or not my skin actually tans,” It didn’t. Chrissy burned but she somehow still looked good, “I feel amazing about myself.”
  “Are you sure that’s not cancer?”
  “You’re so funny!” Chrissy laughed even though you were being serious, “Sissy, every girl deserves to feel beautiful. If I can provide you with an experience that might raise those confidence levels that are dragging across a nail-covered floor right now, why wouldn’t I?”
  Your eyebrows furrowed, trying to decipher if that was a compliment or not, but you didn’t have long to mull it over before Chrissy was framing your face with her hands. 
  “And I can. Please, let me do this.”
  You groaned, long and drawn out and awkward, before squeezing your eyes shut and slowly nodding your head. She squealed, clapped her hands together and dragged you out of the bathroom.
  After explaining how it all worked, Chrissy bid you a cheerful goodbye and left you to your own devices so she could finish getting ready for the night ahead of you both.
  You’d selected your tan level, positive you wouldn’t see any real results but maybe the ‘experience’ would benefit you and shed your fuzzy slippers and robe, leaving you in some boy shorts and a tank top as you tried to settle yourself in the tanning bed. The dip was awkward, and you couldn’t get a good grasp on the top of the tanning bed since it was meant to only open and close rather than stay in position so grasping onto it for balance as you lowered yourself in led to you conking yourself on the head with a noticeable bonk.
  You hissed in pain, rubbing the sore area as you clambered the rest to the way in. Once you’d stretched your legs out, lowered the top, maneuvered the goggles over your face and waited for the magic to happen as you were surrounded by neon blue lights.
  You heard the buzzing as the tanning bed started up. The magic happened alright. The entire tanning bed shocked you, and you shrieked as you felt the intense electric current ripple throughout your body, sparking every single pore in the worst way possible.
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“I’m so sorry you got electrocuted, sissy.”
  Chrissy broke the silence as you sulked in the passenger seat, your hair a little bigger than normal and not a result of styling. After getting all five senses shocked out of you, you’d come out with a hairdo that would not usually be up to par with you, and some serious case of static electricity. You’d tried to gently press your hair down and when you saw a literal spark in it, you decided to just leave it alone.
  Your step-sister had been apologizing since.
  “It’s alright. I survived.” And you wanted to forget about it. 
  You could see Chrissy glancing nervously at you from the corner of your eye as she drove you to the party location.
  “So…how are you liking Hawkins Community, so far?” She asked, thankfully changing the subject. 
  “It’s fine. The campus looks relatively the same as the community college I toured in my old town. Classes are decent.” Pitiful. The classes were so boring and straight out of the book, but it cost you a fraction of a fraction of what you’d have to pay to attend a university. 
  Chrissy lips turned up in a mischievous smile and you internally groaned, fully expecting her next question.
  “See any cute boys?” And then, as an afterthought, “Or…girls?” Then she took her eyes off the road again, squinting at you as if she was trying to assess something, “Or…..anyone?” 
  You betrayed yourself, eyes darting to the window before they were back on her and she perked up in the driver’s seat. 
  “Okay, spill.”
  Your heart started thumping wildly in your chest as one particular guy came to mind, but you hadn’t thought about him too much. Hadn’t allowed yourself to entertain the idea of a romance with him. That’s how people got their hopes up and letdown.
  “Sissy! Sissy, come on. You have to tell me. I’m your only friend!” 
  This time, you could tell she was joking, even though she did have merit. You bit your lip as she ribbed you a bit more, the corners of your lips tugging up into a smile. 
  “Okay, okay!” Your hands flew to cover your face, embarrassed, shy and a little giddy all at once to actually be admitting you had a crush. 
  “Steve Harrington.”
  “STEVE HARRINGTON?” She repeated, incredulous and you shushed her even though it was only you two in the car.
  “Sissy, that’s so unexpected! I haven’t really seen him since high school but I didn’t think he’d be your type.” Chrissy admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.
  “He works in the library.” You sighed out, recalling your brief interactions with him when checking out a couple of books. He’d been kind, made a couple of humorous comments about the titles, and always tried to meet your avoidant gaze, which meant he was being nice to you. Coaxing you out of your shell. You actually didn't have much trouble interacting with people, you were more abrasive than you ever were shy, Steve was just a little too easy on the eyes. Made you forget how to talk, and on occasion, walk. It was embarrassing, “Always makes those cute displays with recommendations.”
  “Good for him,” She commented, sounding impressed. “I didn’t really know he was intellectual. Wasn’t, the last I heard. Had a big reputation in high school, seemed kind of mean and everyone called him King Steve.”
  You frowned, feeling the need to protect him, “Didn’t they call you the Queen of Hawkins High?”
  “Yeah, but only to make me seem pretentious.” 
  You raised your eyebrows, glancing away. Chrissy was kind, but sometimes, she could be pretentious.
  “And anyways, I’m not a student at Hawkins High anymore, so they can’t call me that. Maybe Steve really did change. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard much about him since he struck out with a series of girls. Maybe he took a good look at himself and decided a change was needed.” You could feel her eyes on you again. 
  “Does he flirt with you?”
  “No.”
  “See him flirt with any girls?”
  “Nope.”
  “Does he still make his hair all big and poofy?”
  “Looks more voluminous than poofy.”
  Chrissy hummed, “An improvement. Is he all beret wearing and drinking coffee now?”
  You tried to recall ever seeing him in a hat, let alone a beret, “No, I don’t think so. If anything, he’s introspective.”
  “He’s on the spectrum?”
  Your smile waned when you realized she was asking a legitimate question, “Oh. No. That’s—that’s not what that means. I just meant he’s thinking about what he does; how he acts, how he behaves.”
  It got quiet for a few moments.
  ”Well,” Chrissy broke the silence once more, “He might be there tonight. I’m not sure if they’re still friends, but Tommy Hagan is hosting tonight, and once upon a time, they were inseparable.”
  You made a sound of acknowledgment, upper lip twitching in disgust. You knew Tommy, saw him around campus. He was a big jerk, you’d witnessed him throw some guy’s backpack in the trash and pour his drink on it. You wish you’d known it was his party you were going to in advance. Tommy was a nasty piece of work, so his friend group was the same. Out of all of them, though, Carol got on your nerves the most. 
  She didn’t pay you a whole lot of attention, but when you were walking in with Chrissy—and this is Chrissy, so she acknowledged everyone—and she said hi, Carol would just look you up and down before pursing her big mouth like she’d sucked on something sour. One day, you’d like to give her your fist to suck on.
  ”Patrick McKinney is bringing three kegs and I heard Reefer Rick is bringing his whole inventory.”
  “Reefer Rick?”
  “Yeah, he’s the local drug dealer now. I mean, he’s always been but he used to have somebody sell for him while he supplied, but he died.”
  Your eyes widened while your pupils dilated, mind conjuring up some image of a poor dude being murdered for drugs and then the supplier just taking over, not fearful at all of meeting the same fate, “He died?”
  Chrissy nodded her head, looking thoughtful, “Yeah, Eddie Munson.”
  Munson.
  You sat up in your seat, fully alert and invested in the conversation now, “Eddie Munson? Is he buried under the willow tree in the cemetery?”
  You stared at Chrissy, willing her to think faster as she squinted and pursed her lips, “I think Tina mentioned something about someone peeing on a tree over there, so I think so.”
  Your mouth dropped open, expression utterly horrified that someone could do that, “That’s beastly, what the fuck?”
  “I know,” Chrissy sighed with a shake of her head. “I didn't know him all that much, bought some weed off of him a couple of times and he seemed a little scary—appearance and mannerism wise—but he seemed nice when you had to interact with him. He didn’t deserve that.”
  “How did he die?” You asked, voice small and heart shrinking. You didn’t like where this was going. Didn’t like it one bit.
  “Well, the official determination, if I remember right, was like a drug deal gone bad or something, but no one really believes it. He was known to have weed on him, kept the harder stuff somewhere else. Everyone knows he was murdered. They did a number on him, it was all everyone could talk about because Sydney Porter couldn’t even get her dad—he worked at the station—to show her pictures. He told her they messed Eddie up bad. People here really didn’t like him. No one knows who did it though.”
  You sunk back into your seat, mind troubled and stomach turning. This whole time, you'd been tending to and caring for the grave of a murdered guy, taken from this world simply because people didn’t like him. He must have been so lonely. So scared. And they killed him.
  Chrissy was wrong. People in this town knew who killed him, because one of them, or some of them, had to have been his murderers.
  Your fingers curled into tight fists, painted nails digging into the flesh of your palms. Chrissy noticed the change in your demeanor.
  “Oh, sissy. You’re such an empath. Don’t be so sad, I know it’s a horrible story, but he’s resting now. In peace.”
  “No, he’s not. They fucked up his tombstone. He can’t even be dead in peace.” You huffed, furious on his behalf.
  “How do you know?” Chrissy asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. 
  “I go there a lot, it’s nice. Quiet. A little creepy, but that adds to its charm, makes it relatively peaceful. I’ve been visiting all the graves, but I was drawn to him the most. Etched his tombstone. He’s my favorite.”
  Despite the horrors you’d learned, the thought of Mun—Eddie, still brought a wistful smile to your lips. Maybe your presence was enough to settle him, bring him a little bit of peace this town and the people in it refused to give him.
  “H-He’s your favorite…?”
  “Yeah. I feel this….connection with him. From the very first time I visited. Now, I leave him gifts, flowers, pretty stones, poems I wrote, a book of sonnets I stole from the library.”
  “You….should talk to your doctor about this, Sissy. That’s really weird. That’s really weird, sissy.”
  You fought to not roll your eyes. As much as you cared about Chrissy, and knew she cared about you, she didn’t understand you. 
  “Well, since people ruined his grave, I thought it might be nice to clean it up and make sure he’s not forgotten.” You snapped, “It’s not like I call him my boyfriend or anything.”
  Chrissy eyed you skeptically, “Well, then that’s nice of you, I guess. Just don’t go around telling everybody about that, or you’ll be known as the Ghost Whisperer.”
  “He hasn’t talked back to me yet.”
  Chrissy laughed, and freed one hand off the wheel to lightly slap your arm, “See, now that’s funny. If you do tell anyone, end it with that joke. You’ll be a riot.”
  You smirked, staring out the front windshield. You’d let her think it was a joke. For now.
  You made a sound of displeasure as Chrissy pulled into a clear space on the grass and parked. She jumped out to dance over to her friends, some wine coolers cradled in a plastic bag she clutched.
  You allowed yourself a full minute to stew in your misery before getting out of the car and following after her. As you neared her group, you quickly realized that was a bad idea. 
  “Oh my GOD! Vickie, you fixed your teeth! They look so good. I wasn’t gonna say anything because I thought you were happy with the overcrowding, but now that you fixed it, I can’t look away!”
  Yeesh. You beelined away from them and wandered around the crowded front lawn, dodging rowdy friend groups and couples until you spotted a cooler.
  Maybe a drink would calm you down.
  You squatted down and popped the lid, digging around the ice but all you spotted were Pepsi and Squirt cans.
  “The liquid fun is inside.” A guy’s voice came from behind you and you rolled your eyes. You were so not in the mood to be hit on right now. 
  “What?” You asked, tone bored, but you didn’t want to make him seem helpful so you grabbed a Squirt.
  “Alcohol. He keeps it inside.”
  You slammed the cooler shut and popped the tab of the can, rising to your feet, “Yeah, I figured that mu—shhhh.”
  Oh, shit. 
  Steve Harrington was standing before you, eyes alight with mirth as he smirked down at you.
  You swallowed hard, hoping to god your tongue hadn’t gone down with the movement. See? Here you went getting all stupid around him.
  ”Funny seeing you here.”
  You laughed nervously, “Yeah. I—uh, mhm.” You forced yourself to take a drink of your soda to keep from making an even bigger fool of yourself.
  “Sorry if it’s weird of me to just walk up to you. I was chilling on the side of the house and thought I saw you, but I’m a little nearsighted and I didn’t bring my glasses.”
  You pulled the can away from your mouth as your brain registered the lack of metal frames on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome with and without them, that wasn’t fair. It was still throwing you off. 
  “It’s—It’s okay. Uhm, no harm done.” You shrugged your shoulders, hoping it looked cool and not as stiff as you felt. You even added in a smile with some teeth for a little razzle dazzle.
  “I actually came over here to tell you your books are significantly overdue.” Steve deadpanned, tongue playing with his canine tooth as he scrutinized you and you shrunk, smile falling from your face. You had got to get better at following up on your due dates.
  “Oh.”
  He scoffed, face breaking out into a grin as his shoulders shook with his chuckles “I’m kidding.”
  OH, THANK FUCK. 
  “Oh,” And then, because every god probably hates you, you started snorting with laughter. You cut that shit quick, clearing your throat as you took another sip of your beverage.
  “So,” Steve took a step closer to you, “Are you enjoying─”
  “Hey!” Carol stepped right up to Steve, practically leaning all over him as her ruby red lips spread into a seductive smile, eyes lidded and no doubt a few drinks in with a drink for Steve in her hand. For the billionth time that night, you rolled your eyes, trying not to gag at how desperate she was. You knew Tommy had recently dumped her, the entire town knew and now she was clearly trying to get into Steve’s pants, “I found the keg.”
  She could eat shit, his pants were yours.
  “Oh, Thank you.” Came Steve’s bleak reply and part of you thought he might have actually wanted to talk to just you. Now, you were really annoyed she’d interrupted.
  “Hey, Carol.”
  Carol looked surprised that you’d even dare speak to her, raising her eyebrows, “Hey. Hi— sorry, how do we know each other?”
  “You’re my lab partner.” You were unimpressed, you expected her to be a better mean girl. 
  “Yay me.” The smile she directed at you was anything but friendly, reminding you of the one Laura would make after you did something in public she didn’t like, but she couldn’t yell at you until you were home. Carol swirled the liquid in her cup around, head tilting as she offered it to you, “You wanna sip, partner?”
  “Carol.” Steve warned and she tutted, flicking her wrist.
  “You’re right, I don’t know why I assumed she partied.”
  “I’ll take a beer,” You could handle alcohol, had cleared your mother’s wine cabinet after she was murdered, so this would be no big deal.
  Carol looked annoyed but handed you the cup, and to make sure you wouldn’t gag and vomit, you threw it back, throat opening as you swallowed the liquid as fast as you could to refuse it as much time on your taste buds as possible.
  When you lowered the cup, you realized you’d made a mistake and glanced into it at the small amount left behind, watching as the ground in your peripheral view began to shift.
  Steve seemed to realize something was wrong, quickly taking your cup and ingesting what was left. His suspicions were confirmed and he spat it out on the grass before scowling at Carol, “PCP? Really, Carol? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the hell would you give that to her!?”
  “Oopsie.”
  But it was too late for you. You dropped the soda can in your other hand and lifted your hands to your face, watching the lines around your palms and fingers begin to move, swirling around and you backed away from them, watching as everything around you began to come undone.
  “Hey!” You heard a voice next to you and someone started rubbing your back, you hadn’t even realized you were crouching. You craned your head up to see Chrissy and you frowned. Her voice was so different, distorted. She sounded more like your dad than Chrissy. 
  Her face was both far away and right in front of you, you reached a hand out to test the theory, see if it really was close. Chrissy caught your wrist, frowning at the state you were falling into.
  Chrissy started asking you questions, about what you’d taken, what you drank but her voice was too loud for you, and the purple behind her head was distracting. Still, you nodded your head.
  At your confirmation, Chrissy’s frown intensified and she helped you to the ground before darting over to chew Steve and Carol out.
  You couldn’t stay on the grass for long, the blades of it stabbing you and sending pain shooting up your palms and into your bones so you crawled some distance away before you managed to push yourself up and stumble towards the house. It was hard.
  Everything was moving. You heard a loud sound and glanced around wildly until you were staring up at the sky, mouth dropping open to see green clouds and lightning. 
  You had to get away, the need to escape, be safe was urgent but it felt like the closer you got to the front door, the farther away it went. Your breathing was heavy and panicked as you kept stumbling forward, arm outstretched and finally you reached it.
  You yanked it open and nearly fell inside, tripping over your feet until you hit the back of the couch and used it to sink to the floor.
  You heard your name being called and lifted your head, eyes crazed as you tried to find the source. Fred Benson approached you, the skinny boy squatting to be eye level with you.
  “You okay?” He asked and you reached forward, grasping his face in your hand and squeezing to make sure he was a real person.
  “You.” Was all you said, booping his nose but still suspicious of him. Was he real?
  “Uh, yeah. It’s me. It’s Fred, we sit next to each other in ASL class.”
  He looked like Fred. You still didn’t believe he was human, squinting as your hands grasped at the back of the couch.
  “You don’t look so good,” Fred pushed the frame of his glasses up his nose, brows furrowed in concern, “Let's find somewhere for you to sit down for a minute. Or maybe a while. Man, what did you drink?”
  He stood up, offering you a hand and you took it but didn’t pull yourself up. Fred heaved with all his might and managed to get you on your feet but he realized just walking you wouldn’t be enough, and so did you because you draped yourself over him, one arm over his scrawny shoulders.
  Fred cursed under his breath but held your weight, leading you out of the populated living room and you watched a couple furiously make out on the couch cushions as you passed.
  “I hate parties. I don’t know why I came—well, actually I do. I never got invited to these in high school, so I guess I’m living out my fantasy now. In all honesty, I’d much rather be watching Weird Science. So far tonight, I’ve seen three cheerleaders throw up and a baby being conceived.”
  “Uh huh,” Was all you could get out, watching people swirl past you like shooting stars.
  “Would you count that as escaping the teen pregnancy statistic? I know they’re out of high school, but we’re all still pretty young.” He commented as he led you up the stairs. You tripped several times and almost sent him flying down them but the two of you managed to make it. 
  Fred was heaving by the time you'd shouldered him into the hallway wall, his face and hands clammy.
  ”Good god, how did I pass P.E.?” The two of you paused there until he regained his breath while you plastered yourself against the wall, cheek pressed to it and hands stroking over the wallpaper. Eventually, Fred peeled you off of it and kept moving until he could find a place to put you.
  “You like movies right? Got any favorite directors? Or favorite films?”
  “Wall.”
  “Huh? Oh, you’re just admiring the wallpaper.”
  “Great Wall of China.”
  Fred positioned you against the wall, looking a little annoyed. You didn’t care, could only focus on the framed photo of the Great Wall of China directly across from you.
  “Oh.” Was all he said when he spotted it. “Stay right here.”
  Then he disappeared and you watched as the painting came to life, and the stones of the wall began moving, rippling. You didn’t even know stones could move like that but now it made so much more sense. 
  Fred appeared again, tugging you along into an empty room. You spotted a trash can and nearly threw Fred into the bedroom wall as you dove for it, retching everything out of your stomach. You could hear Fred gagging, but he was decent enough to make sure your hair stayed out of your way. When you were done, he helped sit you up on the bed, and nearly collapsed next to you.
  ”We did it,” he cheered with no real gusto. And you sat there, still feeling the earth orbiting. It was the most odd sensation, you could feel a spot on your brain pulsing, like a migraine but it felt so euphoric to close your eyes.
  “Here,” They snapped right back open and you glanced to your side to see Fred offering you a handkerchief. Of course Fred Benson carried around a handkerchief. How amusing. 
  “Thank you,” You gave the three versions of him you could see right then a smile and used the handkerchief to wipe your mouth, eyelids fluttering close just as the sound of thunder filled the room, and a flashing of lightning accompanied it.
  “Huh, a rainless thunderstorm, looks like the angels are bowling.” You heard him muse next to you.
  And it brought another smile to your face, “My mom used to say that.”
  At the mention of her, your brain conjured up all the happy feelings and memories of her, huddled on your couch, in your old home watching black and white horror films. They didn’t scare her, so she could tolerate them. You missed her. She made you feel so light, so seen, so—no.
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  Something was wrong. Something felt very, very wrong.
  Your smile faded and you felt your belly sink as you opened your eyes.
  “Does that feel good?”
  You didn’t want to, but you looked down to see Fred’s hand on your breast. Your breathing picked up and Fred let go of you to grab your wrist and force you to touch his crotch, “Well don’t just sit there, help me out. Finish what you started.” 
  Anger filled you and you yanked your hand away, “No.”
  Fred opened his mouth as you got up, rushing away from him and stumbling back out the way you remembered while he yelled at you.
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  You had to get out, had to get away. Had to be safe, feel safe. You banged against walls as you went, desperate to get out of the house, away from Fred, from everyone, and to safety. That was your only concern as the drug really hit you.
  All you could remember was seeing colors, hearing and feeling the wind against your sweaty skin, leaves blowing with it and gusting around you.
  You had no idea how you escaped the mad house, how long you’d even been walking or how you actually got there, but you found yourself in front of the cemetery, a flash of lightning illuminating the gate.
  To anyone else, a cemetery would have been the worst place to find themselves on a night like this, but you’d already been to hell so you trudged forward, feet taking you to him. Even in your drugged state, you were able to find your way to Eddie. Always would be.
  Your knees dug into the grass as you collapsed in front of his tombstone, fingers reaching forward to trace over MUN and 1986 before your body curled around the large stone, hugging yourself to it. Electric blue tears slipped down your cheeks, staining them with your mascara.
  “I wish I was with you.” You whispered, hating everything, hating this town, hating the people, hating Fred Benson, hating Carol, hating Laura Cunningham, hating how your mom wasn’t alive, hating how the one person you’d unknowingly sought for comfort was someone you’d never met before who was six feet under the ground. And you hated how you weren’t down there.
  You laid there, hugging his tombstone for hours under the thunder and lightning as the PCP slowly left your system.
  When you were able to stand up on your own, you gave the tombstone another kiss, rested your forehead against it and quietly thanked him for helping you find your way home before you left, following the path you’d made during all of your visits.
  The house was quiet when you got in, and Chrissy’s car hadn’t been parked in the driveway when you’d walked up so you figured she was still at the party. Sluggishly, you made your way up the stairs, falling into your shared bathroom. Your hand searched the wall, struggling to find the switch. Once your fingertips made contact with it, you flipped it and squinted as the room was flooded with the warm light. It was still too much for your eyes but you kept it on and walked towards the mirror
  The girl looking back at you was not the same one you’d last seen in it. This girl had blue smudged all around her eyes, faint trails of it over her cheeks and a rats nest for hair. Her eyes burned, not from the light, but from a fury within. 
  She was stuck in a life she didn’t want to live and couldn’t do anything about. As a large strike of lightning flashed from the window positioned at the back of the bathroom, towards the back of the house, you decided to put her out of her misery, picking up a blow dryer and smashing it against your reflection with a yell.
  You stood there, chest heaving as you stared at the broken reflection. Then you tossed the blow dryer onto the counter, and went to bed.
  Your dreams were much more pleasant than your reality, eyelids fluttering open to the ceiling of your old bedroom. A glance to your side confirmed your mother’s photo was at your bedside, next to your alarm clock on your old bedside table.
  “Well?” Her photo asked, shooting you that gorgeous smile of hers, “What are you waiting for? Go get him.”
  Your confusion was momentary, your mother raised her chin in a direction and you knew what would happen, you were giddy for it as you looked down to see yourself wrapped in the most beautiful wedding gown you’d ever seen.
  You rose from the bed into a sitting position, picking up the bouquet on the pillow next to you. Your dresser mirror was directly across from your bed and you took a moment to admire the beautiful girl staring back at you. Where you last remember seeing trails of tears were diamonds, glittering against your skin. Her eyes sparkled with a joy you’d never known. You bid her one last smile as you turned your head to the figure sitting on the edge of your bed, dark curls cascading down his neck, past broad shoulders with his back to you. 
  His right arm was out, palm up.
  He was waiting for you.
  You shifted until you were on the edge of your bed next to him, staring straight forward just as he was.
  Without looking, you knew exactly where his hand was, and you placed your left one over it, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. Slowly, the two of you leaned towards each other, until your head was on his shoulder and his cheek was pressed against the top of your head, his fingers curling around your hand to ground you. You sighed, all the tension and weight of the world leaving you.
  “Sissy. . .”
  “Sissy…”
  “SISSY!”
  You groaned as Chrissy shook you awake, eyes prying through all the mascara that had crusted over your eyes. It took a couple of blinks until you regained your clear vision, gaze locking on Chrissy leaning over you. Her face was clean of any makeup, skin glowing and hair wrapped up in rollers.
  She’d gotten home later than you and had still been able to look perfect. 
  What the hell?
  “You better get up, sissy. My mom’s losing it over the bathroom mirror.”
  You were confused for a second until you remembered smashing it with a blow dryer last night—or this morning. Well, it definitely would have broken at the sight of you now, anyways. 
  You frowned but made no move to get up so Chrissy tugged your blanket off of you, giggling when the both of you realized you had your hand in your underwear. Hastily, you yanked it out, and threw the blankets back over yourself.
  “It’s okay, Sissy. Everyone does it. It’s natural.”
  “Oh my god…”
  “So, what happened last night to bring this on?” She wiggled her eyebrows and you stared at her for a second. Part of you wanted to yell at her, berate her for letting you stumble around while high on a drug you’d never taken before, the other half knew in Chrissy’s World, it was all rainbows and sunshine—at least, it had been since she’d forced her mother to respect her boundaries. Chrissy didn’t expect the worst in anyone, didn't expect anyone to take advantage of you and certainly didn't expect you to wind up walking to the cemetery and then home on a bad trip. No, in Chrissy’s World, you’d probably spent the night flirting with someone, probably Steve, maybe fooled around in his car before he drove you home.
  You didn’t see it necessary to shatter her world so you groaned instead, the full force of your migraine hitting you now that you were out of sleep’s clutches, and covered your hands with your face.
  “Ooh, your knees…”
  You glanced down to see what she was staring at and sure enough, your knees were scratched up from kneeling at Eddie’s grave, but in Chrissy’s World…
  “I fell.” Was the only excuse you could come up with and Chrissy smirked.
  “Me, too.” Her eyelid dropped in a wink just as Laura yelled upstairs for you, so, begrudgingly, you wrapped yourself in your robe and headed downstairs to receive your punishment.
  Just as you suspected, Laura had attacked you with allegations—that were true for once, you had smashed the bathroom mirror—and your dad looked like he could care less.
  “You know,” She stated, fixing you with those unnaturally blue eyes of hers, “Your dad wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. See the good in you, but I knew. I’m an Intuitive Person, you know. An IP. They’ve got seminars for people like me.”
  Your mind flashed to How to Handle a Narcissist. 
  “Laura…” Your dad warned and Laura inhaled sharply, displeased that your dad was sticking up for you. For once. 
  “Did you know there was a tornado last night? It hailed. Wind blew the fence over. The yard is covered in debris, and now I have to focus on repairing the bathroom, too. I don’t think that’s fair.” She huffed and Chrissy spoke up from her place on the couch.
  “It was a tornado watch, mom. Not a real tornado.”
  “Actually, Chris, the weather was downright crazy last night. I mean, it was really something, I saw green lightning. Big balls of it in the sky.”
  You and Chrissy shared secret smiles at hearing your dad talk about big balls.
  “Love muffin, could you swap out being a weatherman for being a father, right now?” Laura gritted out through her chemically whitened teeth.
  “It’s a Meteorologist,” You mumbled and her head snapped over to glare at you before she was speaking to your father again.
  “Honey, your daughter is a vandal. She’s got a taste for vandalism, and she is deliberately vandalizing and destroying property. First, it was my collection of Precious Moments figurines─”
  “That was an accident, you didn’t wrap them in bubble wrap and I dropped the box when I tripped over the front steps.”
  “Mother,” Chrissy chided, hands crossing over her robe. “Be. Nice.”
  “I am being nice,” Laura hissed, glare never leaving you, “But I refuse to coddle her. She’s headed straight to the nut house with this behavior.”
  You frowned, wiping away some of the dried mascara under your eye, “Can you say that if you’re a Psych Nurse?”
  Laura had the decency to look embarrassed before whacking your father’s arm. He sighed, putting his newspaper down, “Sweetheart─”
  You clocked the twitch in Laura’s eyelid at the affectionate name your father used to refer to you.
  “─You’re gonna clean your bathroom, alright? Sweep up all that glass.”
  ”And?” Laura pushed, still staring at you.
  “And…..um. Pay for the mirror, I guess.” Laura turned her nose up, hurmphing. 
  “That’s fine, can I get ready for work now?”
  Your dad nodded and Laura looked like she wanted to protest but you turned your back to her and made your way upstairs, hesitating at the top when your fathered turned the volume of the TV back on and you heard the news reporter reporting from the cemetery, talking about a grave, under a tree, that had been struck by lightning. 
  You wondered if it had been Eddie’s. There’s no way you’d be able to check today, you’d get home from work too late, so you’d have to check tomorrow.
  You tried to stay busy during your shift at the local tailor’s. You didn’t really have a passion for it, but you were relatively good with a needle and thread. With the magnifier headlamp, you were practically unstoppable, altering coats, dresses, blouses, shirts, all with minimal finger injuries—though luminol on some of these clothing items would no doubt reveal traces of your blood.
  But hey—you now knew what it meant to work so hard you put your blood into something and you always had band-aids on you, in case anyone needed one.
  You were so invested in your work, you hadn’t heard the bell above the door chime when it was pushed open, and didn’t notice Steve leaning against the counter, watching you work until he cleared his throat.
  You jumped, head swinging around to see your crush smiling at you and you raised the magnifying glass portion of the head lamp off your face, feeling embarrassed that he’d seen you with the headgear on in the first place.
  “Hey! I didn’t know you worked here.”
  You let out some nervous laughter, mind racing for ways to make this seem cool but you came up short. “Yeah, I—employed.”
  “I can see that,” He chuckled, amused by your lack of verbal sparring.
  You didn’t know what to say after that so you stared, fingers twisting and pulling the thread you’d been working with, desperate for him to say something or get out.
  “Oh! Uh, I heard you guys also get rid of stains? I’ve got this one on my pan─”
  “THAT WE DO!” 
  You sighed, eyes slipping shut as your moron of a boss came bursting out of the office.
  “What can we do for you, Harrington?” Murray asked, leaning against the counter, causing Steve to lean back, smile now less than thrilled.
  “Murray…I forgot you worked here.” Steve said it in a voice that made you think he would have avoided the shop had he known who it was that was currently in charge of running it.
  “Yup, got me this sweet little gig. And no radios.” He gestured around to the shop, void of any technology save for the cash register—and he made sure it was never him operating it, “Would like to see the government try to control me now.”
  “Right, I just came here to drop off my pants, spilled something on—well, it doesn’t really matter, I just spilled something on them.” Steve placed the folded pair of pants on the counter and Murray immediately unfolded them, searching through the fabric until he found the stain by his crotch. To both your horror and Steve’s, he lifted the strained fabric to his nose, sniffing deep.
  “Mm. White wine?”
  It took Steve a moment to find his voice and close his jaw, “Crush. The soda.”
  “Same thing. We’ll get this right out, my man.”
  You and Steve shared one more look of disbelief before he slowly backed away, the bell above the door sounding as he left.
  “He’s a nice guy,” Murray commented and you shrugged your shoulders, wanting this conversation to be over, “I’m surprised you know him, little loser.”
  You shot him a glare.
  “Oh, c’mon, lets not pretend you’ve got an active social life—if I call you in for a shift, you’re available. Nothing wrong with being a loser. I was one throughout high school and look at me now. Who got the last laugh?”
  You were positive the look of pain on your face should have told Murray that anyone other than him got the last laugh. He was a forty something year old, afraid of technology, convinced the government was watching him, who tried to befriend teenagers. 
  You’d have to kill yourself if you were anything like him.
  When he disappeared back into the office, because of course you’d have to get rid of that stain for Steve, you snatched the pair of pants off the counter. Glancing around to make sure there weren’t any eyes on you, you pressed them to the side of your face, imagining yourself hugging Steve instead of the pants. They smelled like him. It was bliss.
  Then your eyes snapped open.
  Oh, god. You were a loser.
  After your shift, you’d gone straight home. Normally, you’d stop to grab a bite or something, you still had to pay for the mirror you broke so fast food was off the table for a couple of weeks, but on your dining room table when you walked into the house.
  A pizza box. Your stomach growled as you imagined the slice of cheese waiting for you.
  “Is there any left?” You asked, already making a beeline for it.
  “Should be a slice left,” Your dad mused and as you tossed the top of it open, all you wanted to do was maybe beat him with it.
  There, on the parchment liner of the pizza box, was the skinniest and tiniest slice of pizza to ever be cut. Not even the width of two of your fingers.
  “Want me to order another one, sweetheart?” Your dad asked and Laura immediately inserted herself into the conversation. 
  “She can eat it, love muffin. Besides, we’ve got vegetables in the fridge if she’s still not full.”
  “I said we should have ordered two, but my mom had a coupon she wanted to use.” Chrissy didn’t sound impressed.
  “Yes, we got a free soda!”
  Chrissy ignored her mom, “Sissy, we’re going to the movies! You could get something there, they sell pizza and nachos, right?”
  You knew she was trying to find a solution for you, but your bullshit meter for the day had already been capped. You didn’t want movie theater pizza or concessions, you wanted a  reasonable slice of this pizza, not some scrap your step-mother had saved you. It was obvious she was implying that she, your dad and Chrissy were the perfect sized family and you were simply an afterthought. Unwelcome.
  “Yeah, I’m passing on the movie.”
  Before you could stomp upstairs, Chrissy caught your hand.
  “Sissy, please? We’ve got to bond as a family, it’s crucial. If it takes two, how can I do it as one?” She pulled you into her side.
  “Really, Chrissy, I’m super tired.”
  “You’re tired?” Laura asked, incredulous. Here we go again.
  “All you do is work with a sewing machine for hours like some old spinster, I can hardly imagine that being tiring, but my Chrissy just got back from a five hour long cheer practice. They were throwing her around like raggedy ann and she stuck every landing.” 
  “Mom, stop.” Chrissy blushed, but you could see how proud she was of herself, “I’m sure Sissy pokes herself with those needles all the time, and it hurts, I’ve been prodded myself during all of my custom fittings.”
  “I have finger calluses so I don’t even bleed anymore,” You begrudgingly admitted, “I can take it.”
  “I bet you can.”
  After they’d left for the movies, you’d gone upstairs, showered, put on your comfiest pajamas and fuzziest slippers, you grabbed a bowl of chips and set yourself up in front of the TV to watch Dawn of the Dead. You had to give props to all these zombie actors, you couldn’t imagine having to act out being one of the walking undead, imagined it felt pretty stupid but the paycheck and experience must have been cool.
  You popped another chip into your mouth just as someone knocked on the front door. As you placed the bowl of chips on the table to get up, the knocking got louder, more aggressive and you hesitated, fear beginning to swell up inside of you.
  Maybe if you ignored it, they’d go away.
  You turned your attention back to the tv, picking up the remote to lower the volume and hopefully hide your presence in the house. 
  Then, much to your horror, you heard the distinct sound of a pained, gurgling groan. It sounded very similar to the ones you’d heard the zombies making on your tv, but this one was louder. 
  And it was coming from outside your front door.
  You crouched, duckwalking to the foyer where one of the house phones was placed. You’d just picked it up from the receiver when a shadow from the living room window caught your eye. You barely had time to turn your head when something came crashing through it, breaking the glass and yanking the curtains from the rod.
  Shocked, the phone slipped from your hands, banging against the hardwood floor of the foyer and you let out a scream at the same time as the person on your TV, running away from the figure invading your home. 
  You made it to the dinning room. Literally scrambling across the table to put an obstacle between you and the stranger—no, creature. Tall, caked in mud, leaves and stems, it resembled the Swamp Thing. It grunted, groans low and reverberating off the walls.
  “Uuuhhhnng…”
  This couldn’t be happening to you, you couldn’t die like this!!!! It was supposed to be by your hand or nothing!
  ”STAY AWAY FROM ME!” You shrieked, picking up the decorative plates from the table to throw at the creature. You nailed it a couple of times, watching it stumble as the fine china shattered against it. When you ran out of plates, you bolted from the dinning room, screaming as you scrambled up the stairs, and lost one of your slippers in the process but to hell with it! You had to get out of there. Hopefully, one of your neighbors heard your shrieks of terror and called the police.
  You peaked over the railing at the top of the stairs, to see the creature analyzing your slipper. While it was distracted, you locked yourself in your room and made your way to your bedroom window, pulling it open.
  “Okay, okay. I can do this, no big deal. Stunt actors do it all the time.” You climbed outside of your window, body nearly convulsing as you almost slipped down the roof, “Nonononono.”
  You tried to grip onto a couple of shingles but they gave away, slipping right off the house to shatter against the concrete walkway and you realized Laura had no fucking idea what she was doing when it came to house repairs, the dumb bitch had just laid the shingles out without securing them.
  “OH MY GOD-I’M GONNA DIE! HELP!”
  Your body slipped further down the roofing, until you were forced to grab the gutter, gagging when your fingers squelched against whatever was in it. You dangled a good six feet off the ground, and while it wasn’t exactly a ten story fall, with your luck, you’d land on your head and break your neck.
  Whimpering, you tried to pull yourself back up the roof, but it was no use. You had nothing stable to grab onto as you yanked yet another shingle clean off. You glared at it and muttered a goddammit before tossing it somewhere behind you as you went back to hanging on for dear life. 
  “Oh, no.” You mumbled, terrified as your fingertips began to lose their grip, wet with the mystery sludge from the gutter. “No, NO!” 
  You lost your grip, plummeting down but you didn’t meet the concrete. No, the Creature broke your fall and you were now face to face with it. The pressure of you landing on it, made it spit up into your face, green sludge, and you gasped before breaking out into screams again.
  Pushing yourself up and off of it as you ran around your front yard, nearly blind. You were not opening your eyes to let that bacteria infested swamp slime, water, whatever the hell it was, into your eyeballs. 
  You could hear the Creature stomping around behind you as you bobbed and weaved, could feel his presence and you could not believe you were actually gonna die fighting off a swamp monster in your front yard while blinded—in clear and plain view for your neighbors to see, by the way, and unbeknownst to you, an elderly couple was watching you, not even a little concerned about your well being or the creature chasing you around.
  “Stop it!”
  “Leave me alone!”
  “Go away, I’m just a girl!”
  The timed sprinklers went off and you were soon assaulted with them as well. With just about all your senses done for, and the sprinklers washing the guck away from your face, you made a run for the house, slamming your back against the door and locking it behind you.
  Your chest was heaving, wet body pumping with adrenaline as the back of your head thumped against the door. You weren’t done yet. That creature was still out there!!!
  You dove for the phone on the ground, hanging by its springy cord and shouted out hopefully loud enough for it to hear, “I’m calling the police, so if you don’t want your ass riddled with bullets, I’d suggest you leave! They shoot before asking questions!”
  You frantically dialed 911 but there was no ringing, instead, you could still hear buttons being pressed on the other line.
  Bleak, and accepting your fate, you put the phone back on the receiver, and turned towards the living room, where the other phone was located. 
  On the chair, next to where the table the phone normaly rested on, was The Creature. 
  You grabbed one of the lamps, ready to use it as a weapon but it didn’t attack you, just turned the phone receiver this way and that, as if admiring it. 
  Despite your fear, you took a reluctant step forward, casting the creature in the glow of the lamp you clutched and for like the billionth time that night, you gasped.
  The sprinklers had washed some of the filth off of it, too. Before, its head had been caked in a mud helmet, but now, you could actually see it’s head. It had long, disgustingly dirty curls, and wore a leather jacket, jeans and tennis shoes, all covered in grime.
  When it craned its head up to look at you, you readied the lamp, poised to throw it at it—him. It was a guy. Big brown eyes, stared up at you and he made no move to attack.
  Slowly, you lowered the lamp, and crouched down a few feet away.
  His attention returned to the phone—shoe shaped—in his hands and shakily, with stiff limbs, he put it back on the receiver.
  “It’s…It’s cool looking, right? The-The shoe phone.” 
  He glanced over at you and then the phone again as you mumbled out an explanation, 
“Our neighbor in our old town cheated on his wife and she threw all his stuff out the window at him and my dad snatched the phone.”
  “Merrrruhhhhh.” He moaned out, picking up your slipper and offering it to you. When you just stared, he dropped it and you moved the lamp to the side, crossing your legs.
  “I’ve never seen a zombie before.” You marveled, then squinted, “You are a zombie, right? An undead?”
  It took him an entire minute to choppily raise his shoulders, you realized he was shrugging. Or trying to. Every movement he made was choppy. Reminded you of how stop motion was made, except his scenes weren’t being played fast enough to have fluid movements.
  He tried to get up and promptly slipped, accidentally elbowing the mini sound system at his side. It turned on, Sinead O’Connor’s Drink Before the War playing. You’d been the last to use it.
  You watched as his head tilted in interest as Sinead began to croon out lyrics.
  “Do you like music? This is Sinead O’Connor. She makes music that heals souls.”
  He raised his wrist to his chest and you inhaled sharply as you realized he was missing the hand on it.
  “Uhm, no—I don’t think she healed your soul. I meant like, figuratively. Her music makes people feel.” You placed your hands on your own chest, trying to convey your meaning, “She’s one of my favorites.”
  A surprisingly comforting silence fell over the two of you—though he sometimes made his quiet dead guy gross sounds—as you stared at him, taking in the green-gray tint of his skin beneath the dirt all over him, cheeks sunken in. You had a feeling if you touched his skin, it’d be hard, maybe waxy and it was a bit unnerving how human his eyes were, but duh! Of course they were, he was a human. Just. A dead one. At least he wasn’t a skeleton.
  Man, Hollywood wasn’t too far off with their interpretation.
  “C’mon,” You stood up, eyes taking in the state of your home and all the dirt the two of you had dragged in, “I gotta hide you, new dead friend.”
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harryslittlefreakk · 8 months ago
Text
too sweet
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summary: essentially porn with little plot… or .. when her boss decides that letting her go is in her best interests, y/n decides to show him exactly what he’s missing out on.
warnings: swearing, light angst, smut (rough sex, oral m receiving, slight domrry) also don’t ask me how he can receive oral if she’s on the desk ?? it just happened
wordcount: 2.8k
a/n: much like the rest of the world, i can’t stop listening to too sweet :) and to me it has ceorry written all over it!! as always please let me know if you enjoyed!! I really want to start trying my hand at more tropes and aus so please let me know if there’s anything you’d like to see!!!
my masterlist & taglist can be found here 💖 love you
“Mr Styles, I-”
“I promise you, sweetheart. It’s not a set back, it’s just-”
“I can show you, please.” You were begging and pleading like this job hadn’t been draining the life out of you for months now. You knew that Harry was right, but you didn’t want to, couldn’t, accept another failure.
“Listen.” His words were stern but his face was soft as he reached over the table, placing a ringed hand over the top of yours. “It’s not personal. To succeed in this business you need grit. No one ever got to the top without a hint of cunt, me included.”
He held up his free hand as you opened your mouth, silencing you before the words had even begun to form. “You are special. You don’t have that mean streak, and I refuse to be the one to manufacture it within you. I will find a spot in this company for you, shift people around if I have to. You need to find a role that grows with you, not one that will tear you down.”
You nodded slowly, speechless as his words sunk in. How can you be fired for being too nice? Not cunty enough? You tugged your hand away from Harry’s as if it burned you, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Is this because of the cakes?” you asked, cringing as you thought back to all the nice things you’d done around the office. If you weren’t supposed to be nice, why not put that in the job description? Under requirements: IT skills, maths degree, asshole.
Harry laughed, leaning back in his seat as he grinned at you. “In a way, I guess it is because of the cakes. Just trust me, okay? This is for the best. I’d never forgive myself if I turned you into a monster. Finance is a cut-throat world,” he finished, staring out into the office.
When he didn’t say anymore, you stood up, smoothing out your skirt across your thighs. “Thank you for your time, Mr Styles. I’ll wrap up my work and send it over to you, I assume you won’t need me past lunch?”
“No, that’s all. Thank you y/n,” he smiled, nodding as you turned away.
“Dick,” you muttered, pulling the door closed behind you. You could hardly rant and rave to his face, especially after repeatedly hearing how nice you are, but you were inwardly seething. Treating your colleagues like shit would be a good reason to get fired, treating your clients like shit would be a better one. But to be too kind? You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make sense to you, but it was still downright unfair. You had grit, and you’d show him.
You sat silent and dignified until the office left for lunch, wrapping up with the clients you had and sending the remainder to Harry. No one stayed past lunch on a Friday, so the second the last stragglers left, you rushed to the Harry’s office door. You had no game plan, except for bursting in and proving him wrong. Only, as soon as you were about to reach out and knock on the door, it swung open. “Y/n.”
“I have grit,” you told him, slipping past him into his office. It was all you could think to say.
“I-”
“Close the door please,” you motioned your head towards Harry’s seat, signalling for him to sit back down. He was frozen in the doorway, an amused smirk dancing on his lips. “I have grit,” you repeated, gaze following Harry as he pushed the door closed and circled back around his desk.
“You said that,” he sniggered, loosening his grey tie as he watched you pace around the office. “If I didn’t have grit,” you started, willing something entirely different to come out your mouth, knowing that it wouldn’t. “I wouldn’t mention that I know you spent the entire Christmas party in here with Stephanie. With the door locked. And I wouldn’t mention that I’ve noticed the way you look at me,” you finished, eyes glued to the skyline behind Harry’s head.
His jaw clenched a few times, his hands flexing against the wood of his desk. “Good point,” he murmured, his expression totally unreadable as he looked at you. “Come and sit down.”
You padded over tentatively, fingertips gripping the back of the chair as you pulled it out in front of you.
“Not there.” He pushed his chair back, tapping on the wood between his hands.
“What are you-” you started, gaze darting between Harry’s icy stare and your feet, dragging themselves the short distance to Harry’s desk.
“You came here to show me you have grit, no?”
You nodded, heart in your throat as you perched on the edge. “How were you going to show me?” he continued, his eyes unrelenting in their pursuit of weakness within you.
You knew what your game-plan was, but you weren’t expecting Harry to catch on and call your bluff. His voice was muffled by the blood pounding in your ears, your jaw tight as you tried to remain composed under his watch. He leaned back when you stayed silent, one eyebrow raising slightly as his gaze raked down your body. “What were you going to do, y/n?” he asked again, hooking one foot around yours to pull your legs open.
A tiny gasp falling from your lips was the only sound you made, the tension hanging heavy in the air. Harry reached forward, pushing your skirt up around your hips until he saw a flash of your red panties. “I think,” he started, fingertips trailing down your exposed thigh. “You were going to show me that sweet little cunt, show me what it can do. Am I right?” he continued, satisfied as he looked at the trail of goosebumps his touch had left.
You nodded again, eyes fluttering closed in a bid to expel some of the anticipation creeping through your core. “Use your words,” Harry muttered, tugging on your thighs until you landed in his lap.
You opened your eyes, inches away from his face as he splayed a hand across your lower back. “Yes, sir,” you whispered, a shiver running down your spine. His cock twitched beneath your core at the name, his eyes dark.
“From this moment onwards, anything that happens within these walls is between us. Do you understand?” Harry asked, his voice husky and yet somehow softer than you’d ever heard it.
“Of course,” you replied, hoping your eyes communicated the sincerity that your words couldn’t.
Harry placed his free hand on your hip, pushing you down slightly until his firm cock bulged against your entrance.
“What are you and your grit going to do about this then?” he smirked, his fingertips digging into your clothed flesh. You almost choked on the lump in your throat, eyes bulging as you shifted on top of Harry’s girth. His stare was like a challenge, daring you to retreat or prove yourself wrong. But you’d gone too far to back down now, so you swallowed the first taste of tomorrow’s regret and locked your eyes on his, rolling your hips across his lap before stepping off of him.
You answered his questioning frown by sitting back on your heels between his legs, reaching forward with a tentative hand to palm him over his trousers. Harry let you feel him for a second, before swatting you away to unzip his slacks and push them down his thighs.
From the moment you’d first met him, you knew Harry was objectively hot. He was attractive in the same way a friend’s dad would be - enough to appreciate but too out of reach for it to be any more than that. But now as you stared up at him, the strained fabric of his Calvins tight against the cock he was about to fuck your face with, he was the most attractive man you’d ever seen.
Harry tugged the waistband of his boxers down, only enough to set his length free, grabbing hold of your wrist. “No one is to know,” he growled, waiting for your confirmation before guiding your hand to his length.
“No one, sir,” you murmured, pressing your parted lips to the side of his shaft as he pulled his hand away.
“Good girl,” was all Harry could manage as your pout wrapped around his tip, your tongue swirling across the nerves. You let your saliva drip down him, rubbing it across his skin with an unsteady yet firm hand. It felt dirty, transactional almost as if he might let you stay if you performed well enough for him. But you knew you didn’t want that, and he wouldn’t want you working for him once you’d milked his cock for all it had.
You could feel his eyes on you as you pulled your mouth away from him, your hand still working up and down his length. Your gaze darted up to meet his, the hunger in his eyes unlike anything you’d seen before. He was almost animalistic, something feral juxtaposed in his features as he watched you silently, frozen in place. You willed yourself to look away as you bent further down, poking out your tongue to lick a wet line along his cock, but you couldn’t focus on anything but Harry’s face. Your arousal was pooling between your thighs, a breathy moan tumbling past your lips as you took more of him into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat.
You couldn’t take him all, not even close, so your hands worked at the rest of him, one wrapped around his base while the other found his balls, squeezing them gently as your cheeks tightened against his girth. Harry let out a small groan, his first display of your mouth having any effect on him, his hand instinctively tangling into your hair as if he’d been here with you before.
He used his grip to hold your head steady, directing your mouth up and down his length. His cock was knocking into the back of your throat, your whimpers mixing with groans and splutters, until he stopped suddenly, pushing back in his chair until there was distance between the two of you. You were too much, the sight of your pout wrapped around his tip too much for him to take.
“Up,” he demanded, placing a protective hand over the edge of the desk to save you knocking your head. You pulled yourself up to meet where he stood, resting against the desk to take the weight off your shaky legs. Harry’s thumb swiped across your jaw, his eyes fixed on your face. Your swollen red pout, your heavy-lidded eyes, mascara gathered under your lower lashes. You looked a fucking mess, and he was loving every second of it.
He bent down slightly, fingers slipping under your skirt to hook around the side of your panties. He pulled them off, helping you to raise both feet, before stuffing them into the pocket of his slacks.
“Turn around,” Harry murmured, nodding as you obeyed him. His fingers trailed across your hips, pushing on your back until your stomach hit the wood of his desk.
You let out a whimper as he pressed a hand between your legs, his fingertips dancing across your skin until they met your entrance, hot and sticky and so ready for him. Harry swiped a finger through your folds, a tiny chuckle the only sound he made as you squirmed, his free hand splayed across your back, keeping you pinned down. “Got yourself all worked up f’me, huh?” he drawled, voice so low it sent shivers down your spine.
You nodded, too overcome with need to form any words. Harry pressed into you, collecting your juices on his tip before pushing himself inside, eyes screwed shut as your walls constricted around him. Your whimpers turned into a string of expletives, his girth too much for you to take. “Tight little cunt, all for me,” Harry whispered, stilling inside of you now that he’d bottomed out. His hands were digging into the skin of your ass, your curves engulfing the base of his cock. “All for you,” you panted, desperately trying to find something to grip on to, something to steady you while Harry tore you in two.
He pulled back, mouth hanging open as he watched himself emerge from your pretty pink lips, his length already smothered in your juices. He wanted to resist, to be gentle with you, but your cunt was begging him to destroy it, to instil in it some of the grit you claimed to have. It was between his head and his heart, yet Harry could only think with his cock.
He slammed into you hard, your hips knocking against the edge of his desk, the contents of his drawers rattling as he drilled into you. His office was far from sound proof, and any stragglers left in the building would hear nothing but your cries and screams as he rocked his hips into yours, his cock hitting every inch of you. But that only spurred him on further, the thrill of your pleasure coursing through his veins. He landed a blow on the curve of your ass, a satisfied grin spreading across his face as he watched the red hand print appear, the skin bouncing with every snap of his hips.
“Fuck, Har- fuck,” you cried, breathless as Harry slammed his hips into yours before pulling out completely. He grabbed at your waist, tugging at your dress for you to turn over. “I need to see you,” he growled, eyes completely darkened when you turned to face him. You’d never seen him with as much as a hair out of place, yet now he looked possessed by his own lust. He was messy, curls hanging down his forehead and a blush to his cheeks, shirt half unbuttoned.
He circled around your clit as you looked him up and down, eyes never leaving yours. “Taking me like a fucking good girl,” he whispered, pushing back into your entrance.
“I can’t- please, sir,” you whimpered, chest heaving as he continued fucking into you with the same ferocity as before. Between his cock, his fingers, his face, you were coming apart. He was twitching inside of you with every moan that left your lips, his own climax creeping up as quickly as yours was. He stilled for a moment, his fingers never ceasing as they rubbed pleasure into your nerves. “You can, and you will. Come for me,” he urged, grabbing a hold of your waist as he thrust into you, each snap of his hips pushing you closer to the edge.
“I’m, fuck-” was all you could cry, your mouth falling open as you shook and writhed under him, his words coaxing out an orgasm stronger than you’d ever imagined. Your eyes brimming with tears, brows knitted as you cried out, hips bucking into the palm of his hand. Harry slowed down slightly, seconds between each thrust as he worked you through your high, your cream coating every inch of his thick cock.
The second you stilled, he slipped his hand under your back, pulling you up to sit as he pulled his cock from you. Harry dragged a thumb across your bottom lip, smirking at your tiny pout as you felt the emptiness in your cunt. “Open up,” he whispered, replacing his thumb with his tip, pushing it past your lips as he worked his hand up and down the length.
You took him into your mouth for the second time that day, the mix of your juices like sweet nectar against your tongue. You were dizzy from your climax, every inch of your core on fire from the sheer brutality of his cock, your walls still pulsing. Harry was grunting and groaning, even his moans husky as he twitched between your lips, his jaw tensing as he came undone, hot cum shooting to the back of your throat.
He held a hand to the nape of your neck, grounding himself as he bucked into you, filling you up at a much faster rate than you could swallow. “Good girl,” he cooed, letting you lick every last drop of cum from his tip before he pulled away, sinking down into his chair as his hand dropped down your body.
You leaned your arms back against the desk, eyes glued to the ceiling as you tried to catch your breath, the stinging of your entrance doubled by the sudden lack of touch.
Harry kept watching you, still under your spell, unable to will his eyes away as you panted. “You have grit,” he whispered, a glimmer in his eye. “But I can’t let you work for me after that.”
“As long as you know I have grit, Mr. Styles,” you smirked, rolling your head down to look at him again.
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