#rlly hates them like blocked him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

taintedcigs · 1 year ago

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we’d still worship this love — e.m.

part two of even if it’s a false god.

pairing: modern!college!fboy eddie x fem!reader

warnings: smut!!!!!!, 18+, MINORS DNI. p in v, cr*ampie, unprotected s*x, angstangstangst, eddie regrets everything!!, jealous eddie, a bit of protective steve, drinking, swearing, praises, nicknames, fluff!!

summary: in which eddie regrets what he said to you. (wc:6.3k+)

a/n: literally the lyrics match up soooo well w the story imo im sorry for the last line ok i rlly tried to hold myself back not to directly write any lyrics lmao. this is CHEESY. i hate THE ENDING. as usual! but im so glad u guys liked pt. one and i didn't want to deprave any of u !!! i did not proof-read so pls ignore any mistakes!! hope u guys enjoy this lmk what u think mwah!!

Eddie sighed as he checked the kitchen, you were still nowhere to be found.

He had fucked up.

So badly.

He grabbed the half-empty red cup sitting on the kitchen stand. A whiff of alcohol hit his senses as soon as he tried to sniff it; it reeked, but Eddie didn’t care at this point, downing it like it was water.

He grabbed the pack of cigarettes sitting in his back pocket, walking miserably toward the backyard as he lit the cigarette sitting between his lips.

“Let’s get you to Steve’s, yeah?” The voice that passed by him was quick to grab his attention.

Robin.

“Robin?” He exclaimed excitedly, causing Robin to mouth “Don’t”.

He took a step to get closer to you but stopped quickly in his tracks; he had caused enough fucking damage.

He made his bed, and now he needed to lie in it.

He watched as you and Robin left, leaving him all alone.

2 HOURS LATER

DON’T ANSWER: im so fuckhjing sorry

DON’T ANSWER: i didnt fuckingmeanit lije that i swear

DON’T ANSWER: pls talk to me

DON’T ANSWER: r u at steve? i can come

DON’T ANSWER: pleaseeeeee we can’t leave things like this.

You heaved a sigh reading his texts, he was drunk again, and you weren’t going to entertain him.

You blocked this contact.

“He’s texting me.” You groaned, chucking your phone away as you plopped yourself onto Steve’s bed.

“What did he say?” Steve asked curiously.

“He wants to see me and talk, he’s drunk again.” You replied curtly, head still filled with the words he uttered to you.

“I just… I can’t believe he’d say that.” Robin chimed in, shaking her head.

“I could. He’s an asshole.” You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah… but I always thought he had a soft spot for you.” Robin muttered.

You chuckled dryly. “He has a soft spot for my body.” You crinkled with disgust.

Robin shook her head as she spoke. “No, I mean it, Y/N… I really don’t believe he meant it like—”

Steve was quick to interrupt. “Jesus, Robin, stop making excuses for him. I know he’s your friend and all, but he fucked up. And there’s nothing he can do now to ever take back the things he did to her!” He exclaimed, the two of them started bickering back and forth.

You wanted to sink into the bed; you so badly wanted to believe Robin, believe that Eddie’s words were all just a lie, just something he made up on the spot just because he was afraid.

But Steve was right—even if it was a lie, even if it was all a huge misunderstanding, nothing he could do would undo the amount of pain he caused you. The nights you spent sobbing—nothing could change that.

But a part of you also knew that, if Eddie ever caught you in a moment of weakness again, you’d do it all over again; you’d let him ruin you all over again, just to have him complete you for the mere seconds he made you feel loved.

The bickering and the storm in your mind stopped with a sudden knock on Steve’s door.

The three of you looked at each other in unison.

Shit.

Did that stupid bastard really have the audacity to come here?

You looked over at Steve with pity, about to open your mouth and beg, plead with him to do something, and he was quick to understand your train of thought. “I got this.” He muttered, hand squeezing your knee for comfort before he attended the door.

As soon as the door swung open, there he was, blood-shot eyes and messy hair framing his face. He was shitfaced and could barely stand against the door frame. “Munson.” Steve affirmed sternly.

“W—where is she?” Eddie slurred, barely even letting Steve speak.

“She’s not here.” Steve said without letting Eddie take a look.

“Look, man… I know she is, please—” He tried to push past him, but Steve stood his ground, blocking his way before his face turned cold.

“She doesn’t want to see you.” Steve almost hissed, the intensity of his gaze taking Eddie back.

“Don’t make this any harder and just leave, yeah?” Steve muttered, almost shutting the door before Eddie’s heavy boots interfered.

“Please.” Eddie pleaded, making Steve huff as he threw a quick glance your way, and you quickly shook your head, mouthing ‘no’s.

But that was it; Eddie barged in as he used Steve’s distraction to his advantage, you gasped when the door swung open, revealing Eddie.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from you, his gaze held guilt and relief. Guilty because of the fact that he uttered those words to you. But, relieved that he saw you, relieved that he could finally explain himself to you.

Yet you looked at him with such disgust that it ached his heart, putting on a heavy ache on his chest. Every breath he took now felt like a struggle.

“Don’t!” You seethed when he took a step toward you, Steve was quick to jump to your defence, but you waved him off.

“Leave.” You could feel your face grow hotter with rage each time you spoke, you didn’t want him here, you wanted him to disappear from the face of the earth.

“I’m so fucking sorry.” That was all that left his lips, his eyes were glinting with sadness, and his bottom lip trembled with guilt.

“You have the nerve… You have the fucking nerve.” You chuckled dryly, tongue rolling inside your cheek in anger.

“Please... Let me just explain,” He slurred.

His drunkenness made you more angry.

“I don’t want you to!” You hissed.

“I told you, I’m fucking done, Munson.” You spoke calmly, tears were threatening to spill, but you held your ground.

“One fucking minute, I swear—” You heaved a sigh, and another angry chuckle escaped from your throat as you looked at Steve, as if to tell him to kick him out, signaling for help.

“Alright,” Steve muttered. “She doesn’t wanna talk, Munson.” He spoke calmly as he held Eddie’s arm, trying to drag him out. Eddie’s protests fell deaf on your ear as you plopped yourself on the bed again, crying into Steve’s sheets as Robin played with your hair to reassure you.

1 MONTH LATER:

Thirty fucking days.

Eddie was going to lose his mind.

Blocked from everywhere, and you avoided him like the plague.

He knew he deserved to be shut out; he knew he didn’t deserve you. But even crumbs of information from you would have eased him.

Steve and Robin had been useless, except for today. Except for that cryptic message Robin sent him about you being at the party today. And he praised his lucky stars for that.

Until he made it to the party.

Until he finally saw you.

With Mr. Jock pinning you against the wall as you giggled at his unfunny jokes.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Don’t make a scene, Eddie. Don’t fucking make a scene—

His lips pressed together, jaw quick to clench as he couldn’t help the way he almost sprinted toward you. He didn’t know if it was out of pure jealousy, or the fact that he had missed you so goddamn much that he couldn’t stray away from you anymore.

“Hi, honey.” Eddie said sarcastically and chirpily, jealousy dripped from his tone, and he couldn’t help the intense gaze he had on the asshole.

You froze in your place as soon as you recognized the voice. What the fuck was he doing?

Standing between the two of you, “Who’s this?” Eddie spat, his hand aggressively pointing toward him.

You rolled your eyes before you turned to him. “Don’t,” You warned, your brows shooting up and a fiery flash apparent in your eyes.

“Who are you?” He narrowed his eyes at Eddie, and as if Eddie had been waiting for him to provoke him further, he gave a smug smirk. Body turning to face the asshole.

You panicked, and the ever-so apparent tension in the air grew thicker “No one.” You replied quickly, avoiding Eddie’s lingering gaze.

“Really? You’re gonna play that card, princess?” He gave you a dry chuckle, jealousy gnawed at his insides.

You squeezed your eyes shut to save yourself from embarrassment, but he wasn’t going to stop until this jerk wasn’t at your side.

“That’s not what you were saying the last time I saw you—” You were quick to cut him off with a warning gaze, your eyes widening.

“Eddie… This—this is Ethan.” You said through gritted teeth.

Eddie mocked a realization face, and you wanted to punch that smirk off of his stupid smug face. “Oh…” He laughed all-knowingly.

“That Ethan? The jock?” You narrowed your eyes, annoyance setting over your face, and you couldn’t handle the heat growing in your cheeks.

This asshole.

“I’m sorry, man.” He chuckled, giving Ethan a harsh slap on the shoulder, a slap that wasn’t friendly in the slightest bit—and you were sure now that the tension in the space the three of you shared could be cut through with a knife.

You cleared your throat to speak up, but Ethan did it before you. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

This was the provocation Eddie needed, and you knew it; you saw that mischievous glint glimmer in his eyes. “Oh, just that she was telling me all about how fucking horrible you—”

You interrupted Eddie with a nervous giggle. “Sooo sorry! He’s just a bit drunk!” You gave Ethan a panicked smile.

“I’ll see you around!” You called out, walking off while dragging Eddie as far away from him as possible with a harsh grip on his arm.

You probably didn’t know what you were getting yourself into when you dragged him toward the closest empty room.

“What the fuck?!?” You yelled into his face.

He ignored your distress. “What are you doing with him?”

“None of your business.” You hissed.

“It is my business if you get with Mr Jock again.”

“I’m not getting with—” You lowered your voice mid-sentence, annoyance taking over.

“What part of ‘I don’t want to fucking see you ever again’ don’t you understand?” You let out through gritted teeth, your face heating from anger.

“Did you know…” He said, completely ignoring you, and you looked at him with the same angry expression, getting tired of his antics.

“When you get angry like that, a line crinkles on your forehead, and those sweet lips pout into a frown? You look so fuckin’ cute like that.” He murmured, leaning against the wall you trapped him into.

You let out an exasperated sigh, eyes rolling into the back of your head. “What the fuck is your problem?” You asked, brows furrowing.

“What the hell do you want from me?”

“You? I mean, eventually, I want to wake up with you every morning and fall asleep with you every night.” He smirked.

Fucking jerk.

You chuckled with an audible scoff. "Is this some kind of a joke?" You muttered under your breath, voice laced with irritation.

“You are so fucking irritating.” You spat, eyes narrowing.

“Just… just—Leave me alone.” Your voice lowered, your face was coming closer to his, and all Eddie could think about was how nice it was to have you this close to him again, to feel your warmth again.

You could see it, the emotions his gaze held, but you didn’t want to fall for his antics again, so you turned quickly to leave.

“Please.” His pleading and his hold on your arm were what made you stop in your tracks. The way his voice cracked, you could hear the desperation. If only you didn’t care about him this fucking much…

“Please—just, hear me out.” He was almost begging, and you knew you should be running, you knew you shouldn’t care, not even to spit the venom inside of you that had been building since that night.

But you can’t help it.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You asked, words coming out in a sharp and biting tone as your anger escalated.

“After what you said to me...” You looked at him with a piercing stare, your eyes practically emitting flashes of irritation.

“Do you have any fucking idea how much I can’t even stomach being around you?” Your nostrils flared with every breath you took.

“In fact, I hate you.” You spat.

“You hate me?” He asked, inching closer toward you.

“Yes!” You snapped.

“Then show me.” He challenged.

“W—what?” You stuttered, your confidence dissipating in a second as the room felt so fucking small when he was standing this close to you.

Your guard was so thinly veiled that one fucking word from him was enough to shatter it.

And you knew, with one or two more pushes from him, you’d give in. You’d give in, regardless; you had missed him more than you would ever let him know.

And you shouldn’t. You fucking shouldn’t.

“Take it out on me.” He whispered, gaze intentionally fixated on your lips.

“You hate me, fine! One last time. Get me out of your system.” He’s so close to your face that when he leans in to whisper in your ear, you can feel his hot breath on your neck.

He’s intoxicating—his endearing words, the jealousy, and the possessiveness—and you shouldn’t fucking fall for it.

But it feels different this time; something is so fucking different about him that it’s throwing you off. The way his pretty lips frame the words is convincing.

Making you believe that this would be the last time, making you believe that you could come clean off him if you had him just one more fucking time.

You don’t say anything when you give in, your gaze lingering on his lips.

His eyes are quick to trace your face, admiring all of your features in awe, regret filling every vein in his body, knowing that this would be the last time.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he says roughly. He doesn’t let you respond, lets the petty comments die down your throat when he kisses you.

Oh, Jesus, Fucking Christ.

Your heart was pounding against your ribcage. There was something so bittersweet about the way he kissed you, knowing it was going to be the last. He twirled his tongue with yours, so needy and so fucking promising.

Eddie knew you better than the back of his hand, so when you started whimpering against his lips, your knees giving out, he knew you didn’t want to waste any time.

He guided you toward the bed, gentle as he had never been before. The two of you were slow to undress each other, savoring every fucking moment.

He let you lead everything, going only at your pace and making sure everything was up to your desires, purely catering to you.

You could sense it, see the difference in how intimate this was, compared to others where it was just senselessly fucking, this was passionate, and it was killing the two of you.

Rather than just pushing into it, he kept his gaze on you, admiring the way your chest rose up and down as his calloused hands slid further down your body, nipples hardening when his hands stopped to ghost over your thighs.

His other hand rested on your breasts, and he didn’t hesitate to latch his tongue on it, sucking while his other fingers toyed with your entrance.

You mewled; you weren’t going to hold back. “Moremoremore.”

But he didn’t move an inch.

That greedy bastard.

“More,” You pleaded louder this time, growing impatient.

Eddie looked at you with such hunger in his eyes that it had your core throbbing. “I’m gonna give you every fucking thing you need, honey.” He promised.

“But I need… this. I need this memory of you engraved into my brain, forever.” He groaned, giving all of his attention to every part of your body.

You were quick to nod, quick to oblige him, especially when he made you feel this fucking good.

But you couldn’t help it, you needed him. Especially when he was everywhere, hands gliding all over your body, making you whimper with just his touch.

And the way you looked at him was so fucking tempting that he was almost going to explode, you were pleading with your gaze, telling him to take you… fully. To make you his, one last fucking time.

He could recognize the weight your gaze held, almost as if he understood your train of thought, he pressed his thumb further into your clit, circling around it as your core clenched on nothing.

“Please,” You begged.

“Such an impatient, baby,” He muttered into your skin, pushing past your folds as he earned a low groan from you.

“Missed those sweet noises,” He hummed, doing everything in his power to not pound into you right away, the way your cunt was gushing for him, the way you pleaded, Eddie was sure he’d burst if he had to wait more.

With a tender touch, he tucked your hair back. “You have no clue how fuckin’ insane you make me.” He pressed a sloppy kiss, his hands were still working their way through your folds.

“Each time I’m around you… it’s like I lose all my fuckin’ senses.” He slurred into your ear, his cock was straining his boxers, and you looked so fucking perfect beneath him, looking all fucked when he had barely touched.

But you ignored it. Ignored every one of his words, you didn’t need his sappy shit; you didn’t need another reason to stay.

You just needed to feel good.

“Please, fuck, baby, please,” You whimpered softly, your nails digging harshly into his back, making his cock twitch more and more.

Baby.

He doesn’t even remember the last time you called him that, and it shouldn’t bring a stupid, childish grin to his face, but it does.

He’s ready to put everything behind him, start over, and do whatever you say.

But he’s sure you will never let him.

“I need you, Eds.” You murmured, eyes gazing into his; a mixture of tenderness and longing overtaking your features, speaking to him without uttering a single word.

That was all it took for him to free his hard cock from his boxers, his pink-tip burning with desire as it faced you, beads of pre-cum dripping from it as you smeared it all over, giving it a few pumps before you placed it into your entrance.

The low groans that escaped Eddie’s lips were so fucking loud, filling the room, and you loved it. You loved the strained sounds he made with one touch from you.

He didn’t hesitate to push himself deep inside of you without a warning, the space now being filled with both of your contented groans.

“Holy fuck,” He breathed, head tilted back as he grinned at the sight in front of him.

You with your mouth hung open, murmuring his name as you took his cock like the good fucking girl that you were.

“Takin’ me so well, angel,” He praised, “Baby, so fuckin’ tight, mhmm.” He placed sloppy kisses between your jaw and the line of your neck, grunting as he pounded his cock in and out of you with a speed that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You were lost in him now, lost in the pure passion and affection Eddie provided you. You never felt this fucking good; you never felt this fucking close to him, breathing heavily as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

Everything was so fucking intense that you could barely breathe.

“Look at how well your sweet cunt is takin’ me in.” Eddie moaned, watching the way his cock disappeared into you, nuzzling him with your warmth.

“Fuckfuckfuck. S’fuckin’ warm, honey.” He muttered the deeper he pushed into you, and your walls were quick to clench around his throbbing cock.

You arched your back into him as you rocked your hips toward him.

You wanted him deeper and deeper, faster and faster, his every moment was euphoric, and you needed him, more and more.

He was making you greedy.

God, you wanted to hate him so fucking bad.

He groaned at your impatience, relished in the way you grunted your hips more into his cock, he chuckled smugly. “Greedy baby,” He muttered.

You ignored his taunting while you begged for more.

“Shut up,” You murmured, teasing him back.

And it was a huge mistake.

He cursed as he pulled out of you, and you whined at the emptiness, “Shit, shit, ‘m sorry” You whispered, but he ignored you, continuing his teasing while all you could do was thrash beneath him.

“Pleasepleaseplease,” You begged, causing him to smirk down at you.

And even though your pleas were heavenly, Eddie was in no mood to stray away from you, he needed to be inside of you.

He needed to feel your walls hugging his cock, he needed to be as close to you as he possibly could.

“I would never say no to you, doll.” He mocked, rocking his hips into you with such force that the whimper that slipped past your lips was sinful.

“All fuckin’ mine, yea?” He whimpered needily, and you nodded without hesitation, even though you both knew that wasn’t true.

You shuddered underneath him; he was filling you to the brim, and you cherished every fucking second of it.

“Eddie…” You barely let out a breath; the pleasure and sensation of each of his movements overwhelmed you.

He cooed, “S’stuffed with my cock that you can barely speak, doll?” He asked mockingly.

You nodded without hesitation, eyes squeezed shut. “I—Fuck…” Your head was dizzy, incoherent babbles were the only thing that escaped your lips, and Eddie knew, he knew you were close by the way your legs trembled.

“Fuck… honey—I know.” He purred cockily, his hips pushing further into you with a glorious thrust. “I feel the same, baby.” He groaned when you clenched around him again.

“My perfect girl.” He muttered as he continued his pace, his cock rocking into you further and faster—as if it were possible—earning low pleads from you in return.

“I never—I never thought being with someone could ever feel this way,” He whispered into your ear.

Don’t let him get to you; don’t fucking let his words get to you.

But fuck—does everything with him feel so fucking good.

“But, shit, you’re so different…” He muttered, his pace continuing as he grunted between his sentences.

“You’re so fucking different.” You avoided his gaze, the emotion it held was too fucking much for you to handle.

You tried to ignore it, tried to ignore the way you felt the hot tears streaming down your cheeks. Your emotions were a mess.

It felt good, and he felt good; his words, his fucking cock inside of you, everything felt so fucking good. It was the temporary fix you needed.

“Don’t do this to me, Munson.” You barely let out, he could feel your thighs trembling.

“I…I never felt this way before… Jesus—Fuck.” The rocking motion of his hips became rougher each time he spoke; you were clenching around him, getting tighter and tighter, driving the both of you into insane heights of pleasure.

“I think I lo—” You snapped from your hazy state of pleasure; each of his words was like a stab at your fresh wound, the one he fucking created.

“Don’t,” You warned him sternly, interrupting before he could get another vowel out.

"Don’t fucking finish that sentence. Don’t do that with me.”

“I know you. It's not working on me." You whispered.

“But—” He pleaded, and you interrupted again.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, don’t ruin this.” The words were harsh as they left your lips.

“Don’t say things to make me doubt this, to make it harder for me to leave.” There was such a vulnerability in your voice that he couldn't help but want to protest.

He wanted to tell you that it was all fucking true. That he was so fucking in love with you that he was sure he lost his mind.

Yet, you don’t let him speak, you don’t let his words fool you, not again.

You kiss him in a dizzyingly rough motion just to shut him up.

His skin slaps against yours, rough, as if he’s trying to take his frustrations out, and you let him, you let him pound into you senselessly. You let his cock drive into you further, not stopping until he’s sure he’s stuffed you to the brim.

“Eddie, fuck!” You mumble into his lips; your brows are drawn together, and he knows—he knows you are close.

“Are you gonna cum, baby?” He cooed, and you nodded quickly. “Cum for me, honey.” He encouraged, not stopping his pace as he roughly thrusted his cock inside of your throbbing cunt one last time.

A gush of wetness pulsed out of you when you released around him, the strength of your orgasm was enough to choke you out, and white-hot flashes blurred your vision as he watched you in awe.

He wasn’t far behind, as the strained moans that escaped your throat drove him closer to the edge.

“Shitshit—s’fuckin’ perfect.” He grunted. The way your cunt convulsed around him was too much for him to handle. He slammed inside of you one last time.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck—” He growled against your hair as he came, his cock shrivelled inside your cunt, pulsing as he coated your walls with his warm cum, fucking his release inside of you.

The two of you stayed like that for a hot minute, bodies tangled to each other, both minds fuzzy as both of you tried to catch your breath.

You could feel tears brimming your eyes again when the realization hit you.

This was the last time.

And you needed to leave.

As soon as possible.

And that’s exactly what he’s afraid of, afraid of you leaving, forever.

You are quick to shake your thoughts off, quickly getting up to get dressed.

“Don’t,” He mutters, it’s barely audible.

You turn to him with a quizzed look. “Please… Just, please don’t leave.” He begs, it’s the last sight you expect, and the last thing you expect to hear.

And it should feel so fucking satisfying, to know he’s wrapped around your finger, to know he is practically pleading for you. But it doesn’t, it feels so fucking sentimental, and you hate it.

“You knew.” You muttered, putting on the clothes you so carelessly discarded.

“You wanted this to be the last time.” You whispered, not daring to look at him.

“I lied,” He was quick to reply.

“Eddie…” You heaved a sigh.

“Please, just fucking listen to me for once.” He breathed; you’re sure you’ve never heard him this determined.

“I’m a fucking idiot, and I’m the biggest coward in the whole fucking universe, okay?” You turn around to meet his gaze, it’s pitiful and heavy with guilt, and you wish you never cared about him.

You wish you could just throw your feelings away and leave him behind.

“I don’t deserve you!” He exclaimed, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Stop… just stop with the bullshit of making me pity you—” You replied angrily.

But he doesn’t let you finish.

“Look, Y/N. I want that with you, I want something real with you… Shit—more than anything.”

You chuckled, baffled. “Too fucking late for that.” You replied coldly.

“I—it doesn’t have to be!” He spoke, grasping at straws to get you to give him one more chance.

Just one more fucking chance.

“What good will it do?” You whispered.

“You know what I realized?” You asked, putting on your shirt as Eddie gazed at you with need.

“We’re both so beyond fucked up that...” You squeezed your eyes shut.

“Us—” You pointed toward the two of you. “We would never work!” You spat.

“I’m the last fucking girl for a relationship, and you’re the last fucking guy for a relationship.”

“That’s why it would be perfect!” He tried to reason, but you shook your head.

“No—no, it wouldn’t! We’d eat each other alive!” You exclaimed, but Eddie refused.

“So?” He shrugged.

“So? We’d just fight all the time! You really want a relationship that hard?”

“When did you become so fucking afraid to take a risk? A little challenge?” You narrowed your eyes.

He read you like a fucking book. You knew you weren’t afraid of a challenge.

You were afraid of getting hurt.

You were afraid of being more attached to him than you already were.

You were afraid of him running out once you decided to fully commit.

You knew it wasn’t all him; you were messed up in your own fucking way. Avoiding everything that felt too real was your specialty, because you’d rather be aching now than in the near future when he broke your heart again.

If you didn’t leave now, you never could.

“Goodbye, Eddie.” You muttered, shutting out whatever he was saying as you closed the door.

Eddie sat on the bed, alone with himself, and his mind that was spinning with thoughts and his own voice telling him that he fucked up.

He chucked his jacket to the ground as he rubbed his hands along his face in frustration.

He had truly done it this time, he had lost you.

Forever.

But did he have to?

Did he need to be a fucking coward again?

Why would he give up this fucking fast when he didn’t tell you how he even felt?

Eddie got up in a hurry, sprinting toward the party like a man possessed, spinning around each girl he saw in the hopes that it might be you.

“Have you seen, Y/N?” He asked, and the blonde girl pointed toward the porch.

He muttered a quick ‘Thanks’ as he slipped through the bodies in his way as fast as he could, making his way onto the porch with anticipation, eyes glistening the second he spotted you.

You were sat on the cold wooden floor with your face buried into your hands, quiet sniffling was all Eddie heard. And he felt it again—that familiar ache—the same ache he felt the past month, when he couldn’t see you, talk to you, or know how you were doing. It returned instantly when he heard your sobs.

“Hey… hey…” He murmured, causing you to jump as you turned to him with swollen eyes and your mascara was quick to run down your cheeks.

“You’re gonna get cold, honey. Let’s get you up, yea?” He had never been this fucking caring, nor did he ever pine after you this much; he always held back, no matter what storms brewed in his mind.

He extended his arm for you to take, but you glared at him coldly. “What are you doing here, Eddie?”

“I need to talk to you.” He said.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You muttered, “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want to—” Your rant was interrupted by his pleas.

“Please—just don’t say anything and just listen, please.” You sighed.

“Please, Y/N.”

“Fine.” You crossed your arms against your chest, your eyes still glistening with tears.

He inched closer to you. “These thirty fucking days I’ve spent away from you… It’s been torture, Y/N.” He shook his head.

“You—you have no fucking idea the things I did... The things I’ve tried to forget about us... Forget you.” His voice almost cracked, distress overtaking his features. He was sincere, so fucking honest that it was starting to make you afraid.

You couldn’t decide if it was him or the chilly breeze that sent shivers down your spine. “And no matter what I did, I still found myself itching for you. A part of me that I couldn’t fucking kill craved for you… to see you, to call you.”

You’d never seen him like this before.

Eddie was always guarded, all fun and teasing. Always turning serious shit into jokes.

And this was real. The only thing you wanted from him, the only thing you begged that he made a mockery of. The hypocrisy was appalling to you.

You opened your mouth, your brows had already furrowed, and he could tell you were going to curse him out, so he didn’t let you.

“I know… I’m a fucking hypocrite, I get it.” He whispered, and your eyes almost widened.

How the fuck did he read you that easily?

“And I’m so fucking sorry for everything I said.” He ran his hands through his curls, almost tugging them out for being an idiot.

“I was afraid, okay?” He heaved a sigh, hand ruffling through his messy hair.

You didn’t want to ask him what he was afraid of because you knew—because you were afraid of the same thing.

Your lips trembled with need; no words dared to come out of them.

“I was so fucking scared because I did the first thing we promised not to do.” He squeezed his eyes shut. You knew how bad he was with his feelings; you couldn’t even believe that he had made it this far.

“I think—No, I know.” He shook his head.

“I really fell for you.” He was ripping open your chest now, holding your heart out. Telling you he felt the same. A gasping, quiet noise escaped your lips; this was all you wanted—needed.

You’ve been this close to Eddie countless times before; hell, he probably fucked you at a much closer distance countless times before, but this was intimate.

“And I realized... I could lose everything in this fucked up world.” He took a deep breath, his face so close to yours that you could sense it. Sense every emotion radiating from his body—the vulnerability, the pain.

Each beat of your heart was like a drumroll against your chest; everything you longed for was there, a breath away from you.

“But not you. Oh god, not you.” His brows knitted together in a painful expression, and his voice was barely audible as he looked at you with a gaze that held you as the center of his universe.

You wanted to kiss him; you wanted his soft lips to graze against yours; you wanted to sob into him, melt into him, and become complete with him.

“W—what are you saying?” You asked, and you knew the answer, but you needed that confirmation, you needed those three words to leave his lips.

“I love you.” He said without hesitation, and you couldn’t help the childish grin that formed on your face, mirroring Eddie’s.

“I—You do?” You stuttered.

“Yeah… I love you so fucking much that it’s embarrassing, really.” He chuckled, still not able to comprehend your expressions; you looked… frozen.

“You, uh, you don’t have to say it back.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, all of this was so fucking new to him. What was he supposed to do now? Kiss you? No, no, no... He couldn’t do that because you didn’t say it back.

“I’m sorry, shit, uhm—I honestly have no fucking clue what I’m doing,” He stuttered.

You gave him a warm smile. “I’d say you are doing well,” You whispered, scrunching your nose.

“Yeah?” He returned the smile—that goddamn smile that brought out his dimples.

God, you wanted to kiss him.

“You’re making it so hard for me to leave.” You muttered, turning around to take a breath as you shook your head.

Eddie sighed, hands quick to find yours as he turned you to face him. “Then don’t leave. Stay.”

His past words didn’t matter, and how your relationship started didn’t matter. None of it mattered now because Eddie was ready, ready to give himself fully to you. And he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

It was now or never. You heaved a sigh of breath as you looked into his eyes; you couldn’t help yourself. How could you not utter those words back to him?

“Jesus…When I told Robin that I was ready to fall in love again, I didn’t mean with you.”

You barely gave him any time to process your words as you smashed your lips with his.

It was as if passion was dripping from every move; it felt so fucking different to have this many emotions carrying your actions.

Before you could further it, taste him fully, Eddie pulled back slightly. You whined at the loss of contact. “Wait, wait, wait.” The words slipped past his lips quickly, eyes widening at your words.

“You—you? You are…?” He asked, baffled. He didn’t expect you to say it back.

He expected you to hate him forever. The thought of someone loving him was unfamiliar to him, especially to the extent that you did. Healing his fears without realizing it.

Your lips quirked into a smile. Why was he so idiotically cute?

You nodded, affirming him.

“Say it, please,” He pleaded, hands gentle as they cupped your cheeks. The look he gave you was mellow and your face tilted as you melted into his tender touch.

“I love you,” You muttered, eyes glinting with all the unspoken feelings you’ve been containing.

“Again.” A grin overtook his lips, and his widened eyes didn’t falter, shock and pure bliss apparent was written all over his face.

“Please,” He implored, brows softening each time you gave him that pretty smile.

“Soooo needy.” You narrowed your eyes jokingly.

“I love you,” You repeated, your gaze lingering on his honey-glazed eyes.

“Aren’t you a fucking dream?” You giggled, the dimples on his left cheek were pretty, he was so pretty.

“I love you more, honey.” He whispered, smashing his soft lips against yours.

And you invite him in to patch up the wounds he made, to give you the world, to love you fully; knowing that the blind faith transcended into something real, something worth worshiping.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x you #fuckboy!eddie munson #fuckboy!eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #modern!eddie munson

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yoonmetogether · 21 days ago

Text

Not In the Cards Prelude pt. 1

pairing: gambler!Yoongi x !fem reader genre: strangers-to-lovers, age gap, intro to mafia/bodyguard au summary: how it all started. you won all of his money at poker, he hates you for it, but you find yourself hiding in a closet with him. (This is rlly e2l2e2l lol) warnings: alcohol, mild derogatory language, yoongi's an asshole, reader antagonizes him, motorcycle riding, gambling, smoking, drinking, smut, quickie in a janitor’s closet 🥴, insane bickering, usage of sl*t, yoongi and those red chopsticks from haegeum, a smidge of violence (not towards each other), implied parental absence, scars, reader mentions a minor injury from a car crash wc: 10.2k minors dni. 18+ only thanks to my beta reader @yoonglesyeobo and also to @syllviere for their help and support! <333

prologue l ch. 1 play nice l prelude. strangers 1/2 l prelude. strangers 2/2 l ch. 2 l

You picked a great time to fly back home - smack dab in the middle of monsoon season. Of all the light things you packed in your backpack and duffle bag, you forgot an umbrella.

And the first thing you did once you set foot on the mainland soil of your Jeju pit stop, was ask your driver to take you to the Sehwa beach on the east coast. But the cash you had got you only about three-quarters of the way there, so you were dropped off into the one part of town you’re familiar with. Memories of happier times dance around the streets as you walk down them, on your way to the place you know best. Even though it will remind you of how things once were and never will be again, you go because it’s the only place you know where you can earn money without really having to work for it.

You’re soaked to the bone when you walk into the bar. The lights are low and dimmed with a green hue and floating smoke. It’s loud with banter as men get drunk on this gloomy Friday night.

You find an ATM near the bathrooms and withdraw 700,000 won.

“Hi, sweetie. Are you lost?” one of the pretty waitresses asks as she approaches you in a short apron and even shorter skirt, lips painted a vibrant ruby. Her silky bob is curled just above a black choker around her neck, and she glances down as you slide your wad of cash into your wallet, sliding it in your jacket pocket.

“Uh, no. Can I get a drink and a seat please?”

She looks at you with apprehension laced in her polite expression. “There’s a much quieter bar a few blocks down the street. You might have a better time there.”

“I appreciate that, but I’m actually looking to win some money.”

“I see,” she says after a pause, giving you a onceover. “Are you old enough?”

Yeah, an illegal gambling ring probably wouldn’t want to get tacked on with another charge of hosting minors if the cops were ever smart enough to come snooping around a place like this. You pull out your ID and hand it to her, watching as she holds it up and you know just what she’s looking for because you’ve used a fake to get in here before.

The corner of her mouth lifts in a small smile as she passes it back to you. She turns around and beckons you forward with two fingers in the air, leading you through the bar and as you trail behind her, nostalgia walks with you.

At the bar was where you took your first shot, had your first cigarette, in spite of your brother’s protests, and the den downstairs that you’re heading to was where you won your first real hand at poker. It’s still the same old musty, dusty, probably moldy basement that you remember, but now the ghosts of your past linger in the air so it’s hard to go through without getting a little misty-eyed.

As you step off the stairs, the waitress is surveying the room. It’s much more crowded and loud than upstairs since there are high stakes all around. You strain your neck, looking for an empty chair but they’re all occupied by men with too much time and not enough money to lose.

“Well, all of the tables are full right now, but I can set you up with a drink at the bar while you wait for an opening.”

“What about the table in the back?” Her eyes narrow.

“That’s for more experienced players.” Leaning against the railing, you hum, check your manicure.

“I’ll cut you twenty percent of my win if you get me in there.”

Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “You’re that confident?”

“This is where I learned how to play pro. I win more than I lose.”

She looks you up and down again, like she can’t figure you out.

“Make it twenty-five.”

“Deal,” you grin and she mirrors you, flashing her teeth.

“Follow me.”

You pull your damp hoodie further over your head in an attempt to shield your face as you follow her through the maze of tables towards a door in the far corner of the low-ceiling room. It’s slightly obscured by the counter and sheer, moth-eaten curtains that match the shitty wall color, and you thank the waitress when she pulls them to the side to direct you through. She then leads you into a small hallway but pauses right before the second door frame.

“I have to tell you, these men aren’t exactly their mothers’ favorite.”

You shrug. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“Alright, well if you change your mind…”

“Thanks, but I won’t. I owe you that big tip.”

She smiles. “Don’t let me down, girlie.”

“Is there room for one more, gentlemen?” Her voice carries over the cocksure babble of the middle-aged men surrounding the round, green-felt table, littered with scattered poker chips, worn ashtrays and crystal glasses of whiskey. You’re met with a thick cloud of smoke as you approach an empty seat at the table. They all fall quiet as you pull down your hood, revealing your wet hair and the fact that you are not one of them.

A collective muttering of derision rises as you pull out the chair but you act completely unbothered, unzipping your drenched coat and shrugging it off. You fish your wallet out of your jacket and pass all of your cash to the attendant who exchanges it for chips.

“What do you know about poker?” one of the men prods.

"Plenty. Deal me in. What’s the ante?”

“I think you’re wasting your time,” another cuts in. “You should go see if they have a kiddie table.”

The men shove elbows into each other in raucous laughter at your expense but it doesn’t affect you at all.

“Let her play.”

You look up at the new voice. Gravelly. Gruff. Tempting.

Shit. How did you miss… him? The youngest man in the room, the one with parts of his face shadowed by the god-awful, dim lighting, has not taken his eyes off of you since you walked in. You can tell by the way the bumps on your skin prickle every time your attention flickers in his direction and your eyes catch. His hair is orangey, as much of it that pokes out from under his black beanie, and he’s wearing a black varsity jacket with white stitching on the front that makes him stand out among the rest of the men’s unflattering suits and loose ties.

He lifts his cigarette, takes a drag, and blows it out, blinking between you and two black poker chips he taps on the table.

You glare at the subtle smirk on his lips as he says, “Easy win.”

This will be fun.

The first few rounds you do get shit hands, but you bet on them anyway, enduring the condescension that leers from the entire table each time. The only one who doesn’t laugh is the one you can’t stop stealing glances at, the one who just nonchalantly smokes and places bets and looks at his cards, and occasionally stares right back. Makes your heart flip. You’ve noticed, though, from watching him a few times, that when the flop is laid out and it’s time for the first bets, if he blinks a little erratically while staring at his hand, he folds soon after. You fold on a two-pair after checking, and the players get a kick out of that when you reveal that you had a potentially winning hand. You pretend to be super bummed. But now you’ve got them right where you want them.

So far, you’ve bet the majority of your money but you’re fairly certain that won’t matter in a few minutes. In your hand, you hold an 8 and 2 of Diamonds. On the table, lies a ten of Spades, six of Clubs, 4 and Queen of Diamonds, and three of hearts. You school your expression. One more diamond card and it’s a flush. You look up and it seems the majority of the table has folded, but ‘kiddie table’ man and ‘beanie with a mean stare’ man are still in the running. Both of their hands have been good so far, but ‘beanie with a mean stare’ has won most of the rounds. This is the last one and you’re running out of time to win all of it back. You feign a nervous glance around the table before you check. ‘Kiddie’ checks as well and you wait for ‘mean beanie’ to follow suit but instead, he scoots the rest of his chips in to raise the bet. Huh. He’s getting cocky, going all in. He only blinked once when the dealer laid down the flop, so you suspect he has a good hand. But not a great one, so you’ll raise the stakes. The men mutter in amusement when you match his bet and he lifts a brow, but the rest of his expression remains neutral. The dealer asks if that’s the final bet, and when no one responds, he flips the fifth card. Your heart jumps.

A nine of Diamonds.

‘Kiddie’ goes first and displays his three-of-a-kind. Hm. Not bad. You glance over to ‘mean beanie,’ waiting for him to make the next move but he only stares at you, unblinking, a thin line between his lips. You take a deep breath and put on a sheepish smile while flattening your cards near the center of the table so everyone can see.

“Is this a flush?” They all still, and you fail to fight off a grin when their many pairs of eyes go back and forth between the river and your two low rank cards that add up to a high rank hand.

‘Mean beanie’ is now staring at his cards, a noticeable tick in his jaw and you know you’ve won. He tosses them down with a quick flick of his wrist and you can’t help your smirk at his obvious dejection. You observe his 5 of Hearts and 7 of Spades.

“Oh, a straight? How nice.” Your head tilts mockingly. “You almost beat me.”

He frowns and you feel enthralled, resisting the urge to blow him a demeaning kiss. With a content sigh, you lean forward to scrape your scored chips towards you, holding your arms out like a hoop to move them all because there’s just that many. You stand as an attendant appears to retrieve your chips to count and trade for the table’s cash. You think you’ll get a nice hotel room to shelter from the storm.

“It was a pleasure playing with you gentlemen,” you say politely as you stand. “I’ll enjoy spending your money.”

The devilish grin you send to all of them lingers on ‘mean beanie’ who is now refusing to look at you. There’s a pep in your step as you stride up to the attendant behind the counter near the door, waiting for him to cash you out.

You watch as the men file out, glaring at you and muttering bitter curses amongst themselves. You shrug it off. Serves them right for underestimating you just because you’re a young woman. You may have been putting on an act, but men run the world.

Shouldn’t they have been smart enough to pick up on that?

‘Beanie’ is the last one to go, head ducked as he pulls out his phone. He’s still in the hallway when you exit, backpack stacked with 10 million won. His foot is on the bottom step as he types furiously on his device.

“Hey, good game,” you say in a light tone as you pass him, but there’s too much sass in your smile to seem genuine. “And you’re right. That was an easy win.”

He lifts his head slowly, eyes narrowed in a vicious glare, pockets his phone and takes a step up. It makes your heart speed when he comes nearly face to face with you, and you can see him in this mildly better lighting.

“How’d you pull that off, huh? You count cards?” He’s pretty much seething but fucking hell, he's attractive.

“No,” you blink innocently, living for the ferocity in his darkened eyes. “I just count on men to be dumb enough to believe a pretty girl like me doesn’t know how to gamble. Thanks for being so full of yourself that you can’t see through a sham like that.”

His jaw ticks as his glare rakes up and down your form.

“You’re full of yourself, too. You’re not that pretty.”

It’s a cheap shot, but it’s obvious he’s just trying to make himself feel better by hurting your feelings because he has nothing else.

“Aww, you sound like a sore loser. Do you want to go back in there? Try to win some back?”

“I’m done playing for the night.” He still hasn’t gotten out of your face and the scent of his earthy cologne with traces of cigarette smoke is doing unhealthy things to your blood pressure.

“Understandable. It would suck to get your ass beat by a girl twice in a row.”

He's radiating with vexation but it doesn’t intimidate you in the slightest. If anything, it’s making him more attractive, which makes you think you should do some deep, serious internal reflection. His nostrils flare just before he swivels on his heel to face the steps.

“Oh, by the way, I noticed that you blink a lot when you get a bad hand. You should work on that.”

His head jerks to you, seeming to take offense to that. He looks you up and down again, scowls, and starts up the stairs.

“Maybe with your money, I’ll buy some expensive makeup to doll myself up better!” You call up.

“You’d need a lot!”

Fucking liar. You cackle as he jogs up the rest of the way.

******* Upstairs, he’s already out of sight. You relocate the waitress who greets you expectantly, an enthusiastic grin breaking out on her face when you pull out your winnings. She gives you a small cheer and while you sit at the bar to count out her cut, she makes you a drink on the house.

Once you finish it, you check the time and realize you shouldn’t hang around here for much longer. And you’re starting to feel the effects of jet lag now that you’ve got your money problems squared away. But of course you left your jacket downstairs. You ask the waitress if you can go get it.

“Sure, but come right back.”

In the hallway, you falter when you hear a one-sided conversation, spoken by that low stony voice that tickles your brain. You peek your nosy head around the corner, pulse spiking with a thrill when you see ‘beanie’ standing on the other side of the room, next to another hallway.

“The fuck do you mean it didn’t go through?

As he listens on the other line, he hangs his head, fingers digging into his eyes in what appears to be frustration before dropping them on his hip.

“Shit, are you serious?... Can you just send me some for a plane ticket? I’ll pay you back...” He sighs dejectedly. “Fine. See you back home.”

He curses again, louder this time, and you take that as your cue to saunter into the room, pretending you don’t notice him as you head for the table.

“You stalking me?” You blow a raspberry, leaning down to grab your jacket from the chair and hold it up for him to see.

“As if. You’re not that interesting. And you’re a sore loser,” you tack on. “Not my type.”

(Straight up lies.)

“Well, you’re fucking annoying.”

“Thank you!” You exclaim, hand on your chest like you’re honored. “I’ve worked so hard to be.”

He glowers at you and you really want to laugh. Why is he so angry? It’s not like you stole his money. Tricked him? Maybe, but you can’t exactly be fair in a place like this. His head shakes as he passes by you for the exit.

“So I really won all of your money, huh? And now you’re strapped for cash?” He pauses, slides narrowed eyes your way, and stuffs his hands in his jacket.

“Mind your business.”

“What? It just sounds like you’re in a tough spot, especially with the big storm coming later. I’d hate to think that you’re stranded in torrential downpour with nowhere to go all because some mid-looking girl took your money.”

“Don’t patronize me,” he snaps.

“How is that patronizing? I’m just saying, I’m sorry you fell for my dirty little trick, but I can help you out if you want.”

He strides into your space and you step back, heart pounding when he gets in your face again. There’s a dangerous look in his eyes but you’re not at all threatened.

“I don’t need shit from you.” You tip your head up and bat your eyelashes, sneaking a glance at his lips, pink and plush and enticing.

“Okay,” you shrug nonchalantly, failing to fight off a small smirk. Warmth creeps up from your cheeks to your ears when his blown out pupils flash down to your mouth. And the tension in between you transforms with a feral magnetism.

His tongue darts out to his bottom lip and your eyes widen a fraction at the sight.

“You’re really aggravating, you know that?”

“You can walk away.” His head tilts at your challenge and the magnetism grows when he doesn’t move.

Just then, your heads turn towards the stairs when voices and footsteps start to descend.

He grabs your arm and tugs you around the corner and to the end of the hallway, whipping open a small door and stepping inside before pulling you along with him. Your nose wrinkles at the odious smell of industrial cleaning agents.

“What are you doing?”

“Shut up,” he hisses, tugging you away from the door to the adjacent side of the small and dark closet. “No one’s supposed to be down here now that they’ve closed things up.”

“Oh,” you whisper, settling against the wall. “You don’t really strike me as the type to follow the rules.”

“I’m not,” he grits, voice deep enough to not be heard easily. “But I know that consequences still apply if I get caught.”

“Well, this isn’t how I expected to spend my Friday night,” you huff with a cross of your arms. “Holed up in some janitor’s closet with a common criminal.”

“You’re one too, y’know. You committed a felony just by stepping foot in here. And then another, when you won all that money.”

You mimic that last sentence in a childish tone and his chest heaves in a huff.

“Will you be quiet?”

“Am I pissing you off?”

“You have been since the first goddamn minute you walked in.”

“If I annoy you that much, you could’ve just hidden in here yourself and left me out there to get in trouble.”

“I still have time. I could push you out now.”

“Do it then.”

A silence follows, like he’s contemplating. Hesitating. That magnetism comes back to buzz and burn.

“Or maybe, and I’m just spitballing here, you wanted an excuse to get me alone in this dark, tight space?”

He scoffs. “You’re delusional.”

“Hm. Then why are you so close? There’s more than enough room for the both of us to have space.”

When he doesn’t say anything, unease pinches your gut when you think you’ve gotten ahead of yourself and misread things. You can’t help that his whole broody, pissed off vibe turns you on for some reason. So you move to get away from him, create some space now that you’re embarrassed but his hand finds the crook of your elbow and stops you. Heat floods your cheeks for a whole different reason.

“What are you trying to get at?” You smile, heart pounding with nerves because you know his rejection would sting like hell. But you’re not about to let his attitude shit on your confidence.

“C’mon, you’re not that dumb.” His fingers dig into your arm, not enough to hurt but enough to feel that you’ve pinched a nerve.

You gasp when he pushes your arm until your back hits the wall and you stare at the silhouette of his face, his hand lifting above your head. Blood rushes in your ears when he leans in so close that his warm breath fans down to your chin.

“You wanna be fucked in here like a slut? Is that it?”

Holy mother of fuck. The way he said that - husky, dark, low but so intense has to be a sin.

“Can you even get it up this late at night, old man?”

“Who the fuck are you calling old?” He snaps. “You’ve got to be at least 30.”

He better be joking! “What does that make you, then? 45? 50?”

“Try 27.”

“Huh. You’re still a lot older than me.” You don’t find that hot.

“By how much?” he queries, a bit of apprehension in his tone.

“5 years.”

He exhales sharply, a breath of relief. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Is almost 30 too early to have ‘dysfunctional’ problems?”

Large hands on your hips force you to turn around and face the wall, and you plant your palms on it with a gasp when he grinds his clothed erection on the swell of your ass.

“Does this feel ‘dysfunctional’ to you?” he growls, grinding against you again, slower this time but harsher so you can feel all of what’s swelling in his pants. He’s big, because of course he is, and you figure by the end of this, you’ll be the dysfunctional one.

“I-I don’t know,” you stutter, throat suddenly dry. He chuckles, and it’s like a jolt of thunder worthy of a hurricane storming through every seed of your nerves.

Sighing, he leans into you, chest barely brushing your back, and returns his hand to the wall above your head, ducking his chin to breathe down your neck and you gasp again as he rolls his hips once more while muttering darkly into your ear,

“Do you want to find out?” A shiver bolts down your spine, and your center starts to throb with sinful desire.

Getting fucked on a Friday night in a cleaning closet by a common criminal is definitely not something you expected to be doing on your trip back home. But you don’t want it to go in any other way.

“Mhmm.”

“Is that supposed to be a word?”

“Yes!” You whisper yell.

“Yes, what?” he emphasizes, tone gritty and a touch dominating.

“Yes, I want to find out.”

Quiet passes for a minute and you think he’s in the middle of rethinking things, but then he manhandles you to the side of the closet opposite from the door, and you put out your hands to feel that you’re pressed into a set of shelves holding big ass rolls of paper towels or something.

He tugs at the hem of your pants. “Take these off.”

“Why can’t you do it?”

“Because I’m giving you a chance to change your mind,” he mutters.

Huh. You hesitate only because that was unexpected. But you weren’t planning on changing anything. Without a word, you undo the clasp on your jeans and reach back to find his hand, taking note of the insane electricity that surges through you once you touch him, and bring it back to your waist, silent permission that he can continue. Nothing is said as he slides your pants down your ass, and you wait for him to work on his own jeans but instead you feel his fingers trickle on the inside of your upper thigh, and your breath hitches as he inches closer to your heat. You spread your legs and arch your back to give him indication to touch you. He cups your mound, and you lurch forward with a moan, grabbing the shelf to hold onto for dear life.

“You better stay quiet,” he grumbles. “Because if you get us caught, I’ll tell them I found out you were counting cards.”

“And you were fucking me as punishment?” you challenge over your shoulder, but the vitriol in your sneer is extinguished when he glides a lone finger between your folds.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re already wet. Being a dirty slut like this turns you on?”

You don’t answer, brain malfunctioning when he starts rubbing circles over your clit, and you duck your head as it increases your arousal. A whiny moan floats out when he teases your hole and hums to himself. Your shoulders tense when he slips a digit in, shushing your louder moan as he adds another and pumps in and out to work you open. You have to hold your breath every now and then to keep your noises to yourself.

As he keeps finger-fucking you, there’s some shifting and then a slap of something falling on the floor, followed by the sound of foil tearing.

“Did you just get a condom out of your wallet?” you manage to croak.

“No, I pulled it out of thin air,” he deadpans dryly.

You roll your eyes. Men. Always staying locked and fucking loaded. And he called you a slut? You open your mouth to convey this to him, but you figure one more smart-ass comment will deny you of what you’re craving.

You salivate when you hear him undo his belt and unzip his jeans. He steps back with a faint moan, and you imagine him finally pulling himself out to roll on the condom. Shit. You know you’re in for it.

His hand finds your waist again, and he spits, loudly, before tapping his tip on your center, gathering your arousal. Your body jerks at the sensation of his head dragging through your folds and over your clit before coming back to prod your entrance, making you tense up in anticipation.

“Are you going to back out? Last chance.”

“No, I’m good.” There’s a lapse in movement and in words but then he pushes in and- fuck! It’s a stretch. You moan over a bitten tongue as your eyes squeeze shut, urgently trying to adjust.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not up for it,” he mutters quietly when your cunt refuses to cooperate, thanks to a mix of nerves.

"I am, damn it!”

“Then fucking relax.”

So you deflate your lungs, using the idea of just how good it’ll feel once he fills you up for motivation to do as he says. You let your body go almost entirely limp and he must notice because he digs his nails into your waist and guides himself in, agonizingly slow, expanding your walls with girth so fulfilling.

A low growl resonates in his chest when he sinks in all the way, fingers flexing on your naked hips as he gives time for you to adjust. His hard dick twitching within tells you that he needs a second too. For a few minutes, he fucks you at a snail’s pace while you try not to lose your shit. Then he pulls out to bend his knees, and thrusts back up into you, breathing shakily as he increases the pace.

He doesn’t take his hands off of your waist. Doesn’t grope your tits, or cup handfuls of your ass, just holds onto your hips to keep you in place, occasionally uses them to adjust his stance behind you. A part of you wishes he would because you know his large hands could work wonders on your skin, but at the same time there’s a modicum of respect coming from his restraint. You don’t know if that’s what he’s going for or if he just genuinely doesn’t want to touch you - which, ouch - but you’re pretty sure most guys would take you letting them fuck you in a closet as automatic permission to touch all parts of your body whether you asked them to or not, but apparently he’s not one of them.

There is one place, though, that you desperately need him to put his hands on and for whatever reason, he’s not.

“Are you gonna play with my clit anytime soon? Or did you, in your old age, forget where it is?” He huffs, dark and indignant in your ear.

“It’d be nice to get off at some point ton-” A hand slides over your cheek and pair of fingers gets shoved on your tongue, cutting you off.

“Shut. Your. Mouth.” Your eyes roll back at the rigid and domineering grit in his tone, and your back arches to press further into him, needy, wanting. His other hand leaves your hip to replace his fingers with a balled-up piece of fabric, and then he snakes down to the front of your waist. You have to clench down on whatever fabric he used to muffle you when he easily finds your aching nub and spreads your saliva over it before stroking in agonizing circles. Your teeth clamp down on the mysterious material to barricade a whimper.

His hips, on the other hand, start to smack against your ass with animalistic determination, like he wants to fuck you as fast as he can so he can get this over with. Which is fine by you, because it feels so fucking good. The force of his thrusts paired with the tips of his fingers rubbing your clit in rough, calculated strokes has your nails scraping on the wall due to the overwhelming pleasure building within you.

He starts to fuck you at a different angle and you almost cry out when he spears against your spot.

“There?” he asks, rocking in the same place experimentally while you clench around him. Your thighs start to shake.

“Mhmm!” you exclaim, voice muffled. He doesn’t stop fucking you there until you come, and even though you already can’t see shit, you definitely black out for a second. The material in your mouth isn’t helping your breathing situation but it’s preventing you from crying.

He hisses and then yanks out, lets go of your waist, and you involuntarily drop to your knees.

“Shit, my fault,” he mutters, but you’re focused on plucking the cloth out of your mouth, scrunching it in your palm. You weakly pull your jeans to your hips and turn around when he curses again, reaching out to find his dick as he jerks himself to completion. He stops and rips off the condom, thumb sliding up your chin and into your mouth to drop it open.

“Gonna come,” he grumbles. You nod and stick out your tongue, and using his thumb as guidance, he slides his thick mushroom head past your lips, filling your mouth with hot ropes of cum. He emits some kind of purring sound as you swallow it all down and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

After allowing a moment to accept what just happened, he steps back again and sighs heavily as he tucks himself in and fixes his belt while you wipe your mouth with the inside of your shirt. When he bends down to pick up his wallet, you wait for his hand to offer you help up off the floor, but he just turns around, leaving you to stand up on your own with shaky legs.

That’s not the vibe you were starting to get from him, but okay?

Swinging on your jacket with a bit of shame, you walk up behind him where he’s listening at the door for anyone outside, and realize that you just let this guy fuck you in a weird-smelling closet and come in your mouth before you even got his name.

“I’m Angel, by the way.”

“That’s nice," he says flatly, tone withdrawn.

“Did you flunk preschool? This would be the part where you tell me your name.”

“I'm good.” You scoff, taken aback.

"Geez, dude. After all that, you can’t even tell me your name?”

"Nah. Not like we’re ever gonna see each other again, right?” That stings. He doesn’t have the courtesy to do something normal after doing something so unorthodox?

“Whatever, prick.”

When he opens the door, you toss the fabric at him and shove into his shoulder, not looking back as you hurry towards the stairs, taking two at a time to get away from him. The waitress gives you a wary look as you stomp towards her, offering an embarrassed apology while you gather your bags. You thank her, pass her a few more bills, and make an escape to the bathroom. You refuse to look in the mirror as you get yourself together. What the fuck were you thinking?

But as the universe would have it, he’s outside under the awning because of the rain, scrolling through his phone and smoking a cigarette with a foot propped on the wall.

Without slowing down, you walk by him, pluck the cigarette from his fingers and continue down the block. At the corner, you stop abruptly, and lift the stick to your lips, take a drag, then toss it into the street, staring right at him. He frowns and with the hand not stuffed in his jean pocket, raises his middle finger and you shoot him one right back, blowing out smoke and holding back a cough. You flag down a cab with a heavy weight in your chest that crawls up to your throat and threatens to imitate the storm pouring from the clouds above.

The rain follows you into the crowded restaurant and you do your best to shake it off of your clothes and shoes before you go in. An older male server rushes by carrying a tray of soju and shot glasses, beckons you further inside and gestures over to the far end of the room where a small empty table sits in front of the window. As you weave your way towards it, you pass by groups of friends, some couples, others colleagues, all having a good time staying out of the storm together. It makes you a little bitter and a lot lonely.

You sit down with your back facing away from the reminder that you’re the only one occupying a two-person table and order a bottle of soju and a hot bowl of noodles that will take away some of the wet chill clinging to your skin.

A motorcycle zooms by. The engine sounds like a single-cylinder with a good torque. A Ducati maybe?

As you wait, you lean back in your chair, arms crossed, and stare outside, reminiscing about old times. Old friends. All a part of memories now.

A few minutes after the server delivers you a bottle of soju and you take a shot, you head to the bathroom to wash up and finally acknowledge the shame lingering in your appearance. When you emerge, passing by the bar, you’re stopped in your tracks by the face of the man who is the reason for that shame. Your heart pounds abnormally. He’s sitting a few barstools away from you, beanie gone, unveiling orange hair and roots that could use a touch up, with a black and white bandanna tied under his chin, like it was being used as a mask. Was that what he stuffed in your mouth earlier?

You stare at him as he sips some clear liquor out of a whiskey glass and when he finally notices, he, for some reason, doesn’t look that surprised to see you.

“You again,” you scowl. “Who’s stalking who now?” He shrugs.

“This is a small island.”

Your eyes roll at his shit logic.

“Well, sorry to have ruined your whole ‘we’re never gonna see each other again’ bullshit.”

He doesn't reply, just frowns into his glass. Feeling hot all over, you stew as you stomp back to your table to retrieve your wallet, fishing out a large bill that you slap on the counter once you return to the bar. The bartender comes over and you make a point of looking over at the prick while you say,

"His drinks are on me." You prolong your vengeful gaze on him, fighting your tongue when his jaw only clenches in response, and head back to your table in a huff.

You try to let it go and not sear holes through his back, instead focusing on your wonderful meal and full glass of soju. He can go to hell.

It seems that the universe has other plans in store when mid-bite, you feel a presence approach and you think it’s the server coming to check on you, but when you look up and the presence stops at your table, your heart skips at the musk that pummels your lungs and puts you in a chokehold. Because it’s the same one that enveloped you from behind not too long ago, strong enough to mask the stench of cleaning supplies. And the source of it slaps a familiar lone bill in front of you under a veiny, slender hand. He stares down at you with an unreadable look in his eyes. Glancing at the bill, you make no move to take it back or acknowledge the fact that he didn't let you pay, even though you just won a bunch of his money. What is this guy playing at?

"Take it."

"No," you shoot back, resuming your meal for an excuse not to look at him.

He sighs and you think that's the end of it.

But then he scoots into the seat across from you. Your heart flatlines when he glances at you, barely acknowledging you or your shocked expression, and cards a hand through his hair, flipping his bangs away to showcase his forehead, clear of blemishes. Isn’t that fucking typical.

“Um, can I help you?”

“The kitchen’s closing soon and I want to order something,” he says casually as he gets comfortable.

“And you’re sitting at my table because? I thought I was annoying.”

“You are,” he replies, still not looking at you but at your bowl. “But all the other tables are full.”

You scoff and take a sweep of the restaurant, desperate to catch him in a lie - surely people have left and freed up spaces since you got here. Nope. The seat across from you was the only one empty. But why does he have to be the one who fills it?

“You could just go somewhere else.”

“It’s pouring out there.”

“Afraid you’ll melt?”

He flickers a small glare your way, then moves it behind you when the bell over the entrance announces a customer’s arrival. He’s acting indifferent, like he wasn’t just a complete dick, and you don’t know what to make of it.

“So does this mean you're done being an asshole to me now?”

“You think I should be nice or something?”

“That would be a start.”

“Aren’t you not supposed to be nice to strangers? Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”

That draws a cloudy expression over your face. “I’m sure she would’ve if she was ever around.”

He looks at you and you can see a smidge of his hostile demeanor fall away. Your attention drops to your lap, waiting for him to give the little pity party you’re used to people throwing you when they find out you have an absentee parent. But he doesn’t, just shifts in his seat and lets a little tension out of his shoulders.

“Yoongi.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you look across again, thrown for a loop. “What?”

He shrugs, juts out his bottom lip in what you think is a pout. “You wanted my name, right?”

He looks shy and, dare you say, cute saying that.

“Was that so hard? You know that makes us not strangers anymore,” you point out with a widening smile as he glowers at you.

You reach for the soju bottle but he leans forward and snatches it away. Puzzled, you withdraw your hand, but he gestures to your glass and mimes a pour. There’s uncertainty stitched between your brows as you pick up the glass and hold it out with two hands while he pours a shot. You can’t help but notice the scar etched in a jagged line across the back of his right hand turning the bottle, and you look away from it so you don’t gawk. But you’re curious.

Even though you don’t yet fully respect him, he is still 5 years older, so you turn to the side to knock the shot back. When you’re done, you silently offer to return the favor but he shakes his head, fills your glass once again and sets the bottle down, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest, glancing between you and the table with a dart of his tongue over his bottom lip.

You stare at the liquor, tips of your fingers dancing around the rim of the glass as you debate how much of your sobriety you should hold onto for the night.

“You’re not drinking?” you ask after you down the shot, wiping your chin.

“I’m driving.” You hum in acknowledgement.

“Are you gonna eat?”

He shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“I thought that was the whole point of sitting at my table.”

“I changed my mind.” Liar. He’s been eyeing your bowl ever since he sat down.

“You’re a shit liar. No wonder I cleaned you out.”

He flips you off and you just sigh. A lost cause. You catch the scar on the back of his hand again, the skin raised but healed.

The atmosphere between you since his gesture has slowed things down, setting a new pace that’s strange but not entirely unwelcome. The liquor spreading warmth in your chest loosens your inhibitions, bringing forth your curiosity.

"What happened to your hand?”

"Bar fight,” he replies a little too quickly. You don't believe that.

"Some bar fight." He rolls his eyes at your sarcasm but then his attention flickers back with a tick of his eyebrows when you lower the collar of your sweater, exposing the skin just below your right clavicle that displays your own gash.

“I got this when I used to race during my first couple years at university.” You smirk when both his brows shoot up, clearly not expecting your story. “I was drifting and my component spun out and drove me off the road and I smashed into a guardrail. He was fine, but my windshield shattered and a big piece of glass just wedged in right here.” You press a finger against the very visible healed stitching. “It hurt like a motherfucker, dug into my bone and all that, but the scar came out pretty bad ass, don’t you think?”

He tilts his head with an amused expression, as if not expecting you to sound somewhat proud of your preventable injury.

“I’m sure you were smart enough to stop racing after that.”

“Yeah, but I still went to functions and stuff. And then one night, cops busted our spot and a bunch of us got arrested. I spent a couple days in jail and my brother had to come bail me out.” You pause to think about how irate Jin had been, flying halfway across the world to pay your bond, dragging Namjoon along to fight for you not to be charged. Jin chewed you out the entire time, about how dangerous that was and how you could’ve killed somebody and yourself. Of course you knew that, but you’ve always proved to be a damn good driver, only racing on empty roads after memorizing every wind, bump, and bend. You never let him see your scar because he would find a way to never let you see the light of day again. But then he made you transfer schools and you lost touch with your racing friends. You made sure your brothers never found out your accident didn't deter you from speed racing. You were just too good and made money off of it that you couldn't give up.

“And what was that you were saying earlier about being stuck alone somewhere with a felon?” He muses sarcastically.

Glossing over that snide remark, you launch into another anecdote, regaling him in the story of the first time you ever raced when you lost horribly to your brother and he never let you live it down. And the time you were the getaway driver when your brother and your friends decided to add to the graffiti collection under a bridge near school.

“I think you’re oversharing,” he intervenes when you bring your spiel to a close.

“Would you rather sit here and talk about the weather?”

“I’d rather not talk at all.” He looks down as soon as he says it and your eyes droop into a frown. Well, so much for that. Leave it to a guy to pull stupid shit like that.

“Right,” you mutter, leaning down to pick up your bag. “All I’m good for is a fuck.”

You get out your wallet and a large chunk of the cash that you won, leaving a sum for the bill on the table. As you rise, you fold a larger wad in half and slam it down next to his hands. He glances at it before dragging his gaze up to you, blinking a few times as you harshly stare him down. You sniff, swing your bag onto your shoulder, and turn your back on him.

“Stop.” You do and turn, slowly. “I know I’m an asshole, but I wasn’t implying that, okay?”

Blinking at his response, you step up to his edge of the table. You tilt your head, waiting for him to elaborate but when he doesn’t, a mildly disappointed sigh leaves your lungs.

“If that’s your idea of an apology…” He stares up as you hold him in suspense. “Then I’ll take what I can get.”

The tiny quirk of his lips has you plopping back in your seat, albeit a bit reluctant. As you set your bag back down, he slides the cash back over.

“Well, I’m not taking your money.” You frown.

“Well, at least order something to eat, I don’t mind treating. Unless you have that weird masculine thing where it’s offensive if a girl pays for food.”

A light smile threatens to break out on his face and you think it could be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“Nah, I’m never one to turn down a free meal.”

He finally orders and you try not to watch him eat, finding it endearing the way he rests his fingers holding chopsticks against his cheek while he chews. So you just return to quietly sipping your drink and watching the rain beat down on the pavement, illuminated by the street lamps. Occasionally, bumps rise on your skin like they did earlier when you feel his eyes on you. You just let him stare because it makes you feel warm.

The bowl slides to the middle of the table and Yoongi sits back with a satisfied sigh. You look over and smile, getting ready to tease him about his appetite but then the bell rings and Yoongi’s expression drops completely. He straightens in his seat, pulls the bandanna up over the lower half of his face and a dreadful feeling sinks into your gut when he grabs the chopsticks and holds them with a tight grip, veins popping and knuckles paling. You look over your shoulder, blood stirring with anxiety when you see a few men from the poker game heading straight for your table.

“Get your bag,” Yoongi mutters, shifting so his feet are turned to the side. Swallowing thickly, you bring up your backpack and wrap your arms across it, pressing it into your chest.

“So you decided to catch up to her before us. Well done, my friend,” the man says, clapping Yoongi on the shoulder. A cold front moves in on the tips of your fingers, settles a tundra in your gut and freezes you in your seat when Yoongi doesn’t look at you, just stares at the man above him.

Was this all just a ruse? He was just keeping you here so his friends could come and mug you? You’re not that naive.

Right?

Just when you start to doubt all of your life choices, Yoongi smacks off the man’s hand, leans forward with his eyebrows furrowed at you.

“I’m not with them.” Your heart races as you look between them. For once, you feel backed into a corner.

“Yes, you are, pretty boy. Because if you’re not, then it seems to me that you both plotted to set us up and that means you’re both in trouble.”

“No one plotted anything. I’ve never met him before,” you declare, catching onto their lie, washed over with relief that you haven’t been duped.

“You just underestimated me and that’s not my fault.”

The man looks at you with an ugly lip curl.

“Oh, yes it is. You never should’ve been there in the first place, so hand me and my friends back our money and this all goes away. No one gets hurt.”

Yoongi’s jaw moves like he’s grinding his teeth. “That’s not what I heard,” he mutters.

Your clutch anxiously onto the sides of your backpack, not wanting to know what he means. You slowly reach under your chair to grab onto your duffle, ready to run at a moment’s notice.

The stranger bends down to lean towards you. “Give me the money. Now.”

“Get out of her face, man,” Yoongi spits, standing with a hand on his shoulder to push him back. You stand as well, holding tightly onto both of your bags as you look back at the door, but for all you know, there are more men out there waiting.

You jump when the man attempts to snatch your bag but withdraws with a shout in pain, and you don’t expect to see Yoongi piercing his shoulder with the chopsticks. As your heart and mind race, he yanks the utensils with added red out, keeps them in his fist, and shoves back the two men who crowd him, sending them into the tables behind. Dishes crash and customers leap up in exclamations of surprise, and Yoongi takes the opportunity to push you away and get behind you, hand flattened on your spine to compel you in the direction of the kitchen.

He seizes your duffle bag so you have an easier time moving, and you both ignore the protesting shouts from the chefs and servers as you run through the hot kitchen. As you stumble outside, the rain cascades over you, and your heart stops for a moment when you realize you have no plan to escape. But then he wraps his free hand around your forearm, glancing up as more shouts echo from the restaurant. He pulls down the bandana. His face looks radiant in the blurred street lights.

“This way.”

You both take off down the block, and in the midst of the sprint, Yoongi slides down his hand to instead curl his fingers around your wrist and leads you across the street. It’s not the rain that makes you shiver.

The scent of rain washes over you as your feet hit asphalt, a few honks blasting from cars you dart past. Yoongi puts himself between you and the vehicles that shout profanities at him and you can’t help the laugh that escapes you when he shouts right back and throws up a middle finger. You slide your hand into his palm to give him a good tug so he won’t end up in another squabble with an irate driver and he turns back to you. For some reason you’re smiling and when he looks at you, your heart pounds, but it could easily be mistaken for exertion. But when you spot the crinkle at the corners of his eyes that tells you he’s smiling too and your pulse skips a beat, you know it has nothing to do with running.

You have no idea where he’s taking you. But at this moment, you trust him with your life. It’s a 360, but it’s freeing. And nothing like you’ve ever felt before.

You run until you reach the end of the block where a black Ducati motorcycle is parallel parked in between a stretch of cars and he picks up a matte black helmet from the seat and holds it out to you.

“Here, put this on. Hurry up.” The fiberglass is covered in droplets of rain. It means safety, but from this man who gave it to you? Who keeps confusing you?

A dilemma.

“Why did you come after me?”

“What?” he half-shouts over the loud pattering of downpour. “We don’t have time-”

You step up to stand face-to-face with him and he blinks confusion down at you, mouth open as his chest heaves, panting, orange hair darkened and drenched. You glance down at the chopsticks are still trembling in his hand. Adrenaline. He snaps them in half and throws them into the street where they get carried into the storm drain.

It’s raining, but there’s a fire. You repeat your question, keeping the helmet down at your side so there’s not more than an inch between you. He holds your gaze - doesn’t blink or look away. Darkness surrounds you, but there’s none in his eyes.

“I just did.”

He gives no reason, so neither do you when you bunch the front of his soaked black crew-neck and yank him into you, into a kiss that will be seared into your mind like a core memory. He doesn’t lean into it for a split second, like you caught him off guard, but when he does, grabs the side of your face to take over and opens your mouth with his tongue like he’s always meant to taste you, it’s messy and desperate, teeth clacking and mouths moving uncoordinated. It’s the hungriest you’ve ever been kissed. Drinking in the rain, drinking in each other, the helmet slips from your fingers and you don’t notice for a second until he breaks away from your swollen lips and holds it up to you.

“We gotta go.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, regret taking over. He shakes his head and places the helmet into your hands. You frantically look over your shoulder where a few men are catching up, pointing their fingers and shouting as they spot you.

“Come on,” he urges and you slip on the helmet, facing back to see him swinging his leg over the bike and starting up the engine. He sits with your duffle slung around his neck in front of him, chin on his shoulder as he glances back just as you slide behind him.

“Hold tight.” He barely gives you enough time to circle your arms around his waist before he kicks off the curb. The bike roars to life and he speeds it away from the pavement, taking off down the street and into the night. Full of possibilities. You rest your head between his shoulder blades, unable to see the way his fingers tighten around the handle bars. Staring off to the side, you watch the night go by, road illuminated by street lights filtered through the rain, and your heart hammers at the adventure of it all.

The engine still purrs when it comes to a stop, now far enough away from danger. The rain has reduced to a drizzle and your heartbeat thunders within the fiberglass. You flip up the visor so he can hear you marvel,

“You stabbed him.” For you. He stabbed a man for you. And you think that’s why you kissed him.

“I know.”

“That was fucking metal.” His chuckle travels through his chest, so you can feel it in your own.

“I’m glad you think so.” ******* “So, where you headed?” he asks once he comes to the next stoplight. The smell of salt wafts in the air, tell tale sign of the beach.

“My hotel.” “Do you know the directions? I’m not google maps.”

You laugh against his back and tighten your hold around him. His muscles tense up beneath you. At this point, you think you’d let him take you anywhere, but you’re feeling bad about the kiss.

“You don’t have to take me all the way there. Just drop me off at a bus stop, it’s around here somewhere.”

“Buses don’t run this late.” You know for a fact that they do, but you don’t want to dispute him. Especially if it means you can hold onto him like this for just a little longer. Damn. You hated him just a little bit ago. Crazy how fast things can change in the blink of an eye.

“I’ll take a cab then.”

A rev of the engine fills a pause. “It’s late.”

“What?” He clears his throat, talks over his shoulder.

“I said it’s late. And it’s raining. I’ll just drop you off.” A spread of heat in your chest makes this chilly night a bit bearable.

“I thought you’d be itching to get away from me.”

“Yeah, you’d think,” he mutters, hanging his head, sounding dismayed. Or bitter.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Trust me.”

“You just want gas money, huh?” He huffs and tosses his head back, strings of wet hair allowing you a glimpse of his undercut.

“Just give me the damn directions.”

******* All too soon, the venture comes to an end when he pulls into the lot of the beachfront hotel. Quietly, he parks and shuts off the engine and it takes you a second to come down from your rush and realize you’re still holding onto him when there’s no reason to anymore. You snap yourself out of your daze of wishful thinking that this night will never end and remove your arms, immediately missing his warmth and touch. A little too quickly you move off of the seat and he straightens as you stand, removing the helmet and you miss the way he watches you shake out your hair. When you meet his gaze, your heart starts racing again, butterflies multiplying beneath your diaphragm as he stares at you for a moment before glancing down to the helmet you hold out to him. He accepts it with a subtle nod and rests it in his lap while you internally panic, trying to find something not stupid to say so this whole ordeal with him doesn’t end.

“Well, thank you. I half-expected you to ditch me on the side of the road and ride off with my money.”

He leans forward with a soft snort, resting his wrists on the center of the bars, and your heart starts to do gymnastics at the notion that he finds you amusing because it gives you hope that he’s interested enough to not leave yet.

“I’m not that much of an asshole.”

“No, but you’re pretty close.”

“And yet you got on my motorcycle.”

“You told me to trust you and I do.”

“You just said you expected me to ditch you and take your money.”

“Half-expected,” you emphasize. “There’s always room for doubt.”

Just the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile and you don’t want to see it leave.

“Speaking of room, do you have a place to stay?”

“Not around here,” he shakes his head, leaning back to stuff his hands in his jacket pockets. “But I have a friend across town who’ll let me crash, so I should probably get going.”

Tonight, with this man, has been an entire amusement park of emotions. From obscene attraction, to utter loathing, to being enlivened and now to just being plain disappointed. You don’t want to get off this ride just yet.

You squat down and drop your bag to the ground, digging into the front pocket for a pen and notepad. After you find one and rip out a page, you straighten and stride up to the bike without looking at him, writing down the number of your room. You fold it up once you’re done, passing it over, and watch him hesitate before accepting it.

“In case you change your mind,” you say, pointing at the page with your pen as you cap it. “Or if your friend doesn’t want a felon crashing on their couch.”

“And you wouldn’t mind a felon crashing with you?”

“I let a felon fuck me in a goddamn closet. What do you think?”

He holds your stare for a moment before a subtle smile breaks on his otherwise unreadable expression.

“Well, that’s good to know,” he says, shaking his head, and looks at the note for a second longer, then stuffs it in his jacket.

You sense an impending ‘but.’

“But-” You hate being right. “I think I’ll be okay. You should head inside, it’s starting to rain again.”

Not knowing what else to do besides stare at the ground and contemplate if you should write down your number too, you awkwardly hold out your hand, and then upon realizing how weird that is, quickly change your mind and retract it. Embarrassment flooding your cheeks, you reach down to snatch up your bag and turn around. You don’t wave, don’t say anything because what else is there to do? You don’t want to say it was nice to meet him because you’re still trying to figure out if it was, nor do you want to say ‘see you’ because you’re not sure if you ever will after this.

You don’t look back, and as you head towards the main entrance where you can pick up your room key, the sound of the motorcycle revving into gear echoes around you and it’s only when it disappears in the distance do you turn around, wishing you weren’t watching him go. More like you were still on the back.

thanks for reading!! let me know what you think! i love to yap!!

xxx - claret p.s. i wrote the poker scene after watching a ten-minute wiki-how video on how to play texas hold 'em lmao

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fallingforyouforeverr · 5 months ago

Text

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞

ty to @casualvanilla for this idea

author's note: tysm for all the requests guys! sorry that it's taking so long but I'm having rlly bad writers block rn. also, i literally hate the ending of this sm but i couldn't think of how else to finish it.

warnings: none (600+ words)

• f1 masterlist • youtubers masterlist •

Work had been hectic lately, for both you and George, so when he proposed putting everything aside and spending the night together, just the two of you with no distractions, you were more than happy to oblige.

You were in the bathroom, putting the finishing touches on your makeup, when George appeared behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his chin against your shoulder.

"You almost ready?" He asked, pressing a quick kiss to your neck.

You nodded in response, setting down your brushes and turning to face him with a smile. Leaning up on your toes, you peppered kisses across his face, feeling him flush beneath your lips. When you pulled away, his pale skin was scattered with vivid red lipstick stains. Giggles spill from your mouth, causing George to scrunch his face in confusion. Wordlessly, you moved out the way of the mirror, letting him see the marks you left.

"Y/n! Oh my god!" He gasped, swatting playfully at your shoulder, "Get this off me right now!"

His reaction just made you laugh harder. The blond man frowned, trying to be annoyed with you but he couldn't help but laugh with you. Once you had calmed down you complied, grabbing some makeup remover and cotton pads then gently wiping his face clean.

"There you go, handsome as ever."

"I better be," he grumbled, "now we better go or we'll be late."

—♡—

"I'm sooo full" you groaned, throwing yourself face down on the bed.

George chuckled, entering the bedroom after you. "Well, you shouldn't have ordered dessert then love."

You pouted in response, "but it was so good though."

He nodded in agreement, sitting next to you on the bed and taking his shoes off. "You gonna sleep like that?"

Standing back up, you took of your shoes and placed them next to George's. You went to unzip your dress, before realising that you couldn't reach. Before you even had to ask him, you felt the warmth of George's hand on your back as he pulled your zip down and moved back to allow you to step out of the fabric.

"Can I borrow a shirt?" You asked, even though you already knew the answer. He told you that you could, so you went to grab it from the drawer then went to the bathroom so you could finish getting ready for bed

A few minutes later, you emerged out of the bathroom, with your skincare complete and hair tied up into a messy bun. You noticed George had changed too, as he was now in sweatpants and a clean shirt. Since it was still quite early, you two had decided to watch a movie, so he was currently lying in bed, looking on the tv for something to watch.

"Hey," he smiled at you. "What do you wanna watch?"

You grinned cheekily back at him. "Um, how about... w-"

"Don't you dare say wild child!"

"Why not?"

George rolled his eyes at your dramatic pout, but he couldn't suppress his smile. "We always watch that movie," he pointed out.

"Because it's good!" You argued, grabbing the remote from him and searching it up on Netflix

He just shook his head with a laugh, grabbing your waist and pulling you into his side. Shuffling slightly to rest your head on his chest, you pressed play on the movie.

Before long, George heard soft snores and looked down to see you asleep. He gently kissed your forehead before turning the tv off, drawing you closer and closing his eyes, finally succumbing to sleep himself.

#george clarke #george clarke x reader #george clarkey #george clarkey x reader #george clarke x you #sidemen #arthurtv #arthur hill #cariad rambles

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foundfamily-connoisseur · 1 month ago

Text

PUNCH OUT HCS CUZ I DONT GOT TIME TO DRAW THEM BUT THEY WONT LEAVE ME ALONE!!!

Something something the voices

This is so long I'm sorry

No I'm serious I started derailing I think

LITTLE MAC

Mexican-American! His ma is Mexican and immigrated to The Bronx, where she met Mac's dad (who we have nothing on lol, he dipped before Mac was born).

His ma? Oh yeah, she died :( He doesn't know how, just that he came home one day (latchkey kid) and saw the cops surrounding the apartment. Placed him in an orphanage but got into fights a lot and deemed him a 'problem child' (literally just an autistic kid grieving the loss of his mom)

As said, Lil Mac is autistic! For the most nonverbal and thus uses ASL, but also speaks English and Spanish from time to time(English from Doc, Spanish from his mother and childhood friends who helped him keep up). Spanish is his preferred language tho.

Narcolepsy haver. It usually doesn't interfere much with his actual boxing matches since he's learned to feel when they're coming and deal with them accordingly. Took him and Doc a while to figure out that he had it since they just chalked it up to his prior malnutrition(which also impacted his growth, capping him at a whole 4'9)

Affectionate(?): must be initiated by him. He's very much for hugging and holding hands but if someone else does it first he's like :/. Only people he's ok with is Doc Louis so far.

Trans: transman who figured himself out pretty early when he only played soccer with the boys out in the mud. His mom cut his hair super short as a 'punishment' for always getting dirt in his braids but jokes on her he loved it. Doc has been helping him with hormone blockers, and with the prize money saving up for surgery 🙏 you can do it maccie boy!!! No one else in the ring knows and he'd rather keep it that way thank you (both out of nerves but also why do they need to know 🤨 what are they the fbi???)

Fashion sense: if you try to get this boy in anything but a tank/shirt and shorts he will explode. This man rocks flip flops and sneakers for days and it's all that's in his wardrobe (maybe another hoodie or two). A lot of them are rather worn but he hates the idea of "wasting" money so he uses em till they're literally impossible to wear.

Very spiritual: believes in el Mal Ojo aka Evil Eye and such. (Mostly from his mother and the women on the block that took him in from time to time). If he thinks your vibes are off, he will do an egg cleanse and swears that they work (they do i can attest to that chat).

GLASS JOE

EDS HAVER!!!!! (Ie Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome). This man has glass bones and paper

he don't care he will fight till he's dead! That and boxing actually does rlly help him with his joint pains. He finds it kinda funny when ppl worry about him like "sorry guys i gotta lie down real quick i think my ribs went criss cross". He prefers to get around on wheel chair but can get by with crutches(to which he just lays on the bed forever afterward)

Cat dad!!!!: less him having an actual pet cat than him just tending to whatever feline that crosses his path. May or may not have some scratches on his hands don't worry about it.

Actually really good friends with Mac: (we're going to pretend that they aren't literally thousands of miles away shut up). One of the few to make an actual effort to learn ASL rather than pick it up slowly or have Doc translate. In turn, Mac has gone about learning bits and pieces of French, enough so that both can communicate in their respective language and the other can (mostly) understand them.

This man is such a critic like what do you mean the food lacked a certain "je ne sais quoi" or the movie "insisted upon itself". He really wants to be nice but if it has any touch of French, he is going to murder it because it isn't French enough or actually accurate.

Had an ex fiance to which they broke off for reasons he'd rather not elaborate.

VON KAISER

Tics: he has em. They worsen under stress, but occur randomly or if overstimulated

Served in the military before being discharged. He doesn't like talking about and his tics start acting up if the topic is brought up.

Widower: wife died fairly early into their marriage and he was absolutely distraught. They both always talked about having kids, and a part of him still wants that, but it won't be the same without his Engelchen.

Career: he had wanted to be an engineer, but after serving in the military couldn't bring himself to go into it. That, and being a boxing teacher let's him tend to kids, even if it means getting socked in the stomach. He always acts like a strict instructor, both from his own experience in the military and because he wants to keep the kids at arms length. Also his wife being a kindergarten teacher had nothing to do with it nooooo

Close friends with Hondo and Glass Joe. Bear Hugger is a friendly fella but his loud and boarish disposition gets him riled up. Gets along well with Little Mac and if Doc isn't present for whatever reason, he's good at helping Mac calm down if he starts getting overstimulated and vice versa.

He also totally doesn't have Lil Mac be a pseudo son to him and think about his kis could've been potentially his age who said that.

Emotional support animal: German shepherd called Hugo. That's his baby right there

Disco Kid

That man's a fruit your honor!!!! No but fr tho he's a queer man living his best life.

Also a drag queen! (Name pending). Doesn't really care for how others perceive him and goes with the flow really.

Definitely fought with his dad a lot when he was younger, but as he grew his father came around and now they have a pretty solid relationship.

He's a total mommas boy tho he will literally die for her. He also has a little sister who he plays dolls with. (And yes she asks him to say it in his girl voice iykyk)

Gets along with pretty much everyone besides Mr. Sandman really (Aran Ryan is an interesting case. You heard it from the grape vine but they have an on and off relationship).

An art major for sureeeee. Idk what kind but im sensing something

Really good with machinery though. Usually just so he can fix up his car and stereos.

KING HIPPO

He is for sure not human. I always draw him more beastly but he's probably closer to whales/hippos than actual people.

Like hippos, all that's fat is really just pure muscle. No cuz google up a hippo and remove their skin them bitches are SHREDDED!!!

Naturally very affectionate, although he prefers his pals in the minor circuit (and Lil Mac. Yes this is Little Mac supremacy everyone will be his friend).

Absolutely loves cocktails. They come with fruit how can he not. Funnily enough he despises apples though.

Has multiple wives: a primary wife and secondary wives. Has kids with most of them and naturally, the first born son will take his place when the time comes. (He does love all his kids and wives equally tho so don't worry about them).

Surpringly eloquent" while he can't exactly form human speech, his writing is impeccable, both in letter and in word choice. No one knows how he does it with those claws and big ass hands.

PISTON HONDA

This man has so much manga it's insane. This mf probably has a whole room dedicated to his collection. Yes most of them are Shojo and yes he has a lot of Sailor Moon merch and memorabilia. (although he does also enjoy other such Mangas like JJBA and Inuyasha. I'd say he's embarrassed about it but bro was reading Sailor Moon out in the open so id say he's at least fine with reading it publicly.

Has gotten some of the other boxers to read some of his recs and watch some animes with him (he will force you to watch Madoka Magica and Revolutionary Girl Utena. It's only a matter of time.) It's also how he got into other shows like Candy Candy (by Mac), The Golden Girls(by Disco Kid. He likes his oldies what can he say), and pretty much any and every telenovela ever created (Wow wonder who it could be).

Has a pet Shiba Inu that he loves to bits but DAMN does she test his patience sometimes. And he has a lot of it.

Also began learning ASL when he caught wind of Glass Joe doing it, although he practically forced Lil Mac to learn Japanese because damn it, sometimes the dub doesn't do the show justice!!!

Has two older sisters!!! He's the baby of the family lol and it don't matter if he can pick em both up they'll still pinch his cheeks and tease him.

BEAR HUGGER

Trans: a transgender man who's loud and proud. Never bothered with top surgery he ain't cutting off his girls!!! He could pick up the vibe™️ with Little Mac but he's not the type to try and force the conversation. He'll let Mac come to him on his own time, and if not then that's fine too.

Loads of animals: similar situation to Glass Joe, although now it applies to all animals. Bro is a Disney princess. He sticks his arms out and birds fly to perch on them. Can seemingly hold an actual conversation with animals and no one knows if he's losing it or if they are.

Family: an only child, but with loads of cousins who fill in that sibling role. He's actually really good with kids and takes care of his nieces and nephews from time to time. He has thought about being a dad from time to time (he'd really like to have a girl) but always decides against it.

Affectionate: to the highest degree. That man is always asking if ya need a hug and it ain't just a threat for a grapple/ear clap. He and King Hippo get along swimmingly as a result (if only they didn't die if they went to each other's respective home country 😔)

Prosthethic: ya cant tell cuz of his clothes, but he has a prosthetic leg! (Stops a bit below the knee). If he ever takes it off for whatever reason, he always goes "aw man, guess I'm on my last leg" and the crowd goes mild. Thinks it's the funniest shit ever tho and he won't stop making the joke (Little Mac made it worse by giving an actual chuckle. Mac you've doomed us all with your horrible sense in jokes. I blame Doc)

GREAT TIGER

Loves cats: absolutely adores them. This man has a cat onesie I can feel it in my bones. He hangs out with Glass Joe solely for the cat (also the baguettes).

Gossip: he has a horrible habit of gossiping that he's tried to curb but astaghfirullah sometimes he's gotta talk about Don's receding hairline😔 Mac isn't helping him pinche chismoso!!!

Doesn't like going to parties involving alcohol with the WVBA because almost always he's forced into designated driver. Usually he just teleports away because he's not dealing with that yall are calling an uber!!!!

Actively avoids searching up ingredients in things he eats (like gummies) because if he doesn't know it's not Haram.

Sneakerhead: very proud of his collection. Also really into rap music (we don't talk about his career...that never happened chat) and you will hear it blasting from his car.

Sister!!! Stealing this from a fic but he has a younger sister who works internationally. If she's there with him she serves as his translator.

Magic: not limited to clones or what's seen in the game, but it's his preferred type of magic. He can also transform things and people into other things/creatures. He accidentally made Mac into a rabbit and everyone had a field day with that one.

DON FLAMENCO

Chismoso: this man will shit talk anything and anyone. If you talked with him chances are you're part of a gossiping ring with the older ladies who work nearby. I think they're talking about how you're a puta but idk

Former womanizer: this man banged anything that had a beating heart and a pretty body. It wasn't until he met Carmen that he knew what love really was. Once they got together UGHHHH this man was a fucking loser for his Carmen. Took years to win her over but it was all worth it for his amor.

They talk about kids sometimes, but this mf childish that he sees it as having to share his beloved fiance. (They for sure have kids later down the line tho. Give them a minute damn!)

Beef: tbh he doesn't really get along with anyone; he just dislikes them all to varying degrees. He and Mac hate each other on the principle of one being Hispanic/Latino and the other being a Spaniard. Do NOT leave them alone for any reason. Last time they both argued about the spanish word for 'straw' and sent each other to the hospital where they argued some more.

Telenovelas are his life force. If you interrupt his showing of La Rose de Guadalupe, he will literally kill you.

Got Aran Ryan into it by accident: he was watching Teresa in the living room when Ryan was crossing to go to the kitchen for a bite. An hour later he's sat on the couch hand in heads. They both watch it together now.

Great cook: he makes a means paella and he knows it. Always makes it to show off 'Spain Superiority'. Little Mac hates his guts but he's not gonna turn down a free paella.

ARAN RYAN

People joke and say he has brain damage which is why he's so crazy, but he actually does have CTE so 💀

Family: aside from his general knack for recklessness, having a piece of shit mom and an even worse dad (who of course had to die in a freak accident at work) does not exactly leave you the most sound. He has loads of sisters and brothers, being the second oldest of the bunch (with one older sister of which the hate is mutual). It's a big factor to why he doesn't want kids; he's spent a big chunk of his life working to raise them.

Boxing: to him it was both an outlet for his eventually anger issues and a means to raise money in the same punch. It did lead to fucking him up physically, as after a particularly nasty bout with Mr. Sandman, an eye got knocked out of place so he's working with only 50%.

Very jittery: you can never catch this man staying still. Even in his sleep he either tosses or twitches a leg or arm. Trying to make him stay still just makes it worse.

Repressed Bi it's not even funny. His excuse for his on and off relationship with Disco Kid is "well he's basically a lady!" He'll come to terms with it eventually, but that's one hell of a long road.

Superstitious: biggest thing for him is luck. he breaks a lot of shit but mirrors are not one of them!

Low-key misogynistic: "my sister punches harder than ye, boy!" Like damn your sister must be knocking ppls jaws clean off the freak. If he ever finds out that Lil Mac is trans it's just gonna be him like "SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT" cuz now he's gonna get canceled on Twitter dot com by Super Macho Man😔😔😔

SODA POPINSKI

Married!!! Has a tiny little wife that he loves to bits. She will scold him and he's just all :]]]] wife...I luv her sm... he's a total wifeman

They've been trying for a kid (bro you can't just say that...gross). Naturally this man wants a shit load of them god help that woman.

A major reason to why he's been making efforts to curb his drinking habits! Of course he still hits the bottle every so often, but he's for sure gotten better than his first time in the ring.

Cooking skills: surpringly decent believe it or not! Anything with meat he's killer with and he always makes ridiculously large portions. (Yes it's because he wants to make something nice for his lady let me make a wife guy!!!!)

Really likes Beyonce. Major fan actually he goes to so many of her shows.

Horrible with social cues. This man does not understand when he's being too overbearing (to the detriment of his friendship with many alas😔 especially Von Kaiser and Little Mac). Tries to apologize by offering them a soda like 🥺🥤

Speaking of Little Mac, he once tripped over him (6'7 vs 4'9...oh dear). Flash forward to them in the hospital. They both swear to never speak of this again (also Soda gets him authentic mexican cola so like...we're all good here).

BALD BULL

Anger issues galore: got his father's temperament(don't we all???) And in addition to being bullied a lot as a kid, he hasn't really found the best way to manage. Usually he just goes out to a secluded field or heads out to the sauna, but the press has done little favors to his mental sanity.

Cat magnet: not of his own volition. They are drawn to him like flies to honey. He doesn't really mind them and are a nice way to de-stress.

Music taste: while he usually listens to classical music and instrumentals, he loves himself some girlie pop music. You pull out his ear buds and just catch "Girls just wanna have funnnnn" Before he punches you into the sun

Cattle farm: Inherited from his family, he loves all his cows to bits. They are his pride and joy. He has Glass Joe come over sometimes for some cheese and wine.

Isn't particularly close to any of the boxers beyond Glass Joe and Soda Popinski. He spends some time with Lil Mac, usually just to go out and get some ice cream or something. He likes the kids company cuz he isn't as energetic or demanding in the same regard a lot of teens are.

SUPER MACHO MAN

He for sure has a purse dog named princess. It's a white pomeranian with a pink bow i just known it.

Was a child actor! His family got him into the world early, staring as the sweetheart of whatever show or movie he was in. In his later teens, he was the heart throb before he left the scene as an adult to focus on boxing. His parents were at first disappointed, but after seeing the money roll in? They had no problems after that.

Romance: as expected, nothing permanent. He usually just has loads of flings or one time hook ups that never amount to anything, and he doesn't bother looking for anything "real".

Probably has a kid out there somewhere but if he does, he's denying it till his dying breath.

Similarly to Don, he doesn't really get along with anyone. For him it's just a matter of his own superficial nature. He absolutely detests Mac, but is the only one to know ASL fluently due to a former childhood friend. He doesn't use it beyond wanting to be bitchy in secret.

I know he's super tan but I'm not allowing him to be white. He's a lil something...will figure that out later.

MR SANDMAN

Yeah ngl I don't got a lot for him. I don't think i have anything actually. Huh

He mains Kirby in smash.

He used to have a lisp when he was younger

Yknow how some parents will have kids super far apart? Yeah his parents did that what do you mean he was 22 and he got a new baby sister. What the freak.

He absolutely hates Macs guts but also can't take him seriously on account that he's 4'9. Whose child is this. Literally, when he first entered the ring, he asked whose kid was this and that children weren't allowed in the ring. Lo and behind this was the schmuck that knocked the lights out of 12 other fully grown men, and he was coming for your ass next.

BONUS

DOC LOUIS

Took Mac in when he was around 9, formally adopted him as soon as he could. Heard of a ruckus for a missing child some minutes away and when he came back with Little Mac, he thought he found his parents. Then he got the situation explained to him about how he didn't actually have anyone, everyone just agreed to look out for him. There he officially took him in as his son.

Put the kid back in school after learning he hasn't been in since his mom died. He's considerably behind for his age, but has taken great strides to catch up. He's now just a year behind.

Definitely a major learning curve when it came to raising a child, much less one who barely spoke english(if he spoke at all) and prone to outbursts. It's been years since then and he can't imagine a world without that kid.

Had a wife but they divorced after he found out she had an affair. Sent him on a downwards spiral but he managed to pick himself back up. Having a kid to raise really helps him out.

Close to his sister, but that's about it. She's who gave him pointers on how to raise a kid, as they were about the same age. He doesn't think hes have done as well if it wasn't for her.

Former coach of Bald Bull, but parted ways after arguments on what exactly that wanted to do moving forward. They're amicable now, though.

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luvfy0dor · 1 year ago

Text

"How Gorgeous !!" BSD x GN!Reader

╰┈➤ Fyodor, Nikolai, Chuuya♡

Warnings; yk the drill; probably a little ooc, other than that pure fluff, dyed hair Nikolai bc I saw some people who REALLY dislike blonde Nikolai so I'm just gonna put that as a warning

Description; Select bsd boys letting you do stuff with their hair

A/N; I'm so sorry to the two people in my requests I know dad Fyodor anon is there and so is another rlly cute request, Im thinking stuff up I pinky promise :(( im not ignoring anyone istg I'm just having severe writers block so when i got this idea i wrote it out as fast as possible just to have something out for yall, i hate posting only twice a week.

Fyodor Dostoevsky ༉‧₊˚.

Fyodor enjoyed having his hair washed, he liked the feeling of your soft fingers massaging his scalp while he hummed, very pleased with the favor you had stepped up to do for him.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

The sound of water splashing against the porcelain of the tub filled the bathroom as you drew a bath for Fyodor and yourself. His plans were all over the place as of late, and you felt maybe a nice bath and head massage might soothe him a bit. His hair was getting a bit greasy under that ushanka, and you weren't gonna just let him go about his day overworked and musty.

You could hear the door unlock, along with the soft tapping of Fyodors boots, coming to a pause and being momentarily substituted by the clicking of the lock. You stood up, shaking the water off of your hand from checking the temperature and turning to him.

"Hi Fedya, how's your work coming along?" You ask, removing the ushanka from his head and brushing his bangs away from his face. He hums and rests his head on yours, his hands gently stroking your back. "It's not coming along very well, if I'm honest, dear." He sighs retracting from the hug and starting to remove his shoes and unbutton his shirt. "Very stressful."

You nod in understanding, sliding his shirt off his shoulders while he undoes the final buttons. "Things will work out for you, they always do." You say. You both finish undressing and get into the tub, Fyodor sitting between your legs and kinda leaning back against you, his eyes closed as he sighs, clearly relaxed. You fill your cupped hand with water and spill onto his head, the droplets trickling down the thin strands of his midnight colored hair.

His steady breathing was your indicator that he was feeling at the very least a little better. You pumped some shampoo into your hand and ran it through his hair, your fingertips rubbing against his scalp, drawing soft sounds of contentment from his lips. Filling a small, nearby cup with water, you gently poured it over his head and rinsed out the suds. Some of the water drips down his face, small drops catching in his eyelids as his head leans back. You smile at his small reactions.

"Mmn, that feels very nice, my dear." He murmurs, the corners of his lips being tugged into a small smile, a smile of leisurly pleasure. "Good." You reply while you begin lathering conditioner in the ends of his relatively long hair. The scent of the tea tree conditioner only added to the lingering fragrance of the matching shampoo. Fyodor liked the smell of tea tree, and if he didnt use that, he used faint floral scents. You run your fingers through his straight hair, parting a couple of pieces and starting to absent-mindedly braid them together, weaving the strands over and under each other.

Fyodor tilts his head back a bit more, rotating it to look at you. "Are you thinking about anything in particular?" He questions, his gaze soft. You shake your head, running your fingers through the braided hair pieces, ultimately undoing it. "No, not really." And it was the truth. The two of you were basking in the moment the way a lizard does in the sun. Your hand snakes down to grab onto his, giving it a soft squeeze which he returns. After washing yourselves off, you stand up and wrap towels around yourselves once you've initially rid most of the drops of water from your skin. You both get dressed in pajama pants, a tee shirt for you and a sweater for Fyodor, a smaller towel around his neck.

The towel is visibly wet as Fyodor leans against the sink, watching you ruffle your hair to dry it. "Fedya, your towel is soaked. Here, let's blow dry your hair." You say, reaching into one of the drawers of the sink, pulling out the blow-dryer and plugging it into the wall. "We could always towel dry it and save money on the electricity bill." He says, starting to squeeze any remaining water out of his hair with the towel.

"It's fine, trust me, it's not like it's upping the bill a trillion dollars." You say, the nozzle of the blow-dryer pointed just downwards of Fyodors chin, aimed towards the (a little more than) damp ends of his hair. "Alright, alright." He nods at your response. "Okay, ready?" You ask, your finger hovering over the 'on' switch. "Mhm." He nods with a soft smile, and with that you flick on the blow-dryer to the lowest setting. The air is hot as you move the dryer from side to side, not allowing the heat to be directed to one spot and burning Fyodors skin.

Fyodor listens to the whir of the blow dryer with his eyes closed, his eyebrows furrowing when the warm air hits his forehead as you get his bangs. You laugh at his expression under your breath and ruffle his hair a bit to dry the roots better. Once his hair was...well, dry enough, the sound of the hair dryer came to a halt. His eyes opened again, their purple color as beautiful as ever under the dim bathroom light. His hand goes to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin, as he places a soft kiss on the corner of your lips. When he pulls away, he's giving you a small, faint smile.

"Thank you for pampering me, it is a wonderful feeling." He quietly says, one of his hands on the bottom of your neck. You nod and give him a full kiss on the lips in response. "You're welcome, I love doing that type of stuff for you. I like playing around with your hair." You state, pushing a strand behind his ear. You stare into each other's eyes for another couple of seconds before he leans backwards, unlocking and opening the door. The cold air from the rest of the house causes you to shiver a little.

"Would you like to join me for some tea before bed?" He asks, standing in the doorway. You nod and follow him, flicking the light off behind you as you both make your way to the kitchen. He starts to boil the water in a kettle, grabbing a tea bag from the cabinet for each of you. He waits for the water to reach it's boiling point and leans against the counter, gently pulling you into his chest. You smile and wrap your arms around his torso, one hand reaching up to twirl some of his hair around your finger. He sighs softly, leaning his head backwards and into your touch. When the water is finally ready, he softly guides your body to the side, walking past you to fill the mugs with water and dip the tea bags in. After a couple moments, he hands you your cup, sipping from his.

"Thank you, my love." You murmur with a appreciative smile while taking a sip yourself. He nods. "Ofcourse, dear."‧₊˚.

Nikolai Gogol ༉‧₊˚.

Nikolais hair isn't just white naturally, obviously, so whenever his hair needed to be touched up, he turns right to his lover to help him out. He tried doing it himself and nearly ended up with bald spots from forgetting about the bleach and leaving it on for WAY too long.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Although they weren't those most noticable thing in the entire world, Nikolais roots were starting to show. You had noticed though, ofcourse, because you spend a lot of time around him. Every time the taller man was snoring in your arms, your eyes drifted down to the forming tufts of dark blonde hair peeking through the white, shiny strands. You made him aware of it, and he sent you off to get bleach and toner after he couldn't find any around the house. That conversation was exactly what landed you in the hair aisle of the store closest to you.

You inspected the packaging of each dye until you could deem one a good enough and trustworthy brand. You brought it up to the register and payed for it, exiting the store and driving back home. The weather was rather gloomy and rainy today, making you skitter quickly through the driveway and to the door. Pushing it open, you sigh having finally escaped the rain. Though it wasn't pouring, it was still not something you wanted to stand in for all that long. "Kolya!" You called out to your boyfriend through out the halls of your home, taking off your shoes and jacket.

Upon fully standing up, you went to walk further into the house just as you could see a yellow light starting to form behind you. You laugh a bit before turning around. "How many times do I have to tell you, you're not gonna be able to scare me by doing that." You say with a playful eyeroll. His head fully pokes through the portal. "You can tell me as many times as you want, dear, that doesn't mean I'm not gonna try it." He says with a grin, his hand popping through the portal to gently guide your face closer to his. He presses a kiss to your cheek before he fully comes through the portal.

"You got the bleach?" You nod, holding up the box. "Yeah, c'mere, we'll touch up your roots right now." He follows you into the bathroom as you pry open the box, shaking the contents onto the sink counter. You grab the gloves and slide your hands into them before turning to Nikolai. "Here, go sit on the edge of the tub so I can do this accurately." You say, pointing in the direction of the bathtub. He nods and sits down, his feet in the tub with his back facing you. You stand with your hands on your hips while reading the directions and grabbing the packet of bleach powder. Nikolai peers at you over his shoulder, grinning at your face of concentration.

You mix the bleach with the developer together in the bowl, setting it back on the counter once it's the right consistency and walking over to Nikolai. "Your hair is so long, Kolya." You say, undoing his usual braid and starting to section his hair as he smiles. "Ofcourse it is! Its been growing for a long time, my dove." He replies with a grin, feeling your hands part his hair and clip certain pieces in certain places to keep them separated. You started applying the bleach to his roots, his soft 'tee-heeing' being heard over the sound of the bleach being applied to his hair, apparently in a ticklish way.

"Does it tickle that much?" You ask, grabbing another bit of his hair. He nods. "Yes, yes it does." He beams, kicking his feet up onto the other edge of the tub.

Upon making it all the way around your boyfriends head, you proudly stood back to observe your work; the blue substance already lightening the first bits of hair you worked on. "It's already working, Kolya, your hair will be renewed in like...well, the box says twenty minutes." You say, inspecting the piece of cardboard. "Oh, I'm sure you did such a wonderful job. I'm so excited to see it." Nikolai says, standing up from his place on the side of the tub.

"Wait a minute," you say, exiting the bathroom and heading to the kitchen before returning, ripping a piece of aluminum foil from the roll you had fetched. "If we stick this on your head, it'll go quicker." He laughs and pats the foil down on his head, nodding. "And why is that?" You think for a moment. "It traps heat and stuff." You say, stepping out of the bathroom and into the hallway, Nikolai following you. "Oh wow! My dove is just so smart!" He says with his cheeky little grin. You playfully roll your eyes and toss your gloves in the garbage can.

"That's basic, I feel like everyone knows that. I think you know that too, but you just wanted to hear that from my mouth." He nods, resting his hand on your shoulder. "See? What a genius." You quietly scoff.

You wait out the twenty minutes with Nikolai, talking about whatever silly stuff comes to mind. When the timer on your phone rings, you crumple up Nikolais make shift aluminum hat and tossing it in the garbage. You examine the roots of his hair, which are a very pale yellow. You shrug it off and bring him to the bathroom, rinsing the bleach out of his hair and shampooing and conditioning it with his head under the tub faucet. You put a towel over his head and ruffle his hair, examining it once more.

"Oh, it's not that yellow." You murmur. "The toner will fix that, and then you'll be twinning with Fukuchi again." You say, your eyes scanning the bathroom counter for the box with the toner. You raise an eyebrow when you come to realize it's not there. You must have left it in your car, so that's where you head with a soft hum of confusion. Bolting out to your car, trying to avoid the rain, you're met with a toner-less sight. You sigh.

"I didn't even buy it." You say to Nikolai exasperatedly while simultaneously scanning your receipt, and unsurprisingly finding only the bleach. "Aw, don't worry! We can get it when the rain clears up, I won't make you go out again." He insists, pulling you into his chest. You just sigh and wrap your arms around him. "Yeah, you're right." You murmur, your body limply leaning against his. He pats your back.

"Come sit down with me, we should play a board game or a card game. They're perfect for rainy days, don't you agree?" He says, plopping down on the couch. "I do agree. Do you have a preference for a specific game right now?" He thinks for a moment before shaking his head. "No, not in particular." You go off to find a good game for the both of you to play, settling on Uno. "Okay Kolya, quiz time! What game do I have?" You say, imitating your boyfriend. He giggles at your impersonation of him, placing a finger on his chin while thinking. "Hmm, I'm gonna guess Uno." He says. You nod, making him grin.

"I guess we're both quite smart then, dove! Let's play, shall we?" He pats the seat on the couch next to him, making you smile as you nod and walk over to sit with him. ‧₊˚.

Chuuya Nakahara ༉‧₊˚.

Chuuya didn't really entrust many people with the task of cutting his hair and keeping it a constant length, but with one hell of a lot of convincing, he decided to let you try it.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Walking down the hallway, you had a little more pep in your step than usual. Your boyfriend finally decided he trusted you enough with his hair to let you trim it. Whether you have experience with cutting hair or not didn't matter, you were determined to make this the best haircut Chuuya would get in his entire life.

You only did minimal preparation for this, and by minimal preparing you had some kitchen scissors, a comb, and a brush. As you turned the corner into your shared bedroom, you saw your red-headed boyfriend sitting on the edge of the bed, seemingly rethinking his decision. "Alright, Chuuya! I'm gonna give you the best trim of your life, trust me." You say, waving him into the bathroom to follow you. He does with a nervous sigh, standing next to you in the mirror.

"Alrigh, Chuuya. How much do you want off?" You ask, starting to brush out his un-even hair. "No more than half an inch doll, don't get me wrong, I love and trust you and all but.." he murmurs, staring at you through the mirror.

"Oh no, I get that, I would NEVER let you do this to me." You say, combing through his hair. "What?!" He says, a shocked look on his face. You laugh a bit before grabbing the scissors. "Im joking, don't worry." You reassure him, cutting off some hair on the back of his head. He hears the scissors cut a bit off and his eye twitches.

You continue snipping away, little clusters of his hair fall onto his shoulders and onto the floor. You could see his eyes following every chunk as it dropped, hitting the floor tiles after drifting from side to side for a couple moments. "Chuuya, it looks perfectly fine so far, don't worry." You proudly state, grabbing a hold of some of the longer hair, combing it out and cutting off a half inch of it as he asked. "I'm not too sure about that, but whatever you say, darlin'." He mumbles, his intense stare aimed at you. It wasn't aggressive or mean, but a bit anxious.

You continued, pulling at pieces of Chuuyas hair, one small section at a time, really putting your heart and soul into his trim. Once you had decided you were done, you stepped back and grabbed a smaller mirror, turning Chuuya around and handing it to him. "Here, look! It turned out very well, if I do say so myself." He thoroughly assessed it before nodding.

"Alright, you're right, it doesn't look nearly as bad as I thought it would." He says, ruffling it a bit before brushing it out and putting his hat on. "Oh, did you not have any faith in me at all?" You playfully scoff, your hands on your hips. He grins and shakes his head. "Don't you worry doll, I've got plenty of faith in you. My faith doesn't lie in your barber skills, though." He says, his gloved fingers guiding your chin closer to his face, his soft lips gently colliding with yours, making you smile. His thumb gently caresses your jawline.

When he pulls away, he doesn't go far. He murmurs a couple of soft words against your lips. "You did real good though, I must admit." He says, admiring his hair in the mirror, running his fingers through it.

"Im glad you like it." You say, observing his hair, too. "Maybe I should let ya do my hair more often." He looks over at you with a small grin. You laugh a little and nod. "Yeah, maybe you should."

529 notes · View notes

mcytshipsandmore · 3 months ago

Note

I desperately miss flower husbands

Like genuinely, I want them back.

I get it, ranchers is funky (/pos) and wholesome and all

But I kind of hate the fact that ppl just like… left flower husbands completely and now ppl call it toxic.

Ik there are still flower husbands shippers out there, obviously, but like… yk what I mean?

And I’ve seen someone say before in refute to the whole “guys it’s a block game, it’s rlly not toxic to hit someone in a BLOCK GAME” saying that: “yeah, it’s a block game, so why did u call them husbands?”

DID YA’LL FORGET THAT SCOTT STARTED IT?? DID YA’LL FORGET THAT SCOTT STARTED THE “husband” PART OF IT?? HAD SCOTT NOT SAID “nope, we’re married now” (or whatever he said idk I’m dying rn ycxtkctixitxt) WHEN JIMMY GAVE HIM THE POPPY WE PROB WOULDNT HAVE CALLED THEM FLOWER HUSBANDS. HAD SCOTT NOT LITERALLY SCREAMED “NOO MY HUSBAND!” WHEN JIMMY DIES FOR THE SECOND TIME, DO U THINK WE WOULD HAVE CALLED THEM HUSBANDS??? DO U??? WE PROBABLY WOULD HAVE CALLED THEM LIKE FLOWER BOYFRIENDS OR SMTH

PLEASEEE PEOPLE STOP CALLING THEM TOXIC I SWEAR TO GOD THEY’RE NOT.

LIKE HAVE YOU SEEN EMPIRES SEASON 1???? HAVE YOU SEEN IT??? THEY’RE SO VGTIDTIERSTIDKDKTDKTDOY

Anyway

Sorry for yapping in ur inbox I was feeling a bit emo

I am currently watching Empires s1 and yeah I agree. It feels like people sometimes mistake Scott’s teasing for bullying.

-🍫

#mcyt #mcyt shipping #answered asks #mcytblr #shipping #mcytumblr #empiresshipping #empires smp #flower husbands #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #scott x jimmy

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cleake · 1 year ago

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OMGGGGG can u do one where Draco has a crush on Gryffindor! Muggleborn!reader, but she’s a muggle born so he bullies her, so nobody finds out, and after one particular harsh insult, she breaks down and runs away and bumps into Harry (she’s besties w the golden trio) and he comforts her and they share a kiss, and the next day during breakfast, the whole school sees the pair walk in hand in hand, Hermione and Ron r teasing them and Draco is left feeling rlly guilty?

tysmmmmm

Hello, Hello

I enjoyed writing this (I’m working on other requests too, don’t worry :))

Warning: English is not my first language, please excuse any mistakes

Draco didn’t like you, he despised you. At least he had to. How would it look, you, a muggleborn, being with him? A majestic pureblood? Absolutely no. What would his father think? What would the people think? What would The Dark Lord think? He’d be despised and disowned, that’s for sure. But he secretly wished and hoped that one day he could be lovely to you. He secretly wished and wanted to be kind to you, he secretly wanted to make you feel loved and cared for. But his job is to make you feel horrible, helpless, disgusting because of the horrendous blood that pumps in your veins. How tragic.

And this day was no different, Draco found you, cornered you with his words and that disappointed, disapproving scowl on his face.

„There you are, you filthy mudblood. Oh, how I was not looking forward to seeing you.” Lie. He couldn’t wait to see you. His heart was aching for it for the whole day, „What’s that? A potion book? You shouldn’t even be entitled to hold that, you disgrace.”

It hurts, doesn’t it? You could feel how your embarrassment, rage, and frustration filled your mind and heart, you could feel how your throat tightened around your neck and your lungs flattened, making it harder to breathe. You looked at him, Draco Malfoy, standing in front of you with unspeakable hatred and contempt.

„Leave me alone, Malfoy. It’s not like you don’t have other ‚mudbloods’ to tease.” You said, calmly as for someone who’s getting insulted by a spoiled brat. No, he can’t leave you, you’re not just one of the mudbloods, you’re the mudblood.

„Oh, talking back, are we?” He exclaimed, raising his eyebrows as he tilted his head, looking at you with wider eyes, „You shouldn’t be even allowed to talk to me. You shouldn’t even be allowed in this school. Your kind is a disgrace, disgusting excuses for wizards.” His face formed into a disgusted scowl again, his eyes caressed you up and down with contempt. How a muggle is so majestic, he thought, but he couldn’t tell you, not in a million years, he had to make his disgust for you known.

You sighed, annoyed and tired of Malfoy’s words as you tried to just walk away, trying to pass through him but no, he blocked your way and stood right in front of you, his eyes sharp with all the contempt he could muster.

„Where do you think you’re going, mudblood?” He asked in a lower, more threatening tone.

„My dorm room, now if you’ll excuse me.” You answered calmly again, not looking up at his face even, just trying to walk past him again. No, he grabbed your arm, his hand launching at it with a force that only a person full of hate could hold. You looked up at him and as you did his face was coming closer to yours, that scowl still there but something in his eyes changed. It wasn’t a big change, it was almost unnoticeable but you, someone who’s seen his disgusted face so many times, can tell that something’s different. His eyes were no longer sharp, his eyebrows lightly scrunched up, as if in an expression of desperation and small sadness. His lips were still a scowl and the corners of his nose were tight, tensed up, but you didn’t notice that.

„You’re staying here.” He said, his voice suddenly and surprisingly going softer, more delicate but still threatening, demanding. You both looked at each other for a moment in silence, trying to figure out what the other was thinking, what the other’s intentions were. He stared at you, at those eyes he desired to have for himself, at those lips he wanted to caress and kiss, at your cheeks that he wished he could hold and mark as his own. How unfair is this. How tragic. But you broke the moment of magic by shaking your head, Draco’s thoughts came back to reality and he had to pretend he was disgusted with you again.

„No, I’m not.” You said and snatched your arm away from him, walking away, your footsteps echoing and bouncing off the walls of the hallway, reminding him that soon they’ll disappear, that you’ll disappear. He can’t have that, he turned towards you again and his fingers brushed against your wrist gently, lightly, ghostly almost, as he desperately tried to hold onto you, to make you stay but you slipped away, continuing to walk, unaware of his hand, unaware of his feelings. He looked at you and his desperation mixed with his hatred for you, both of his feelings for you coming together in an honest, brutal rage.

„Come back, you! Come back, filthy mudblood! You have no right to turn your back on me! You’re nothing but a fool, a disgrace, a disappointment, a traitor! Do you think someone will accept you in the real world? Hogwarts is only protecting you for a while, afterwards you’ll be alone in this world! You’ll have no one to turn to, no one to talk to, no one to help you, just because of your filthy blood!” Just because of your filthy blood, he thought, just because you have to be disgusting, just because others see you as disgusting, he can’t admit that he sees you as beautiful, just because you’re beautiful he can’t deny your blood, „Your blood will never be forgotten! Your blood will always be a burden, and your blood will always be disgraced! You only deserve to be disgraced!” He yelled after you, your back turned towards him as if his words didn’t matter to you, as if they were just whistling of the wind. But his words did touch you in some way, you could feel how your heart started to tremble, how your face formed into a look of sadness and hurt, and how you lightly squeezed the book you shouldn’t be holding to your chest. What a horrible boy he is, can’t he give up already? No, he can’t.

„No one will care for you, no one will love you, no one will ever treat you as you want them to, because you only deserve to be disgraced, disowned, harassed, hated. Your only meaning in life is to be destroyed.” He added and that broke you inside, how can he be so stupid and cruel? What’s the matter with him?

You didn’t try to understand or care, you started to walk faster through the hallway, still feeling his presence behind you, wanting to get away from his judging eye. You felt how your heart trembled and beat faster with sadness and hurt, you felt alone and started to question if the words he said were true. Of course they weren’t, he wanted to tell you that, he felt ashamed and embarrassed for telling you this, not the truth, but he can’t go after you, he can’t go apologise, he can’t let you know. He just watched you, as you slowly but surely disappeared after a turn in the hallway, hearing only how a small sniff echoed through the cold walls.

You felt tears choking you, you felt how your lungs shrank and suffocated you. You felt how heavy your steps were, how fast they were getting, and how your lips twisted into a frown. Draco has always been nasty to you and you tried your best to just ignore him, let him insult you and then walk away as if it was nothing, let him have his immature fun. But this time it ached your heart more than usual to hear him say that. And that mare soft look in his eyes for just a second made you feel even worse. You sniffed and sniffed, wiping your tears as quickly as you could when they fell down your face to not let anyone who could be in the hallways see them. You kept your eyes on the floor so no one would notice how glassy they were, you didn’t look up to see where you were going, just walking ahead as you felt how much your head was a mess of emotions, guilt, and anger. Everything in you boiled and you suddenly felt a force in front of you making you stop and stumble a few steps, your heart almost stopped and jumped in your chest.

„Oh, sorry— Y/N, it’s you.” You heard a familiar voice and felt a little better. You stood on your straight feet and finally looked up at the face of Harry Potter, „You… What has happened? Are you alright?” He asked, his brow narrowing a little in concern as he saw your glassy eyes and slightly redder nose, not the most flattering look on you. You shook your head at the beginning and wiped your eyes quickly.

„I’m alright, don’t worry.” You tried to deny your tears and gave him a small, forced smile but you could tell he wasn’t buying it, he tilted his head as he looked at you intently, he knew your honest smile too well to notice it.

„No, no, something’s not alright. You’re sad, Y/N, what happened? Can I help you?” He asked again and took a few steps towards you as you sighed and glanced down, trying to figure out what to say next.

„It’s nothing, Harry, really. You don’t have to worry.”

„Well, I do worry. I am worried, I don’t see my friend usually with teary eyes. You can tell me, Y/N, I’d like to be a good friend to you and help you.” He said as he tilted his head some more to be able to see your face as you glanced down. You focused your eyes back on Harry’s face and you could see the concern and care he had for you, the one Draco said you were so undeserving of. You didn’t want to tell Harry and be a burden to him but there was no point in lying.

„Draco told me a few new insults, nothing new.” You answered quickly, shaking your head dismissively and Harry furrowed his brow some more.

„I understand but you know not to listen to him.”

„I know.” You replied softly as you nodded your head and glanced down again, Harry still looked at you with concern and a bit of confusion.

„Then why—“

„I don’t know, it’s just been… A bit more personal this time.” You shrugged and sighed again, wiping the remains of your tears on your face.

„Personal?” Harry asked with a smaller voice as he watched you wiping your face, his concern growing, „Can you please tell me what Malfoy said to you?”

You sighed yet again, feeling bad and uncomfortable about telling Harry this but he’s your friend, he deserves to know.

„He said that I don’t deserve love or respect because I’m a muggle. That I will be alone. He said that I didn’t deserve to be in Hogwarts, that I’m only a disgrace.” Only meant to be destroyed, you recalled Draco’s words in your head, the ache from them echoed in your heart.

Harry listened to you and nodded his head after your words, trying to think of something that could make this situation better for you.

„I see… Well, you know he’s lying.” He answered softly and you nodded your head.

„Yes, of course. But I can’t help but believe it, I am only a muggle, there’s not a lot of chance for me to be a great wizard.” You sighed in resignation and Harry tilted his head again.

„Don’t say that, don’t believe him. There are so many possibilities and potentials for you. You can’t just let Draco ruin them for you.”

You nodded again.

„Yes, I know.” You replied shortly, your eyes wandering around the hallway as Harry still looked at you, his concern didn’t go away.

„Can I do something for you?” He asked a bit awkwardly as he shrugged, not sure what to do to cheer you up and make forget about Draco’s words. You stood in silence for a moment, not sure what to do either, everything felt so heavy.

„No, Harry. You already did enough for me.”

„Did I?” He asked as he raised his eyebrows and looked at you expectedly, „You’re still sad. I don’t want my friend to be sad.”

You sighed, still feeling unsure about all of this. You glanced at Harry and flashed a small smile to reassure him but that smile didn’t reassure you.

„I am but—“

„So what can I do?” He asked again, taking a step towards you, „Do you really think that Malfoy’s right? You really believe him?”

You shook your head but you did believe in Draco’s words somehow, you still felt that they were adequate.

„I… Harry, this conversation shouldn’t be this long.”

„Well, I want it to be long, I want it to be long and make you feel better.” He answered and paused for another moment. This was a bit awkward, Harry wanted to help but he didn’t know how and you didn’t know either, you just went in circles all the time. You both stood there in silence, glancing at each other from time to time with unsure faces, everything stood still. Harry looked at you once more and an idea formed in his mind but he wasn’t sure if it was a good one, it might make everything even more awkward.

„Do you want a kiss?” He blurted out and you looked back at Harry with surprise and shock.

„What?” You asked, Harry squirmed a little from the embarrassment, his eyes wandered off for a second and he brushed his hand nervously over his nose.

„Do you want a kiss?” He mumbled through his teeth as if it was a big secret, as if he was speaking the name of you-know-who. You still were a little caught off guard and confused by Harry’s proposal, would that make you feel better? You looked at Harry with confusion on your face, it was clear from your slightly furrowed eyebrows and your parted lips. Well, this is even more awkward, both of you stood there in another moment of silence while trying to figure out what to do.

„A kiss?” You spoke up and a small chuckle escaped your lips, making Harry look at you again with a bit of concern that you were laughing at him, „I don’t know, are you sure you want to?” You asked as you raised your eyebrow at Harry and he shrugged.

„I don’t see any harm in that. I’d like to comfort my friend and if a kiss would do it then I have no problem with it.” He replied, making you smile a little in amusement which was a relief to Harry, he liked to see you smile.

„Ha? Well, friends don’t usually kiss each other.” You said with a bit of playfulness, your tone much lighter than before, which made Harry smile too.

„No?” He tilted his head, „But who cares about that? It’s just a kiss. Would it make you feel better?” He asked with care, not wanting to do anything you wouldn’t want to do. You thought for a moment, kissing your friend out of the blue is a bit weird but maybe you need a bit of affection right now? And is it really that important? You both know each other and trust each other, maybe a kiss shouldn’t be weird, maybe it’s only weird because you think so.

You shrugged after a while.

„Maybe, we could… Try?” You chuckled a bit nervously and awkwardly with a slightly sheepish smile which made Harry feel a little better that he wasn’t the only one who was nervous.

„Sure, we can try…” he answered and looked at you for a while, making you both giggle a bit in amusement as he was taking his time, like in a romance book. Harry took a silent breath to himself to calm down and approached you, making you smile with more amusement. He got close enough to you that the tip of the shoe touched yours, he slowly lifted his hands towards your face and you let out a small snort, not laughing at him or mocking him, you just couldn’t take this too seriously as a friend. Harry smiled a bit at your reaction and shook his head.

„Shut up.” He mumbled jokingly and you felt his hands slowly and carefully embracing your cheeks, his soft skin sliding smoothly across yours with a small brush. The touch was nice, comforting, and gentle, it was just what you needed. You nodded your head at his words, trying to compose yourself but you couldn’t stop your lips from smiling. Harry looked at you for a second before he slowly started to lean into your face, tilting his head to the side slightly in a bit dramatic fashion, making you snort again.

„Oh, come on.” He sarcastically rolled his eyes behind his glasses, „I’m trying.”

„Yeah, you’re really trying.” You chuckled and he shook his head in a joking disapproval at your behaviour, the smile still present on his lips.

„Shut up.” He repeated and without a warning, his face approached yours much faster than expected, his lips pressed against yours with force but also care, making the sensation pleasant and soft. You stood there for a second, processing and taking in the feeling of Harry’s kiss, your eyes still open as his closed. The moment lingered for longer as you gave in and leaned your head a little more into the kiss, reciprocating it tenderly, making Harry smile a bit more. You both stood there for a while, linked in the most intimate affection one could share, your lips softly and carefully brushing each other as if you two weren’t friends. You finally closed your eyes, letting yourself drown in the warmth you two were sharing, the gentleness and kindness, your one hand left your book and carefully landed on Harry’s cheek, making him hum quietly in delight at your touch. The scene was tender and loving, to your luck no one was in the hallway at the time but if someone saw you two it would be clear that there were a lot of feelings between you two. Finally, Harry gently pulled away from the kiss and opened his eyes to look at your soft, peaceful face, your eyes still closed as you took a silent breath with your parted lips, the warmth of his lips still echoed against yours. Your hand still was on Harry’s cheek and his own hands were cupping your face tenderly, lovingly, his eyes taking in your features. You opened your eyes and looked at him, noticing how his cheeks got redder and how his eyes softened for you. You both looked at each other in silence before smiles starched out on both of your faces, your shared giggles and chuckles filling the cold hallway.

„Thank you, that helped a lot.” You spoke up with a lighter and happier tone than before to which Harry nodded with a smile, happy to see you smiling.

„No problem, Y/N. I’m glad it did.”

His hands still held your face carefully as if he had forgotten to let you go. But your hand stayed on his cheek too, both of you touching without a problem.

„My lips were chapped.” You remarked as you lightly pressed your lips together, feeling them a little rough after the crying. Harry raised an eyebrow.

„Were they?” He didn’t notice, he was much more focused on you and how wonderful it felt to kiss you. You nodded and felt how your face was dry after the tears soaked into your skin.

„And my face is dry.” You chuckled and Harry smiled even more, shaking his head.

„Doesn’t matter.” He replied, still holding your face in his hands, forgetting that he was your friend.

The next day everyone was filling the Great Hall as they continued their breakfast, talking and laughing together. Ron and Hermione were sitting together at your usual table, waiting for you and Harry.

„Did you see them the day before?” Asked Hermione the mouth-stuffed Ron as he ate eagerly.

„No,” he mumbled, „I haven’t. After me and Harry talked I haven’t seen him since.”

„What about Y/N?”

„Y/N?” Ron paused for a second as he tried to remember something, the girl in front of him looked at him with disappointment and disapproval, making him less willing to say, „I don’t know.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head.

„Honestly Ronald.”

„What?”

At this moment you walked into the Great Hall, not alone, Harry held your hand bravely and gently brushed his thumb against yours as you approached the two sitting at your table. A few eyes turned to you, one of which belonged to your bully. A whisper here, a whisper there, and soon almost everyone in the room was looking at you two. But you and Harry didn’t pay too much attention to the others.

Hermione looked at you two as you got closer, noticing your intertwined hands and she nudged Ron in the shoulder, making him let out pretensions „Ow”.

„Hey.” You said to them with a smile as you got close enough, Hermione raised her eyebrow slightly.

„Hey, Y/N, Harry.” She greeted you two as you still held hands, her eyes switching between you two, „You two seem… Closer than ever.”

You glanced at Harry who gave you a small smile and a gentle squeeze of your hand.

„We do? You must be seeing things, Hermione.” You said, trying to brush her off as you sat down on the bench, Harry following closely after you, sitting next to you.

„Oh? Am I?” Hermione tilted her head and Ron chuckled as he saw you two.

„No, if anything, you two are not telling us something.” He said as he gave Harry a knowing smile at which Harry sighed silently and looked pleadingly at Ron, making him laugh out loud. As Ron and Hermione tried to squeeze out of you two more information you didn’t notice how you were being observed by a pair of eyes burning with jealousy. He was sitting far away from you to not notice him and why would you notice him? You were too busy with Harry. He observed how your hands stayed linked under the table, how Harry was leaning a little closer to you, how he was looking at you. That should be me, he thought as his face tensed up in his usual scowl but his eyes showed more sadness and hurt than he wanted them to show. He looked at you longingly, desperately wishing that you’d notice his gaze and glance at him, even just for a second. He’d be so happy. But you were turned away, not acknowledging him at all, as if his words didn’t touch you at all, as if you earned more than lost. His soul was on fire, he was boiling with jealousy, rage, and desperation. But he couldn’t do anything, you’re still a muggle, he can’t do anything.

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garden-bug · 7 months ago

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No bc the homophobia from ninjago fans outside of Tumblr is actually disgusting

I’ve blocked accounts on Instagram for their fucking savemyboycole hashtag SAVE HIM FROM YOU AHHDHWHS

I just wanna watch funny ninjago compilations

Instagram is fucking awful for healthy fandom space anyway so I shouldn’t be surprised

But it comes down to the fact that these homophobes have grown up with a character, seen themselves in that character, then that character displayed the oh so dreaded homosexuality/perceived femininity that men and society apparently just can’t cope with and suddenly they feel attacked because they’re losers who think being gay is a bad thing and they don’t wanna associate themselves with it

But like… the audacity??! Who do they think feels worse, them, or gay/bi people at the implication that a gay character needs to be ‘saved’?

Lunatics. Actual fucking imbeciles. Sorry ik I usually post ninjago memes but sometimes I need to go on a rlly pissed off rant.

Anyway I’m so fucking proud of the show writers for giving Cole a male potential love interest and any kind and decent human being would be rlly happy for him and oh my god all the ninja would fucking beat the shit out of anyone who was homophobic to Cole I’m actually losing my mind.

It’s like the homophobic one piece fans. Luffy would hate you like HOWWWW???? Bon Clay didn’t sacrifice himself for this.

#geode #geodeshipping #ninjago cole #geo ninjago #ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago dragons rising

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shakespearean-dream · 7 months ago

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i would adore ur ted ideas he is so interesting 2 me!!!!!!

ask and you shall receive!!!!

ted. teddigan. theodoreigan my boy. i have so many mixed feelings about u💔

this drawing was a pain in the ASS to make for some reason?? my first go at him was way too close to canon for my liking so i threw myself out there n got to a place i liked thankfully, plus halfway through i forgot how to draw hands and almost cried (joking) cause i thought i had them down at this point!!!!— but trust me, even if you have 9 years of art experience (like me unfortunately. someone take me out i’ve had a good life) ur gonna forget the basics sometimes. warm yourself up and try again cause i did and i eventually remembered 😭😭😭

doing these character studies and drawings have seriously improved my way and process of drawing faces which is so nice 🥲 i think i just need to start looking at the bigger picture again so i don’t forget how to draw everything else. like hands. or full bodies. foreshadowing ;)

i wanted my ted to look just a wee bit unsettling because my general consensus of him is that he is totally fucked in the head, lmfao. born a nepotism baby who ended up scamming people more for fun than for actual cash, horribly sexist but dependent on women to validate him, paranoid as all get out, selfish and self centered as all get out, just his canon personality’s all in one and turned up a notch. 🥲

i don’t think he’s totally beyond redemption, especially because he’s been cooped up with ellen, who is a highly decorated in the engineering field black woman, benny who’s gay and gorr “FREEDOM FIGHTIN’ LIBERAL🇺🇸🦅🦅🔥🔥” ister for 109 years. in that time he’s definitely slipped up and they’ve definitely corrected him (along with nimdok too LOL). i think with some intensive therapy, a shower and a trip to the tolerance museum (south park reference) he’ll be a little better.

i’m a mild ted/AM shipper (as seen in the bottom right hand corner) but more in the “ooohehheh they’re flirting!!… oh no. oh this is not going to end well. this is definitely a toxic relationship” way and less the “awh cute maybe they can have mutual redemption arcs!!!” way because i love seeing gay men suffer romantically (don’t cancel me i am a bisexual man suffering romantically i swear😭)

i’m not too partial to any other ships honestly, ted/ellen makes me nauseous (just cause of the way ted talks about/treats her in the franchise, no hate to my tellen shippers i promise) and i can only see gorrister with his wife 🥲 with benny and nimdok i have no clue if either of them rlly have romantic interests but im not a fan of them with anybody so erm… i do love the whole groups found family vibes though :”””] they’re all cute together and the mutual suffering but all the while growth is comforting to me

i think that’s about all my thoughts!!! another thank you for the support on this blog recently i love yall sm. i’ll eventually post on my transformers blog but i am STILL SCARED because robots are hard to draw. stay tuned for it though. 💀

thank you for reading if you did!!! let me know which of the guys yall want me to do next; benny, AM and nimdok are left on the chopping block. ❤️

#ted ihnmaims #ihnmaims #IHNMAIMS fanart #technically these guys are in here so i’ll tag them too #gorrister ihnmaims #nimdok ihnmaims #benny ihnmaims #ellen ihnmaims #am ihnmaims #digital art

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tumbleweedsthesecond · 27 days ago

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Tophvan post yayy... I wanna explain why I ship it or whatever. Why its silly to me or like how I view their dynamic or whatever. This is gonna cringe so probably ignore this if you don't like tophvan I'm not trying to say its like the best ship in the world or they have a great dynamic or whatever I just wanna explain how I view them. This will probably sound delusional but yk whatever. Cringe and free I guess. Here's some old art

Basically me going on their interactions sorta kinda plus my own headcanons.

Okay so hc wise I've always kind of imagined they wouldn't get along in some way. For obvious reasons, Topher tries too hard and Ivan doesn't try at all. So obviously Topher would at least try to seem like he didn't know him s1 and I don't think he does really know him s1 I feel like they would've followed each other on Flipflop(gah I hate saying that) and Topher just didn't care to block him because he only has two followers and doesn't want to lose one. Anyway I think with s3 I imagine the bleacher creatures met during summer school mayhaps because they all failed gym or math or something? That's my hc on it. I think they do seem close? At least good friends I think that jackée Ivan and Topher are the three main(vlad and lizzie I still loveee but its harder to get a read on them they don't talk much) anyway I don't think that Ivan and Topher would immediately get along obviously Topher let loose more because he's happier with his friends but still I don't think its perfect obv. so going to actually get into the analysis now I yap so much

Cringe part

I think that based off lines of dialogue like "its a fuck no from me" "a simple no would've been fine Ivan" that Topher kinda keeps him grounded at least a little bit???? Ivan doesnt seem to retaliate I think he does sort of view Topher as the leader in a way. Because Topher talks the most and tbh he does seem a little bit bossy. There's also that one time that I immediately think of when I think tophvan the part where he looks over at Topher as if to see if its approved or not before he agrees with jackée.

Like hes like 'is this funny? ' though it could be because he doesn't listen to jackée because female and he's a dumb teenage boy(throws tomatoes at him) I still think that its funny cause he doesn't even look at all the guys in the group to approve it first he just looks at Topher. you can tell by the animation

Anyway before that I think these two do talk more off screen Ivan looks at him when the others don't (even in other scenes though I don't really think that's a big deal imo) okay full headcanon time I think Ivan knows about tophers supposed crush on joan. I don't think Ivan likes Joan but I think he was like "give it a shot because Topher or whatever 🙄😒' but I also feel like he had a bet that she wouldn't be any help. Don't get me wrong I do think ivans dumb obviously but I also do think he just doesn't like Joan. He doesn't full on hate her or anything just don't think he completely trusted her. He does trust her in the vip room thing he thought that was coll but he is also the first to say she ditched us straight up. Ivans very blunt

We are standing in a closet!

Past that I think they do get closer or whatever afterwards. Kind of. We see them in the shower but I kind of ignore that episode and scene altogether so. That's not rlly a big thing I think abt so anyway

Dumb thing incoming I think its also like the way they look at each other or whatever. Like. whatever dude. I think they'd be kind of sweet or whatever. I don't know. Idiots who caresbro.

Overall I think Topher is a complete idiot too like obviously that one scene where he gets bitten by the snake and jackée says to suck the poison out and Ivan sucks the snake because he's a stupid stupid idiot. Dumb. Tophers stupid too very stupid but that's why I think they're fun together.

Forgot abt that scene where they highfive Topher laughs at ivans dumb jokes. They highfive. (I think Topher laughs way too hard at it like we get it bro. You think its funny. I would say it kinda sounds like forced like haha you're so funnyyy but that's probably a bit of a stretch 😔😔😔💔💔)Edit: I think he genuinely finds that stuff funny cause he's so stupid like bone high is not that funny he just has dumb humor. Anyway another hc I have Topher does like his jokes alot and at first I van laughs along with him but then Topher laughs too much so Ivan just like stares at him

Akso the thing where he sees Topher as the leader of the group I don't think that's too serious or anything I think its just like okay ill listen to you sometimes they're still a dumb high school friend group.

ALSO THIS ISNT ME TRYING TO BE LIKE ITS BETTER THSN OTHER SHIPS OR THAT "OH THRY HAVE SO MUCH DYNAMIC" they're background characters basically I just want to point out some canon stuff! Its fine if you don't ship them who cares anyway if anyone has any tophvan hcs please comment them I love seeing tophvan stuff!!!

Also I love all the bleacher creatures I'm ocifying them too.....sorry to single out the ship I just wanted to explain stuff

Also is this reaching? Probably but they're two characters with low screen time so. Shrugs

#clone high #tophvan #Topher bus #clone high ivan the terrible #clone high Ivan #Clone high Topher #again feel free to share tophvan hcs I love tophvan #Stupid idiot bromance to me #I think they'd be kinda sweet to eachother. Sometimes. As a treat🙄#THEYRE STILL DUMB DUMB IDIOTS THOUGH

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fairyhaos · 2 years ago

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how seventeen take care of their sick s/o

requested by @cinnamoroxie : "agh i think ive been getting sick 😭 could u write svt w a sick reader / or just a reader w a sore throat and cant speak w out it hurting pls? love u hope youre doing well "

notes: i :(((( want :((( a joshua :((((

masterlist

seungcheol:

cancels all your plans for the rest of the day when you wake up in the morning barely able to speak. won't let you protest, saying that you need to prioritise your health okay bc these people you're meeting aren't as important to him as you are. if you've just got a sniffly nose n sore throat, he'll let you sleep on him but if you're coughing n sneezing everywhere then sorry, he loves you but maybe stay away from him for a few days?

jeonghan:

will do everything for you. even tho he doesn't have the loudest voice, he'll try his hardest to yell over the other members to get them to quieten down so he can listen to your hoarse whispers n get you whatever you need <3 gives you so many cough drops that you constantly have one in your mouth the entire time. you can taste them still on your tongue for like a day after you feel better

joshua:

gives you head massages if you have a headache, makes you honey tea if your throat hurts, always has tissues on hand if your nose is running. The Best™ at looking after you. won't leave your side, even if you're spraying germs everywhere, and he has a cold that lasts for three weeks by the end of it, but you're happy and healthy n that's all that matters to him

junhui:

kind of a fluttery mess when you get sick, doesn't rlly know what to do. pats your head constantly, asking if you're okay, and swaddles you in blankets. also gives you so many painkillers and antibiotics bc he doesn't Know what else to do okay and please you sound so terrible n croaky pls take this medicine bc it's meant to make you better and he hates when you're ill :((

hoshi:

coos and baby talks to you when you're sick and a blocked nose mess. speaks in a whisper back to you if you have a sore throat and can barely speak, makes those canned soups for you and spoon feeds it to you. he's a messy feeder tho, n most of it gets around your mouth but he wipes it away vv gently afterwards. hoshi is probably so, so soft when taking care of someone when they're sick tbh <3

wonwoo:

accompanies you everywhere you go. insists you lie down and sleep but if you don't, then he's hovering around you like a concerned mother to make sure you don't overdo it. tells everyone you meet that you have a sore throat and so you can't speak, and Will drag you away if you start coughing too hard, scolding you lightly and pulling a scarf out of nowhere to wrap around your neck

woozi:

wants to take time off working so bad to help take care of you but he rlly can't </3 sets medicine and a glass of water on the table for you to take in the morning, regularly calls you (or texts, if you can't speak) to see how you're doing. checks up on you at night, smiles and kisses you on the forehead if you wake up and blearily murmur his name. he's busy, but he'll still make time to be soft for you

minghao:

always has tissues. and hand sanitizer. and cough drops. and paracetamol. has literally everything, really. says well done and pats your head when you drain a whole glass of water while swallowing the medicine, bc drinking water and flushing out toxins is the best way to get rid of an illness. another person who baby talks you if you're all sick n pouty

mingyu:

makes soup. makes tea. forces both liquids down your throat even if you complain bc it's good for you and he spent so much of his precious time making it for you how dare you try and refuse???? it definitely helps with your sore throat the next day, though, and he looks so smug as he ladles you another bowl of soup to have in the morning.

dokyeom:

almost starts crying when you tell him u have a sore throat through barely-there whispers bc the pain :((( of not being able to speak :((( that breaks his heart to think about. knows the struggles of runny noses So Well, whips out a tissue and presents it in front of your face if you so much as sniffle quietly. hugs you the entire time, wakes up the next morning with a sore throat and then Actually starts crying

seungkwan:

your personal megaphone whenever you're sick and can't speak. yells at the other members to shut up and listen when you have something to say, and then repeats what you whisper in his rlly loud voice. won't let you have meds (they are!! the demon's pills!!!!) but learns from mingyu how to make rlly good chicken broth for you

vernon:

gets so sad for u when you croak out to him that you can't speak bc your throat hurts so bad. makes you gargle with salt water after brushing your teeth bc it helps disinfect your throat (this is true actually n it really helps). randomly holds his hand to your forehead to check your temperature, but he can never tell if you're running hot or if it's just him

chan:

is all "oh no you're sick :(((( that's terrible also pls don't come too close to me" but pulls you in for a hug immediately if you even vaguely hint at wanting one. googles if throat massages are a thing when you tell him you can't speak bc it hurts, gives you lemon honey tea bc he finds out that helps. kinda ends up massaging your throat? his hands are always warm and they feel nice when placed on your neck

request guidelines

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blackdollette · 1 year ago

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kinktober day 10.

10.19 - HATE SEX | EURONYMOUS!

݁ ˖🕸️.𖥔 ݁ ˖ {tags} @willsdollface @izuoyarmin @auggiethecreator @angelsanarchy @s-al-em @that-one-persons-posts @kashmirclam @areuirish @oliviah-25 @bl1ssfulbaby

previous: 10.17 - MUTUAL MASTURBATION!

female!reader x euronymous

word count: 2.3k (holy shit. i rlly didn't mean for this one to be so long)

contents: enemies, lots of tension, degrading, car sex, hand job, unprotected p in v

you stared down at the pale-golden liquid in your hand, held by a crystal clear wine glass. you stood awkwardly in the corner of the party host’s kitchen, sticking out like a sore thumb no matter how much you tried to blend in. you found yourself always seeking the wrong kind of attention, no matter the situation. whether it was catching the predatory eye of someone while walking down the dark streets of your town or simply just being in the wrong place at the wrong time, you just couldn’t catch a break.

the entire house was lit up with warm colours that could brighten up the souls of all those who entered, drastically contrasting the dark clothes you preferred to be adorned in. you didnt know why you even bothered going to these things anymore. you always sensed trouble coming your way, though you were usually wrong and just being paranoid. but not tonight.

a low, unwelcoming voice spoke. “look who’s here.” your head shot up to see the voice's owner, though it’s tone was already engraved in your mind. your gaze contorted into a bitter glare, but you kept your words to yourself. you turned away, setting your glass on the counter. “had no one to sleep around with tonight?” the mockery in his voice made you want to punch him, but you kept yourself together.

throughout high school, he terrorized you for simple things that you had no control over. everyone constantly teased you, saying that you and him would make the perfect couple, but you did everything in your power to keep that from happening. not that it was took any effort. he hated your guts.

“oystein. it’s a pleasure as usual. is this the first time you’ve risen from your coffin this year?” your voice dripped with bitterness so strong that you could’ve sworn you saw him flinch. the tension between you two had been undeniable for as long as you could remember. he belittled you for being a selfish whore, though you were still a virgin. he rolled his eyes, letting them travel up and down your body.

“what are you doing here anyway? other than clearly trying to drink all your problems away.” every word he spoke felt like fire igniting in your mind. he always knew the perfect thing to say to get on your nerves. but you hated letting him know that his hateful words were hurting you. you went to move past him, but he stepped in front of you, blocking your path just as you moved your leg forward.

you noticed his gaze remaining on your exposed thighs in your black skirt for just a second longer than necessary. you shifted away, distancing yourself from the dark figure in front of you. he noticed he was making you feel this way, with a slight look of satisfaction on his face. neither of you could deny the tension growing between you two, so you decided to break it by walking away.

you made your way to the door, leaving him to gawk at your ass as you left the noisy scene. this was the shortest interaction the two of you had ever had, but your heart raced as you entered the dark city streets. you dug around in your pocket, searching for your keys and unlocking your car.

you opened the door, letting yourself in as you took a sigh of relief. you had only had a drink or two, but your mind buzzed with restless thoughts about the encounter. you put your keys into the ignition, preparing to drive even though you were a little tipsy. the engine gurgled, as if unsatisfied with your stupid decision.

you tried again, and then once more but the car didn’t move. you slammed your foot on the pedal, cursing at how inconvenient the timing was. you put your head into the steering wheel, trying to settle yourself down. a few deep breaths did the trick, but you kept yourself in this vulnerable position, letting your patternless thoughts flow through your mind.

you lost track of time, allowing it to become a meaningless form around you until a violent bang on your window broke your trance. euronymous was there, his expression unreadable. you rolled down your window, making direct contact with his striking blue eyes. from the outside, he could see that your car had broken down.

“your car broke down, idiot. need a ride? and i don't mean it like that, you slut.” he couldn’t help but smirk at his own remark, but you simply brushed off his invitation. “i don’t need your help. leave me alone.” his face hardened slightly. “get out or i’ll light up this piece of junk with you in it.” you glared at him. “try it, asshole.”

he was clearly growing annoyed at your resistance, deciding to take things a step further. he opened the car door, unbuckling your seat belt before swiftly picking you up and carrying you to his car. “what the hell?! put me down!” you kicked and pushed him, but he didn’t budge. “you know you don’t want that, doll.” he opened the passenger door of his van, dumping you inside recklessly.

he slammed the door shut before you could try to escape, entering through his own door and buckling himself in, speeding down the streets in an instant. you grumbled, crossing your arms and putting your foot on the seat, causing your inner thigh to be in his perfect line of sight. his foot remained on the pedal, hands on the wheel, but he couldn’t help but glance at the view. it wasn’t a bad sight, so he kept his gaze on it for a while, causing the vehicle to swerve.

“are you trying to kill me?” you spat, shooting him a bitter glare. he scoffed turning his attention away from you, though the flutter in his pants wanted to keep looking for just a little longer. “didn’t your mother ever teach you how to sit like a lady? close your damn legs.” he looked at you from the corner of his eye. “or what?” you noticed the red tinge of his cheeks, wanting to see how far you could take it.

you spread your legs a little more, your black thong just ever so slightly in his view. a breathless gasp escaped his parted lips, causing him to lose focus momentarily. you smiled to yourself, knowing that you finally got him to shut up. your eyes travelled the interior of the van. it was messy, but you’d learned to appreciate a cozy environment with no filter. as you continued looking around, you saw him shifting uncomfortably in his seat, seeming like he was trying to hide something.

it stuck out so conspicuously that you didn’t even have to search for it. a boner pressed against his jeans, begging to be let out for some pleasure. a short laugh emerged from your throat. “getting tense over there?” embarrassment filled his expression, but he didn’t respond to your comment. he cleared his throat, stopping at a red light.

“dont wanna talk now, huh? fine. let’s see how much you can take.” and with that, you quickly unbuttoned his fly and allowed his cock to spring out. he gasped, nearly hitting another car. “w-what are you d-” he was cut off when you spat on your hand and started pumping his cock quickly, instantly summoning loud groans from him.

your squeezed your hand around his length. you could feel his body trembling underneath you at your painfully slow pace. you found yourself enjoying the torture that you were putting it through. his chest heaved, his entire body shook, but he still kept himself together. “j-just get it done with already..!”

you smeared his precum with your thumb, running it up and down his tip. you were putting him through something excruciating right then, but you enjoyed every pained noise that came out of him as he tried his best not to drive the both of you to your deaths. your technique was perfect, but he couldn’t handle being teased like this any longer. “for fuck’s sake!” he whirled his car around, dangerously driving it into a dark alleyway.

fear filled your mind for a fraction of a second, but disappeared in an instant when he grabbed your chin and pulled you into a deep, hungry kiss. you were shocked for a moment, but his rough, skilled lips lulled you into a lust-filled sensation. the kiss intensified, him biting your lip and drawing a line of blood.

you snapped your head back, panting as you watched his cock throb. he locked the car doors, darkening all the windows so that nobody could see what he was about to do. “go to the back. now.” his fists were shaking in such a way that instilled fear into you once again. you carefully crawled to the backseat, waiting for his next move.

he joined you, slamming the door shut. before you had a moment to process anything, he tore off your shirt and skirt, leaving you in your lacy bra and thong. you felt so bare and exposed to him, feeling a familiar sensation as he leered at you. you’d felt this same stare on you before, but you couldn’t tell exactly what he thought about when he looked at you like this. but now you knew. he had been eye-fucking you.

all the inhumane things he imagined doing to you were written on his face in black and white. and now he finally had the chance. he pushed you back, forcing your head to the window as your legs were laid across the seats. without warning, he ripped off your panties, stuffing them into your mouth and exposing your soaking wet cunt.

your muffled protests were interrupted as he pinned your hands above your head, shoving two fingers into you. you screamed out, already feeling your pussy submit to his aggressive touch. “look at you, whore. look at how fucking pathetic you are.” his harsh words stung your heart, but the pleasure dominated any logical thought that you had.

your legs trembled as the hot feeling in your stomach grew to an irreversible point. he curled his fingers inside of you, drawing out long sobs from the depths of your soul. you felt your hole clenching around his digits. he could hear the squelching noise coming from your, the bundle of nerves deep inside of you nearly crushing his fingers.

as your body shook in preparation for your climax, he pulled his fingers out, coated with your fluids. you spat out the cloth in your mouth, your cheeks flushed with rage. “what was that for?! i was so close and you just had to rui-” he clasped a hand over your mouth, rubbing some of your slick of your face.

“i really can’t stand you, y’know that? i’d kill you if you weren’t so…” his words got lost. he shook his head, brushing away the thought. “but i’m not done with you yet.” he pushed you onto your back, forcing his full-length into you all at once. you sobbed out, feeling your tight walls burn as they wrapped around his length.

“y-yeah, just like that... take it, bitch.” his thrusts were rough and sloppy, sending mixed signals throughout your body. his skin slapped with yours as he pounded into your sore little pussy, rubbing messy circles onto your swollen clit. you came as soon as he entered your tight little hole, feeling your cum leaking down to the raggedy seats.

euronymous’ eyes stayed glued to your face as he fucked you mercilessly, enjoying the feelings he was inflicting on you. he looked at the pretty tears that sat so perfectly on your lashes. your parted lips and flushed cheeks. he felt his brain turning to mush as his balls slapped the base of your hole. he found himself slurring a bunch of nonsense as he became completely pussy-drunk. “i-ive wanted to do this for the longest time…”

his fingers dug deep into your thighs, forcing them apart as he marked them up. “c’mon… speak to me, doll.” his voice had turned into a sultry whisper that made you even wetter. but you weren’t willing to soften up to him just yet. “i… i-i hate you…” breathless moans interrupted your speech, very much to his pleasure. he buried his head in the crook of your neck, whispering little things into you. “that’s just the way i like it…”

he forced one of your legs over his shoulder, sending a wave of fluid through your body. you screamed loud enough that the entire city could hear you. a waterfall of your liquid squirted around his length as his lazy thrusts completely lost their structure, his hot cum pouring into you. tears flowed down your cheeks as he filled you up so well.

his groans dominated your noises, making you vibrate just a little. cum leaked out of your hole, a pool already formed underneath you. he finally pulled out of you, your bodies connected by a string of cum. he collapsed on top of you, clearly too tired to realize what he was doing. you sighed, pushing him off of you. “alright, buddy. that’s enough for one night.”

you searched for your clothes, realizing after a moment that they were damaged beyond repair. he took off his leather jacket, placing it over your shoulders. you looked at him, but he didnt meet your eyes. he looked down, but you could see a tiny smile forming on your face. “you should, uh, probably head home now. i don’t know how much more of your presence i can take.”

you rolled your eyes, but in a more playful manner this time. you let yourself out of the car, wanting to say one last thing before you left. “i still hate your guts, but we should… do this again some time.” he opened his mouth to speak, but you shut the door, walking down the street as the scene replayed in your mind over and over again.

author's note: soso sorry that this came out so late, but i rlly like this one even tho its super long. and why is this month going by so fast :(( only 6 fics left to go

#rory culkin #rory culkin smut #lords of chaos #euronymous #enemies to lovers #tension #halloween #october #kinktober #444rockstargf

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