Genre: filth, apparently I have a thing for shameless office sex ;)
I tried a different style of writing for this one… anyway, enjoy.
I was doing some faxing for Mr. Park, my boss. He was making me work late, yet again. He had made me work late a lot these past few weeks. Sometimes a couple of other people were with me but tonight I was the only one left.
He had gotten on to me because one of my reports was messed up. It wasn’t a surprise to me that one out of the twenty I was given, at the same time, was not perfect. Mr. Park always got pretty mad with me for unknown reasons. Or I just was around when he’d need to take his pent up anger out on someone. It was sad that the only reason I put up with him was because I needed this job… and that I was insanely attracted to him. Although, I felt especially attracted to him when he got on to me. There was something about his aggressive, hard voice that made my knees weak and my panties wet. He’d sometimes slam his fist on his desk and i’d have to bit my lip to keep from moaning.
Summary: Modern!AU You hate James Barnes with a burning passion and the feeling is entirely mutual. Just when you think things can’t get any worse, you are tricked into attending his sister’s wedding as his girlfriend. Stuck with a bunch of strangers, you come up with a set of rules that are not going to last long.
The next day was peaceful and quiet. The calm before the
storm as Mary had said. You sat on the patio, cooking lunch with Bucky’s
grandmother while he was playing basketball with his cousin, Peter.
When his grandmother caught you staring at him, she gave you
a knowing wink and you ducked your head to hide your smile.
Winnie wanted to get to know you better and decided to take
all the girls to the beauty salon to get ready for the rehearsal dinner. Of
course, Bucky whispered a stupid comment into your ear and you discreetly
pinched his side, making him yelp.
↳He was the cliché bad boy. He was the guy you couldn’t stand. He was the handsome, hot kid who made girls go weak in the knees. He was a brat. You had never liked him one bit, but you had also never gotten involved with anything concerning him. Until one day, when you were in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
I just adore your art style, it's so cute! I'm thinking of making comics myself. Do you think you could give me some tips on angling or facial expressions or overall detail?
Thank you so so much! I really appreciate that! Like, a whole lot. ^^
I’m not exactly sure how much I’ll be able to help you, though I can at least give you some pointers on expressions! I’ll do my best. I’m sorry this is coming a bit late!
I’m going to use Bendy for my examples, just because he’s super easy to draw and I have him on hand/mind at the moment. But! These can be used on just about anyone.
Keep in mind: this is just my way of doing things. There isn’t one “set” way to create great art! There’s a lot of experimenting, testing and growing when it comes to artwork.
When it comes down to expressions, there are a few things to consider: what are they feeling? How intense is this feeling? How far can, or should you push it? How can you make this feel realistic? In visual storytelling, showing what a character is going through is far more important than telling the reader. In a comic setting, there’s a very fine balance–since you have images to go with the words, but you can’t convey each minute action… At least in a reasonable amount of panels, the dialogue and the images have to work together when they’re used in tandem.
When a character is shouting, you have to push their expression further–it won’t be enough to show them with their mouth slightly open, or with a flat face. Give them wide eyes, or shut their eyes completely with frustration. Open their mouth wide, maybe even get their body language involved if you have enough room. Throw their arms in the air, have them pulling at their hair!
Likewise, if what they’re saying is quiet or somber, soften their expression. Have their gaze ill-focused, or looking to the ground. Their shoulders could be slumped, their brow could be low. Their mouth could be almost, or entirely closed. Or are they happy? Raise their eyebrows, widen their eyes with joy! Bring out that smile! Use as much variety and as many shapes as you can!
Because I’m a visual person, here are a few examples to give you a better idea of what I mean:
(I’m sorry if my handwriting is hard to read)
Which facial expressions are more interesting? Sure, the ones on the left are going through the motions of emoting, but the ones to the right REALLY show how the character is feeling!
Body language is also immensely important when it comes down to expressiveness. Every part of the body can be used to convey a message. The crossing of arms can indicate disgust, or even put a small barrier between two people. Slumped shoulders show disappointment or sadness. Every little movement a character makes can have a massive impact on their overall tone. Here are a few examples like the above:
Even minute changes to a static pose can make a BIG difference! Test around and see what works best.
I’ve noticed that some animators have mirrors near their desk. This is so they can look up at their reflection and make a face into the mirror. They project their character’s feelings onto themselves, that way they can see what sort of facial expression would be best suited to that emotion. Nowadays we can just google this, but it’s still a good idea. Don’t be afraid to look up references whenever you need them. I know I do frequently! There’s no shame in using references!
I’m sorry I can’t help you quite as much with angles. I feel that I’d need to do a little more research in order to be able to articulate this more fluently. Perhaps some other time I can try and revisit this and go more into depth about perspective and foreshortening, but for now, here’s another great guide that might help you along in the right direction. I use a similar structure for my own drawings!
I know you didn’t ask for it, but I’d like to give you some tips about comic making. If you don’t want them, then I guess you can just stop reading, pfff. Either way I’ll put it under a cut so this post doesn’t take up so much of the dashboard.
(So I’ve been having a super horrible last few weeks. I’ve been really unhappy with myself, physically and mentally and emotionally. Drama in my love life was making it hard for me to get inspired to write anything. So I tried to channel what I was feeling into this fic. I hope anyone who feels this way overcomes it and realizes how unique and special and beautiful you are. Love yourself, because you deserve it. It isn’t as long as the other two, but I hope you all understand. I’m getting back into it slowly and I’ll try to post something at least once a week.
This fic is SFW!
I hope you all enjoy and I hope this makes at least one other person feel better about themselves.)
The morning had been spent in front of the mirror. You didn’t have class today, but the boys still had to go to work. You’d woken up alone to the sound of rain drizzling on the window just next to your bed. It was cold and you felt more lonely than you had in a while to be laying in your vast bed with none of your boyfriends beside you.
Lately, you’d been hyper critics of your appearance, specifically your weight. You were silent about it for the most part, but you found it harder and harder to accept the way you looked when you had beauties like your best friends, the Schuyler Sisters to compare yourself to.
But every time he looked in the mirror and saw the scars, he
was transported back to that dark and dirty sewer. The complete and utter
loneliness would take hold of him and suddenly, his bathroom lights were too
bright. They were too close. They were growing closer. They were towering over
him. They were paralyzing him-
He was dirty.
So, so dirty.
And he couldn’t get clean.
No matter how hard he scrubbed his face, the marks wouldn’t
His hands began to shake, frantically tugging at his face.
The wash cloth in his hand came back bloodied this time; he must have picked
one of the scabs off. So be it. He couldn’t feel his face anymore anyways. And
the lights just kept getting brighter.
He felt like an actor, and this was his scene. The spotlight
was on him, just like it always is. Like it always will be.
(A/N: This installment contains potentially triggering content.)
In the cramped cabin of the biplane, Scully shuts her eyes and seizes Mulder’s fingers, weak in the chokehold of fear. Her heart palpitates in her throat, images of freefall and fire streaking through her mind; rogue winds, engine failure, burned corpses in the dirt.
Up in the wide and treacherous sky, he rubs his thumb along the back of her hand, steady and solid as old oak.
Kroner, Kansas. A fraudulent meteorokinetic with a spray tan and a wooden leg. A mini-twister hurls a heifer through the motel roof, and then Mulder’s in her bed, all hands, all tongue, his late-night scruff brutalizing the sensitive skin of her neck.
Tonight. It’s going to be tonight. She should have asked him in Nevada…
Request- Hey I know you won’t be able to write this for a little bit but I just wanted to tell you so I won’t forget about it. Could you do one where the reader works for top and are good friends with them and Jenna. And one night the readers boyfriend sexually assaults her and she goes in to work the next day and is a mess and they yell at her. She just breaks down and they find all the marks from him. SORRY IM A SUCKER FOR ANGST!
You were able to cover the smaller bruises and you would take the day off when they were too big to hide. 2 years of being in an abusive relationship you were no longer scared to leave, you were petrified. Every time you threatened to leave your boyfriend Conor he would ‘make things right and get better.’ It never changed. Fight after fight,punch after punch, bruise after bruise. It was an awful cycle and you hated going home, but if you didn’t you were scared he might really hurt you, or even kill you. It wasn’t just the constant yelling. There was unwanted sex, broken bones, and awful words through at you.
“Y/N me and the boys are going out after the show. Do you wanna come?” Jenna asked you as you set up the stage for the boy’s show tonight.
“Um, no. I have to get home tonight.” you said.
“Oh come on. You haven’t been out with us in over two months. What is Conor keeping you hostage or something?” Jenna joked and you laughed it off not knowing how to reach out for help. “Please. We miss our best friend.” she begged.
“It’s been a long day. I really need to get home, Conor and I are going out tonight.” you came up with an excuse.
“Fine, but I’m taking you out tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at 5 tomorrow.” Jenna said then left you to finish your work.
You had started working for Twenty One Pilots about 3 years ago. You grew extremely close to Jenna, Tyler, and Josh. You loved hanging out with them, but Conor prevented you from being near them besides at work.
“Y/N, you’re seriously ditching us for Conor. You’re a loser.” Tyler joked.
“I’m sorry. We have a date planned I think.” you lied again. “Look I really need to finish up here. I’m heading out right after the show. I’ll say bye before I go.” you said going back to work.
“Okay, but tomorrow it’s all of us without Conor at the club. We’ll pick you up at 5.” He said then dismissed himself.
You finished your work and the show started. You stood on the side stage with Jenna listening to Tyler and Josh play. You loved watching the shows, you were able to feel free. You knew you were going to have to lie and get out of tomorrow night. Conor didn’t let you go out without him unless it was to work.
You felt a pair of arms snake around your waist and pull you aggressively against the body.
“I thought you said you would be home at 8. It’s 9, why did you lie?” Conor’s voice whispered in your ear sending fear throughout your body.
“I-i’m sorry. I just wanted to watch the show. We can go home now i-if you want.” you stuttered.
Jenna looked back at you as you smiled in Conor’s arms. It was fake of course, but you had to sell your happiness. You sold it pretty well, they all thought you were happy and safe in your relationship. They weren’t Conor’s biggest fans, but they supported you. Only if they knew what you went through once you go home every night.
“Yeah we are. Let’s go.” He said pulling you out of the building and to his car.
“I’ll drive myself. I have my car here.” you said as he opened the passenger door to his car for you to get in.
“I can’t trust you. Get in now.” He said sternly and you got in with a shove from him.
His voice was bitter and you knew not to fight back. He had control over you and he knew it. He used his power over you against you. He got in on his side and drove away fast.
“You disgust me. You lie to me and go watch other guys. What are you cheating on me?” he yelled as he drove.
“N-no it’s my job. I’m supposed to be there to make sure nothing goes wrong. I’m not cheating on you.” you defended yourself, but he wasn’t listening.
You felt small, defenseless, stupid. His harsh words and tone was only half of it. The physical abuse was the other half. You knew what was going to happen when you got home. There would be a fight, he would scream at you as you fell to the ground in tears, then his hand would strike your body. Sometimes only once others it would feel like hours as you lied numb on the ground as he hit and kicked your body.
When you pulled into the driveway you went to get out of the car, but Conor grabbed your arm hard.
“Slut.” he muttered under his breath in disgust before letting go and getting out of the car.
You met him in the house where he was sitting in front of the tv. You sat on the other end looking at him. You were waiting for his reaction. He would soon erupt, but right now it was a waiting game.
“Um, can I go out with Jenna tomorrow?” you asked sheepishly and Conor’s eyes met yours.
“Are you really asking me that? After you decide to cheat on me you want to go out with them. Why? Is it that drummer, because I’ll beat his ass if he comes near you. You’re mine.” he said standing up from the couch, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to your feet aggressively.
The first slap came and your breath stopped in your throat. You looked back up to him as he stared coldly at you. His jaw was clenched and is grip on your wrist was tight.
“Bedroom now.” he demanded and you went straight there.
This happened at least once a week. You never wanted it, but your body always just froze and you didn’t get help. You begged him at first not to do it, but it was no use. The more you begged him to stop and said no the more her hurt you.
As you laid naked on the bed still on your back you felt so numb. Tears fell from your eyes without you knowing. Although you were still Conor wasn’t. He was busy using your body. Once he finished he walked out of the room leaving you to cry.
After you got enough of yourself together you crawled under the covers of you and Conor’s shared bed. It was silent as you stared up at the ceiling, the only thing breaking you from your gaze was Conor sliding under the covers next to you.
“I’m sorry.” he whispered bringing you hand up to his lips.
You flinched at his touch and he sighed.
“I’m so sorry Y/N. I’m so sorry I’m like this. I promise I’m working on it and I’ll get better. You can’t leave me I love you.” he told you, just like every time.
“I know. I love you too.” you said rolling over and closing your eyes.
“You can go out tomorrow if you want. I trust you, just don’t break my trust and be home by 10.” he said turning you back over to face him and kissing you.
“Thanks Conor.” you let yourself relax into him.
When Conor wasn’t hurting you he was your best friend. You hated him, but you loved him. He was addicting and you couldn’t get away from him, no matter how bad he hurt you.
The next day you didn’t have work. You and Conor woke up and everything was like a normal couple. He drove you to get your car at last night’s venue and you even went out to lunch. It was one of those days when you really believed he meant what he said, that he was getting better. It was later when you were getting ready to go out with Tyler, Jenna, and Josh when Conor’s attitude changed.
“You can’t go anymore.” he said as he came into the bathroom where you just finished your makeup.
“Conor please. I’ll be home at exactly 10.” you tried to convince him.
“I said no.” he took a step closer to you and for some reason you challenged him.
“I got all ready and now you’re telling me I can’t go. I really thought you said you were gonna change.” you said turning around to meet the angry eyes of Conor.
His jaw was clenched, fist at his side, and eyes boring into yours.
“I’m sor-” before you could get the rest out you were push hard against the bathroom sink and your wrist in Conor’s tight grasp.
“After all I do for you, you’re going to challenge me. You’re a fucking slut and you know it. You never give me anything you bitch. I do everything myselt and for you.” he yelled in your face.
You let an ‘ouch’ escape your lips as he yanked you to stand straight. You heard him lightly chuckled under his breath. His fist came in contact with your cheek and you were knocked to the ground where he kicked your ribs, legs, and shouted hateful words. You were covering your head with your arms as you sobbed through the pain, words and regret.
“Don’t worry about telling them you’re not coming. I took your phone earlier and told Jenna that you weren’t feeling well and that you would be staying home.” he stopped and said.
You watched as he walked off leaving you on the floor. It was the same every time. You now had to pick yourself up and clean yourself and the blood off the floor.
You looked yourself in the mirror. Shame was written all over yourself. You use to be so strong, but Conor had a power over you. You cleaned your bloody nose and the floor. You went to the kitchen to grab ice to put on the quickly forming bruises on you sides and legs. You noticed Conor had left. Probably to go get you flowers and some groceries. If it was earlier in the day when he would hurt you he always did chores and got you something as a ‘i’s sorry’. You were so use to it all. You wanted to run, but where would you go? What if he found you? He was getting more aggressive and you feared for your life.
Your phone was ringing from the table beside you. It was Josh calling. You answered it as fast as the pain would allow you to. You winced in pain as you held the phone to your ear.
“Hey Y/N. Why did you leave so soon last night? I never got to say goodbye” his voice was filled with concern.
You could tell you were on speaker phone, probably Tyler and Jenna in the same room as him.
“I was feeling sick so Conor came and picked me up.” you followed Conor’s lie from earlier.
“You didn’t look sick when we were together.” Jenna said. “Are you still feeling down?”
“I’m coming by to drop off your purse you left here. Also some soup.” Josh said and you quickly reacted.
“No, no you can’t.” you said.
“Why?” he asked.
“I mean. I’ll come over tomorrow and get my purse. I’m fine, Conor is at the store getting soup right now and I’m headed to bed anyways. Good night you guys.” you said then hung up.
You took a deep breathe which only caused more pain in your chest. You hoped they believed you and that you could just forget this all happened.
We’re stopping by to drop it off now. To bad if you don’t want us to. We’ll be there in 20 minutes.
You knew they weren’t taking no as an answer. You went to the bathroom to see your one arm basically all bruised. You had a black eye and your shirt had blood stains. You grabbed a sweatshirt and painfully put it on. Your ribs felt broken and your breathing was heavy. Your lungs felt like they were going to collapse.
There was a knock on the door and you went to answer it hoping Conor wasn’t close to being home. You put the hood over your head and open the door looking down to hid your face.
“There she is.” you heard Tyler’s voice quickly fade from happy to concern.
“What are you hiding Y/N? Look at us.” Jenna said and you picked your head up just a bit, but they could see the black eye.
“Holy shit Y/N, did Conor do that?” Josh quickly asked in shock.
You couldn’t hide it anymore so you nodded letting a tear fall from your eye.
“Oh my god Y/N. Where’s Conor? I’m going to beat the shit out of him.” Tyler said getting all defensive.
“He’s at” before you could finsh a car pulled up and Conor got out with flowers and a few bags.
“Y/N?” you heard him call, sounding innocent. Fear shot through your veins.
He probably thought you called them for help, or that they were going to take you. They saw the fear written all over your face as you stuttered over your words. You saw Conor stepping closer and with each step your body felt weaker. You couldn’t think straight as Josh helped you out of the house and over to Jenna. Tyler and Josh were approaching Conor and you were shaking.
Jenna helped you to their car and sat in the backseat as Conor and you made eye contact the entire time.
At this point you were a shaking mess, tears streaming from your eyes as Jenna held you. It hurt to cry but it hurt even more hearing the screaming from inside your house. You knew it was Conor’s voice, you would know that from anywhere. Time slowed and the screams dulled and the car started moving. The movement and feeling of being safe lulled you to sleep in the backseat with your head in Jenna’s lap.
Sterek, 20: things you said that I wasn't meant to hear
So this didn’t go they way I expected but, I hope you like it!
Stiles was tired and cold when he awoke. He trembled slightly as he sat upright, blinking slowly as he came to his senses. He looked around slowly, pressing a hand to his head in attempt to stop the dull throbbing.
“Hello?” Stiles called out shakily, “Dad?”
He could feel the anxiety bubbling up, ready to take hold of him at any moment. He tried to even his ragged breaths. He was in the woods, he knew that much but, how he got there, he hadn’t the foggiest. He eased himself up, using the nearby stump for support. He stood on shaky legs, and looked around frantically. His heartbeat was echoing in his ears, drowning out any sounds.
He stumbled back, tripping over a branch. He blinked harshly pressing his hands to his temples, “Derek?” He cried out. “They won’t be able to help you,” A voice sounded through the fog in his mind, whispering hauntingly.
Stiles slammed his eyes shut, willing the voice away. When he forced himself to open his eyes, he was a dimly lit room with no windows and no doors. He was standing in front of a mirror with a jagged crack running across the middle. His lip trembled as he looked at his reflection, watching it morph into a sinister version of himself.
“Get out,” Stiles whimpered, “Get out of my head,” He begged, clenching his fists tightly.
His reflection smiled, a cruel and twisted imitation of his own, before vanishing.
Stiles opened his eyes slowly, a strange feeling of relief washing over him when he realized that he was still in the woods. Stiles stood once more, and started stumbling through the trees. The last thing he remembered was seeing the bobbing beam of a flashlight through the branches, and Derek’s voice calling out for him.
decorated the pillow. You kept your hand
on the space next to you, imagining his warm body there. You couldn’t figure out what James wanted
from you, but you couldn’t figure out what you wanted from him either. None of this had been your choice, every bone
in your body was screaming at you to hate the man, to fight back, but all you
wanted was him next to you, holding you, stroking your hair. A tiny sob came out. Was it because you were disgusted with
yourself or because he wasn’t here? You
could no longer tell.
You’re head of the committee, a six-person council of royalty that determine whether or not people live or die, based on the crimes they’ve committed. It’s not easy, especially with an arrogant Park Jimin at your side. Literally.
Description: You moved to Seoul in search of stardom, but after one year all you have is a douche for a boyfriend and a job at a cafe that pays minimum wage. After a particularly bad day you start to wonder if you should pack your bags and head home, but when Kwon Jiyong strolls into your cafe you begin to think things might start going your way… that is until you spill his coffee on him.
Word Count: 2.6K
Warning: mentions of alcohol abuse, fluffy introductions
A/N: AAAAAHHHHH my first fanfic is here! Can you believe it!!! I hope you all enjoy this ride with me !
Waking up with twenty minutes until my shift starts, and living sixteen minutes away from the cafe, there’s only one chance I have at success: If I take the bus, and run at superhuman speed, I can probably make it with three minutes to spare. But that’s not counting the fact that when I look in the mirror: I see a complete mess. If I come in looking like I got hit by a damn train the other baristas will cackle at me like the witches they are.
So i have been thinking about what Vilde’s trailer would have been like if we did get a Vilde season..
i have seen around that some people think Vilde’s trailer would feature her looking or dreaming about girls in some way….which although i would seriously love that…
i don’t agree
unlike Isak….i don’t believe Vilde’s greatest shame right now is necessarily her sexuality which is definitely a part of it but it goes deeper and bigger than this.
Vilde is ashamed that she can’t meet the perfect standards she believes she must become to ever have the same worth and happiness and life that others have.
Vilde despises so much of herself that she spends the entire series trying to be everything but who she is and to run away from the life she does live.
the girl who had to grow up too fast, who takes care of her mother, who can’t afford the nice things that come easily to other girls, who feels like she needs to work twice as hard to ever be seen nearly as beautiful as them, the girl who wants to be like other girls….even tho she also wants to love them.
it’s all disgusting to Vilde and not ideal to the image she has in her mind of the person she needs to be to be worthy of love and happiness.
and so she hides it all and wears a mask
a mask we all saw in her clip
and so when i think of her trailer i think of seeing something like her being surrounded by people in a room and she has her disguise on, she is pretending…but then slowly we see the mask unravel
her makeup begins to run, the mirror begins to crack, she drops her boyfriends hand, the world shakes and suddenly so does her image.
everything she fears forces to come up like a tsunami and the trailer would try to depict this in some way.
I can imagine seeing the two Vilde’s fighting each other, the mask and the real vilde….i can see the two bing mirrored together and Vilde standing in the midst of it all.
it would be incredible and something we could all understand
Anger mixes with disbelief as Rick’s words runs through your mind like a mantra and you pull the bathrobe closer around your body. You start kneading your hands, looking up as the door opens and Negan steps in. “Huh, where’s Rick? Thought he’d be here and screwing your brains out.” Negan smirks while you slowly stand up with a small smile. Lasciviously swinging the hips you press yourself on him, running your hand over his chest down to the crotch. “Rick thought I could take care of you while he’s scavenging.” Shuddering you watch how he comes closer with the face while bucking his growing erection against your hand. Before he has the chance to kiss you, you turn the face away. “No kissing, that’s the only rule.” You mumble and he sighs, slightly annoyed.
“The only rule? Sounds to me that I can do what-fucking-ever I want with you.”
His voice turned from a rough growl into pure sex and a small flame of arousal seeps through your body. Brown orbs meeting yours as he rips the bathrobe open and bends you over the armchair you were sitting on. “Let’s see if I can make you as wet as Ricky.” A gasp leaving your throat as he smacks your ass. “I want to you to call me ‘my leader’, got it?” Another smack while he’s opening your legs by kicking against your inner feet. “Ye-yes, my leader.” You mumble, a hot tear streaming down your flushed cheek.
What follows is the most hurting thing you’ve ever experienced during sex. But you can’t deny the erotic thrill you’re getting from it. Negan pounds his glove covered index- and middle finger in your almost dry pussy while continuing the spanking. The vibration of whenever his hand meets the skin, sending a wave of pleasure to your core. Slightly ashamed, because you start to like it more and more you bury your face in the soft fabric of the armchair. “No! I wanna fucking hear you.” He barks and pulls your head back. “My leader.. god.” You cry out as he pumps the fingers harshly in and out. “So fucking wet.” He mumbles fascinated by what he had created with some simple smacks and his fingers in your cunt. “I’m gonna fuck your ass. Would you like that?” ‘No!’ You want to shout, but then you remember Rick words and give Negan a nod and a small whispered ‘my leader’. Immediately your hole starts clenching tight as he drives his finger in your body, twisting and pumping it. You’re squeezing your eyes shut, trying to dream you away. “Sh, just let it happen.” He coos you, snipping against your swollen clit. “Rick never took you anal?” “No.” You mumble with closed eyes. “My-my leader.” “Scream stop…” Another finger slides in your tight hole. “.. when you want to.” Your breath hitches turning into unregular panting as he scissors his fingers, spreading you open for him. At least he’s leaving your burning skin alone as he penetrates you in a fast pace before slipping them out. He doesn’t even take the time to undress himself and just opens his belt and pants quickly. Relieved groaning he slaps his dick a few times against your ass before lubing it with your juices. “Easy, please.” You cry out as Negan drives in. “My leader, please.” Negan grunts and holding still, giving you time to adjust his size before he circles his hips. Slowly thrusting he leans forward and wraps his hand around your throat, putting some pressure on it. “How does it feel?” “Good, my leader. Good..” You croak and look up in his lust blown eyes.
It wasn’t even a lie.
His balls smacking against your swollen clit, sending a tingling hot wave right to your pleasure centrum. More and more juices running down your inner thighs as he’s taking your harder while digging his fingertips in your throat. Negan’s a musician, you’re an instrument and he knows exactly how to play you. It could’ve been perfect with the sweet pain, born out of bliss and his groans next to your ear as the door opens and Rick comes in. “Rick, I swear your girl tryin’ to fuckin’ kill me with her tight lil ass.” Negan straightens up, snickering and pounding. “Yeah, I can see that.” Rick says good tempered. “But no kissing?” Now he sounds pouty and your head shoots to Rick. Piercing blue eyes flashing at you and afraid you turn away while Negan asks if he wants to join.
Quietly gasping as Negan pulls out you follow his order to sit down on his lap with your back pressed on his chest. You tilt the face away from Rick as Negan enters you again before Rick grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him while he’s opening his pants. You’re swallowing hard, biting back the moan which wants to escape your lips as he sinks in your with juice moistens cunt. But Rick can read your pussy and body reaction like other read in people’s eyes. Fingertips digging in your jaw and hips as Rick starts pounding in you while Negan bounces his hips up. Their warm, irregular breathes touching your heated skin, letting your skin prickles as a sweat builds all over your body. You’re trying to meet their thrusts, moving and arching the hips as they fill you out. But with Rick’s penetration he shoots you right in a bubble of bliss where you can barely hear your own screams. Or how you bury your nails in Rick’s shoulder, ripping the skin there open and Negan pushes you back to his chest, covering your tits with his hands. Negan’s praising you, even when you can’t hear what he’s saying, his voice is like the sweet cherry on top of the bittersweet sundae of ecstasy. Your vision fades black as your lower stomach tightens, shortly before it’s getting released and pleasure seeps like electricity through your body. You clenching around their cocks, holding them there where you need it the most and for sure leaving a wet, creamy tail on them.
The next thing you realize is that you’re kneeling on the ground, both men holding and jerking their dicks towards you. “.. not that I don’t appreciate a good ol’ facial cumshot, but she’s barely with us.” Negan says and a second later Rick’s tugging your hair. Pain rushing through your scalp as he’s bringing you in an upright position. You open the eyes and also more or less willingly the mouth as Rick brushes his cock against it before he turns you towards Negan. He seems to be torn between fucking your throat and punching Rick for treating you like… yeah what?
Like a whore? Like a pet?
You make the decision for him and lock your lips around the head, sucking and humming in joy while you make a grab for Rick’s cock, tugging and pumping him. Negan’s cock tasting like precome mixed with the sweet note of your wetness and you swallow him deeper. The muscles in your arms feel tired and sore like your holes from which you’re still dripping on the carpet, a forever evidence that this really happened. Grateful that the men are close you’re working harder on them, don’t hesitate to use a little teeth on Negan’s frenulum and to bury your nails in Rick’s throbbing vein. They both enjoying your doing, giving you a part of the control back as Rick’s the first one who ruts in your hand. His hips twitching uncontrolled and you close the eyes again as warm semen splatters across your cheek, nose and even the forehead. Your fingers go down to his balls, squeezing them and playing with his pubic hair while he shudders from the aftermath of his orgasm. “Shit baby, you’re lookin’ so fuckin’ hot.” Negan praises again, pulling out of your mouth with an obscene plop. His deep groans filling the room, bringing the glowing ash in your stomach back to life as he’s spreading his arousal over your face, letting you even cost as you stick out the tongue.
Then it’s over and it feels nothing like the last time you slept with them. Negan’s not going anywhere and Rick’s not complaining nor sending you any sign of affection. Instead he just throws the bathrobe over your body and orders to clean yourself. Tears prickling hot behind your eyelids as you cover your body and stand up, stumbling with weak knees out of the room. Disgust raising in you as you reach the bathroom and see your come covered face and the fingerprints on hips and thighs. You’re suppressing the urge to shatter the mirror into pieces and instead you’re stepping in the shower, relaxing the muscles under the hot steam. While you’re washing the the shame from your body, choking back a few sobs and promising yourself to fulfill the order Rick gave you.
“Stab him while you ride him, bite off his dick, I don’t care. But you’ve to stop him, you’re the only one who can do that.”
Easier said than done. Even when Negan is lost in the pleasure you give him, you’re scared of the Saviors leader. You were there when he killed Abraham and Glenn. You saw what he did to Daryl, to Spencer and what he ordered Arat to do. But next time, next time you’ll try it. Maybe sacrificing yourself would be a nice opportunity to end your life. You nearly slip and fall as you push back the shower curtain and see Negan standing there. “Woah easy there, sweetheart.” The man chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Thanks.” Quickly you put a towel around you, cheeks flushing as you avoid his eyes until he lifts up your chin. “Think we should’ve a long, nice chat, huh?”
“I interrupt the usual blah-fucking-blah for some really cocksucking exciting news. Alright kiddos, it’s your magnificent leader, so listen the fuck up! Alexandria has fallen!”
And a bit more autobiographical than I’d like from a part of my life I said goodbye to ten years ago.
Party girls don’t get hurt
Can’t feel anything, when will I learn
I push it down, push it down
You applied your make up carefully, making sure the shadows under your eyes were covered up. You’d rolled in at around five am this morning, at least you thought that had been the time. You couldn’t actually remember even leaving the club. Prentiss and Garcia had been alarmed at the amount you were knocking back, trying to convince you to switch to water but you were having any of it. Plus, it wasn’t like you couldn’t handle it, your body was used to it now.
You’d slept most of the day, waking up to a phone call from one of your gym buddies Heather. She wanted to go out drinking again, she’d just broken up with her boyfriend and needed to drown her sorrows. You could understand that sentiment, in fact that was pretty much your life right now. Since you’d broken up with your boyfriend Nick ten months ago you’d spent nearly every Friday and Saturday night that you could, out on the town. If Penelope and Emily didn’t want to join you, you had plenty of other friends who would, especially if you were buying.
It wasnt like you had a problem, you just didn’t particularly enjoy spending your nights alone. And it wasn’t like you were going home every night from work and getting sloshed either, just the one glass of wine or two. It helped….it helped you sleep, helped numb the feeling of loneliness you felt. It didn’t impede on your ability to work at all, although there'dbeen the odd morning when you’d had to get a cab in because you didn’t feel safe to drive. But that wasn’t a hangover, it was just a migraine. And the time you’d had to pull over to vomit into the gutter had been a dodgy burrito, nothing to do with the previous nights festivities.
I’m the one “for a good time call”
Phone’s blowin’ up, ringin’ my doorbell
I feel the love, feel the love
Slipping into your dress and heels you made the final adjustments to your look, sipping on the vodka and coke that you were pre drinking before calling a cab and heading out.
The bar that Heather had told you to meet her in was crowded although you were surprised when you instantly spotted a familiar face. Spencer Reid, your friend and colleague was in a booth by the door talking with another male. This was NOT the type of bar you expected to see him in on a Saturday night so you made your way over to him.
“Y/N, hi! I thought you and the girls went out last night? Is it tonight, I’ll come say hello.” He and his friend stopped talking to greet you, you feeling the other man’s eyes checking you out.
“Haha, it was last night. I’m here to meet another friend actually.”
“Ah okay. Well this is Ethan, he and I were in college together,” Reid motioned to his friend.
Ah, so that was why Spencer was here. You greeted Ethan before spotting Heather at the bar, waving and trying to catch your attention. Telling the boys you’d catch them later, you snaked through the crowd to join her, seeing her lining the shots up already.
“Hey babe! Boy am I ready for tonight!” Heather kissed your cheek and motioned to the six shots in front of you.
You were always ready for a night like this. It had become your life over the last ten months. You reached for the first shot.
Throw ‘em back, till I lose count
Over the next few hours you and Heather knocked back countless drinks, some paid for with your own cash, others paid for by cute guys or not so cute guys who were trying to pick you both up.
I’m gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier
I’m gonna live like tomorrow doesn’t exist
Like it doesn’t exist
You shimmied together on the dance floor, attracting even more attention as men clambered to be able to dance with the two girls who looked to be having the best time ever.
I’m gonna fly like a bird through the night, feel my tears as they dry
Because that’s what it would look like to an outside. Like you WERE having the best time ever.
I’m gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier
Inside though, you were crying. Inside, you hated yourself for making Nick leave you. You hated yourself for needing drink to dull the constant thud of self disgust, that feeling that you’d never be good enough. When you drank, it bought out a different side of you. The fun side, the side that didn’t give a shit.
But I’m holding on for dear life, won’t look down won’t open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light, ‘cause I’m just holding on for tonight
When you drank, you felt able to exist.
Help me, I’m holding on for dear life, won’t look down won’t open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light, ‘cause I’m just holding on for tonight
On for tonight
As you grinded against Heather on the dance floor you caught eyes with someone over her shoulder. He smiled and raised his eyes brows at you suggestively, licking his lips at you. He looked familiar and it took you a second to realise why.
Sun is up, I’m a mess
Gotta get out now, gotta run from this
Here comes the shame, here comes the shame
Three weeks ago you’d woken up in that guys apartment, him passed out and snoring next to you. Your head had been pounding and it had taken every ounce of energy that you had to not vomit onto his bedroom floor at the overwhelming smell of alcohol and sweat that filled the air. Your body had ached and you felt like you’d spent the night riding a horse. You’d winced and grimaced as you’d wobbled around the room collecting your belongings and dressing, sneaking out into the morning light and searching for cab, knowing what a mess you must look.
When you’d stumbled into your apartment, you’d caught sight of yourself in the mirror. Purple bite marks on your neck and shoulder, smudged make up down your cheeks and your hair a birds nest from having someone’s hand fisted into it as they’d thrust into your mouth. You’d felt sick and shakey, knowing there was only one thing that could calm you right then. You’d reached into your refrigerator and pulled out the vodka.
Pulling Heather back to the bar with you and away from the guy who’s name you could even rememeber, you ordered another round of shots, noting that Spencer was still in the booth by the door with his friend. It was slightly quieter over there and they looked deep in conversation. Good for him, it was nice to see him socialising.
Proffering a twenty to the bartender, he shook it away and motioned to an older guy standing a few feet away. Both you and Heather smiled at the guy and blew him kisses before bringing the shots to your lips and drinking.
Throw 'em back till I lose count
Another hour or so passed by. You’d lost tracked of Heather, she’d got talking to a the man who’d bought you the shots so you’d starting dancing with a group of girls you recognised from various club nights, feeling totally buzzed and wasted.
I’m gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier
I’m gonna live like tomorrow doesn’t exist
Like it doesn’t exist
I’m gonna fly like a bird through the night, feel my tears as they dry
I’m gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier.
You needed to pee again so you pushed through the throng of people making your way to the ladies and going about your business, tidying up your make up as you did. As you stood in front of the mirror you suddenly felt uncomfortably warm and dizzy. You ran cold water over your wrists trying to cool down, before leaving the bathroom and making your way to the front of the club and out the exit.
Once outside, you leant against the brick wall, the cool night air soothing against your skin. Your head was fuzzy and your vision slightly blurred.
“Hey baby, wanna go for another round?”
The guy from three weeks ago had followed you outside and was standing next to you. Stumbling, you moved away from him, walking to the corner of the building and shaking your head.
He followed you. “Hey, I asked you a question? Don’t ignore me. Last time was great baby, you know you want another go, girls like you always do.”
“I… I’m here with someone. I can’t leave….. Without her,” you blinked, trying to focus.
“We don’t have to leave then. This alley way here is just fine.”
But I’m holding on for dear life, won’t look down, won’t open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light, 'cause I’m just holding on for tonight
“I don’t want to… Not tonight.” You tried to move back towards the bar but he put his arm out, stopping you and pressing his body against yours, pushing your back to the wall.
“Don’t lie to me sweet thing. You were begging for it last time. Didn’t I make you feel good. You made me feel good.”
He ran his hand over your dress, his hand slipping up underneath the hem. The dress was short so it wasn’t long until his fingers were brushing against your panties.
“No. Not tonight.” You tried to push back, your FBI training lodged somewhere in the back of your inebriated brain. But he was stronger than you and you could barely stand up as it was. You closed your eyes. Perhaps it would just be easier to….
Help me, I’m holding on for dear life, won’t look down, won’t open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light, 'cause I’m just holding on for tonight
On for tonight
“She said no.”
Suddenly the guy was hauled away from you and your eyes shot open, seeing the blurry figures of Spencer and his friend. His friend had thrown the guy onto the floor and he quickly picked himself up and scurried away.
“Spencer…. Oh god.” Bile rose in your throat and you turned your body to the side, throwing up on the sidewalk, as you trembled.
“Reid, I think you’d best take her home, do you know her friend’s name? I’ll go inside and find her.”
You could hear the two men talking, feeling a pair of soft hands grasping your hair back as you emptied your stomach onto the concrete.
“She lives across town, no cab will take us. Her friend left a while ago. I’m only a few blocks away. Will you hold her things and hold my badge. Just in case anyone questions this.”
Heather had left? Without telling you?
You’d stopped vomiting and was now shaking. Spencer removed his jacket, handing his FBI badge and he keys to his friend and wrapping his jacket around you.
“Can you walk, Y/N? I’m literally two blocks away from here. I can carry you if not.”
You wanted to go home but your brain couldn’t figure out how to get those words out of your mouth anymore. Your tongue was thick and the world was spinning.
Instead, you just nodded. Spencer placed his arm around your waist and you leant into him, resting your head against him and closing your eyes as your legs somehow managed to carry you the two blocks back to his apartment. That was the last thing you remembered.
On for tonight
'Cause I’m just holding on for tonight
Oh, I’m just holding on for tonight
On for tonight
On for tonight
You didn’t remember the walk home. You didn’t remember throwing up again on the pavement or falling over and skinning your knee. You didn’t remember Spencer having to carry you up the two flights of stairs to his apartment because you nearly sprained your ankle trying to walk.
You didn’t remember Spencer looking embarrassed as he pulled your vomit stained dress off your body, almost fighting with you to get one of his shirts onto you. And you certainly didn’t remember trying to convince him to sleep with you just because you suddenly felt like you owed him for rescuing you.
Cause I’m just holding on for tonight
'Cause I’m just holding on for tonight
Oh, I’m just holding on for tonight
All you remembered was the overwhelming shame and hatred you felt when you opened your eyes the next morning, Spencer asleep next to you and a bucket on the floor next to the bed. There was a bottle of water and two advil on the table next to you.
Snippets of the previous night came back, the shots, the dancing. Being pushed up against a wall by a guy you’d let fuck you a few weeks ago. Spencer and his friend pulling him off you because you were so wasted that you couldn’t do it yourself.
What would have happened if they hadn’t been there? You knew the answer.
You stood in front of the mirror, tracing a finger down the newest stretch mark scarring your torso. You bit your lip as it began to quiver with the weight of the tears forming in your eyes. One more mark. You’d thought you were doing better. You’d tried dieting, and exercise, and counting every goddamn calorie that wormed its way into your body, and yet here you were, in front of a mirror you still hated.
Suddenly, you were broken out of your stare-down with your reflection as you heard the door to your apartment slide open. Only one other person had a key, and you knew who it was even before he called out your name. He was home from his mission early; usually, this fact would make you smile and go rushing into his arms. But you didn’t want to see him today - or, rather, you didn’t want him to see you.
“(Y/N)?” your lover’s accented voice called out. You heard the whooshing of his robes as he walked further in. “I’m sorry for barging in, but I knocked a few times and I didn’t get an answer.”
Quickly wiping your eyes and letting your shirt fall back down to cover your stomach, you practiced smiling in the mirror before walking out to see Obi-Wan standing in your living room.
Looking up, he gave a smile of his own, though you could tell his was more genuine than yours. How could he be so happy, with someone as ugly as you as a lover?
“There you are,” he grinned, stepping closer and drawing you into a tight embrace. “Stars, I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” you sighed, burying your face into his shoulder and inhaling his scent.
You felt him stiffen, and for the first time, you cursed how perceptive he was to your moods.
“Dear one,” he murmured, pulling away to look down at you, concern written across his features. “You’re…sad. More than that, you’re devastated. What happened? Are you alright?”
You opened your mouth to speak, but you closed it as you felt fresh tears well up behind your eyelids, and you looked down, hoping he wouldn’t see.
“I’m fine,” you whispered, but your voice trembled, betraying your true feelings. Eyebrows furrowing even more, Obi-Wan gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted your head up. Upon seeing his beautiful eyes, you felt a tear slip down your cheek. He was so beautiful; he could have any woman in the galaxy. Why would he choose you? “You’re not fine,” he insisted. “Now, please, tell me what’s wrong.”
“Now why would someone cry over nothing?” he interrupted. Grabbing both of your hands, he pulled you to the couch, guiding you to sit beside him. Turning to face you, he gently cupped your cheek. “Please, my love?”
Sighing, you let your eyes close, leaning into his touch, debating whether or not to open up to him. In the past, you’d somewhat expressed your insecurities, but he’d quickly shush you, telling you that you were beautiful to him and that such worries were unfounded. But you never believed him; how could you, when you’d experienced a lifetime of the world telling you otherwise?
You struggled with your words, wondering how you could even start to list everything that was wrong. Looking over his face, finally you simply gripped the hem of your shirt and pulled it up, revealing the newest stretch mark making its way down your side.
Looking down, you watched Obi-Wan’s blue eyes trace down it, but his face remained the same, not betraying any emotion.
“Are…you trying to tell me your stomach hurts?” he asked, and you threw your shirt down, sighing in frustration.
“Did you see it?”
“Obi-Wan, you know what I’m talking about.”
“No, (Y/N),” he protested. “Honestly, I don’t. Would you mind enlightening me?”
“I have another stretch mark!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up. “Right there, running down my side.”
“So I’m fat, and my body is disgusting, and-”
“Oh, for the love of-” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “This again? (Y/N), I’ve told you that I love your body. There is nothing disgusting about-”
“No,” you suddenly yelled, surprising the both of you with your outburst. Mouth still slightly opened, his voice fell silent upon hearing you, and you took the opportunity to finally explain how you feel.
“No,” you repeatedly quietly. “You don’t get it. I… have no idea how you can stand the sight of me, much less want me. I’m overweight and have curves in all the wrong places; I’m not pretty like other girls. And you know… People say that you need to love yourself, that you’re beautiful no matter what, but those people are prettier than me, and they don’t know what it’s like to look the way I do. And you…you’re so beautiful, Obi-Wan. You could be with anybody else; you don’t have to be stuck with a sad, fat girl who hates herself.”
For a long moment, Obi-Wan sat in silence, simply looking at you with an astonished expression you’d only seen a few times before. Sighing, you bowed your head as more tears fell, and you wiped them away with your sleeve, not knowing what else to say.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Obi-Wan get up. You didn’t move or look up, however, until you felt his arms wrap around you, and suddenly you were in his arms, being carried bridal-style into your bedroom.
“Stop,” you said, trying to push him away. “I’m too heavy.”
“I’m strong in both body and in the force, love,” he murmured, and you realized he was using the force to help him hold you. You felt even worse at this fact, and you hid your face in his chest with shame until he set you down on your feet in front of your full-length mirror.
“Look at yourself,” he commanded, but you refused, looking down at your feet.
“Do as I say,” he added, and something in his tone made you lift up your eyes. There you were, standing there with Obi-Wan behind you. You watched his hands raise up, and you felt his fingers slowly run through your hair.
“Your hair feels like silk, you know,” he whispered. “It’s one of the first things I noticed after I kissed you for the first time.” His finger moved around to your front, his wrists resting on your shoulders as his hands traced down your jawline.
“I noticed your eyes the first time we met,” he then stated. “How deep they are, how there’s an intelligence constantly flickering behind them. And your nose…” A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Your nose is adorable to me. And your lips are perfectly shaped to fit against mine. They feel like rose petals, and the way you bite them when you’re thinking about something makes me want to steal you away to my bed and keep you there for hours.”
A deep blush tinted your cheeks. “Obi-Wan, what are you-”
“Your neck is the perfect canvas for love bites,” he pressed on, running his hands over it briefly. Then, his hands found their way to your breasts, running down them gently. “And I know you don’t like these, for some reason I’ve never been able to fathom. Personally, I think they’re neither too big or small; to me, they’re magnetic, and I could spend all day looking at them, touching them, licking them, biting them.”
His hands traced lower still, hiking your shirt up until he was sliding it completely off. Then, his palms mapped out your torso, skimming down your sides and over your stomach. Goosebumps raised up everywhere he touched, and your eyes drifted over his face in the mirror as he spoke.
“I know that this world is a cruel place,” he stated. “But they’re all idiots if they can’t see your beauty. You’re bigger than other girls; it’s just a fact. But it’s also a fact that you fit in my arms perfectly. It’s a fact that I think you’re beautiful, and sexy, and the most desirable person alive. You’re soft, and supple, and I’ll believe that, with all my heart, until we’re both old, until I draw my last breath. I love you, and I’m completely obsessed with your body.”
You let out a shuddering sigh, new tears falling down your cheeks for an entirely different reason. Turning around, you cupped his face and kissed him, pouring your heart into it, willing him to see how much his words meant and how much you loved him.
“I love you,” you whispered, finally pulling away after several long moments. His eyes met yours, and his voice nearly cracked with the sincerity behind his words.
I was really itching to write this one and I ended up having so much fun doing so!! I hope you like what I came up with, love!! Thanks for all the love! Right back at ya! *muah*
27. “Stripping clearly wasn’t in the plan.”
Winter had once again settled
in the small town of Riverdale, a dreadful wind twirling the dry autumn leaves under
the heavy grey sky. Betty liked the scenery; it was very Tarkovsky, that
monochrome of nature. Bringing a knitted blanket more up her chin, Betty smiled
to herself as she was sure her boyfriend of over a year would be very proud of
the cinematic metaphor in her head and sighed in content as she continued
reading Anna Karenina for what seemed like the hundredth time. Whatever concentration
she had previously though was now completely shuttered by the mere thought of
her hot boy and his promise to drop by later, Betty feeling her cheeks already
flushing at the things she already knew they were going to be doing once he’d
climb up her window, like another prince charming in search for his queen. Even
though their night rendezvous were anything but chaste and purity laced at this
Betty expected him to be naked
at some point during the night. What she didn’t expect was her six feet tall
boyfriend climbing up the wooden ladder perched against her window with just
his dark grey boxers and his color coordinated beanie, dripping wet from the
top of his covered head to the soles of his black converse.
“What the heck happened to you?!” Betty wondered in a high-pitched voice
and green eyes rounded in disbelief upon rushing to open the window sill,
assisting him in bringing his lanky limbs awkwardly over the small bench
attached to it. He replied with a full of irritation side glance, a “don’t even
ask” shade on his blue eyes behind his also wet eyelids.
“I thought you were at a bro
date with Archie?” she tilted her head in confusion, scanning his absurd
appearance and suppressing her need to laugh at the comical sight of him
dripping on her fluffy carpet, while protectively holding his laced hands at
his front, over his manhood.
“I was.” He snarled, clearly
not in a mood to be tampered with, huffing at his damp raven locks that stuck
against his forehead.
“And since when they strip you
naked and spray you with water like a freaking Calvin Klein ad down at the
arcade?” Betty scoffed amused, closing her arms over the Blue & Gold logo
that was sprawled in bold letters at the front of her black t-shirt (Cooper – Jones Agency: Full murder search by
day, full body search by night being printed at the back, a cheeky gift
from Veronica to both of them at their one year anniversary), raising an
eyebrow and really dying to hear his explanation.
“Stripping clearly wasn’t in
the plan.” He raised his eyebrows cleverly, a shiver running down his
spine, his body now aware of the cold temperature. “Can you please give me a
“Yeah, yeah of course.” She mentally
scolded herself for not thinking about his wellbeing sooner, but could you blame
her? Jughead Jones in such ridiculous state was truly a sight to see. As soon
as she wrapped his shoulders in a fluffy, lime green towel, rubbing his arms
over it with vigor to offer him some warmth and gaining a small thank you from the
boy now sitting at the edge of her bed, story time began.
“Some of those hooligans from
the Greendale Panthers ambushed us when we were leaving the arcade, restrained us,
took us six miles out of town, stripped us naked and then showered us with two
water tanks. Not to mention that they left us to walk all the way back!” Jughead
let her know in exasperation, Betty’s eyes widening in shook, as he took off
his beanie and ran the towel over his wet locks, grumpy and irritated.
“What?! Why?!” she asked incredulously,
eyes examining him for any other sign of damage, now catching a faint redness
creeping up around his eye and a small cut on his lower lip. “And what happened
to your face?” she gently turned his head by his chin for him to look at her,
thump brushing over his wounded lip and making him flinch.
“I fought back of course!”
Jughead narrowed his eyes in spite. “They are being a bunch of illiterate, violence-feeding
bullies! Those are just pranks they play every time a game between them and us
is about to take place.” He informed her in anger what he later had learned from
Archie on their walk of shame home.
“You are not even in the team.”
Betty wrinkled her nose in confusion.
“Highly irrelevant.” Her boyfriend
threw in sarcasm, standing up to examine his face on her vanity mirror. “Ugh,
this is gonna be a bitch to cover.” He groaned at the sight of the growing mauve
bruise around his left eye. “Will you do your magic girl stuff?” he pleaded
with a look over his shoulder, not really wanting to appear like every other cocky
jock next morning at school.
Betty sighed, shaking her head
with a faint, surprised smile, while walking to his side. “What else can I do
since my boyfriend is proving to be more of a fighter than a lover once again?”
she teased him goodheartedly, seeing him roll his pretty eyes but cracking a
small smile at her words. “Maybe we should tell Sheriff Keller… or coach
Clayton.” She became serious, knitted eyebrows indicating that she was ready to
fight against any kind of bullying and for anyone’s rights.
“Like this will matter.”
Jughead scoffed at her idealistic good-girl ways. “This is bro world; it’s a
fucking zoo.” He colored the swear word with bitterness. “There’s a meaning
behind naming those teams after animals. Beast mode and male ego dominance and
all that stuff. It really makes my blood boil in anger.” He huffed, fuming
again, messing his already disheveled locks just out of spite.
“Who are you and what have you
done to my boyfriend?!” Betty retorted incredulously, a clueless grimace of
confusion adorning her pretty features. “I want back my Thomas Hardy not this
Rocky Balboa.” She said in fake warning and disgust, rounding a finger over his ridiculous state that depicted his whole new persona.
Jughead licked his lips,
trying to hide his cheeky smile. “I’ve told you before, Betts. I have layers.” He
reminded her with a wink, totally forgetting about his bruised eye and
flinching instantly in pain, making Betty chuckle lightly at his dorkiness.
“Whatever.” She patted his
chest in affection. “Just try not to get yourself between punches again,
alright you tough guy?” she spoke to him like scolding a five year old for
making a watercolor mess on the floor. “I’m very fond of that face to see it
brushed every once in a while.” She grabbed his chin and shook his head lightly
from side to side, before closing his cheeks between her thump and her middle
finger and smooching his pushed out in a funny fishy way lips. “Grab your hidden shirt
and sweatpants from the back of my underwear drawer and put something on before you catch pneumonia. I’ll get you
a bag of frozen beans and something to clean this nasty cut, Robin Hood of
When talking about mental health, and depression specifically, I’ve seen a lot of talk and understanding for symptoms like social anxiety, hopelessness and a general disregard for one’s own feelings and needs. This is all good and fine, obviously, keep doing it, because we all need to hear it! But what I want to talk about right now is self care. Not drinking water, showering and looking into the mirror, telling yourself you look good. I think we’ve covered that, and we’ll continue to cover it.
Right now I want to talk about dental care. This isn’t something I’ve come across on this website, even though it’s definitely a big topic for me. Me, personally? I’ve gone through years of not giving a shit about myself (still am) which often resulted in going through a week, brushing my teeth only once. Not only that, but also eating in bed constantly. Take this, and multiply it with days. Weeks. Months. Years.
I know there’s a lot wrong in there. I’m anxious and afraid to go to the dentist. I’m afraid of rejection, maybe, but mostly I’m just fucking embarrassed and disappointed and disgusted with myself. I have cavities. I have rotting teeth. It’s a mess in there. Of course, I can argue that I wasn’t in the state of mind to take care of myself. But that doesn’t take the rot away. It doesn’t take the emotional, but also physical pain away, because my tooth hurts so bad right now.
I just feel so much shame right now, but I know I have to go to the dentist. I feel shame about having to go to a dentist that specializes in people who are afraid of going to the dentist.
But I still felt inclined to make this post. If anyone reads this, knowing that they’re in the same position as I am, please know you’re not alone. You’re not an embarrassment. You did not do this to yourself. You do not need to punish yourself with the pain and say, “I deserve this.”
I hope you find the strength within you to make that call and set the appointment. I hope you find the strength to calmly explain the situation, your fear, and your desire to start anew. Realistically speaking, dentists have seen a lot. I think they want to help you. They didn’t get into the profession to only help clients with perfect teeth, did they?
I’m still struggling with this topic, I’ll be perfectly honest about that. But I just wanted to try and talk about it. If this reaches at least one person who recognizes themselves in this story, this post will have served its purpose.