#the smell of alcohol makes me gag rn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bradshawsweetheart · 2 years ago

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Getting this notification literally made me squeal LMFAO omg

I’m about to give you my play by play rn

The arm that she grabbed, the one that she’s hooked hers into all summer long during games of Red Rover, came clean off his body. It made a sound--something akin to a pop and similar to a squelch--and then she was holding Bob’s arm and Bob’s body was not attached to it.

I audibly gasped and yelled ‘what the fuck’ at this btw

“You’re freaking my Jake out, too.”

Giggled at this in the midst of the horror sorry

Fanboy finally comes closer and falls to his knees. He’s trembling when you roughly grab his wrists and force his hands over Bob’s wounds. It’s a feeling that Mickey immediately knows he will never forget: the hot, torn flesh of one of his best friends right there in the palms of his hands.

Jesus H Christ, what a visual. God. Our poor daggers.

“What are we gonna do?” Jake whispers. … “Survive,” you tell him.

It’s giving Joel Miller. I’m a huge fan of this line.

“Look, we all know how much you love Scooby Doo, but this isn’t Mystery Inc., alright? This is real fucking life and Bob is really fucking hurt and we’re fucking stuck here,” Bradley spits.

Baby pls be nice to Javy he didn’t do anything wrong😭

He didn’t hesitate at all. He held onto Bob’s arm, checked his pulse, didn’t gag. He handed you the right items when you called for them--gauze, tape, cotton, syringe, alcohol. After everything you did last night, the love that he shared with you and the body you shared with him, and this is where you are now. Those big, brown eyes pouring into yours, lips twisted in exhaustion, blood thick on his hands and arms. … Head-to-toe, you’re covered in blood. Bradley’s sure you probably have some in your teeth, too, after the night you’ve had. But here you are all the same, beautiful and looking at him gently.

The contrast between this and Jake having to turn his back to all that’s happening because of his thing with blood is very personal to me. It’s showing Gale who can actually hang, given all that she does, and how she wouldn’t have to keep a huge part of herself from Bradley compared to Jake, for his sake, and I love this so so much.

“He’ll be arlight,” Bradley whispers to you. “It’s Bob. Bob can’t die.”

Millothy I am watching you.

“Listen, we aren’t gonna die,” Bradley says, sighing. “Two bad things happened, okay? And whoever or, like, whatever did ‘em couldn’t even finish the job. So, I’d say we’re gonna be fine.”

I know this isn’t the case but just imagining the reason no one’s been killed yet bc it’s that freak Mable bc she’s lost her marbles or something is hilarious (and by that I mean incredibly disturbing)

Jake baby I love you but saying this when you can’t even face everyone is wild LOL

“I’m willing to bet there’s one fucking freak out there, alright? And one fucking freak isn’t gonna herd us into the fucking mess hall, are they?”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” Payback says. “We’re fucked, man.” … “Stop saying we’re fucked,” Coyote says.

“What about Paul?” Bradley asks.

That man is dead as hell, baby.

It bothers her because she knows it would bother him--being so entirely covered in grime. He’s the cleanest person she knows.

Because he always smells like a freshly washed baby.

All the tired are slashed. Whoever is at Camp Arcadia was here, too. Maybe standing right where Bradley and Jake are now.

Mable………….. I’m onto you.

“Grow the fuck up,” Bradley spits.

I agree, baby. I agree.

And that’s when Bradley hears it--very faint, like it was supposed to be a secret. The clicking of the safety on the shotgun.

GIRL WTF

“She really goes electric when you kiss her thighs,” Bradley says, the hint of a smirk tugging on his lips. “But you already knew that, right?”

BRADLEY BRADSHAW

“Lay a hand on me again and you’re gonna live to regret it, you fucking pussy.”

THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTINGGGGGGG

“Nothing to say, you fucking bitch?” Bradley whispers. “Still thinking about Gale riding my cock last night? I know I am.”

THE GASP I JUST GUSPED BIIIIIIIIIITCH

“Fuck,” Jake whispers. “It’s a Swiss army knife.”

GIRL. IM SO FUCKING

♀ 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

♀ 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐘𝐨𝐮 (𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞: 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐞) 𝐱 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 ♀ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: No one knows what to do. ♀ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 7.1k ♀ 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭--𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝟏𝟖+. 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. ♀ 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♀ 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 ♀ 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 ��𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐎𝐚𝐤𝐬, 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝟐𝟏𝐬𝐭, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

“What the fuck do you mean?” You spit.

It isn’t even that you’re trying to be vicious, even when you’re spewing the words at Phoenix as you wrench her wet hands away from your cheeks. Your face is hot from her touch, from the blood rushing up, up, up your throat and into your cheeks.

Phoenix blinks at you, the tips of her fingers numb and her eyes full of salt. She stutters, tries to speak, chokes on her spit, then falters--running her hands down her face as she whimpers softly.

“What’s going on?” Bradley asks, flushed at the thought of Phoenix walking in on the two of you after doing something so intimate. Instinctively, he wraps an arm around you, eyes flickering to the blankets to make sure you’re covered decently enough. You’re rigid in his arms. “What’d you say, Nix? Birdie--what’d she say?”

“She said she thinks Bob is dead,” you say, brows furrowed.

There’s an edge to your tone--a hard, hard edge. And as you rip the blankets off, exposing your naked body to Phoenix and Bradley and the cool night air, you move with a distinct sense of purpose and poise. You fall into this rigidness easily at the scent or sight of blood, at the scent or sight of vomit, at the sound of crying or screaming.

You’re foggy, but something is undeniably wrong. Phoenix doesn’t get shaken up, nor does she pull pranks the way Coyote and Hangman do. She’s covered in blood and it’s real blood that has left wide and wet handprints on your cheeks.

Something’s very, very wrong at Camp Arcadia.

Bradley starts to scramble, pulling the sheets around himself as he gets on his feet, his mouth ajar and his heart racing.

Phoenix is just watching the two of you in a state of dysphoria. She hasn’t been able to feel any part of her body since she found Bob by the water.

At first, when she realized that Bob had gone to the restroom over thirty minutes ago and not come back, she’d felt a prickle of panic at the base of her spine. But then when she found his crumpled form face down in the mud by the water, she was so chock-full of panic that it nearly burst out of her in one choking scream. But instead, she’d fallen to her knees in her pajamas, grabbing onto Bob’s arm to pull him up.

And that’s when something peculiar happened.

There were a few moments where she scrambled in the dark, too scared to scream and too horrified to leave Bob there alone. He didn’t stir when she fell backwards against the mud and he didn’t stir when she looked in the lantern light with her eyes wide and crying and found that the mud was a puddle of his blood.

Now she doesn’t know what to do except watch you.

Bradley is just standing still beside the bed, still blinking himself awake in the dark as you and Phoenix look at each other.

Part of him wants to hold his hands up, call a timeout, and ask what the fuck is going on.

But the other part of him is watching how diligently, how resolutely you’re readying yourself to head outside. He can imagine you in the hospital when you’re like this: all furrowed brow and flat lips, edged tone. It’s a stark contrast from you only a little while ago: soft curves, breathy moans, whispered voice, open-mouth smiles.

“You need to show me where Bob is,” you tell her very seriously, slipping into a random white blouse and stepping into your dungarees. “Is it his blood?”

“Yes,” Phoenix manages to utter. “It--I was pulling on his arm and then it-it…I couldn’t get it to…”

You pause, bent at the hips as you slip your socks on. You look her in the eyes, straining in the dark, and nod at her.

“You’re alright,” you tell her. “Sit down.”

And because she doesn’t know what else to do or how to tell you that she pulled an arm off her best friend, her Bob, she just sits right where she is. She has the obedience of a Golden Retriever right now--keen to just watch you, listen to you, obey you.

“I’ll go check it out,” Bradley says softly, moving to grab his crumpled clothing.

“No. I’m going,” you tell him, hooking your dungarees and stuffing your feet into your tennis shoes. “Go wake the others. Have Jake get the shotgun and stay with all the campers.”

And just like that you’re leaning down and grabbing the emergency flashlight you keep beside the dinky dresser, then stepping out into the night. Phoenix and Rooster look at each other, dumbfounded. She’s sitting on the floor covered in Bob’s blood and he’s still naked except for a sheet.

“What happened?” He asks cautiously.

All the other nurses at the hospital like to tease that you wear horse-blinders in emergencies. You see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing when you’re working if it has zilch to do with your current task. You hear doctors ordering epi and heart monitors crooning, but you don’t hear the squeak of your tennis shoes on the tile or the music playing at the nurse’s station down the hall.

Right now, you don’t hear the crickets and cicadas nor the owls or the wind through the oak trees that surround you. You don’t see the moonlight reflecting off the lake so perfectly that the water appears black and white--serene. You don’t hear gravel crunching under your soles and you don’t hear the buzzing of the flashlight. You don’t see the fireflies or the open door to the latrine.

“Bob!” You yell--your voice echoes across the entirety of camp. It’s so loud, so booming, that across the lake a few bats fly out of the trees and haphazardly flap around. “Bob!”

There is no response.

Jake wakes up to the sound of your voice--Bob! Bob! Bob! He sits up slowly in his cot, still dizzy from nearly fainting a few hours ago. It’s so dark in the cabin that he has to blink a few times to let his eyes adjust--and when they do adjust, he sees Coyote swinging his legs out the side of his cot and peering out the window.

“That Gale?” Coyote asks, voice drenched in fatigue. “Christ, what could that girl be screaming about at four in the motherfucking morning?”

“That’s a bad word,” Martha says, yawning and rubbing her eyes. “Who’s screaming? Is something the matter?”

Jake sits up--a pit in his stomach.

“Nah,” Coyote answers, standing up. “We’re all good, Martha. Go back to sleep, alright? We’ll check it out.”

Coyote yawns again, glancing at Jake.

A look of deep, deep concern is etched on Jake’s features. He doesn’t like the tone of your voice--the way it’s so loud and serious. It sears his eardrums.

“The fuck happened to Bob?” Jake mutters to Coyote, standing also.

But before Coyote can answer, Rooster is pounding on their door. Not a regular, casual knock. Not even an asshole-ish get fucked knock. It’s panicked and severe. Coyote can’t get the door open fast enough.

“Cheese and rice, man! Trying to wake all my campers?” Coyote asks, wrenching the door open.

Rooster can hardly breathe from running so fast to your cabin. Phoenix’s story is still ringing in his ears, everything else in the world muted and dull.

“Jake, get the gun,” Rooster says immediately, not even taking the time to step into the cabin. “Gather all the kids--all of them--and put them in the mess hall, alright? And don’t-don’t fucking leave ‘em, alright? Stay with ‘em. Coyote, Gale needs our help.”

“What happened to Gale?” Jake asks, voice hard and brows furrowed.

Rooster doesn’t answer--his mind is racing, spinning, crashing, burning.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Coyote says, holding his palms up, glancing over his shoulder at all his campers rustling themselves awake and sitting up with wide-eyes and wicked bed head. “The Hell’re you doing, man? You’re freakin’ the kids out.”

Rooster swallows hard--is throat is warm and thick with bile that he keeps swallowing down.

“Bob’s in a bad way, man. And it wasn’t no accident either.”

“Hey. How do we know that, huh?” Coyote warns, shaking his head. He’s never been one to fall into his role in mass hysteria. His voice is even and deep even though his heart is starting to pound. He glances back at Jake--who is wide-eyed and staring at Rooster with his face entirely paled. “You’re freaking my Jake out, too.”

Rooster swallows hard, ignores Coyote.

He looks Jake in the eyes--really, truly looks him in the eyes. Man-to-man. Man-to-whatever-the fuck-Jake-thinks-Bradley-is.

“Get the gun.”

And with that, Rooster’s off. He’s racing towards his cabin with all the littles there--all the littles he left behind, all alone, totally defenseless. There’s a rock in his gut, one that is sinking further and further until he feels like he’s running with led shoes on.

He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for or what he’s about to run into when he opens the door to his cabin. He doesn't know what he’s going to do if he finds all his campers slashed--if they didn’t have him there to protect them from whatever, from whoever, hurt Bob.

“Hey!” Rooster screams as he opens the cabin door.

There’s no thick scent of blood. There’s not a single camper with so much as a scratch. They’re all there, awake, huddled together like little chicks in the corner.

“Is Mister Bob okay?” Susie asks softly.

Bradley, standing opposite them with his chest heaving and his eyes wet, swallows hard.

“We’ve gotta get outta here, chicks,” Rooster says. “Grab your blankies and line up pronto.”

When the bright white beam of your flashlight slices through the night and lands on Bob, you break out in a sprint. His form is crumpled--he looks like a pile of stained laundry. You feel like your feet aren’t moving fast enough, like your flashlight isn’t bright enough.

But almost instantaneously, you’re on your knees beside Bob in the bloodied mud, pressing two of your fingers to his throat. You have a hard time at it--all the hot blood making his smooth skin slippery.

“Bob, it’s Nightingale,” you say calmly. “I’m just gonna feel for a pulse, alright, buddy? Just hold still.”

He doesn’t so much as twitch.

For the first time tonight, your heart sinks. A thought flashes across the forefront of your brain, caressing the backs of your aching eyeballs, settling somewhere between your brain and your skull: I didn’t have a nightmare and then someone died. No, not someone. Bob. Bob died.

But then the thought is gone, dead, faded when you feel it against your two fingers: a pulse, right on his jugular where it should be. Not strong, but nothing he can’t come back from.

“Oh, good. Good job, Bob. Good, good,” you whisper softly to Bob. Your heart is swollen suddenly, which usually doesn’t happen to you during triage. But you’ve never worked on Bob before. You’ve never worked on anyone you love before. And there’s no doctor here to order you around, to tell you what to do next. Fuck. “Hey! I need help!”

With the flashlight tucked between your knees, Bob’s form all shadows and blood and placid skin, you begin to inspect the bloodied stump where is arm once was. It’s a clean cut, one solid hack straight through the flesh and fat and veins and bone. Blood is pouring out of the wound and pooling around your bent legs.

He’s so heaped up that you cannot see his face at all--just bits of pale skin here and there, scraps of his shirt and his broken glasses. So, you very carefully but firmly hold onto both his cheeks and turn his face towards you. He’s covered in mud, bits of blood.

“I’m going to clear your airways,” you tell him. His eyelids twitch. You stick your fingers into his mouth, hook them, and scrape all the mud off his tongue. The breaths puffing from his nose are short and labored. “Good job. Good, good job.”

You hear a noise--running on gravel--and don’t turn to see who it is.

“Oh my fucking God!” Fanboy shrieks, stopping dead in his tracks.

Paybacks stops, too, his mouth wide open and his eyes glassy.

“Fuck,” Payback whispers, blinking rapidly as you press your bare hands to Bob’s wound and press down hard. He bends over, holding onto his knees, and reels as his head spins. “I’m gonna hurl.”

Snapping to attention, you glance over at them. In the thin beam of their flashlight, you almost look monstrous. There’s blood all over you, two handprints on your cheeks like war paint, and your face is serious and hard.

“I need a belt,” you tell them. Then you swallow hard, shaking your head. No one’s gonna have a belt. Everyone packs shorts and t-shirts. “I need--I need something, alright? I need one of you to go and look for something that we can tie around his arm.”

Fanboy has gone pale. Payback’s eyes are shut tight.

“His fucking arm’s gone,” Fanboy says softly, brown eyes wide. “His fucking--his fucking arm is gone, man!”

Your heart is hammering in your chest as more blood pours down your arms.

Scrambling for something, anything, you hold tight to Bob’s already-torn shirt and rip until a jagged shred comes off into your hands.

“I need help,” you tell the two men still staring at you. Behind them, the camp is starting to come alive with alarm. Campers hurrying with their counselors into the mess hall, counselors running around doing headcounts and carrying lanterns and flashlights. “Like, now!”

You make very quick work of tying a tourniquet around Bob’s wound, just above the cut. You pull the t-shirt so tight that it begins to rip again. The blood is already slowing--thank fucking God.

“What the fuck happened?” Fanboy mutters to you.

“Someone cut his fucking arm off, man!” Payback calls out, spitting into the dirt when his mouth fills with water. “Oh--oh, God…do you think they’re coming back?”

Fanboy’s heart is in his belly. He’s never heard Payback like this before: scared. Genuinely, actually, thoroughly scared.

You interrupt the frenzy.

“We need to get him to the mess hall,” you say decidedly. It’s closest to where you are now--no chance you’re gonna make it to the nurse’s cabin. “Now.”

“I’m freaking, Gale,” Payback tells you, choked with tears. “Oh my God…Bob…”

Fanboy turns to you, eyes wide with panic. You’re staring back at him, eyes wide and serious.

“We’re gonna lift him on three, okay? I’m gonna take his head so you don’t have to worry about his arm. I’ve got it.”

Because of the way you’re speaking to him--calm, even, serious--and because of the expression on your face--placid, severe--Fanboy nods instantly. You’re a lighthouse right now, shining light on his face, pulling him in towards land during a storm. You’ve got this. He knows that you do. And all he can do right now is listen.

Payback is beside himself, sobbing into his palms, frozen in his spot, on the verge of vomiting. Any other time, you would be there beside him, offering him ginger candy and a cold compress. But right now you have to worry about Bob.

The mess hall is crowded with kids in their pajamas, clutching secret teddy bears and asking their counselor for the millionth time what’s going on.

Jake is standing by the door with the shotgun, making sure it’s loaded as he waits to hear from you. His fingers are trembling and every time he looks over at Phoenix, who’s sitting at one of the wooden tables, his head fills with cotton.

She’s covered in blood--all down her arms, her hands, the front of her pajama shirt, her shorts, her legs. Phoenix is sitting silently, very still, where she is. She can’t stop thinking about the sound that Bob’s arm made when it came off his body. And, more than that, she keeps thinking that everyone here is going to die. It’s gnawing at her like a rat with an electrical cord--it’s bound to blow up, end in flames.

Coyote is doing another headcount, his brows furrowed. All the kids keep fidgeting and it’s making it hard to keep count, but he’s somehow doing it. Everyone’s here. It’s okay. He stands before them with his hands on his hips, chewing his bottom lip.

Bradley comes into the mess hall later than everyone else, haphazardly dressed and with a string of little chicks following him blindly, all trying to clutch his shirt at the same time.

“Everyone got their headcount?” Coyote asks as Bradley settles his kids beside all the others.

“Yeah,” Bradley answers. “We’re all here.”

Jake is just about to say something, anything, whenever Payback comes into the mess hall. His hands are on his face and he’s bent at the hips as he dry-heaves. Everyone watches in utter silence, shocked, when he cuts across the wide-plank floors and to the kitchen.

“The fuck is the matter with him?” Coyote mutters.

But then they hear it--you. You’re carrying Bob’s upper body, straining with all your might, exhaling with a grunt as you and Fanboy get closer to the mess hall door.

You’re close, you remind yourself. Almost there. Just a little more.

“You okay?” Fanboy asks. He’s straining too.

“Yeah,” you answer through grit teeth.

But your arms are shivering with defeat, your body vibrating with exhaustion. You feel like you aren’t going to make it the rest of the ten paces to the entrance of the mess hall. You feel like you’re losing already and you don’t know how to stop it.

You aren’t strong enough to hold Bob. You’re going to drop him here on the gravel. All hope is draining from your body like blood--pooling around your knees. You won’t be able to save him.

Then, in the very dark night, someone calls your name. Not just one voice, but two--it’s Coyote and Bradley. They’re rushing towards you and Fanboy and Bob.

“Help!” You call out desperately, tears suddenly pouring down your face. “Help us!”

“Fuck,” Coyote mutters when he sees Bob for the first time. And he suddenly understands what the fuck was from with Payback. His belly turns but he hooks his arms beneath Bob’s torso anyway and pulls him up. “I’ve got ‘im!”

Bradley comes to take your spot, carefully but hastily hooking his arms around Bob the way you had been. When you let go and Bob doesn’t fall and they’re carrying him to the mess hall, you have to stand still for a moment to breathe. They’re a few paces ahead of you, ushering Bob inside. And then they will be waiting for you, looking at you for guidance.

Panic is licking at your heels like a hungry dog. You kick it away, wipe your face of tears, and then turn towards the nurse’s cabin.

“I--I have to go get supplies!” You call out. “I’ll be back in a jiff!”

That’s when Jake suddenly comes out of the mess hall, very carefully maneuvering around Bob and everyone else. In his cropped baseball tee and his shorts, holding that shotgun with all the authority of an outlaw, he shakes his head at you. He would never let you go alone.

“I’m coming with you,” he says, already making his way towards you.

“I’m covered in blood,” you tell him, sniffling.

Fuck. You wipe your face again. No more crying.

He chews his bottom lip.

“It’s dark. I can’t see you,” he says. “Let’s giddy on up.”

He wishes, more than anything, that the world would stop for just a second. Just so he could look at you, just so he could help put your hair up, just so he could hold your cheeks and look for injury, just so he could look into your eyes and see their color and let all the feeling come back into his toes.

“We’ve gotta go quick,” you tell him. “That t-shirt tourniquet ain’t gonna last.”

The two of you run to the nurse’s cabin together, your tears fading the closer you get to the door of the cabin.

“The fuck is happening?” Jake says to you. “What happened to him?”

You shake your head, panting, flicking the lightswitch on in the nurse’s cabin. Jake, who had been watching your shadowed form, has to look away from you. He stands in the doorway, his back facing you, and aims his gun at all the nothing out there before him.

He listens to you--all those human sounds you’re making. You keep sniffling and wiping your face. He knows you’re crying, which to him seems to be a very natural response to what’s happening here right now, but he knows that it’s bothering you, too. Your footsteps are heavy and rushed as you grab gauze and medical tape and first aid.

Jake just listens.

He’s waiting, almost, for something to materialize in the dark and come rushing towards him. A man, a beast, a creature, a monster, a ghost. He isn’t sure what--he just feels like it’s coming. It is going to come. Quietly as he knows how, he flicks the safety off. Just in case.

“Is he gonna die?” Jake asks.

Swallowing hard, your arms full of antiseptic, you shake your head.

“No. But we can’t stay here. We’ve gotta--we’ve gotta get the fuck outta here.”

“But the tree,” Jake says. He can feel you nodding, even without looking at you. “And the phones are out.”

“I know,” you tell him, shaking your head. Brain pulsing a mile a minute, you strain to remember if you need anything more than you have on the table. “I know.”

“What are we gonna do?” Jake whispers.

You swallow hard.

“Survive,” you tell him.

♀

It’s strange that the sun is shining. It’s strange that birds are calling and the lake is rippling. There’s not a cloud in the sky, just vast baby blue that stretches on forever and ever. And the air is suddenly perfumed with irises--which seemed to have literally bloomed overnight in spurts of violet and deep green.

Really, it’s a beautiful day.

But everyone is still huddled inside. The campers are itching to get outside, to return to some normalcy, but not one of them is brave enough to ask about it. Jake’s been sitting by the door all night with the shotgun, eyes narrowed and laser-focused. Phoenix, Fanboy, and Payback are all sitting at the picnic tables, saying nothing to each other, their eyes drooping and their chests aching.

Bradley and Coyote are in the kitchen with you and Bob, each of you sitting around him. It was a long, long night. The worst night of your life, probably. There are no windows in the kitchen so you cannot smell the irises in here--all you can smell is burnt flesh from where you held a burning frying pan to Bob’s wound to cauterize it.

“It’s almost ten,” Coyote sighs, running his hands down his face. His fingers are stained with blood. “What are we gonna do?”

“Stick it out,” Bradley answers. His shoulder is just barely grazing yours and it’s keeping him going right now--those brief and accidental grazes. You two didn’t get to live long in the afterglow so this is as much as he gets now. “What else are we gonna do?”

“Investigate,” Coyote answers. “Look around. See what we find.”

“What would we find?” Bradley asks.

It’s quiet for a moment. Coyote readjusts on the tiles and shrugs.

“A weapon,” he asnwers. “The weapon. A fucking…I don’t know. A clue?”

Bradley scoffs.

“Look, we all know how much you love Scooby Doo, but this isn’t Mystery Inc., alright? This is real fucking life and Bob is really fucking hurt and we’re fucking stuck here,” Bradley spits. “Whatever the fuck is happening here is real and we’re living it and there’s not clues to find.”

The tips of Coyote’s ears burn with rage.

But then you clear your throat.

“Coyote’s right,” you say softly. “Maybe we should go in shifts. Let the kids stretch their legs. We’re gonna go crazy if we’re cooped up in here all day.”

Rooster scoffs again, shaking his head.

“What, the killer only comes at night?”

“Appears that way,” you whisper back.

You look at him--the one who’s been your right-hand man all night and into this beautiful morning. He didn’t hesitate at all. He held onto Bob’s arm, checked his pulse, didn’t gag. He handed you the right items when you called for them--gauze, tape, cotton, syringe, alcohol. After everything you did last night, the love that he shared with you and the body you shared with him, and this is where you are now. Those big, brown eyes pouring into yours, lips twisted in exhaustion, blood thick on his hands and arms.

And he’s looking at you, too. He watched you work all night--really, really work--and not once did you stumble. You did some of the most ugly and life-saving things for Bob and you didn’t so much as flinch when you did it. Head-to-toe, you’re covered in blood. Bradley’s sure you probably have some in your teeth, too, after the night you’ve had. But here you are all the same, beautiful and looking at him gently.

“We need to make a plan,” Coyote says.

You nod at once. Bradley nods, but doesn’t look away from you.

Looking down at Bob, his flaxen face and his fluttering eyelids, you sigh. He’s alive. He’s alive and that’s all that matters right now and you’ve done all you can do and that’s that. Part of you wishes he would wake up and tell everyone what happened. The other part of you, the more sober and logical part of you, is glad he isn’t awake to feel the pain.

“He’ll be arlight,” Bradley whispers to you. “It’s Bob. Bob can’t die.”

You sniff again, shake your head.

“Let’s get everyone in here, huh?”

Everyone does squeeze into the kitchen--which is far too small. Jake stands at the door, his back turned to everyone, and keeps the shotgun aimed for the main entrance.

“He’s…alive?” Fanboy asks from beside Payback, glancing down at Bob’s body splayed on the tiles.

“Yes,” you whisper. “But he won’t be if we don’t figure out how to get out of here.”

Phoenix sighs, sniffles, rubs the tears under her eyes.

“What about the bus?” She asks.

“It’s older than us,” Jake says, shaking his head soberly. “Besides, I’m sure the gas is bad.”

Coyote nods.

“He’s right. Ain’t no way that bus is getting us out of here.”

“Well, even if it did work, we couldn’t get out of here,” Bradley says.

“The tree,” you follow.

A lull falls over the group. Everyone is picking their skin, blinking, rubbing the toes of their shoes against the tiles.

“So, what are we gonna do?” Payback asks. “Do we just…wait until Mav and Pen come for the next supply run?”

Coyote exhales long and hard through his nose.

“That ain’t until the first week of August,” he says softly. “No way we’ll be alive by then.”

Phoenix snaps up, staring hard at Coyote.

“Is that some sort of joke?” She asks, brows furrowed. She wraps her arms around herself as her heart races. “‘Cause no one’s laughing.”

Coyote blinks at her.

“I wasn’t joking,” he says.

Another lull falls over the group.

Now Fanboy scoffs loudly--it echoes off the tiles.

“Fine? You think we’re gonna be fine? Bob’s arm is fucking gone! Phoenix pulled it off!” Fanboy says, gesturing wildly. “We don’t have enough food to last us until August and we can’t go trotting on down the trail and cut the fucking tree down ‘cause someone’ll cut us down! We’re fucked, man. We’re totally fucked.”

Jake shakes his head. And before anyone else can speak, Jake starts.

“When did we all become such pussies, huh?” He asks. He turns so his profile is visible. He makes a point of not looking into the room because of the blood, so he just stares atraight ahead at the doorframe. “Why the fuck are we sitting around in here when we should be using the daylight to our advantage? Shit, how many of us are there? Seven?”

“Six,” Phoenix answers, nodding to Bob. Her heart aches--genuienly aches--when Bob doesn’t turn to her and roll his eyes. “There’s six of us, really.”

“Fine. There’s six of us. And whoever is out there--shit, there’s gotta only be one of them, right? ‘Cause they didn’t get the job done both times.”

“But we don’t know that,” Fanboy says. “There could be a bunch.”

“I’m willing to bet there’s one fucking freak out there, alright? And one fucking freak isn’t gonna herd us into the fucking mess hall, are they? We need to get out there. Figure this all out.”

You’re shaking your head softly.

“There’s nothing to figure out,” Payback says. “We’re fucked, man.”

“Stop saying we’re fucked,” Coyote says. “We don’t even know what we are yet.”

“Okay, fine. We’re not fucked yet. But Bob is,” Fanboy says, glancing down at Bob. “Shit, I bet these kids are fucked, too.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Phoenix hisses suddenly, turning towards Fanboy and shoving a finger in his face. “Don’t fucking talk about Bob like he isn’t here! He’s right here!”

“But is he?” Payback says. And he doesn’t say it to be a dick. He says it because he means it, really has to ask it.

Phoenix sniffles, shaking her head.

“Yes,” you answer for her, voice very quiet and calm. “Yes, he’s right here.”

It’s quiet for a moment. The campers are starting to whine about being hungry.

“What about Paul?” Bradley asks.

Brows furrow.

“What about him?” Coyote asks. “Like, you think he’s the killer?”

Bradley shakes his head.

“Nah, man. He’s too old. But he’s--he’s still out there. Maybe he has a truck or a radio or-or something we can use, right?”

Everyone nods slowly.

“But then who’s gonna go there?” Fanboy asks.

“Yeah, that’s a trek through the woods,” Payback answers. “Count me the fuck out, man.”

“Don’t be such a pussy,” Jake spits.

“Knock it off,” you whisper--it’s only just loud enough for everyone to hear. “We’ve gotta be on the same page or we really aren’t going to make it, okay?”

“I just…I don’t even know what we’re up against,” Phoenix whispers. “I’m so confused.”

You pat her knee softly.

“I know,” you whisper. “None of us do.”

“I know whatever we’re up against is too much of a scaredy cat to come out during the day,” Jake says. “Which is why we would be taking advantage of the sun.”

“You don’t know that, though. You really don’t. You’re just guessing,” Bradley sighs. “We need to all agree on one plan.”

You subtly let your fingers fall on Bob’s throat--the pulse is still there. No change.

Phoenix carefully slips her hand into Bob’s--he’s still warm. She squeezes hard.

“I don’t wanna leave Bob,” Phoenix whispers. She begins to weep all over again, face contorting in agony. “I really don’t wanna leave Bob.”

“Okay. Phoenix and I stay with Bob,” you say, nodding. “We should get the axes and, like, any other weapons we can find. Lock the cabins up so no one can surprise us.”

Everyone nods slowly.

“Then what?” Fanboy asks.

You sigh. Your legs are cramping from having them bent all night, but you don’t stretch out.

“We’ll sleep in shifts. Armed escorts to the latrine. We’ll wait.”

“For what?” Jake asks quietly. “A miracle?”

“Help,” you whisper. “We’ll wait for help.”

Bradley nods rapidly, peeling his eyes away from your tired, bloodied face.

“She’s right,” he says. “We should just wait for help.”

Coyote sighs deeply, running his hands down his face for the millionth time today.

“I feel like we’re bait,” he says. “I don’t wanna be bait, man.”

“We’re not bait,” you answer. “We’re not. We have the…the mean to protect ourselves. We’ve got the campers to think of, too, okay? So, we just need to keep our heads.”

“Yeah, or they’ll be cut off…” Fanboy whispers.

Coyote nudges him.

“Enough with the doom and gloom, alright? She’s right. We’ve gotta keep our heads.”

Everyone starts to move after that.

You and Phoenix stay right there with Bob, your hand on her leg, her face buried in her own shoulder as she weeps. Coyote offers to clear our the rooms of necessary items and lock them all up. Payback and Fanboy start lining the kids up to go to the latrine and stretch their legs. Bradley and Jake start for the bus barn to look for a final time, just to confirm what they already know.

Finally, it’s quiet in the mess hall. So quiet that you can hear the swallows chirping outside and the wind blowing through the trees. You can hear Bob breathing--very faint and very quiet.

Phoenix turns her wet face towards Bob finally, her throat constricting. She smooths a hand through his hair, sniffling hard.

“Does he…does he hurt?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “He’s in shock. And, besides, I gave him a morphine tablet.”

Phoenix nods. It makes her chest feel less tight than it did before.

“What could even cut through like that?” Phoenix whispers, shaking her head. “I mean, not a knife, right?”

“Definitely not a seashell,” you whisper.

A sad smile tugs at her lips.

“An ax?” She whispers. You say nothing. She knows she’s right. “What’s happening, Gale?”

Again, you sigh.

“I’m not sure,” you answer. “I just don’t know.”

Phoenix stares down at Bob again. He almost doesn’t look like himself because of all the blood and mud. It bothers her because she knows it would bother him--being so entirely covered in grime. He’s the cleanest person she knows.

“He’d hate being so dirty,” she whispers to you. She carefully strokes his cheek. “He showers twice a day.”

And because you don’t know what else to do and because you’re choked up and because you’re so exhausted and because you’re so scared, you stand on wobbly legs. And then you move to the sink and turn the tap on and wait for it to warm. Your knees are trembling and your undereyes are pulsing, but you keep your fingers beneath the stream anyway. Then you wet a few rags, fill a small container, and slowly come back to Phoenix.

Neither of you say anything, choked on the humanness of the situation, as you both begin to diligently wipe at the dirt and gore that covers Bob’s skin. It’s very quiet except for dripping water and occasional sniffles.

If anyone else were to walk in this room right now, Bob’s body without an arm and cauterized with a frying pan and you and Phoenix drenched in his blood, they would think that you are preparing him for his funeral. They would think that in this time of crisis, when there is someone out there that wants to hurt everyone else and no one knows who they are or where or what or why or how, you and Phoenix are doing what you can. You’re being as human as human can be, washing the blood off Bob even though he isn’t awake to feel it or see it.

You wring a rag in the bucket--it’s color is that of red clay.

Across camp, Jake and Bradley are standing before the bus now. Their hands are on their hips and they’re squinting beneath the sun, chewing their bottom lips.

“Fuck,” Bradley whispers.

“I was gonna say that,” Jake whispers.

All the tired are slashed. Whoever is at Camp Arcadia was here, too. Maybe standing right where Bradley and Jake are now.

Jake sighs.

“What now?” Bradley asks.

“We listen to Gale,” Jake answers.

Rooster nods, swallowing hard.

“Alright,” he says. “Yeah.”

Maybe it’s Jake’s fault for bringing you up right now. Maybe it’s Bradley’s fault for agreeing. But now both of them are sitting uncomfortably in the thick of their feelings for you, shifting their weights from one foot to another.

And for whatever reason, Jake thinks about Bradley coming to his cabin early this morning. He thinks about the direction he came from--your cabin--and the direction he went--his cabin.

“Hey, man,” Jake says, wandering forward to run a finger along the dusty bus. Rooster watches from the doorway, still taking it all in. “Why weren’t you in your cabin last night?”

“Now isn’t the time, Seresin,” Rooster grumbles. “We need to go grab the axes. Let’s go.”

Jake doesn’t move.

“Where were you? Bathroom break?”

Bradley stares at him. His jaw is squared.

“You’re really doing this right now?” He asks, incredulous.

Jake just nods.

“You know where I was,” Bradley says softly. “Can we go now?”

Jake swallows hard. He doesn’t know why he’s getting into this--he isn’t dumb, he knows right now isn’t the time. But he’s so exhausted and he hasn’t been able to look at you all day and all last night. He almost fainted because you had a fucking bloody nose. He doesn’t know what’s going on and he’s scared and worried and stressed, but instead of feeling all of that he’s decided to just feel angry. Angry at Bradley.

“I wanna hear you say it.”

Bradley turns his back, scoffing loudly.

“Grow the fuck up,” Bradley spits.

And that’s when Bradley hears it--very faint, like it was supposed to be a secret. The clicking of the safety on the shotgun.

Rooster whirls around, eyes wide. Jake is staring at him, shotgun in his hands and aimed towards the ground.

“Did you just turn the safety off?” Rooster asks. The tips of his ears are bright red.

Jake’s face screws up as if he’s been insulted.

“Are you fucking mental? Of course I didn’t,” Jake spits. “But I bet you made it with Nightingale last night, didn’t you?”

Bradley takes a step forward, eyes narrowed.

“Yeah. I did.”

Jake’s jaw drops.

“You’re lying,” he seethes.

“She really goes electric when you kiss her thighs,” Bradley says, the hint of a smirk tugging on his lips. “But you already knew that, right?”

“Yeah, I did,” Jake whispers. “I made her cum. Three times.”

“And then never again,” Bradley says. “We’re together now.”

“Bullshit you are!” Jake says. “Fuck you, man. You think you’re such a macho guy, huh? Making all the decisions for her!”

Rooster barks out a laugh.

“I think she made her choice last night,” he tells Jake. “So, while Coyote read you a bedtime story, Gale and I made it official.”

“You don’t get to just date whatever you fuck,” Jake seethes. “Then every tubesock in the world would be lawfully yours.”

“Fuck you,” Rooster spits.

He shoves Jake’s shoulders. Jake stumbles only slightly, the gun tight in his grip.

“Fuck you, man,” Jake returns, slamming the side of the shotgun into Bradley’s chest until he stumbles back, too.

And because he’s so fucking pissed that he didn’t get to wake up basked in sunlight beside you, fresh and clean and without hurt and without incident, Bradley steps back to Jake until they’re nose-to-nose.

“Lay a hand on me again and you’re gonna live to regret it, you fucking pussy.”

It’s the nastiest thing Bradley’s ever said to Jake.

And because Jake is so drunk on you and the thought of you and Bradley touching each other makes him feel like a suffocated bottlerocket, he scowls at Bradley.

With all the commotion, Coyote wanders over to the bus barn. He doesn’t know who the fuck decided Bradley and Jake should be paired off together, but he’s cursing it now as he approaches and sees the two of them nose-to-nose.

“Nothing to say, you fucking bitch?” Bradley whispers. “Still thinking about Gale riding my cock last night? I know I am.”

Coyote steps into the barn.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Jake screams.

He starts to wind up his arm, but then Coyote has his arms around him and he’s choving the gun away from Jake and pulling him back.

“Knock it the fuck off!” Coyote demands, shoving Jake to the side. “You, too, Bradshaw! Keep your fucking heads. Now isn’t the time to play tug-of-war, alright. Don’t be fucking idiots.”

Bradley and Jake are still staring at each other. Each of them are thinking about how good it would feel to let their fists come down on the other’s face over and over again and then leave them face down in the dirt.

“He’s right,” Bradley says. “Someone probably should’ve stayed with the girls anyway. Just in case.”

Jake spits--it lands right near Bradley’s shoes.

“Stop,” Coyote demands. “Get outta here, Bradshaw.”

And then Bradley is gone and Coyote is staring at Jake, disappointed but not surprised. It was bound to boil over eventually. Coyote knows how Jake feels about you. He knows how much it hurts--how much it’s going to hurt.

“You alright?” Coyote asks.

Jake is standing with his back on the bus, facing the ground, his eyes narrowed and his lips twisted. His fists are clenched and his cheeks are red.

“Is anyone fine?” Jake asks, voice quiet and angry.

“You know what I mean, man,” Coyote says. He sighs, runs his hand along his curls.

They don’t say anything for a long moment.

They’re both just looking around, trying to think of anything to say other than they’re fucked and they’re pissed. Coyote’s searching the room, taking in all the dust and the dirt. He sees the slashed tires. But then something catches his eye--something bright red and small. It’s stuck in the tire, planted there like it belongs.

“The fuck is that?” Coyote whispers.

Jake glances up, follows Coyote’s gaze.

Their mouths go dry identically when they realize what it is.

“Fuck,” Jake whispers. “It’s a Swiss army knife.”

♀ 𝐚/𝐧: hi guys....

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dawnagustd · 2 years ago

Text

thirst trap || jjk

main masterlist | listen while you read | mailbox | bangtan seven deadly sins collab

Invincible.

That’s how you feel as the warm breeze whips your arm hanging out of the driver’s side door. Nothing but open road and miles of dirt terrains surround your tiny sports car. The smell of your hair products fills the air as the wind sends your curls flying in every direction. A glance in the rearview mirror through your dark lens-covered eyes reveals that your previous style has become wild and blown out. However, there is nothing a brush and a hair tie can’t fix.

There are far more important things on your mind.

The message came through around 3 AM and by 5 AM, you were on the road, headed nearly 2000 miles outside of your hometown to see the biggest rockstar this world has ever seen.

Not to see him live or anything like that; you could never afford that on a barista’s salary, but you can use your allowance to visit a church retreat. That’s exactly where you told your parents you were going when you withdrew $3300 from your savings.

Of course, you can never go back to your life there now that you’ve lied to go “see the devil” as they would put it, but the thing is. You don’t want to.

All you want to do is travel and see the world they speak so poorly of. Everything you’ve ever been taught came through the mouths of bigots who held themselves higher than anyone who did not worship their God.

From the start of life, you walked the path they’d beaten for you. But once you turned 18, all of hell broke loose. For three years, you’ve lived a double life—spending Sunday through Friday as a well-mannered young lady while you partied on the weekends.

Even though you hate university, it’s also the best thing that ever happened to you. You met friends, learned how to lie—and discovered sexual desires you never thought you had.

However, all that wasn’t enough for a caged bird like yourself even. You started hanging out with a group of people who didn't attend college and spent most of their time idolizing their favorite rock gods. That’s how it happened.

That’s how you found him.

Jungkook’s hair was long, he wore leather pants with his shirt ripped open, chest and abs exposed—he was the definition of a deity because he owned every piece of the stage and the crowd surrounding him. His eyes were pitched black and made out to be soulless, but somehow you still found a spark in them. A passion for the music that you felt you shared with him.

It’s like you read his emotions that no one else could see. As delusional as it sounds, you felt connected.

So, you found his Instagram, you liked his pictures, and you flooded his comments. You even became brave enough to DM him every day.

You’ve always said that you’d stop if he asked you to, but the thing is, he never did. He hasn’t replied either. Well, up until yesterday.

You were on his account looking at his photos, when suddenly you received a direct message. You don’t have many real friends, and you figured it was just one of them sending you a link or something. It didn’t click in your mind until you opened your messages and saw his profile icon and username.

For the first ten minutes, you screamed into your pillow, but then you realized it could be a bot or maybe his account could be hacked. However after opening the message, you discovered a picture of a note.

Written in his handwriting were coordinates to an unknown location. Your first reaction was to look them up, but it only provided an empty piece of land. Because you were skeptical, you asked him about the location but received no reply.

After a while, you concluded that maybe his home is located there, and the global satellite hasn’t picked it up yet. That’s what you wanted to believe, at least. And that is what persuaded you to pack a bag and abandon your life.

If you were being honest with yourself, you knew it was on your mind anyway. You’re a thrill seeker; every day you thought about packing your shit and leaving just because you were bored.

You aren’t afraid of not knowing the future or taking a leap, so that’s why despite knowing this is a bad idea, you said, “fuck it.”

Fuck what your religious parents have to say, to hell with your studies, and goodbye to that boring ass town. You’re thirty miles away from meeting the lead singer of Deadly Svn, and your heart is racing with adrenaline.

You spent the night at a hotel and left to meet him at the location about two hours ago. Every few hours, you try to update him, but now you have no signal to contact him. You hope he’s home and security doesn’t call the cops.

The optimism you had before leaving your hometown slowly fades as you get closer and closer, but no sign of life of residency comes into view. You start to believe this was just a joke to get back at you for being so thirsty.

All of your plans to tell him how much you love his music and how you adore his courage to be different seem to be a waste of all the time you practiced in the mirror, so you don’t stammer and trip over yourself. You start to think you’ll never be able to tell him how much he’s changed your life for the better or how you’ll save up enough to see him live one day.

Your expectations sink lower as your GPS takes you off the highway and into the wilderness.

A dirt storm begins to form, prompting you to roll up your windows so that the particles don’t travel into your interior. You can barely see five feet ahead, but you keep going until you hear,

“Your destination is up ahead. You have arrived.”

You sit waiting and holding your breath until the dirt settles. Whirlwinds cover your car in a tan gritted coat of dry soil, but it doesn’t matter to you when your feelings are on the line.

You brace yourself for the worst, and once it’s clear, you know you’ve done right. Absolutely nothing lies in front of you, and your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. You pull out your phone and try to send a message over and over, but ultimately realize that you can’t.

It dawns on you that he’s not coming after several minutes of waiting. You’re hurt, heartbroken if you’re being honest with yourself. There’s no denying how high your hopes were despite the probability being highly unlikely, so you don’t even bother holding back the scream that erupts in your throat.

Your fists punch the steering wheel multiple times, releasing your frustrations on your beloved car. Your hands still tremble long after your outburst is over.

Sighing, you grab your bag off the floor and look for something to tie your hair up so that it doesn’t blow in your face once you step outside for a smoke. You find your brush and a scrunchie then get to work.

The process lasts about a minute, and once you have a ponytail secured, you throw the brush on the seat and grab your cigarette pack and lighter.

A gust of air hits your cunt when the door opens, and you place a foot on the ground. You push down your little black dress to shield your fishnet and panty-covered center from the elements.

Once you’re out of the cramped space and soothed with the first inhale of nicotine, your body slowly starts to cool down. You take in the scenery as you exhale—observing all the dry land and dehydrated vegetation around you.

It’s eerily quiet as the sun enters the beginning stages of setting into the horizon. There’s so much silence that you become uncomfortable with being the only person out here, so exposed and vulnerable to whatever ominous presence that your mind thinks is watching you.

Your breathing is as shaky as your limbs. You’re barely able to hold the cigarette between your fingers due to your lack of stability.

With another slow drag from the stick, you close your eyes and let your head loll back as your car supports your weight. You breathe out and are momentarily taken away to a place in your mind that holds your peace. You channel it and allow it to lead you to your next move.

Maybe a minute or so goes by and you’re completely lost within your thoughts, going over “where to” next or what you’re going to do about living arrangements and money. It’s something you planned on figuring out after your meeting, but since you’ve been played it’s all you have left to think about.

While in your trance, you don’t notice that there’s a car speeding towards you, stirring up dust and dirt, until the loud music fills your ears. You open your eyes and turn in the direction of the highway. That’s when you see the black old school with the tinted windows, classic rock blasting through the speakers. You don’t know for sure, but your immediate guess is that it’s him.

The vehicle pulls alongside yours and comes to a stop behind the engine dies. You stand frozen, waiting for someone to climb out of the driver or passenger seat. But nothing happens, and more minutes pass.

You narrow your eyes to look inside while taking a hit from your cigarette, but you can’t see anything because the windows are too dark. A part of you wants to approach it, but you never get the opportunity.

“You shouldn’t play with those, love.”

A man’s voice breaks the thick silence, and the cigarette is snatched from your hand. Your head whips in the direction of the source. The world stops when you lay eyes on the person.

“They’re bad for you,” the man adds as he brings the cigarette to his lips. There’s no mistaking his black-painted nails or multiple piercings and tattoos.

It’s him. Jungkook is standing beside you.

Your mouth is open as you watch him inhale the entire thing in one breath until only the butt remains. He plucks it and sends it flying out of his hand then turns toward you. His body leans against your car while he takes a moment for his eyes to drink you in.

You do the same. However, the expressions on your faces differ. Jungkook’s face remains expressionless while he’s checking you out, but you, on the other hand, are nearly drooling in awe.

He’s even more breathtaking in person. He stands tall and broad, shoulders wide, and a dominance that can captivate you from miles away. He claims it all without a word spoken and that makes him even hotter, more desirable.

His features only add to your attraction to him. This new look of his has been your favorite from the start. Jungkook set standards for rock that many were too afraid to try. He ditched the dark and mysterious look and went with what he wanted.

The icy blue paired with the dark roots of his undercut is something you’d expect to clash, but he pulls it off well. His low cut allows you to see the piercings that adorn his ears, something you’d have to strain to make out on camera, but now it is presented to you up close and personal. You’d be stuck on the silver jewelry forever if there weren’t other parts of him you weren’t dying to check out.

Like the way his tongue absentmindedly pokes at his lip piercing. Or how he lifts his eyebrow slightly while he stares at you. You can’t ignore how defined his pecs are, even in his loose-fitting sweater. Or the way his jeans hug his sculpted thighs.

Immediately, your mouth starts to babble.

“Oh, fuck. It’s you… I’m your biggest fan. I love all of your music… Every song. And I—”

“Enough of that.” He waves his hand and shushes you. Your lips don’t utter another word after he’s asserted his dominance. “I came to talk about you.”

You nod and swallow back whatever it is you were going to say. It can wait, you figure. If he wants to talk about boring you, then so be it.

“So, love.” He approaches you with his hands linked behind his back. His long lashes cover most of his eyes. However, the glossiness of his orbs still give off a small glint that makes them as dreamy as they are hazy. “What’s the problem?”

Your pulse quickens as he inches closer, heart nearly bursting through your skin when his chest touches your arm. Jungkook’s body presses against you as he interrogates you. Though the weather is nice, your palms still sweat profusely. However, your composure doesn’t falter, and you look him in the eye as you speak.

“There isn’t a problem. I really do love your music and—”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about,” he interrupts.

Well, fuck.

Somehow, your reason for being here slips your mind. You were so excited to actually see him standing next to you, the fact that you’d have to take accountability for your actions got put on the back burner.

Nevertheless, you put on a brave face and confess your sins. Jungkook patiently waits for an answer from you.

“Well,” you start, sighing before you continue to eliminate the shakiness in your voice. “There’s still not a problem or anything on my end but I can understand you must be frustrated with my spamming.”

“I’m not tired, I’m curious, actually.”

You frown. “Why so?”

“Because…” Jungkook’s eyes roll with wonder as he pretends to be in thought. His gaze is directed toward you once he’s done. “I just wanna know how far you’ll go for attention.”

“Attention?” you repeat.

Jungkook nods.

“Yeah. It’s obvious that’s what you want. Am I right?”

“No, you’re not. That’s not why,” you reply, a bit defensive. Maybe that’s partially true, but the way he says it doesn’t sit right with you. “I just—”

“Wanted me to notice you?”

A coy smile threatens to form on Jungkook’s face.

“Yeah,” you confess. “But it’s not what you think.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“Well—”

“Well…”

You sigh and admit defeat.

“You’re right, I guess.”

“I am,” Jungkook scoffs. “I’m always right.”

You look straight ahead. There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach because this isn’t going as planned. You spent hours practicing and perfecting each syllable only to be sideswiped by Jungkook’s wit.

He’s reading you so hard you’re scared to think too loud.

“I bet…” He shifts and positions himself in front of you, blocking your view with his body. “I bet there’s even a reason behind this.”

Jungkook gestures toward your figure with his hands, but you’re still clueless.

“My outfit?”

He agrees with a nod.

“But not just that. Everything about you… Including that recycled persona you’re rocking is nowhere near who you really are, is it?”

“No, this is me,” you deny. “I’m not sure who you expected.”

Jungkook reaches out, startling you so you jerk away. He chuckles and then proceeds to take the tiny silver crucifix hanging from your chain between his fingertips. Then he looks at you with a smirk.

“This girl,” he whispers. “That’s who I wanna meet.”

He abandons the jewelry and steps away from you. You release the breath you were holding while his back is turned. His enticing smell still lingers in the evening air, traveling through your nostrils as you inhale it deeply for remembrance.

“You bring her out, and you might get what you want,” he proposes.

Copying his phrase, you continue the banter.

“How do you know what I want?”

Jungkook turns around swiftly, creating a gust of wind as his body turns. He returns to his spot in front of you and leans down so that he’s eye level with you.

“Because I can see everything… Right down to your righteous little soul,” he informs. Jungkook’s voice drops octaves lower, giving you chills and goosebumps along your arm. “You think this is a gimmick, don’t you?”

His eyes begin to bleed black and eventually become saturated with dark ink. Your reflexes cause you to gasp, but you aren’t surprised. You know. You’ve always known.

“No, I don’t,” you answer truthfully. “I know what you are. That’s why I’m not afraid.”

You watch as his face transforms from the handsome features of a man to the characteristics of a monster. However, despite the flare of his nostrils or his clenched jaw, there’s still the same twinkle in those dark eyes, and you fall deeper for the rawness of his true identity.

“So why are you clutching that?” he questions, eyes shifting to your necklace. You didn’t realize you’d grabbed it in your state of shock. “An obedient one, you are.”

His smile grows, revealing his sharp fangs. The heat that radiates from his body has you tempted to move closer, but you hang onto your self-control. Your breath hitches as you’re suddenly met with his thick black talons, coming forward to tap your cheek.

“I like it, baby. I really do, but the thing is…” He gently drags his nail down your skin, and your eyelids flutter shut. One would naturally be afraid of such a creature, but you can’t help but find yourself intrigued by the things your parents begged you not to let in. “You can’t play for both teams.”

The warmth vanishes as he retracts, and you miss it almost immediately. You open your eyes and find him creating some distance.

“What do you think I am, love?”

You only catch the ending of what he says, entirely caught up in the way he touched you or the way his stare penetrated your soul.

“Huh?”

He laughs. “You say you know. Well, what do you know?... Who do you think I am?”

You stare at the broadness of his shoulders, getting lost again until he looks back with a raised brow.

“If you aren’t going to talk, I can leave—”

“You’re one of the fallen. A damned soul,” you quickly reply.

“Very close. But not exactly true, sweetheart.” Jungkook turns around but stays rooted to his spot. Instead, you step closer, feeling braver than before. Your hand abandons your necklace and returns to your side. Jungkook looks down at you as you approach him, his lips forming a lopsided grin.

“Really?” you ask, and he nods.

“Mhm. Bet you don’t even know why you’re here, do you?”

“No,” you answer. “I have no idea. But I’m still glad you invited me.”

“You think you’re the only pretty girl I invited?”

You bite your tongue just in time after almost throwing out an insult in retaliation for your hurt feelings. You’re not gullible; you knew, but he still didn’t have to say it.

You exhale through your nose when he begins to circle you like a shark stalking its prey. You don’t want Jungkook to know it upsets you, but something tells you he already knows it.

“Jealous little thing, huh?” he teases, his hand brushing against the bottom of your dress, gently grazing your ass. Who cares if it was intentional or not; it felt fucking great. “You want it all to yourself. I know the feeling, love.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie.

Jungkook doesn’t believe it, of course.

“Sure you do.” His hands find your shoulders, and he levels his lips with your ear. You shudder, and he feels it. The reaction brings a smirk to his face. He whispers, “You can stop me, you know?”

“I don’t want to,” you answer truthfully.

“Hm, that’s interesting.”

Jungkook’s nose finds its way to your neck. He inhales deeply and hums while his large hands run up and down your arms. Every part of his is hot to the touch so your feverish flesh is scorching due to the friction. Your knees buckle when he starts using his lips to caress you instead of his nose.

He breathes out his words, making everything he says sound vulgar and sweet.

“You think you can handle me, love?” Jungkook asks, teeth grazing your skin in the midst of his trail of open-mouth kisses.

Jungkook sways, and his crotch rubs against your lower back. You can feel his desire growing as time ticks by.

You make sure your answer is as confident as the boner in his jeans. “I know I can.”

However, Jungkook isn’t as convinced as you are.

“Well, if that’s the case… Why don’t you prove it?” he insists, amusement finding its way back into his smile.

Your body tenses when he grabs your face and forces you to look at him, knowing the effect he has on you. But no matter how sexy he looks with wet lips and lust-filled eyes, your ego doesn’t shrink.

“I can do that too,” you boast.

“Oh, I hope so, baby,” Jungkook chuckles. “You know why?”

“Why, Jungkook?”

Your stomach flips when his laughter fills your ears, his pitch lowering until it reaches a level no human is capable of forming.

“Because I’ve been waiting for you to fuck up for too long.”

All you feel is his arm snake around your waist before he spins you and pins you against his car. You hiss as your breasts are being pressed against the scolding glass of his vintage masterpiece. His hips keep your lower half pinned to the vehicle while his hands grab your arms and place them on the roof.

Your thighs and chest burn from the blistering heat, but you grit through it because the way his body feels on yours takes your mind off of the pain.

Jungkook’s nose audibly inhales your flesh while his hands move down your body, lifting your dress so he can grind against your ass. They move up again and find your boobs, and he kneads both mounds in his hands.

“Fuck, you’ve been a bad girl, love,” he states. “So, so bad.”

“No I haven’t,” you smirk, rubbing your ass against his dick. “I’m an angel.”

Jungkook scoffs.

“You wish.”

He abandons your tits to give your ass some attention. You bite your lip when he separates and squeezes your folds, complimenting you on how soft it feels in his grasp.

“My, my, my…” he sighs. “Baby, this piece of ass is the only thing I’d ever thank God for.”

His praise makes you smile proudly.

“You’re so fucking soft, and so damn beautiful… I can’t wait to ruin this body. You’ve got no idea, love,” Jungkook continues.

“Show me, then. Teach me a lesson,” you challenge.

Jungkook’s menacing laugh fills your ears, and chills go through your body. Your burning skin has adapted to the searing exterior at this point.

“Sweetheart, do you know what I do to pretty girls like you out here?” One hand slips between your thighs and the other grabs your face. He lifts your head and angles it toward his dark eyes. You instantly get lost in them. “You wanna know what I do to them?”

Jungkook’s middle finger slides back and forth against your tights and lace panties, the sharpness of his nails threatening to rip the fabric strand by strand. Your lips quiver and beg for him to kiss you, but you keep focus on the conversation.

“Tell me.”

He smiles and reveals his fangs. However, it doesn’t startle you for one second. He intrigues you as much as he attracts you. You want to see more. You want to learn about who he really is.

“Well,” he starts, gently turning your head and laying it against the surface. Your shadow has blocked the sun and cooled down that portion of the vehicle so your cheek doesn’t burn like your arms and thighs did.

“It starts with desperation. No matter how hard you try, I’ll never give you a response,” he informs. “I wait. I’ll wait years if I have to.”

While he speaks, his digit teases your clit. A smirk forms on his lips when he draws a small moan from your throat. He moves to your opening and applies a small amount of pressure, threatening to break the material and enter your pussy.

“Then, whenever I feel like you’re ripe enough for me to devour, I call… And they always come running.”

“Jungkook,” you gasp when his talon pierces your clothing and tears a hole, thinking he’s going to give you what you desire. But he doesn’t, and he shushes you to silence.

“Shh. Let me finish talking, love.”

“Okay,” you whimper, trying your best to keep it together.

He whispers in your ear. “Good girl.”

You shudder when his bare fingertips actually come in contact with your heat. Your hips move for friction, but it’s not nearly enough.

Jungkook’s lips return to your neck so he can litter your skin with his teeth. The sting that comes with his bite leaves your flesh tingling and radiating with a sharp pain.

“You know what happens when I get them out here?... All alone,” he asks you, and you shake your head.

“No. I don’t.”

That’s when he admits his true intentions of messaging you back.

“First, I fuck them.”

His finger dips into your wetness and he collects your arousal. He uses it to easily glide the pad of his digit over your throbbing bundle of nerves and you instantly become mush in his arms.

“Then…”

Jungkook’s other hand grabs your throat, and his sharp black nails tap against your jugular. It’s like his vision is trained on the veins that store the blood pumping through your body. It’s impossible for you to focus on how he’s taunting you with the sharpness of his talon when he’s providing pleasure between your legs.

It gives you a rush, the thought of him tearing your skin with those dagger-like nails makes you shiver with anticipation. Your heart rate speeds up and Jungkook chuckles as if he can hear it racing. The longer his eyes watch you in this position, the more you forget about his pending statement until he reminds you.

“...I devour them.”

A shriek escapes you as his nail drags across your skin, creating a shallow cut on the left side of your neck. It isn’t deep but blood drips down your chest, nearly disappearing underneath your dress. However, Jungkook spins you around before it can reach that far.

His thick forked tongue darts out of his mouth, ready to taste whatever it can access. Your skin sizzles with heat as he drags it over your blood-stained body.

“I fucking knew it,” he groans, lifting his head to look at you. Jungkook grabs you by the neck and gives you a disapproving look, steam rising from his body and black horns casually growing from his head.

Your wide eyes watch without a single blink, too afraid you’ll miss a part of the transformation. You’re mesmerized when you should be terrified.

“I can smell everyone you’ve whored around with,” he explains, growling his words out. “And… I can taste them. This won’t do, love.”

Jungkook takes a breath and dives back in, attacking your wound with the desire to consume your blood and cleanse you of whatever he feels is bad for you. Your eyes roll, and the more he takes the more lightheaded you become. You feel as if you’re floating, and nothing can bring you down but the man that’s holding you close and robbing you of your need for survival.

It’s easy to let yourself slip away, but you’ve been high before. You know your limits, so you tap Jungkook’s shoulder to get his attention. He’s also hit with the realization of how long he’s been drinking from you and extracts himself immediately.

His face is painted red when he pulls away, but he still looks amazing. Maybe even hotter. His swollen lips are so enticing. You want to taste them so bad.

“If only you knew how good you taste now,” he whispers, licking his lips while he stares at you.

You don’t respond with words. Instead, you reach and grab his face, stealing the moment you’ve been anticipating forever. Your eyes close naturally and you don’t stop yourself from getting lost in the moment.

The first taste that lands on your tongue is the bittersweet essence of your blood. You moan into his mouth, letting him know you understand what he meant now that you’re experiencing it as well.

Jungkook’s arms pull you closer to his body. You’re enveloped in his warmth and enjoying the way his hand gives your ass squeezes of appreciation. When he smoothly slips his long-wet muscle into your crevice, you finally get the opportunity to taste him like you wanted and he literally takes your breath away.

Eventually, you both become tempted to tear each other’s clothes off, but Jungkook stops everything before it can go there.

“Hold on, love,” he requests. “Before this can happen, you need to settle this.”

Your confused expression prompts him to tap the crucifix chain around your neck. He gives you a look, and you can tell where this is going.

“You can’t be mine if you’re wearing that, baby.”

Looking down at your necklace, you contemplate whether or not you want to get rid of the jewelry you’ve had since the tenth grade. Then your attention is redirected to Jungkook’s face, and he stands there waiting for your answer.

He lifts a brow, and without another thought, you snatch the chain from your neck and allow it to fall to the ground. The flash in Jungkook’s eyes gives away his thrill. However, he still isn’t satisfied with your decision.

“You hesitated,” he comments. “I don’t like that.”

“I just wanted to be sure,” you reply in a soft voice.

“You should have known by now, love… I want you, and there’s no doubt about it.”

Jungkook’s gentle touch grazes your cheek, and you want to melt right there. Your lashes flutter as he caresses your skin, but you open your eyes once he stops and lifts your chin.

“If you want my dick inside that box of yours, you gotta redeem yourself,” Jungkook informs.

“Anything you want,” you answer right away. You don’t even recognize your voice because of its raspiness. You can barely get out your words because it keeps fading out.

“Really?” he hums, and you respond with a nod.

“Anything.”

“Well, get on your knees and pray for it then,” he requests.

You don’t hesitate this time, and you don’t bat an eye as you drop to your knees.

Your entire body feels like it’s on fire, but the desire to please is stronger than anything you’re feeling. You want to do your best for him. You want to be the one he chooses, the one he calls his.

“Please, Jungkook.” Your hands come together in front of you as if you’re saying a prayer. You never take your eyes off of his face and Jungkook peers down at you with a look of approval. “I know I don’t deserve it, but please forgive me.”

He says nothing so you figure he isn’t convinced.

“I can be good, I promise. Let me prove it to you,” you beg, and you can see his features soften with interest.

“I hope you’re right,” he sighs, pulling his sweater over his head.

You’re greeted with his sculpted abs before anything, and it takes self-control not to lunge for him. You have to recover quickly from the shock of how defined they are because the next thing he removes is his pants and his boxers do nothing to hide what’s resting against his thigh.

“Don’t get scared now,” he jokes when he sees your wide eyes.

You blink a few times to pull yourself together, and what he said finally registers.

“I’m not scared,” you answer.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“We’ll see,” he winks.

Jungkook’s dick stands at attention once his boxers are pulled down. Instantly, your mouth begins to water, and crave his length. You don’t mind asking for it either.

“Can I?”

He nods when he approaches you, so you wrap your hand around his cock and are greeted by thick pulsing veins. You explore it by running your hands along it, arousing him in the process unknowingly. It’s not until you hear the first string of curses leave his lips do you understand how much this turns him on.

“I wanna spit on it,” you state out of nowhere, and when you look up at his shocked expression with a smirk. “And…choke on it.”

You begin jerking him off with a twist and pull motion, adding your other hand for extra coverage. You pause to let your saliva drip onto his shaft. He moans when you start lubricating, and those lewd sounds of wetness fill his ears.

You stare at him with doe eyes, and he almost loses it, still you taunt him some more.

“Can I, Jungkook?”

He growls. “Damn it, open your fucking mouth.”

You stick out your tongue, and Jungkook slides in with a screwed-up face. He’s surprised when you suck him in instead of allowing him to shove his cock inside of you himself. Your warmth invites him in and by the time he reaches the back of your throat his hands are locked behind your head, holding you in place because he wants to be buried inside of you as long as possible.

Your spit drips down your chin and onto your chest but you continue to lubricate his dick even though it’s already saturated with your saliva. While he relishes the feeling, you reach for his scrotum and give him a gentle massage while your mouth occupies his cock.

You moan around his length, letting him know you’re ready for your throat to be fucked.

“Ready?” he asks, and you give him the best audible response you’re capable of giving in this position.

Jungkook pulls out slowly and watches how his cock comes out covered in glistening. When he’s completely out, he grabs it and taps your face, getting his precum all over your nose and mouth. Your tongue chases his arousal, and a delightful hum travels from your throat when you have a taste.

“If you need air, tap my thigh,” are the only instructions he gives you before his cock is back inside your mouth, hitting your uvula repeatedly and triggering your gag reflex. Jungkook seems to enjoy the sound of you choking on his dick, so he intentionally thrusts deeper to hear more of the lewd noises.

Your hands hold onto his thighs for support because your head is spinning from the quickness of his movements. Your knees burn from the hot ground blistering your skin, but as people always say, “no pain, no gain.”

The pain isn’t as nearly as intense as the burning in your lungs or the taste of Jungkook’s warm juices drifting down your throat each time his cock squirts out a bit of his arousal. You swallow unintentionally, and Jungkook’s dick twitches with the need to release.

“Fuck! Take it easy,” he grunts, legs trembling as he struggles to keep it together. Looking up at his face, you see beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, and you know he’s too far gone to hold back. You swallow on purpose this time, and his cum begins to fill up your throat. But even when in his moment of euphoria, Jungkook still isn’t letting you off easy. “I told you to take it easy, slut.”

He pulls out of you abruptly and you start coughing as the air enters your lungs too quickly.

“Hand and knees,” he orders, pushing you towards the ground. You’re thankful your back is turned to hide the smirk on your face because you know it’d piss him off more.

You hear him shuffling behind you, probably removing the rest of his clothes because his belt hits the hard ground after a few seconds. His shadow approaches you from behind and blocks the light.

“And this has to come the fuck off,” he states while ripping off your dress. Your tights and panties are next to go, leaving you bare on the desert floor. His sharp talons crawl up your spine, and your body shivers in response. “Arch your back unless you want me to do it for you, love.”

You follow his orders, and he praises you for your ability to position your body perfectly to his preference. His hands can’t stop themselves from touching your globes. You can hear your arousal when he spreads your folds with his thumbs, looking into your opening with his mouth-watering. You bury your face in your arm because you’re sure he heard it too.

“Don’t be shy. I knew already,” he informs. Jungkook lowers his body, and his nose nuzzles itself in your slit, making you release a surprised gasp. He inhales your arousal and runs the tip of his nose up and down, covering it in your wetness. “I could smell you from down the road, baby.”

Jungkook switches up and uses his tongue to tease you. Your eyes roll back as soon as his muscle touches your sensitive clit.

“Jungkook,” you whine, but he’s too engaged with your pussy to hear.

“You taste as good as you smell. How can I not drink you dry?”

A cry gets caught in your throat. Jungkook begins to lick your pussy with no warning, emitting more lust-filled sobs from your mouth. As the sensitivity ebbs away, so does your shame, and eventually, you start grinding your cunt in Jungkook’s face. He doesn’t stop you, so your movements become more confident.

“That’s what you like, sweetheart?... You wanna fuck my tongue too?” Jungkook slurps up more of your juices before he spreads you open and taunts you with his forked tongue.

“Jungkook, please,” you beg.

He chuckles. “Well, since you asked nicely…”

When he enters your cunt, your mind goes blank. Whatever words you manage to utter are a mystery to you because your mind can only focus on the thick flexible muscle dragging against your walls.

Jungkook laughs when you clench, making it nearly impossible for him to move in your tight crevice. He squeezes your ass while his tongue squirms inside of you, making you scream his name over and over.

“Fuck! You feel good, Jungkook. I’m gonna—”

Suddenly, he withdraws.

“On my dick you will,” he says, and you groan as the disappointment sets in.

He straightens his back and inches closer while you continue to pout and mourn your robbed orgasm.

“If you thought that felt good…” he laughs. “Look, I’m just getting started, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a moment to be concerned. The tip of his cock pops in and your eyes widen. You become more alert and aware of how huge he actually is now that your pussy is slowly being stretched open by him. You’re tense, but his touch soothes you.

“Relax. Just relax,” he instructs.

He fills you inch by inch and the whole time your mouth is hanging wide open. You have a handful of dirt in each hand because you’ve been clawing to cope with the stretch. Nothing hurts but taking all of him in takes more effort than you anticipated.

Jungkook grunts as your walls squeeze around him. He’s also struggling, but he puts his eagerness aside and waits for you to adjust and mold to his girth.

“You can move,” you tell him, wanting to just get it over with.

“Are you sure—”

“Jungkook, you’re in my guts, please.”

“Okay, my bad.” He laughs but as soon as he begins to move his smile fades, and his concentration sets in.

Jungkook is gentle for as long as he can stand it, but even you grow desperate eventually. He senses that your body is craving more, and his pace quickens. His shallow thrusts travel deeper and become more powerful the longer he’s buried in your heat.

He grips your waist and starts fucking you like you’re a ragdoll. You’re taken aback but impressed by his strength. You stop trying to maintain your position because Jungkook has no problem bending you whichever way he wants you.

Soon his hand finds your ponytail. Your head jerks each time his hips crash into you. Your scalp begins to burn, but it doesn’t stop you from chasing your pleasure.

You cry Jungkook’s name when you feel a harsh slap against your ass.

“Fuck,” you sob.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” is all he replies as he delivers another blow. Your flesh prickles and stings from the impact, but the feeling of his hand palm delicately moving over the affected area feels pleasant. “Come here.”

Jungkook pulls you up with his clutch on your hair, and your back crashes against his firm chest. His cock travels deeper from this angle, leaving you babbling and sobbing as Jungkook watches with a smirk.

“I thought you were a bad girl. Now, look at you… Being a good little whore for me,” he teases. “Give me a kiss.”

You reach behind you and grab one of his horns, bringing him in for a sloppy kiss. You taste your arousal on his lips and greedily try to savor the leftover juices in his mouth. Your eyes are closed, but you can feel his furrowed brows against your forehead as he concentrates on delivering accurate thrusts. Jungkook whispers permission for you to come into your mouth, and your mind shifts to chasing your release.

He leaves your lips and moves to your neck while his hands glide over your body, stopping to feel his dick piercing your lower abdomen. Your other hand interlocks with his for a bit so that you can feel it as well, but soon you have to grab his arm, so he doesn’t pound you out of his grasp.

Jungkook slaps your tit once he’s made his journey up your body, and your pleased reaction causes him to do it again. The tension building up in your core starts to become unbearable, so you warn him in advance about your orgasm threatening to sweep you off your feet.

“I’m so close, Jungkook,” you rasp. His fingers pinch your nipples to push you closer while his arm keeps you up. Your body would slump over if he didn’t because all of your strength is put into getting yourself through this intense orgasm on the horizon. “You feel so good… So fucking good.”

“I know, love. I know,” he moans in your ear. “Come on my dick if you really love it so much, baby.”

The coil snaps as soon as his name leaves your lips, and your release finally arrives in an intense wave of pleasure. Your vision becomes white and your ears ring, making it impossible for you to hear Jungkook’s whines about your pussy being too tight for him to go much longer.

His dick slips out of you as the pressure releases, and you’re gushing all over the ground below, making the soil dark as it dampens. Jungkook brings his hand in front of you and slaps your pussy to draw out more of your juices.

You fall over once your body is spent, but Jungkook rolls you over before you can flop on your face. He hovers over you and rests his weight on his forearms. His knee wedges itself between your legs, and he uses it to spread them apart.

You lay there just staring at him through your lashes, secretly looking in awe as he situates himself. He catches you in the act, but you still turn away and pretend you weren’t.

“No, no. Don’t look away,” he says. “Let me see how you cry for my dick.”

You do as he requests, and once your eyes meet each other’s, he winks.

Jungkook grabs each of your wrists and pins them by your ears. He rests his forehead on yours, so you have no choice but to look at him.

You know you shouldn’t do it like this. It’s too intimate. But you can’t deny yourself the attention you’ve been craving for so long. Finally, his eyes are on you. Only you.

“No holding back, okay?” he suggests.

“Okay.”

You don’t know how he understood your voice since it’s barely audible and raspy, but he does. Jungkook reaches between you and grabs his dick, aligning it with your opening before he slowly slides in. Your lips part to let out a cry, but nothing comes out because your voice has given out completely.

As his dick gets deeper, you spread your legs to give him more space. His tip hits your cervix by the time he bottoms out, and you can’t bear him just stilling in that spot. When your back arches, he takes the hint and starts chasing his high.

“This is what you want, right?... Eyes on you?” he grunts, thrusting into you, each snap of his hips resulting in a ripple of echoes. “You got me now, so don’t be shy.”

“Jungkook.” You moan his name, and his cock jumps inside you.

“You felt that?... That’s what you do to me, love.”

He looks down, observing the way the blunt tip of his cock can be seen penetrating lower abdomen. Both of your mouths fall open while your eyes are glued to the sight, mesmerized by how much of him you’re actually taking in.

“This pussy was made for me and only me,” he growls. When you don’t answer him, he grabs your face to get your attention. “Did you fucking hear me? It’s mine, understand?”

You nod. “Only yours, Jungkook. I promise.”

Jungkook grunts in response, but you heard it as “it better be.” His thrusts become rougher, making your back drag against the ground. You’re both covered in dirt, sweat, and blood but can’t bring yourselves to care because the sex is so good.

Heat begins to rise within you. It confuses you so you look at the demon above you for answers, and he greets you with a devilish grin.

“You said you can handle me, didn’t you?” he reminds you.

“I can.” Your voice is hoarse, and your throat is dry.

Jungkook smirks. “Time to prove it.”

You pant as Jungkook drills into you, setting your body ablaze in the process. He pulls your legs up to his waist, so you wrap them around him in an embrace.

“What do you mean?”

He whispers against your lips.

“Welcome to hell, love.”

The scream that erupts from your throat brings your voice back to its full potential. Your body is on fire, and it leaves you gasping for air. His cock continues to bring you stimulation throughout the tortuous rise and fall of the radiating heat inside of you. Your nails drag down his back, drawing feral noises from his lips.

His dick feels like it’s swelling within you, stretching you more and more until you’re screaming his name and begging him to let you release some of the pressure.

“Jungkook,” you groan through clenched teeth.

“Shh. A little more, okay?... Just a little longer.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as you try to focus on anything but the desire burning in your gut. The intense heat becomes bearable, but the stretch still has you breathless.

“But I’m going to come,” you sob, your body no longer able to stand it.

Your walls enclose around his cock as you try to hold on, but the tightness milks Jungkook’s shaft and pushes him over the edge.

“Fuck,” he growls.

You both reach your peaks together, and the moment causes a pause in time. For several seconds, you’re unable to register what’s going on around you. Your mind is blank, and your focus is only on the pleasure rippling through your body.

You’re on fire, but it’s not unpleasant. You feel everything you’ve craved from all the drug use and drinking, the meaningless sex, and the dangerous lifestyle you ran to when you wanted nothing more than to feel secure and wanted.

That’s how you feel as his arms slip underneath you and embrace you, like you’re being protected by someone who actually gives a shit. It’s not real; he’s only caught in the moment, but you’re going to pretend like it is because that’s exactly what it feels like.

You hold onto the feeling for as long as you can, but nothing lasts forever, and soon you both begin to come down from your high.

Jungkook’s cum is still painting your walls when his body slumps over. He leaves lazy kisses across your chest but stops to gently suck on your nipples, soothing you until his dick softens and slips out of you.

In your post-orgasmic daze, you feel him kiss his way down your body. He ends his journey at your thighs and then rises to his feet, leaving you on the ground for a minute to regain some strength. His cum slowly leaks out of you, pooling beneath you and seeping into the soil.

You open your eyes after a few minutes and find him standing over you with his jeans already on although his sweater is still off. His eyes have returned to what is considered human-like. However, his horns remain present.

“You need help?” he asks rather dryly.

“Please,” you whisper, and he leans over to help you up. Once you’re on your feet you stand in front of him awkwardly, arms covering your body as if he hasn’t seen every inch of you. “So… Is this it?”

Jungkook’s eyes bulge as he cranes his neck in shock.

“You wanna die? Get the hell out of here before I change my mind.”

Oh.

You almost forgot about the talk you had with him before. Jungkook didn’t want to meet with you. He only wanted your soul.

Before leaving home, you’d probably give it to him willingly. You weren’t really living anyway.

But after traveling on the road and exploring new places, you’d like to stick around a little longer, see the world your parents told you to be afraid of but in the right ways this time.

Still, you didn’t think this encounter would end like this. Are you really supposed to just move on?

“Okay, well. Goodbye then, I guess. I should probably clean this anyway,” you reply and fake laugh. Your wound is pretty sore though, but tolerable. You’d bear it for a few more minutes if you had them.

He doesn’t say anything, but he nods instead.

You turn towards your car and take your exit. Almost halfway there, a pair of gentle hands grab your waist.

“Wait,” he says. His voice is so soft. If it weren’t so quiet, you wouldn’t have heard him. “You left something.”

When you turn around, Jungkook stands behind you with your chain in his palm.

“Oh, that’s okay. I don’t want it, but I’ll take it off your hands,” you say before giving him a small smile.

You take the jewelry and prepare to leave once more, but Jungkook interrupts you again.

“How come you’ve never been to a show?” he quizzes. “You say you’re a huge fan. I’ve never seen you at a show before.”

You sigh, resting your weight on your right side with folded arms.

“Well, I lived with my parents before I dropped everything and left a few days ago. They’re very religious and would never buy me a ticket to that type of event. I’ve been saving up, but now…”

“You need it to survive?”

You nod. “Exactly.”

Silence falls over you, and no one makes a move. You’re about to tell him you need to get dressed and hit the road before nightfall, but he beats you to it.

“I’ll get going now. I—”

“You wanna hear a song I’ve been working on?”

“Uhh…” You’re taken by surprise, but you’d be honored to hear anything he shares with you. “Sure, Jungkook. I’d love that.”

He gestures for you to follow him to his car. You start getting paranoid midway because about an hour ago he wanted to kill you. However when he reaches inside his car and pulls out a leather jacket for you to wear, your nerves start to settle.

“It’s going to cool down when the sun sets,” he informs.

Jungkook helps you put on the jacket, and you’re instantly met with his scent. While his back is turned, you secretly inhale deeply to savor the smell.

After he grabs his guitar, you both walk to the front of his vehicle and he helps you sit on the hood, making sure it isn’t too hot before you take a seat. You’re shocked by his sudden caring nature, but you don’t complain.

“Thank you,” you state after he hands you his flask.

You bring it to your lips and to take a gulp but are hit with a pungent smell of alcohol.

“It’s whiskey.”

“Fucking hell, it is,” you agree with a grimace. You decide to sip on it instead of aiding your thirst.

“I’m not human so I don’t have water,” he explains. “Sorry.”

“Oh no, this is fine,” you assure.

After a nod, he walks away and sits on a small boulder sitting about three feet away from his car. He gets settled and then his fingers begin to strum the strings of his guitar. The music sways him back and forth, and he allows it to guide him with closed eyes. Just as you’re also caught in the trance, he starts singing.

The voice that you hear isn’t paired with a loud audience or a band crashing in the background. It’s just him and the most graceful voice you’ve ever heard.

Tears form in your eyes hearing the lyrics. They’re so raw and filled with emotion, a side of him you’ve never seen before. He talks about how scary it is to feel. To care. To love. How he’s never experienced any of it before, but a part of him feels like it’s time to explore it.

You’re so moved by the final note that you’re startled when the music stops, and you no longer hear his voice. You dry your eyes and look at him with so much admiration.

The warm tones of the setting sun makes his skin appear to glow; he’s breathtaking. You wish that he knew that too.

“That was beautiful,” you tell him. “Thank you so much for sharing that with me.”

He sets down his instrument and walks over to you, situating himself between your thighs.

“You’re the only one I’ve shared it with,” he replies. His eyes and tone hold sincerity, and what you believe is gratitude. “Thanks for listening.”

“Of course, babe. I’d listen anytime. You’re such an inspiration to me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you answer truthfully.

Jungkook rests his hands on your thighs and looks off into the distance as if he’s thinking. You can see wheels turning in his head but have no idea how to get him to speak his mind. You’ll just have to wait, but not for long.

“I’ve never been human,” he starts, taking the flask and drinking all the liquor before he continues. “I used to not feel anything but now… I guess I should say you all have changed me.”

You don’t say anything, but you nod to let him know you’re listening.

“In case you didn’t get that, I’m trying to say that I have feelings for you. You’ve grown on me,” he adds, and your mouth falls open to speak.

However, nothing comes out.

“I know you just wanted to fuck me and get a few pictures, but I couldn’t let you leave without—”

You interrupt him by pulling him close and crashing your lips into his. You couldn’t take it anymore. You knew if anything was going to happen, you’d have to be the one who took initiative. Jungkook’s probably never had anyone who truly cared about him. You plan to show him what that feels like.

You retract and look at him, saying what’s been on your mind since you saw him.

“I think you’re amazing and talented…and beautiful. You deserve love or whatever it is you desire because you inspire so many to know their worth. It’s your turn to take your advice.”

“Hit the road with me,” he blurts out.

You blink. “What?”

“Hit the road with me, let me learn everything about you… Be mine. That’s what I desire.”

Your mind races as his words play in the back of your head. You’re speechless. Jungkook, a demon and the world’s biggest rockstar, just asked for permission to take you on a journey with him. You don’t know his motives or his plan, but the hopefulness in his eyes tell you he put a lot on the line asking that of you.

“It’s just that I want you to be cautious out there because I care about you…I think?” he tries to explain. “I just want to make sure you’re safe and I can only do that if…”

“I’m with you.”

“Yeah,” he smiles, eyes brighter than the sun. “So what do you say?”

You shrug. “Let’s go.”

“What?”

You push him and hop off the car with a shriek, almost busting your ass.

“I said let’s go, Jungkook!... Before I change my mind,” you wink.

The demon seems shocked by your answer, but he keeps his promise.

And…he takes you on a trip of a lifetime.

Epilogue…

“I knew I couldn’t trust you.”

Jungkook stands in the doorframe of his backstage dressing room with folded arms. He’s angry with you, but as soon as his eyes land on your hand caressing your growing belly, he can’t stop his smile from breaking free.

He sighs and shakes his head, walking across the room to his vanity where you sit waiting for him. This is the first time you’ve had to sit out on a tour since you officially became a couple, and needless to say the downtime has gotten the best of you.

“You’re supposed to be at home with your feet up,” he chides, helping you stand even though you’re perfectly capable of doing so yourself.

Jungkook has pampered you all six months of this pregnancy, but sometimes he goes to the extreme.

“Yeah, but…”

You pause when he pulls you in for a warm hug and take the opportunity to inhale the fragrance lingering on his clothes. You giggle when he playfully threatens you about stealing his clothes, but you’ve already tucked a t-shirt in your purse.

“I'd rather be here with my legs up, you know?” you continue saying as you separate.

Jungkook’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, but then his shock is replaced with a tiny smirk.

“You better be careful what you wish for, love,” Jungkook warns.

“And what if I don’t?... Will I be punished?”

Your taunting causes his grin to fade. In a split second, you’re lying on the couch with Jungkook hovering over you. He carefully leans in for a kiss, being extra cautious of your stomach.

“I can hear his heartbeat,” he says in between kisses, shifting so he can place his hand on your stomach.

“You mean her heartbeat?” you correct.

Your baby’s foot finds his palm instantly, and Jungkook’s mood brightens even more.

“Yeah, the jury’s still out on that one.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he chuckles, lifting your shirt and finding the waistband of your leggings.

His fingers trace the fabric before he ultimately slips his hand inside, moving aside your panties next. You grab his arm when his fingers touch your center, alerting him of your sensitivity. He takes it slow and waits for the feeling to become less intense.

“I missed you,” he whispers. “Both of you.”

“We missed you too, daddy.”

Jungkook leaves a kiss on your cheek, and then he moves to your neck, tracing the barely visible scar that his talon left on your skin.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

Jungkook’s changed a lot since the day you met him. Emotions and feelings he’s never had have revealed themselves over time. It was scary for him at first, but now, he’s not afraid to let you know what he’s feeling.

You laugh at him through your sighs of pleasure. “You’re getting soft on me, I see.”

“You think so?” he asks.

“I know, and besides… You’re sorry for that and not putting me on lockdown for nine months?”

“But this is your fault,” he insists, smiling against your skin.

“Really? Don’t you remember what you said when I told you I was ovulating?”

He denies, so you grab his hair and force him to look at you.

“Just the tip, love… You feel so good. I can’t pull out tonight.”

He doesn’t respond because he knows you’ve made your point. Your moans fill the room when he applies pressure to your clit without warning.

“Jungkook, your fingers are freezing!”

“Warm them up then, love—”

“Dude, we’ve been looking all over for you. You’re on stage in 5,” Jungkook’s manager, Billy, says after bursting through the door. He’s unaware of what he interrupted until he peers over and sees you both on the couch. “I am so sorry.”

Jungkook’s eyes become pitch black, and an angry vein protrudes from his forehead. You already know what’s about to happen, so you do your best to calm him down.

“Be nice, baby,” you plead.

Everyone always says you have Jungkook wrapped around your finger, so now and then, you like to pull your “status card.”

He takes a deep breath, and he relaxes. But only for a moment.

“Well, I’m kind of busy. If you haven’t noticed,” he answers, looking at the older male.

Jungkook’s digits continue to stimulate you, but you know it’s only to suppress his anger. His biggest pet peeve is to be interrupted when he’s in the middle of something with you.

He returns his attention to you and gives you a wink, but a second later, his joy fades.

“I understand, but what do I tell the fans—”

“You’ll tell them I’m backstage fucking my pregnant wife, and that I’ll be out in a bit. I’m sure they’ll understand,” he seethes, making your face heat up. However, your cunt still clenches everytime he uses the “W”-word. “Okay, leave!”

Billy shuffles his way out of the door and closes it behind him, leaving you and Jungkook alone again. When he turns to you again, you can see why his manager ran.

“Someone’s horny,” you joke.

“Tell me about it… Where did we leave off?” His fingers move down to your entrance, and he slowly slips one of them in. “Oh, yeah. Squeeze my fingers like you just did and warm them up for me.”

Your body wants you to just lie there and let him finger you until you’re coming all over his digits, but every ounce of brat in you wants to make him suffer.

“What if I rather keep something else warm?” you suggest with a smug expression.

“Hm, like what?”

You reach between you and unbutton his jeans. You pull him closer and bite his earlobe before saying,

“Recite your commandments and I might show you.”

Jungkook gulps.

“I shall place no other God before you….”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #k-vanity #kbucketlist #bangtanbathhouse #btsdreamcourt #bangtansorciere #bts fanfics #jungkook fanfic #bts imagines #sugakookitty

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heleneplays · 2 years ago

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PLEASE its been months since i requested this and like. you sending it then almost immediately and me keeping it in here. as a treat.

BUT RN IM JUST LIKE. INCREDIBLY WEEPY ABT IT,,,, so posting it as part of ur TUMBLR REBIRTH <3

so!!! @jamesshawgames thank u once again for indulging me and sending this 🥺✨ literally so awesome and sweet of you and i count myself lucky lmao <3333

ANYWAYS the thing under read more :)

You asked for ROs looking after a sick MC. So here's the first three!

---

Sick MC scenarios, Part 1!

***

"Here, drink this. It always cheers me up when I'm feeling poorly."

Rémy bustles over to the bed with something clutched in his right hand. He thrusts it under your nose.

"Wine? I feel like death and you're going to make me drink wine?"

"Non. I am not giving you mere wine. I am giving you a 1921 Chateau la Gaffeliere. If this doesn't cure you, nothing will!"

The smell of the alcohol makes you gag. Rémy immediately snatches his hand away.

"Helene, I love you, and I am not a violent man. But I am warning you, if you throw up on this jacket I will suffocate you with a pillow."

***

"Are you feeling better yet?"

You sigh. "No, Dominique. It's only ten minutes since you last asked."

They kick their feet restlessly. "You know what will make you feel better? Activity! Lying in that bed all day is no good for you. How about--hear me out--how about we nip outside and just do some really, really easy and relaxing robbery?"

"What are you talking about? I can barely stand up!"

"You know that pawnbroker's on the corner? Well, I was having a look at the lock on their back door the other day, and it's really easy. We could just slip in the back and we'll be home before you know it. It'll be great fun. You'd get some fresh air. You wouldn't even have to climb up the wall or anything."

"Please! I feel like I'm dying here!"

They sigh. "You've been dying for two whole days now. I'm bored!"

"Do you want to go and rob something?" you ask, a little frustrated. "You do, don't you? Why don't you go and do that? I'll be OK for a little while. Go ahead, have some fun."

They spring to their feet, beaming widely, and kiss you on the forehead.

"Thanks Helene! You're the best! I'll be sure to shoplift you some paracetamol on the way home!"

***

"Here you go, Helene," chirps Esme, approaching the bed with a glass in her hand. "This is my old governess Mrs. Strickland's miracle cure. She always used to give me this as a child. It always made me feel better."

You peer skeptically into the glass. "Is that a raw egg in there?"

"Yes! She always put a raw egg in. I think, anyway. Honestly, I can't quite remember the exact recipe, so there's been a little bit of improvisation. Raw egg, sugar, chilli powder, honey and just a tiny little splash of whisky."

You turn up your nose as she brings it up to your mouth.

"A splash of whisky? It smells more like there's half a bottle in there!"

"Yes, there is," chirps Esme brightly. "It was a splash of whisky when I was a child. But you're a grown-up, so I compensated. Now come on, drink up!"

"Are you sure this is safe to drink? You've made it before?"

She purses her lips and shakes her head. "Not exactly. I didn't actually have to make it when I was a child. We had servants to do that. But I watched them make it sometimes. I'm pretty sure I got it right." She thinks for a second. "Oh no, wait, I did make it once! When Harriet got sick on her eleventh birthday!"

"And did it cure her?"

"Um, not exactly. We had to take her to the hospital, as I recall."

You look at her for a few seconds. Silently, she moves the glass away from your mouth.

"Yes. Perhaps not."

***

More to follow!

#submission #relics of the lost age #relics series #relics series my beloved #PLS IM SO EMO ABOUT IT #relics mc #helene spillane #rémy fournier #dominique the amazonian #dominique thibault #esme fairfield #esme fairfield my beloved #fanfic #other people's fic #a+++ content #gift for lee

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an-obsessed-writer · 4 years ago

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Mind Over Matter

Summary: Everyone knew the Baron Helmut Zemo, you’d have to be living under a rock to not recognize the name of the ridiculously wealthy royal attending your university. He was the school’s top bachelor, a sophisticated and confident man who obviously was wealthy. That was enough to make any woman at the university swoon, but he was always known to never keep a girl for long. What happens when (Y/N) finds herself meeting him at one of his parties?

(A/N): i think i’ll turn this into a series, but not sure yet! im a whore for zemo rn as everyone is, let me know if you’re interested in reading more <3

Word Count: 2.2k

“(Y/N)!” Wanda plops onto your bed after she runs into the dorm, and smiles sweetly up at you. “Wanna go to a party tonight? Word has it that Zemo is throwing a major bash for the new school year.”

Everyone knew the Baron Helmut Zemo, you’d have to be living under a rock to not recognize the name of the ridiculously wealthy royal attending your university. He was the school’s top bachelor, a sophisticated and confident man who obviously was wealthy. That was enough to make any woman at the university swoon, but he was always known to never keep a girl for long. Fortunately, you didn’t live under a rock, just too immersed in your studies to care much about him. You’ve seen him walking on campus before, with his fur coat and maroon mock turtleneck, and you could see why he was such a popular man. It’s known that Europeans always have the best sense of style.

“I’ve already got a major essay to finish for my philosophy class next week, maybe next time?” You frown at your roommate, feigning sadness that you wouldn’t be able to make it, but by the look of her face, she wasn’t going to let you get out of this one.

“You promised you’d attend a party this year! We’re juniors and you’ve been to only a handful. Besides, his parties are super classy, everyone gets all dressed up. It’ll be fun, I swear.” Wanda looks up at you with pleading eyes, and you couldn’t help but think about the opportunity presented.

It was true, you hadn’t been to many parties since college started. Your grades were stellar, your reputation even more so. Studying as a pre-med was no joke, resulting in your non-existent social life, but you honestly didn’t mind it much. You kept your head down because college was expensive enough as it is, you couldn’t afford to get distracted. Closing the laptop on your lap, a sigh escapes your mouth, and Wanda took it as a silent submission for what she had planned.

“Perfect! It’s tonight at his mansion. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be able to get him wrapped around your finger by the end of the night,” she winked and immediately began rummaging through her closet for the perfect outfit. “I heard the theme was the 20’s, I’ve always loved the flapper girl outfits.” A laugh escaped from Wanda’s lips, and a mischievous smile was displayed on her face.

If there was anyone you trusted at this place, it’d be Wanda Maximoff. Her brother Pietro came as a close second, but she’d been your rock throughout your educational journey. Everyone loved her, everyone wanted her at their parties, but she chose to stay in with you to watch movies and talk about guys on more than one occasion. Coming from Sokovia, Wanda and Zemo talked often because of their love for the Sokovian language, but nothing romantic ever stemmed from their interactions with each other.

Truth be told, you were a pretty girl. This never went unnoticed by the guys around you, leading to a few regretful hookups. Your confidence oozed from your cheeky smile and subtly flirtatious comments when appropriate, but you were adamant on not entering a relationship until school was over. However, you were the realist out of this duo, and you knew for a fact you’d never be able to pull a guy like Helmut Zemo. With his looks and amount of money, he could get the most sought after movie star (which everyone was fairly sure he hooked up with Megan Fox at one point, but that was just a rumor).

“Do you still have your flapper girl costume from Halloween a while ago? I’ve got mine, and I don’t think we have enough time to shop before the party,” Wanda inquired.

“Of course I do, it’s my go to Halloween costume now if I ever go out again.” You smiled, reminiscing over the memories from last Halloween, and stumbled off your bed to find the outfit.

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

The music was blasting, and you couldn’t help but look in awe of your surroundings. A double curved staircase with red carpeting was in front of you and Wanda, with grand railings connected to the marble floor below. The home was obnoxiously large, you could talk and an echo would rumble through the room.

Wanda gives you an encouraging look, and grabs your hand to lead you towards the party room upstairs. The silver tassels from your mini dress rubbed against your dress with every step you took, and you knew there was no turning back now. Besides, there was no way you could leave this beautiful home anytime soon, you simply wanted to drink in it’s beauty forever.

Once upstairs, a man in a suit smiled at the two of you, and asked for your invitations, which Wanda gladly handed over. With a nod, he opened the doors that were taller than any of you, and the sight immediately took your breath away.

White, translucent balloons hung from the ceiling. Art deco inspired tables with feathers and gold tassels lining over them containing copious amounts of alcohol were in the middle of the room. Intricate white and golden wallpaper covered the walls, which helped bring everything together, but the flashing disco lights allowed a modern feel to this 1920’s inspired party.

Not too long after entering the room, Vision strutted over to the two of you after catching sight of his girlfriend. “Hello (Y/N),” he flashed a quick smile to you and placed a kiss on Wanda’s cheek, “Care if I steal my girlfriend away for a dance?”

“No problem at all,” you waved your hand to dismiss the two of them, and Wanda went off to the dance floor with her love.

This was normal, Wanda would be whisked away by Vision, and you typically found a guy to bring you attention for the night, but something felt different. Right now, all you wanted was a drink, and you found yourself making a beeline towards the tables full of alcohol.

The bartender was dressed in one of the finest suits, and you couldn’t help but wonder “If his employees are dressed like this, what was the Baron wearing?”

“What would you like?” Your mind blanked trying to think of alcohol that you liked, it’s been too long.

“Surprise me, it’s been a while.” You smiled sheepishly, but your attention was caught by the feeling of another person behind you.

“That won’t do, you look like you need something strong.” A thick, European accent filled your ears, and you couldn’t help the way that your body tensed up. With a turn of your head, your eyesight took hold of the one and only, Helmut Zemo.

He looked even more delicious standing so close to you. As expected, Zemo didn’t mess around with his looks. A burgundy, pinstripe suit hugged his figure, and you couldn’t help but take note of the way his arms looked under the tight sleeves.

“Something strong would be nice,” you say holding your chin up, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of the most well known man in the school. With a wave of his finger and a command in a language you didn’t know, two shots of clear liquid were slammed on the table, and Zemo picked one up with a cheeky smile.

You narrowed your eyes at him and nervously picked up the shot glass with shaky hands. Lifting it up to your nose, your face contorted into an expression of disgust at the smell of acetone. “What is this?”

With a rumbling chuckle from Zemo, your cheeks blushed slightly, silently scolding yourself for losing your composure. He raised his glass and with a tilt of his head, he responded “Rakija, essentially European moonshine. I’ll take a shot with you, it can be too strong for some Americans.”

Silently, you nodded and raised the shot glass, mimicking his actions. Once he swiftly threw back the liquid into his mouth, you followed, and immediately wanted to gag. It burned as it went down your throat, the taste of pure chemicals became overwhelming, and you managed to keep a straight face through it all. Zemo slammed his glass back onto the table and took a step towards you in order to be able to communicate over the loud music.

“I apologize for being such a rude host, but I don’t recognize you.” The smell of rich cologne flooded your nostrils, and you could’ve melted right there. His eyes peered down onto you, being that you were significantly shorter than the man towering over your body, and you licked your lips.

“I usually stay in my dorm, I’m pre-med.” You held your hand out politely, “(Y/N).”

Zemo’s rough hands took hold of your own, lowering his head to leave a kiss on the indents of your knuckles. Without standing up straight, he raises his eyes to look at you through his eyebrows, “It’s a pleasure to meet you (Y/N), I hope you’re enjoying the party.”

His voice was like smooth caramel and melted chocolate, just the right mix of salty and sweet. His thick accent burned into your head with the way he said your name, and your hand was tingling from where his lips met your knuckles. After hearing the stories of his charming ways, you wanted to call bullshit, but experiencing this first hand was completely different. There was some truth to the rumors of the mysterious Baron, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn to find out more. The man simply oozed sex appeal.

“I actually just got here with Wanda. She’s off somewhere with Vision.” You were proud of how you managed to keep your voice at a steady level, knowing that your mind was going crazy with how close the two of you were.

Zemo’s eyebrow perked up at the mention of Wanda’s name and held out his hand with the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly, “Any friend of Wanda’s is a friend of mine, care to dance (Y/N)?”

Every fiber of your being wanted you to run, knowing that if you went to dance with him, there was no turning back. Still, you couldn’t stop your hand from being placed into his, and he swiftly pulled you along towards the dance floor.

Sweaty bodies surrounded the two of you, but you could only focus on his eyes engulfing the way the dress hugged your body in all the right spots. He placed his hand on the small of your back where the dress was open, the touch sending shivers down your spine. The Baron’s hands were warm, completely contrasting the iciness of your skin.

With another hand on your waist and a smirk, he began moving his hips, which you soon followed. As the song went on, the distance between you got smaller and smaller, until your chest was practically smushed against his. You lifted your left hand to run through his chestnut brown hair, and it was as soft as you expected it to be.

“Of course it is,” you thought to yourself. “A Baron deserves only the most expensive products.”

“You’d think I would know everyone on campus, but your beauty caught me by surprise.” His breath felt hot against your ear, and you swallowed thickly.

“Not many people know me,” you countered.

“What a shame, isn’t it darling?” The use of pet names was enough to make your knees buckle, especially when paired with the Sokovian drawl, but you shook your head in defiance.

“He probably says that to all the girls.” Even so, you wished your mind would be quiet so you could appreciate this moment for what it is. The chance to dance with the bachelor everyone was pining for, but he was only paying attention to you.

You didn’t respond, only picking up the pace of your swaying hips, grinding against his thigh. Zemo exhaled a quick breath, and wasted no time to smash his lips onto yours. This action sent electricity through your body, the taste of the alcohol on his breath only made him more alluring, and your mouth copied his movements. Teeth clacked against one another, but neither of you cared. The only thing you could think about was the feeling of his fingers trailing down your back, and the way you fit with him like a lost puzzle piece.

Zemo grabbed at the nape of your neck, signaling to deepen the kiss with a tightening grip and a nip at your bottom lip, but you pulled away before you did something you regret.

With a confused look, Zemo licked his lips. “Care to go upstairs to my room?”

“Actually,” you say breathlessly, “I think it’s better if I head out.” Regretfully, you untangle your bodies and take a step back from the powerful man standing in front of you.

Without taking a second to think about what you’ve just done, you turn and make your way to the exit, but not without glancing at the Baron one last time.

His eyes never left you, and he stood still as you walked through the doors.

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