#Can I hug the evil out of you your highness

[yearning-for-autumn]

So, here is my humble request 👀:

Reader is afab Illyrian, got her wings clipped (because we hate this tradition that’s why and because I am too much into enemies to lovers) and the Bat Boys consider her something close to a little sister.

When Eris was making a deal with the NC to get their help to kill Beron and that shit, his bond snapped with reader.

Obviously problematic for him because he has been insulting Illyrians since his mom popped him out about 500+ years ago.

So…bonus points for: smut obvs.- go as filthy as you like, Lucien absolutely mocking Eris for FUMBLING desperately to get his charm going, reader being oblivious.

I hope this sparks some ideas and creativity 🥰🤞🏻

Would That I -- Part 1

A/n: This was too good not to make into a multi-part fic, so expect more soon. Smut will be coming!

Pairing: Eris X Illyrian!Reader

Warnings: Allusions to smut, pining, mentions of mental health

Word Count: 3,638

Summary: You hate him. You hate the very thought of him. And yet he's your mate. The Mother has a cruel sense of humour.

Part 2 Part 3

Fury rippled through your body like a forest fire. You were livid. And Cassian had the nerve to laugh at you. Well, stifle a laugh. Rhysand was watching him with a worried look as he tried to give him a silent warning to stop. This progressed to warning him mind to mind when you got up from the sofa, flinging a pillow so far it almost landed into the fireplace. Azriel flinched.

“Him!?” You seethed, finally breaking the silence you had kept since your return from that damned High Lord meeting. Cassian snorted softly and you rounded on him with a deathly calm. Rhys made a small noise in the back of his throat.

“Is this funny to you, brother? I’m shackled to that evil, pompous, ginger-haired freak and you’re laughing?” His smile had dropped and a look of fear was quickly overcoming his rugged features. You stepped closer to him, your finger in his face. “Don’t sleep too deeply tonight.”

Rhysand cleared his throat.

“Look, this doesn’t have to be the end of the world. You don’t have to accept the bond. We can make sure you never see him again.” The bond snarled through you at that and you growled.

“Sure Rhys, because you were so calm when you found out Feyre was your mate.”

His brow furrowed.

“So you want to be with Eris?” The name seemed to physically disgust him. Azriel scoffed, abruptly rising from the sofa and marching out of the room. Cassian eyed the doorway in his wake. You turned to Rhys.

“No!” You groaned in frustration, pacing up and down on the carpet like a caged animal. Cassian’s eyes darted between Rhys and you. Finally deciding to break things up he manhandled you into a hug. You fought it for a few moments, before giving up and collapsing into your brothers embrace, hot angry sobs wrenching through you. Rhys took this as his cue to leave, and winnowed—probably to his office—out of the room. Cassian rubbed soothing circles on your back, careful to avoid your wings that were ever more sensitive after the clipping.

You were clipped at thirteen, which is how you had come to live with the three brothers. In Windhaven, they clipped your wings the day you started your cycle. Once grounded there was no escaping your duties, nor any chance to leave the camp. Unless, of course, you had grown close with the High Lord’s son, who had a mother with a habit of collecting strays.

You were there through all of it, the highs, the lows, and Morrigan’s tumultuous relationship with one Eris Vanserra. The male you were now mated to.

---

In the Forest House, Eris was pacing. His throat was still sore from the memory of Azriel’s scarred hand, and his cheek burned from the slap that had earned him from his father. But all of that had been overshadowed. He knew as soon as he saw you. His heart had lurched in his chest so hard he had thought he might throw up. You were the most beautiful female he had ever laid his eyes on. And of course, you were from the Night Court. The Mother truly did have a cruel sense of humour.

You had walked in, looking as arrogant as the rest of them, sharing a secret smile with the shadowsinger before sitting down next to the High Lord. Eris, next to his mother, couldn’t rip his eyes from you. Your doe eyes, sharp and intelligent captured his attention first. He wanted nothing more than to get lost in them, to find out everything about you: What you liked to read, your favourite food, how best to pleasure you and have you screaming his name. He was pulled from his fantasies by your wings. Cauldron, your magnificent wings. Their beauty stole breath from his lungs as they unfurled, getting comfortable on the chair. You had smiled at Feyre, warm and supportive, and Eris knew he was utterly lost.

He finally stopped his pacing, locked inside his room, and sat down on the edge of his bed. He sat there, holding his head in his hands until he heard the scratch of claws at the door. Getting up with a weary sigh, he opened it only to be knocked to the ground by his oldest and most loyal smokehound.

“Cheddar.” He chided as she licked his face excitedly. “Cheddar Biscuit.” He said, sternly, and she leapt off of him, waiting by the door expectantly.

“Yes alright, I suppose it’s time for a walk.” Cheddars tail thumped faster against the door frame and Eris couldn’t help the smile that grew. “Go and fetch your brothers and sisters then.” He said, grabbing the leashes off the wall. A walk was one way to clear his mind.

---

As you had predicted, Rhys was holed up in his office when you went looking for him. He barely looked up at you as you entered.

Rhysand’s office was always meticulously organised, but as you came up behind his chair you noticed how messy his desk had become. Letters and notes were piled on every inch of space, his childhood stuffed bat sitting atop one pile as a makeshift paperweight.

He loosed a breath.

“We are going to war, Y/n.” He said quietly, and any thoughts of Eris Vanserra eddied from your mind. Rhys looked up at you with bloodshot eyes. Guilt coursed through you for ever caring about something as trivial as a mating bond when you and your brothers were set for battle. You had only just got Rhys back from under the mountain, only to potentially lose him again.

“Is it certain?” You asked, leaning down to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Is Cass--?”

“Leaving for Windhaven by first light.” He answered.

“Ok.”

Rhys turned, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He knew what you were thinking, though you wished you weren’t.

“Eris is an awful male, Y/n. You know I could never support the bond between you. Azriel is...well, I’m sure you already know.”

You did. The moment he had stormed out of the room you had known this was the beginning of a negative spiral for Az. Not to mention the upcoming war. You stood up straight.

“That being said.” Rhys continued. “Eris is ensuring Autumn allies with us against Hybern. There is a certain political advantage to the match.”

You scoff.

“Like there was with Mor?” Rhys turned green. “What did Eris bargain for in return for Autumn’s support? What did you trade away, Rhys?”

Rhysand looked every bit five centuries old when he turned to you.

“Our support in his bid for the throne. Whenever that may be.”

Hatred for the male burst anew in your gut, fiercer still now that you were mated to him.

“That power hungry bastard.” You spat.

Rhysand sighed.

“He could never deserve you, starlight. I will make sure that he never sees you again. I will not lose another sister.”

---

It wasn’t until midnight that you saw Azriel. The last of your brothers to approach you. He let himself into your room, waking you, tattered blanket draped around his shoulders. Rhys’ mother had sewn it for him years ago, before you had come to live with them. It had helped him through many hard nights. So much so that it was threadbare and faded. Rhys had enchanted it not to break further as a solstice gift one year.

You sat up worried.

“Az? Are you ok? You didn’t—”

“No,” He assured, and you relaxed against the pillows, “I’m ok.”

You shuffled over in your bed to make space for him, and he laid next to you, blanket over the both of you.

“I hate him.” He said into the darkness. “I hate what he did to Mor. I hate everything he stands for. I will not let him have you.” He declared.

You snuggled up to your eldest brother.

“I don’t know why you all seem convinced I’m going to somehow fall for this prick.” You said, and he snorted. “I hate him as much as you do.”

Azriel tucked you under his arm.

“I know.” You smiled tiredly, somehow understanding the words Azriel left unsaid. The words Rhys had been able to express. Azriel’s shadows settled over your heart, confirming, and the two of you fell asleep.

---

Months later, Eris sat in a tent, head between his legs to stop from throwing up. Thousands were dead. Thousands more were surely destined to die. Two of his brothers, and his mate, fought on the battlefield.

He only had a moments warning before he was violently sick into a bucket.

Asher, his youngest brother before Lucien, chose this moment to enter his tent unannounced, scowling at the sight of Eris hunched over and retching.

“Can’t handle the bloodshed, brother?” He teased, though he sat next to Eris and put a warm hand on his shoulder. The gaping wound on his neck was healing quickly, as it should with the High Lords power coursing through his veins, but the sight of it set Eris off again. He heaved into the bucket, choosing to ignore the gagging sound Asher made.

“Eris you need to pull yourself together. Father is only a tent over.”

Eris rolled his eyes.

“Just show me your plans, Ash.”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m better off keeping them to myself, seeing as you’re battlesick.” Asher grimaced when Eris finally sat up and pushed the bucket away from him.

“Asher.” Eris’ voice held all the command of General, and eldest brother. Asher groaned petulantly as he handed over the plans.

In Eris’ opinion, not that Beron took any heed, Asher should never have taken on as much responsibility in this war. After Ceres had died, Ash had taken over as Eris’ right hand. Ceres had been more naturally suited to the role, Beron’s bloodlust had run as deep as his bones, and he had a sharp mind for strategy. Eris still mourned the boy he had raised—a quick witted, chess loving, boisterous child—but he had to accept, he had lost Ceres long before he had died. And Eris wasn’t keen on losing anyone else. Asher wasn’t comfortable with a sword, the gash in his neck clear evidence, and he had a wife and child that weakened his resolve. This is what Eris had to work with. And he had a job to do.

He let Asher discuss his plans, though he was unable to rip his mind from providing a hundred different ways that he could die, that Ash or Lucien could die, that you could die.

It took every ounce of training ingrained in him not to falter in his attack the moment he had caught sight of you, fighting your way through the onslaught, Mor by your side. Cauldron, you were ethereal. Your silken wings were spread as if they could carry you into the air, though he had long since guessed that they could not. You cut through your enemies with a frightening ease. Catching his eye, you hesitated just a second, then your face had turned to rage and the next Hybern soldier to cross your path had been beheaded so brutally that even he had to avert his gaze.

When he had looked back up, you were gone, lost in the chaos.

Asher sighed,

“You’re not listening.” He said, and Eris had the decency to feel bad. He looked at Ash wearily.

“Come back in the morning. I’ll be more attentive.” Ash just peered at him over his notes.

“It’s her isn’t it. It’s Y/n.”

“Yes.” Eris said, lacking the energy to lie.

“She’s Night Court. She’s not one of us. One day you’ll find a nice Autumn girl to marry and when you’re High Lord she can pop out a few Autumn court babies.”

“She is my mate.” Eris growled.

“Mate’s aren’t always meant to be Eris. It’s only a biological match, not a political one. When you find an Autumn Court lady you’ll wonder why you ever spent time worrying over some Night Court harlot.” Eris snarled, despite himself. His brothers words were wrenched straight from Beron’s throat and he wouldn’t stand for it. Not from Asher. Not from his kind, loving Ash.

“Get out.” He said. Asher looked surprised, and—Eris was pleased to see—ashamed. He made no moves to leave, so Eris repeated himself, sharper this time.

“Get out.” He snapped, “Come back in the morning with more sense.”

Asher, chastised, fled from the tent, and Eris buried his head in his hands. What use was there protecting you from his brothers when it was certain your own said the same about him. There was no denying the cruel twist of fate the Mother had pulled on the both of you, destined to crash and burn. He imagined you in your own tent, laughing at the thought of him speared on another males sword. Mor sat next to you whispering all the terrible things he had done that day, terrible things to twist your mind and poison the very notion of him. He was too late, he was nothing but soot in the deep pit of your heart, choking the both of you.

He felt blindly for the bond, and found it, rotten.

---

The war was over, but the scars it had left were red raw and bleeding. Rhys had died. Your brother. The one who had sheltered you, loved you, given you a home and a family for a few agonising minutes had been gone. Gone. And yet that Cauldron damned bond had been chafing in the back of your mind. You sat in your bedroom riddled with guilt as it plagued your mind. Eris. Eris. Eris. He infested your mind, your senses, you were consumed by the very thought of him.

Walking through the streets of Velaris had started to feel claustrophobic, being around anyone beginning to suffocate you. You felt safer on your own. Recently you had taken to sheltering in your room, only emerging to eat. Your brothers eyed you with poorly concealed worry every time you walked, ghostlike, through the house, shuffling to the kitchen to fix a plate of leftovers then retreat hastily to your safe space.

Nesta was struggling too, after the war. It had left its scars in all of you. You could feel Cassian’s heart breaking the day Rhys sent her away with him, but all you could think about was whether your brother would do that to you. You thought you knew the looks he gave you.

Disgust.

What use was a flightless Illyrian female, who couldn’t train, couldn’t talk, couldn’t think. He was dead. Rhys was dead. And then he wasn’t. Why were Seren and your mother not afforded the same luxury. You grieved, and cried, and screamed. It truly was a sick thing, to use to the miracle of Rhys’ living to guilt yourself into believing there was hope for them. But then, everything in your mind had twisted of late.

Nesta began training. Nesta began healing. And you were stuck in your room.

Every morning without fail, Azriel came to check on you. He stroked your hair until you woke up, then retreated when you once again rejected his invitations to join them. The Valkyries, they were calling themselves. You would have been proud of Nesta if you could feel anything anymore.

Occasionally, you could feel a light tug on the bond, on the shackles that kept you bound to Eris. The first few times you had thrown up. Now it was little more than an annoyance. You were his dog, disobediently pulling your leash as you fell further and further into nothingness. His face in your mind was as cold as it had been on the battlefield as he yanked you back, choking you. You spluttered. Standing weakly, you made your way down to the kitchen, setting water on the stove to boil.

“Sister.” Cassian’s voice rang out behind you and you flinched, dropping your teaspoon. He bent to pick it up and set it down on the counter. “Azriel says you’ve been ignoring him. You’ve been ignoring all of us.”

You shrugged, the familiar pang of guilt squeezing your chest, making it difficult to breath. You braced both hands on the counter top, taking a ragged breath. Cassian was beside you in a heartbeat, holding you in his arms.

“Y/n, I’m worried about you. We all are.” He squeezed you closer to him, closer than you had allowed anyone in months. “Come and stay with Nes and I. Az is a terrible chaperone, and I need to see you. You could be wasting away down here and I wouldn’t know until it was too late.”

You shook your head, though you no longer knew why you resisted him. Your body melted against him, muscle memory taking over as he enveloped you in his wings. You swore you heard him sniffling as you hugged him back.

“Please, y/n.” He said, voice shaking. It didn’t take much more convincing.

A few days later, Rhys was helping you unpack your bags in your new room in the House of Wind. You took the room next to Azriel, who—Cassian had explained—was falling into bad habits again: Not eating, not sleeping, waking up in a cold sweat when he did finally drop off. Cassian wasn’t doing as well as he wanted you to believe, either. Twice in the following week you woke up to find him taking things from your room. And once, when you had floated downstairs in a miserable haze, you found him throwing up in the kitchen sink, an empty plate that had once held a batch of Elain’s cookies sitting on the table.

Nesta had dragged you to Valkyrie training a few times, and whilst you were beyond their current skill level, it had taken your mind off of things. Cassian’s eyes gleamed with pride everytime Nesta mastered an attack or a block. He touched her affectionately, he teased her, he lingered as she passed to breath in her scent. Watching them together was as painful as it was sweet. How simple love could be.

Would that you could be half as lucky.

Slowly you were emerging from your shell. You could smile again. Nesta invited you to read with her and the Valkyries, and in the silence you found firm friendship. Emerie was a gift from the Mother herself. You bonded instantly, both of you clipped, grounded, but neither broken. Many late nights were spent talking, about books, your brothers, or about Eris. Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn knew little of the Autumn prince, but you appreciated their outside perspective on the bond. It was still a bitter taste in your mouth, but it was becoming more bearable with each passing week.

---

There was a ball approaching in the Hewn City and Rhys had asked Nesta to attend. Not long after, she asked you to join her.

“I can’t do this alone, Y/n, please.” She said one night, sitting at the end of your bed. You bit your lip, unsure.

“Eris will be there.” You said.

“I’ll be the one dancing with him. Rhys wants him falling madly in love with me. He won’t look your way, I promise.” Nesta said. You knew she meant well by that. You had never wanted him anywhere near you before. But something about her oath left a sting. You frowned, which she took to mean you were still unconvinced.

“Please, Y/n. My sisters will be there, Rhys will be there. I’m not ready to face them all on my own, not yet.”

And so you found yourself stood atop the stairs the following week, draped in a black dress with a slit so high up one side your whole leg was practically exposed. The back scooped so low the dimples at the bottom of your spine peeked over top. You were devastating. Death in midnight silk. Rhys’ smile was that of pure brotherly pride as you walked down the steps, your hair pinned in braids and curls.

Nesta stole your breath away as she appeared in the hallway, but it wasn’t your gaze she sought out. You looked towards Cassian and could have sworn he was drooling. Eris would be blind-sided by her, of that you had no doubt.

In the Hewn City, they danced like lovers. Nesta as dangerous in the ballroom as she had become on the training grounds. Every move was calculated, every parting of her lips a dance of the mind, designed to ensnare Eris in her dastardly web. Eris was caught. And you burned.

Standing next to Azriel, heat rolled off you in waves. He took a step towards you, perhaps to offer you a drink, but found something in your eyes to make him change his mind. You hadn’t taken your eyes off of Eris all night. He was sinful. A courtier and a Prince. His hair pooled over his shoulders, one strand to the front neatly braided. You reminded yourself that this was the male that left your cousin for dead at his Court border. Biting your lip, your mind wandered to see yourself lying prone beneath him as he stood, smile widening, cock hardening in his—

“Get me a drink.” You ordered Az. He raised an eyebrow.

“What’s the magic word.”

“Azriel.” You growled, and he turned on his heel. Your eyes stayed pinned on Eris as he led Nesta across the dancefloor in a tantalizing waltz. His gaze finally met yours, and you saw a fraction of surprise before his emerald eyes darkened. He licked his lips, eyes locked with yours as he leaned down, and pressed a kiss to Nesta’s neck.

A/N: I have to thank @fandomsmultiverse for talking to me and giving me about 100 ideas to flesh this story out, I really hope you like it! There will be a part 2 coming soon! I wouldn't just leave you on a cliffhanger like that. We will see more of Eris and Reader interacting, and maybe.....some smut...

[sea-of-dust]

You gotta be kidding...

5wirl x GN! Reader

Summary: They make a reference to something personal between you two while performing live. Almost putting a spotlight on you.

Notes: Modern AU, mention of irl video game and band: Remmber Sports (they're good recommend Tiny Planets),

Warnings: suggestive humor, swearing, never expect proof reading

He met you before he was an idol. High school to be exact. You two were in the same music class bonding over how much you dreaded your music teacher. "He sounds like a divorced mom.." "isn't he married?" "Exactly" you flop onto your desk

You two have been in almost every class together years afterward, just so you didn't have to work with a stranger for group projects. People would would find you two around school alot and walking home together. "And they were roommates," one of your classmates giggle as you two casually hold hands while speaking to eatchother, in reality, you both didn't notice

He was always so calm but also somehow could smell your problems?!? "Ughhhh" "Lemme guess they chewed gum loudly again?" You spring up placing your head back down. "Stop knowing based off my grunts!" "And you're mad at me for not noticing something earlier" "HA!-" "nm it's because I didn't let you sleep in" "...I genuinely despise you"

He started catching feelings midway through your first semester of the new school year. You did notice he sometimes hugged you tighter, looked at you a little longer, he even got small trinkets for you, noticing how fond he looked when you casually wore them.

It was by the end of the year he had told you he got a scouted as an idol, it took alot for him to tell you but it worked thank god you didn't ditch him like he thought.

"So uh..." "?" "I got scouted" your eyes widen, he thought all his fears came to life before you hugged him tightly and squealed. "I TOLD YOU YOU HAD A NICE VOICE!!" "You didn't have to yell" "Shut up you cry over stuff like this!" Now you were the one that oddly knew things about him...you were right...he did cry...alot like the whole group knew the next day.

The group try to hype him up into asking you out. "DUDEEEE COME ON THEYRE NOT GOING ANYWHERE" "I can ask to hangout" he mutters holding his phone in his hand "COME ONNN" venti and heizou sync up kazuha speaking up "ask them to go for dinner" his cheeks turn pink almost instantly "UH MAYBE NOT COME ON- WHAT IF-" "and sent" "WHEN DID YOU TAKE MY PHONE?!" "You'll live" Xiao rolls his eyes as aether bickers with him, his phone noti goes off. "Sure what time?" There's a silence in the room as Xiao gives him the phone. "At 4?" "bet ☆" you and those star emojis how are you like this. "ITS A DATE!!" "YEAAAAAAA" they sounded like a frat house.

He gets all giddy on that date and when you two finally go on one you finally hit the maybe were dating phase but you both don't wanna admit it to eatchother. So the rest of 5wirl planned something for you two. "Alr we know he likes them nowww...." "we...." "Why don't we perform for them" "on their friend ani?" "How do you know that..." they turn to heizou "because he saved it on his calander" "..." and so they planned out your ani for you two.

And so their evil plans acted out perfectly, you two went out on another date and later that day you dropped him off at the concert. What you didn't expect was heizou dragging you to a seat. "Stay right here and don't move alright" you watched them get on stage aether seeming to be looking for you, they get to performing when one of the lyrics hit you. "Hey why don't you meet me at four?" An almost slured pronunciation followed by aether finally finding you. His eyes so tender yet teasing. You felt your heart skip a beat a small wink only making you more bashful.

To think the performance would end there nope. As you tried to get off your seat aether greets you with a cheeky smile a small ring in his hand. You turn around quickly. "I guess I flustered you more than he ever will" he leans on you wrapping his arms casually around your waist while you continues to fluster you. "He was just a small crush..." "enough to have you gush for 4 months about it" he laughs softly kissing you cheek. "When did you even gain this much confidence" "small words of advice" your mind immediately goes to Heizou. "Alrighty then..." without a warning you pull your face closer forcing him to slouch over you. "Did heizou tell you what to do incase of this situation aswell?" Thank god that concert hall was almost empty and the seat you were at made it almost impossible to see you two because the next thing you see and hear are a bunch of idiots going YEAAAAAAAAAAA. Aether x y/n shirts and a poster held up by Xiao. They ship it.

You made cute accessories! He's seen your work on social media and reached out. "You're accessories are so cute do you have a store?" "Nah I only sell locally near my college" turns out you both went to the same college he's never did a double check so fast in his life. As soon as he saw you he cupped one of your hands, his eyes sparkling in pure joy. "GIMMIE EVERYTHING IN STOCK!" "HUH?!"

Number one fan he's following you around. He'd be your personal advertisement always wearing your stuff and flexing it to others. He WILL be the most annoying person on campus

When you tell him to stop he just kinda tilts his head until he realizes what your saying as if he finally loaded. "Oh! Alright!" That's when you make an almost massive mistake "I did enjoy your support tho but youre-" "SO YOU LIKE HAVING A FAN?!" And so began the simping. He's all over you. Every class your with him? He's leaning into you, whispering random stuff in your ear. Your eyebags got darker everytime he did this but he was more chill than your online fans.

The days you also leaned into him are the days you've never seen someone more flustered. "Hm?" You lift up your head watching him cover his face quickly. "Venti?" He turns away from you even more. "Don't look at me! Where did you even learn that-" "I mean you do that to me all the time" "don't say it outloud-" "did you just whimper?" He stops suddenly using is braids to cover his face as he mumbles to himself. You bring that up to traumatize him

He had to get used to you showing affection, you weren't even dating yet! Come on, don't do this! Even a small smile he'd tease you for it but he'd definitely scream into his pillow about it.

He only asked you out when you made your feeling for him known. A small note under his door telling asking him to meet up at an amusement park later that weekend was where it clicked he looked and sounded like a little girl you could hear his "YEAAAAAAAA" from your room.

He's doing everything he's on a call with the others he just needs them to hear his my story animated from start to finish. "Can you not play that effen punk music main stream shit can barely hear you" "Shut the fuck up hot topic this is important!" "This is why you fucked up your eyeliner" "I DID?!?!" He checked in his mirror realizing he didn't and mostly argued with Xiao. "If they ditch you you deserve it" "quit being a downer! Good luck Venti!" They all mostly wave at the camera before hanging up leaving you and him alone for the evening

He loved it. He was like a child pointing at things he wanted. "Do you have the money?" He looks away pounting "not an actual question I'll play for it" his eyes widen almost sparkling. You two left flexing your carnival game knowledge and venti covered in plush prizes you won for him.

As payback for the newfound plush army, he invited you to a concert. "Oh so you did have money" "Shut up" "hehe" your teasingly small laugh is so cute stop doing that. What you didn't know is that he strapped some keychains you made on his belt, and he NEVER STOPPED WINKING, if you had to drink everytime he found you in the audience and winked you'd have five drinks...per song. It was cute seeing him smirk whenever you slightly blushed at him.

"Y/n!!" He smiles as you wait for him outside the concert hall. "Lets go to another amusement park!" He giggles embracing you "right now?" "Yea!" He nuzzles his face into your chest "sure..when you take off all of those keychains Jesus how much did you-" "200 bucks" "...VENTI" "THEYRE CUTE I KNOW YOU EYED THEM!" You blush slightly smirking "I did...they look adorable on you" you struck him right in the heart leaving both of you flustered. "The amusement parks a few blocks away" "LETS GO!" as if it never happened you both headed to the amusement park.

You beat him at a rhythm game he liked. You got first in a video game event he liked since then him he's declared you his rival. "Who the hell is this guy getting in the way of the number one spot" he grits his teeth checking your profile. "347 full combed songs...300 all perfects...and maxed out cards" he rolls his eyes

He wanted to let off some steam at an arcade only to find out he got beat in that game also! With the same name tag as the rythum game champ. He nearly smashes the machine when he notices you step up to it. "Shame, this games kinda better when I'm kicking someone's ass..." You sigh only now, noticing him, smirking at this chance you take it. "You mind playing this with me?" You perk up. Thinking this is a good way to let off steam, he accepts. "I won't go easy." "Alright!" You let him pick the song and almost immediately grab the handbar

Strange, he thinks he doesn't need it. As soon as the song starts, he hears your feet absolutely slam on the board. He's shocked but doesn't look over he's focused on his side of the screen. By the end, you huff heavily, looking up. "You won." You put your fist up for a fist bump. "Ah that songs so annoying~" he dosent give you one back putting in his names for national ranks. That's when he noticed that you put in the name the person on every rythum game had and as soon as you pressed confirm he nearly pounces on you. "SO YOURE THE ONE TAKING THE NUMBER 1 SPOTS EVERYWHERE!" "Yea what about it-" he looks at you angrily, calming down a bit before turning back to you. "I declare you my rival" "well...If you wanna we could rematch sometime gimmie your number?"

Ever since then you two have skeduled days to go to the arcade to whale on eatchother and going out to eat afterword. "I'm pretty sure you'd like it reminds me of your face ☆" you say as you point to a horrible cgi skeleton. "Screw you" "heh". You'd eventually open up to him more and invited him out to places more often. He didn't wanna say it outloud but he genuinely enjoyed those moments

One of the times you two went, you try to teach him gutair hero, he kinda mumbles to himself. "You can just play on your lap" "hmmhmm mhm em You can't be this msm hm" "what-" he realizes he said that outloud and covers his face nearly dropping the gutair. "I didn't hear that last part" he sighs in relief "but do you think im cute?" And so he's even more ashamed of himself. "Context clues" you scratch your cheek in a bit of embrassment "I think you're pretty cute too" you embarssingly laugh leaning away

you're pretty sure you could see his heart skip a beat as he looks up at you, his face nearly entirely pink. Peaking at you through his hand. You decide to tease your friend. "Seems like you wanna date me~" He moves back quickly, covering his mouth to hide his blushing. "I'm fine with that ya know~" you lean into him him still covering his face. He looks away looking back at you,his eyes softening "I'm fine with the thought of kissing you..well maybe a little more than fine but-" your words were cut off as you feel his lips touch yours. Quick yet soft, his hands wrapping around your shoulders. You lean back trying to catch your breath "...how long have you've been waiting to do that?" "...a few months now" "That's kinda adorable Xiao" you lean in for another kiss. You two recount that day as your first date

Ever since then he's more willing to hang out a little more clingy too. Whenever he had a show he would ask you if you were busy that day before sending you the ticket link. "Hey are you busy on the 14th?" "No why?" He'd send you the link without a secound thought "you know I'm not really into idols that much" "I'm in the group..." "...bought"

He actively looks for you in the audience. You would text him where you were sitting beforehand, yet he'd still look like a lost puppy. As soon as he finds you, his eyes sparkled. He forced himself to calm down before giving you a small wave

It was by the end of the show where he was performing the last song and you noticed something about their dance it kinda looked like what you would do on a song you knew well. It was then that you realized Xiao made a dance routine inspired by your sweaty gaming dance. You covered your face in embrassment but peaked through your hands. You couldn't believe he paid that much attention to you. He smirks noticing this

As the show ends, he runs over to you, "That was...a little embrassing" you blush a bit. "..." "dosent mean I didn't like it tho!" Trying not to offend him further you mumble on of how great the performance was. At first he's pretty stiff with his arms crossed you'd think he was annoyed till he kissed you again leaning in to hug you. "I'm glad you liked it" he whispers ever so softly in your ear.

He offen saw you working on projects for bands he likes and decided to commission you. He invited you to a studio and you both began to focus on what he commissioned you on. "I'm looking for something calm yet something someone would listen to in the morning to wake them up..." "hmmm" you play a calm chord progression on your gutair. "Speed up a bit" he taps his foot as if keeping pace as you speed up your playing. "That's pretty good! Sounds like a Remmber sports song" " YOU LISTEN TO THEM?" "Yea?" "Oh my god I thought you wouldn't catch that-" "they're a bit of a guilty pleasure"

You two always worked together after that whenever he would be lost in thought you'd just play hall of the mountain king behind him. He'd turn around slowly as your playing got more intense. "You think of something?" "..."

You pretty much became 5wirl's offical gutairst after kazuha recommended you. They'd make fun of him for how long you two stayed at the studio together. "Kazuha~, you left us sleeping in the shopping cart again!" Venti grins ear to ear "must really like that gutairst." Kazuha smiles."They're just a friend I find it easy to get along with" he thinks about what you two were talking about his eyes softening as if it were an old fond memory "and he's doing it again" heizou sighs jokingly

A few months of performing together, they treat you as family, almost apart of 5wirl. As soon as Kazuha ever left the room they'd turn to you in a heartbeat. "You sure you don't kiss when we're not looking?" "Eh?!" "Does kazuha usually get all mumbly around you" "he does but-" "I KNEW IT" "dose he show you his unironic leaf collection" they all lean in expectingly. "No wha-" You made sure kazuha was too far to hear what you were about to say "...OK so this one time..." they listened to you like their lives depended on it.

The day you told them about that is the day you regret the most, they always looked you and kazuha up and down. Snicker to themselves. "How much you wanna bet they might kiss today" "CAN YOU TWO CUT IT OUT" you let out a sigh walking into the recording studio to practice, a familiar humming following you in a few secounds later. You two sing together and when you finish he finally speaks up. "You know... this the song I was playing when I first realized I was into you" "heh really" you stop strumming, realizing what he said "wait what-" he laughs softly at your reaction placing a hand on your cheek. "That songs kinda special to me..." he holds your hand tenderly with his unbandaged hand. "Reminds me of how much I love you" your eyes widen a bit as he looks at you with the most soft eyes. "I love you too kazuha" you smile gently, letting him lean in to kiss you

All of them noticed you two were dating it was odvious, the way you two acted around eatchother gave litterally everything away. "You two give eatchother less personal space than before are you dating?" "What?" "And you smell like him-" "how do you know what he smells like" "so you're dating?!" "How did you come to that conclusion?!" You and venti would bicker trying to hide your relationship with kazuha after he forgot to tell you he already told them.

Finally a show came along a small gig surprising a popular idol group would show, but still nice. You looked at the music sheet for the song looked up at him, sighed, and looked back. He looked so pleased giving you a few riffs and you look down to see another reason to go to therapy.

What he didn't put on hell on paper was a very veryyy familiar cord progression. He played it himself and put it in post. Making another version so if you ever asked you wouldn't notice, and a few weeks later they went live

You watched them in the audience, hearing the song you helped on and felt your smile fade into a straight face as you heard your solo along with the memorable melody gutair. He saw this trying to avoid a giggle while performing, he's suffering from you brainrot the rest of the show, some fancams caught him getting kicked by heizou or Xiao.

"So how did you like the show~" "Xiao almost kicked you off the stage..." There's a silence. "He dosent kick hard enough for that...but at least you enjoyed it" he smiles, pinching your cheeks and rubing your face, you look away hearing him giggle at your behavior. "I'll make you a coffee-" "don't you dare make a reference" he smirks at you "hehe"

You were online friends usually playing main stream games or random stuff you found. Youd always play together though, never single player! He hates that

"Are you playing a single player game..." "no-" "LIAR ITS ON YOUR STATUS" "SHIT- I mean I have no idea what your talking about" "...atleast stream it" he always got all pouty when he couldn't play with you

He'd definitely randomly interrogate you because you found something out on someone you both knew. "IS IT ABOUT-" "shush shus shu stfu quiet" "oh come on dude what is she gonna hear you?" "We're in a public call" "oh...LMAO" "DUDE"

When you combine both these loves, his love for you playing a co-op detective game with you has become the best thing for him to ever experience. "Who will be first to solve this?" "We're supposed to work together heizou" "oh...oh 😏" "nevermind I'm gonna play hitman without you" his avatar suddenly turns to face you and emotes a shocked reaction "OH COME ON"

He started catching feelings for a while. Ever since you two got on a call for the first time, your voice kinda intransted him. "Your voice Is so nicee" muttering into the mic yet you heard him clearly. "Thank you?" "It really is" its like you can see him currently slumped over his desk just day dreaming about you.

Didn't stop your offline friend for teasing you about him too. "Ooo he's into you~" "nuh uh nope nope!" The tips of your ears turn a pink. "And you like him back might aswell seal the deal" "STOP IT!" Blushing heavily you slam your hand down. Unsurprisingly Heizous in a simular situation 4nemo teasing him over just how much he talks about you. "Ohhh they're so cool" "they smell nice" "stop mocking me" he huffs "then get with them" they say in sync "stop weirdly harmonizing" he sits down covering his currently pink face.

Didn't help when you two first saw eatchother. "What the hell you live so closeby" "I know right what's next you're at my favorite Cafe conveniently the next table over" you turn over your shoulder seeing someone smile at their phone turn back and type "you mentioned before you had moles under both eyes right?" The persons face dropping looking around."Yea?" Without typing back, you walk over sitting infrot of him. "Bro, someone's sitting at my table, hold on" you smile at him typing back "oh sorry lemme just leave then my mistake 😔" "WAIT HUH?!?!" his eyes widen as he grabs your wrist "y/n?" small tears forming in his eyes pulling you into a hug with desperation. "Heizou" he hugs you tighter when he hears his name come out your mouth. "You're as pretty as I thought you'd be..." patting his head as he nuzzles into your chest. "You wanna go back to mine after this" "Yes!" With sudden enthusiasm, you two talk about your irl lives while bullying his drink of choice. "Pumpkin spice.." "oh my god shut up my again" "it's nasty" "it's good to me!!" "Shut up mom with 2 kids living in a van"

He's been going to your house at least once a week now "we should play together" he overbites his lip "I barely charged my secound controller" you overbite your lip back at him "then let's just hang out then I got news bby" visibly cringing at that last bit you let him in with him near instantly showing you a picture of him being accepted into an idol group. "Ohh you're gonna have real fangirls now" "Shut up!" "I'm gonna lead them just to make fun of you" "you're the only fangirl I'd date" "..." You visibly cringe "OH COME ON" "HAHAHA"

And so you were invited to the hell known as a debut concert and dear god was it near impossible to not be as hype as the crowd. Especially catching the fancams with him winking at you. Anyone could tell he was super inlove with whoever he was winking at especially after the group stopped in between a song witch you were barely paying attention to until you heard "I hope you guys never have to play solo!" Could have swore you felt him glare at you "speaking of solo the next songs title is-" all you paid attention to yet you look like you just woke up from a really loud noise.

"Y/n! Did you see it! Did ya like my moves" he smiles at you like a happy little dog. "It was surprisingly great Heizou" "surprising huh?" He pouts as if saddened by that comment. "But the show was amazing Heizou I'd go again" that bright glow of a smile you had is something hell never let go of, without hesitation he holds your hand "marry me" "come again?" "I mean it we should date!" Accidental slip up. He's screwed, you're gonna reject him so blatantly he's never gonna bother you again. "Heizou...that's so sudden" your eyes meet warmly "but I've been thinking the same" kissing his cheek you walk off letting him process what just happened. "WAIT WAIT WAIT YOURE NOT DITCHING ME AFTER SAYING THAT" "MAYBE I AM!" You had to run home that day but it was worth it laughing at him trying to keep up.

[tuwlips]

Caleb boyfriend hcs. Short! Reader

I can see the talkative x shy trope with Caleb, him obviously being the talkative one in the relationship while his s/o is a sweet shy girl.

Likes to tease A LOT. And not just in a suggestive way, in every way possible. You want a hug? Mm you have to say it out loud and clear, (even though deep down he knows what you want.)

You can't hide anything from him, he reads you like an open book

Flusters you 24/7. Random headpats, sudden kiss on the cheek and then pretending like nothing happened.

Stares at you while you ramble to him about things that happened throughout your day. Loves when he sees you light up while talking about your favorite show, game, book or anything. He tries to listen, he really does but you are such a distraction.

"Gosh you're cute." He mumbles to himself. "Hm? Did you say something?" You look at him. He puts a strand of hair behind your ear, slowly leans in and lightly kisses your cheek.

If you're short, get ready to be bullied by this man because he will hold things high above your head and tease the life out of you.

You once couldn't get the jam jar because it was on the top shelf. Caleb saw this and came to your way. You thought it was to help you, how naive. Man's picked up the jar and put it on the shelf above it and walked away. You were flabbergasted.

Of course seeing your slightly pouting face, he apologizes and gets you the jar. Gives you kisses on the cheek as extra apology.

Greenest flag ever. Strictly follows the sidewalk rule. Even if you unintentionally happen to be close to the streets, he would exchange places while talking. You wouldn't even notice sometimes.

Gives the best care during periods. If you're on your period, he will bring you to his place, you can't say no to him no matter what. “I can't leave you alone when you're on your period like this. Stay with me for the week, I promise I'll take good care of you."

Has everything ready for you. Pads, pain meds, comfort food. Name anything and he will bring it to you without hesitation.

Will cuddle from behind and rub your abdomen as to soothe the pain.

And if you cry from pain, he will hold you and wipe your tears away. He hates seeing you cry and hates that he can't do more than give you your meds.

Will cook for you all the time. He secretly has a cooking plan made just for you. He loves cooking for you, especially when you compliment his cooking skills and praise him. Hides his face so that you don't see the slight blush on his face.

Baking together? He's all in for it. He lets you take the lead while baking since he knows how much you love it. Will be playful and smudge flour on your face for fun and then laugh.

Is great at comfort and encouraging words. He believes in you more than you believe in yourself sometimes.

100% gamer bf.

Owns a PS5 and also a PC. I can see Caleb playing games like Final Fantasy and Resident Evil.

If you're into cozy games he will definitely check those out too. You wanna play animal crossing together with him? Done. Y'all gonna keep playing and won't even notice the time. He secretly loves playing cozy games. He didn't even himself know until he met you. Never makes fun of you for you taste in game. Games are for fun and comfort. No one should be shamed for that.

You wanna play on his PS5? Uh-uh not so easily. This cheeky guy would let you play on one condition. He sits with his legs crossed and pats on his lap. If you deny, you can say goodbye to the PS5. But, if you obey and sit on his lap, he will literally give you his PS5. You can take it. All yours. He just wants you.

Given your height and size, it's easy and comfy for you to sit on his lap and get hugged while playing. He watches you, placing a kiss on your head every now and then.

Overall, Caleb is a 10/10 boyfriend. He loves you a lot and will always support you no matter what.

[vendetta-ari]

So, I was wondering if you could come up with some head cannons on what would cause the winged characters' (i.e. Lucifer, Lute, Adam, Valentino) wings to suddenly unfurl?

Heyy this ask was a lotta fun and I hope you enjoyy! I also added Vaggie to this bc she has wings too- either way, hope you like it anon!!

(Word count = 1255)

WARNINGS!! [probably our of character for vaggie, I've never written her before, SUGGESTIVE PARTS WITH VALENTINO, LUCIFER AND ADAMS, kinda angsty and cringe??

Vaggie

》She can usually control her wings just fine, they don't usually unfurl without warning and they always stay hidden

》However, when she's upset they usually fly out

》 during an argument with her, she started getting all quiet before lashing out and yelling at you, her wings flying out

》Such beautiful wings too, a shame it had to happen at a time like this.

》She realized what she had just done and felt awful, a gut wrenching awful. she got misty eyes before tell you she needed to be alone for a bit

》 after a few hours Vaggie came running back to you, embracing you into her arms and hugging and holding you tightly

》her wings wrapped around you before she let out a bunch of incoherent sobs

》 “I-i'm so sorry I'm sososo sor-ry sorry- i-i really didn't mean to I jus- I just … I'm so sorry..” she was really broken up about it.. it was a big argument after all, so it made sense.

》 You sighed, taking her into her arms, and dragging her to the couch, accepting her apologies and telling her “It's okay, it wasn't anyone's fault. tensions were just high and- it's okay just let it all out m’kay? dear?” you said, your voice was shaky

》You'd be lying if you said Vaggie's crying didn't affect you, you tried hiding your tears, trying to be strong for her before a few tears slipped and you both laid on the couch.

Valentino 

~ Like vaggie, he has good control of his wings and rarely use them

~However, his wings are a lot more sensitive.

~ his only real weak spot actually, that's why he usually just keeps them tucked away

~ poor you though, you didn't know, it's not really your fault for being so clueless.

~You were just done filming, and you stayed after. you and val were good friends and weren't ever really on bad terms so you always chilled with him after scenes and certain sets

~When you looked behind him his wings caught your eye, you almost forgot he was a moth and had wings, so you were pretty intrigued. 

~Oh but how curiosity killed the cat. walking up behind him you brushed his wings and ran your hands up and down them

~He shivered, turning around quickly to see you messing around with his wings. he was pissed, hes fucking killed bitches for pulling such bullshit stunts like this.

~But he didn't really wanna kill you, at least not yet, he chuckled as an evil smirk spread across his face. “Were these what you wanted to see mi vida?”

~His wings spread out, largely, they were probably double your size, you looked at them with awe before Val grabbed you by the wrist “Now. you should know not to ever touch these again. but since your so fucking dumb, I'll just have to show you a lesson hm?”

Lute

*Lute, unlike the other two usually always has her wings out

*She likes showing em off, she thinks they're pretty

*And well, she's not wrong they are some of the most beautiful wings you've ever seen

*but the thing is, she always has them out. like to let them stretch and what's the point of hiding them? Shows how she's an angel, exterminator, and a bad bitch.

*So a better question really is, what makes Lute hide her wings? since she always has them out when and why does she put them away? two reasons.

*Well first answer is pretty simple, when she's in front of someone greater and higher than her role she'll put them away for the time being. It's just proper manners after all. Plus if she had her wings out in front of someone higher, they'd realize how much better she and her wings are, and let's not make others insecure now Lute.

*The other reason is a bit more complicated 

*When lute is feeling sad or down, shell curl up her wings behind her and wrap her arms around her knees and just curl up into a ball

*You found her like this once, and god were you so confused- you tried asking her what was wrong but to no avail, she barely gave you a response let alone an answer to your question 

*You sighed, assuming she just didn't really wanna talk about it. so you sat down next to her and rested your head on her shoulder, grabbed her hand and smiled “I'm here for you Lute.” you spoke softly. and you swear you caught a glimpse of lute blushing and smiling, but who knows- she denies it every time anyway.

Lucifer

☆ Lucifer is 50/50.

☆While he usually has his wings kept tucked away behind him, he's no opposed to having them out, he doesn't really care

☆Whether his wings unfurl or not is usually random too, he doesn't even notice when they're out half the time too.

☆He'll usually use them to get things high up or travel from place to place, only for convenience purposes 

☆He doesn't like looking at his wings though, he's insecure about them, being a constant reminder of what he's been through, the poor fallen angel.

☆He has good control over them, they don't ever “accidentally” unfurl out when he gets mad or anything like that. he uses them only when he needs to

☆But you? oh no you're different. it's almost like their your wings with the way you have such control over them

☆By just a light touch the fluff up and out, they're usually unkempt by the way Lucifer doesn't like his wings too much, but you'll always fix up his wings for him, preening and brushing them for him

☆They will always fly out on cue when you two both end up on his bed after a long day, making out and leaving hickeys all over him

☆Fuck him infront of the mirror with his wings out

Adam

-Adam is a lot like lute, where he'll have his wing our all the time, except it's even less likely for him to ever hide them

-For being the first man he is kinda unkempt though. 

-you always have to preen him and take care if his wings for him, keeping up his handsome and pretty wings

-If it weren't for you this idiot would just be walking around with messy and gross unkempt wings.

-He should really be thanking you though, he makes preening him so goddamn difficult 

-He always squirms and moves around, and he keeps his wing close to you, barely letting you touch them let alone preen them

-Adam hates when people touch his wings. he won't let anyone do it, your the exception however 

-and even being the exception he will be so stubborn with letting you touch them despite the countless times you've both done this, he will always be stubborn and difficult and he will never fully sit still and let you help him.

-He growls as you touch his wings, folding them around himself making it harder for you. as you groan in annoyance he reluctantly moves them a hit, making things easier for you “Just be fuckin careful bitch..” he mutters under his breath.

-Unlike Lucifer though, Adam will surprisingly try to hide his wings during sex. As said before he doesn't like people touching his wings so there's no real point for them to be out like that, he will fail though, and when he cums they spread out for a bit, before the post but clarity hits and he hides then once again, you can never win.

-xoxo Ari

[steveseddie]

shootin’ hoops

steddie | rated: t | cw: none | 4,6k | tags: eddie munson lives, but his clumsy ass gets hurt, worried steve, minor injuries, sharing clothes, first kiss

for my stficbingo prompt: “‘m just tired.”

click here to read on ao3

***

Eddie has always known basketball is evil. 

Over the years, he’s been smacked in the back of the head by plenty of basketballs, or smacked elsewhere by the dumb jocks that play the game. Only a few weeks ago, he was being chased by Jason Carver and his band of basketball-playing goons. 

So, basketball. Evil.

Eddie knew this, and somehow, he still agreed to “shoot hoops” with Steve Harrington.

Him! Eddie Munson! Agreeing to play the stupid game where you toss balls into laundry baskets! All because of his stupid crush on a boy.

If any of his friends could see him now, they would kick him out of the band and dethrone him as their Hellfire leader. 

Well, no. First, they would laugh at Eddie- currently starfished on the Harringtons’ basketball court having knocking himself out after the ball he threw missed the hoop completely, slammed against the board and bounced back straight into Eddie’s face.

Then and only then, after laughing themselves into a coughing fit at Eddie’s expense, would they kick him out and dethrone him. Can’t have your fearless leader succumbing to forced conformity or whatever. 

Luckily for Eddie, there’s no one here to witness how the mighty have fallen. 

Well. No one but Steve, the guy he’s pretty sure he’s in love with which is fucking great.

When he agreed to play, after Steve pleaded, pouted and hit Eddie with those deadly puppy eyes, he told himself it wouldn’t be so bad. He’d get to ogle Steve in his tiny little shorts, trick Steve into putting his hands on him to show him the right way to throw a ball and maybe even score a goal and shit and get a proud grin from Steve, maybe even a high five or a hug. 

But all Eddie has managed so far is to sweat through his clothes (Steve’s clothes actually- a pair of basketball shorts and an old Hawkins High swim meet shirt because the long sleeve and the ripped jeans Eddie showed up in weren’t basketball appropriate) and embarrass himself by getting hit square in the face by an evil basketball, probably giving himself a concussion in the process. 

Because- fucking ouch! His head is pounding right now.

Through the ringing in his ears, he hears Steve’s sneakers squeak against the court as he jogs towards him. “Eddie, Jesus Christ!” He gasps, dropping to his knees next to him. “Fuck, man, are you okay?” 

Eddie groans when he hears the concern in Steve’s voice. Fuck, this is so embarrassing. Eddie knows he’s flushing bright red and it’s not because of the midday sun beating down on them. 

“Eddie, come on. Talk to me, man,” Steve urges, slightly shaking Eddie’s shoulder.

“Just leave me here to die,” Eddie mumbles, keeping his eyes tightly shut, partly because moving his face hurts, but also because he doesn’t want to look at Steve right now. 

Steve huffs, shaking Eddie’s shoulder a little more insistently. “Nope, no way. I didn’t drag your ass back from the Upside Down to let you die here. Sit up, come on.” 

He tugs on Eddie’s arm, leaving him no choice but to sit up. Eddie hugs his knees against his chest, still not opening his eyes. He feels one of Steve’s hands settle on his back, holding him up in that position. 

“Good, that’s good,” Steve encourages, rubbing his hand up and down Eddie’s back. Because of that touch, Eddie can feel the flush spreading all the way up to his ears. He squeezes his eyes even tighter, even if it makes his face hurt, but Steve isn’t having it. “Now open your eyes for me.”

Eddie shakes his head, which is a terrible idea because it sends flashes of pain through his head, all the way down to his neck. 

“Come on, Eds, let me look at you,” Steve purrs in a sweet voice that settles deep in Eddie’s lower stomach. Then Steve’s other hand cups his cheek, gently turning his face towards him. “Please,” he says, stroking his thumb over Eddie’s cheek.

And if there’s one thing that today proved is that Eddie can’t say no to a pleading Steve. It’s what got him in this mess in the first place. 

So his eyes flutter open. He has to blink a few times to get rid of the blurriness at the edges of his vision but even then it’s hard to miss Steve’s big, worried eyes when they’re right in front of him. 

“There he is,” Steve exhales softly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a relieved half-smile. “Hi.” 

“H-hey,” Eddie stammers out. His cheeks burn even brighter when he realizes how close their faces are. Steve’s hand rubbing Eddie’s back soothingly while the other one is still cupping his jaw certainly don’t help. 

“Are you okay?” 

Eddie scoffs. “Oh, I’m great! Just wishing the Upside Down would open up and swallow me whole so I can like, die of embarrassment there,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. Steve makes an exasperated noise, either because he didn’t get a real answer to his question or because it’s too soon for Eddie to be joking about dying in the Upside Down. Eddie sighs, waving a hand through the air dismissively. “I’m fine, man, just hurt.” 

“Where does it hurt?” 

“My dignity.”

This time the joke does land and it makes Steve snicker. “Since when do you have any?” 

“Ouch. Kicking a man while he’s down, Harrington? Shame on you,” Eddie says with a laugh, which is quickly followed by a wince. “Shit, okay, maybe my dignity isn’t the only thing hurting. My whole head is fucking pounding, I think I hit it against the ground after the ball knocked me down.” 

Steve’s face pulls into a frown and the hand that was on Eddie’s back moves to the back of his head. “You’re not bleeding, thank God, but you could still have a concussion.”

“Of fucking course,” Eddie mutters, resting his head on his knees.

“We can get you something cold or I can drive you to the ER if you’d rather get checked out.”

Eddie starts to shake his head and gets dizzy so he aborts the movement, raising his hand to wave Steve off instead. “No, no ER. Some frozen peas will do the trick, good sir.”

Steve’s lips press into a thin line. “Okay, but if you start talking nonsense, I’m taking you there. I don’t care if you don’t want me to or not.”

Eddie gives him a lazy smirk. “How will you know I’m talking nonsense because of the concussion and not because I’m, you know, me.” 

“I know your kind of nonsense, Munson,” he says with a snort. The words sound almost fond to Eddie’s ears. “Now, let’s get you inside. I’m gonna help you up. Slowly, okay? You might feel dizzy or even like you’re going to throw up so- careful.”

Eddie squints at Steve. “You sure know a shitload about concussions, Harrington.” 

Steve makes a face. “That’s because I’ve had like, three. And surprisingly enough only one of them was Upside Down related.”

“Damn, dude.”

“Yeah, but at least you know I’ll take good care of you.” Steve shrugs. “Okay, come on.”

He stands up in one swift movement and offers both of his hands to Eddie, who grabs them and lets himself be pulled to his feet. As soon as he stands, his vision goes black and he sways forward. He would’ve face-planted if Steve didn’t catch him by his elbows.

“Woah, I got you,” he tells him, breath ghosting over Eddie’s face.

“Just need a minute,” Eddie mumbles, squeezing his eyes, waiting for the world to stop spinning. 

“Take your time,” Steve says, rubbing his thumbs over Eddie’s forearms, which only makes him feel more dizzy. 

When he opens his eyes, Steve’s face is right there again and he gets lost in his hazel eyes for a few more seconds before he feels ready to move. “Okay, I’m good.”

Steve nods, letting go of his arms but staying close to Eddie as he starts walking towards the house, just in case. They walk past the evil basketball and Eddie glares at it. He thinks about kicking it, just to give it a taste of its own medicine, but knowing his luck, the ball would probably bounce against the wall and hit Eddie again, so he just ignores it. 

In the kitchen, Steve heads for the freezer while Eddie flops down on a chair and folds his arms over the table, letting his head rest over them.

He jumps when he suddenly feels something cold press against the back of his head. “Motherfucker!” When he looks up, Steve is giving him a sheepish smile and holding a bag of frozen peas in his hand. “Dick,” Eddie says, snatching the peas from his hand and pressing them against the back of his head. He still flinches, but at least he’s prepared this time. 

“Is that better?” 

Eddie makes a noncommittal sound. The cold helps with the throbbing, but his head still feels like it was put through the wringer.

“Do you think you’ll be okay if I take a quick shower?” Steve asks. Eddie glances at him, who’s eyeing him back warily and biting his lip, probably worried about leaving him unsupervised. 

“I think I’ll live, man,” Eddie says with a snort.  

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” He stands up to leave but hesitates. “Call if you need anything.” 

Eddie can’t help it, he smirks up at him. “You’re gonna come to my rescue dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel? I might call you just to see that.” 

Steve’s cheeks flare the brightest Eddie’s ever seen. “Never mind, you can die,” he says with no heat at all before turning around and leaving Eddie alone in the kitchen. 

This time when Eddie laughs it doesn’t make his head hurt nearly as much, which means that the frozen peas might be helping. He presses the bag against his face next, trying to dull the throbbing there as well. He sits there at the kitchen table, moving the frozen peas back and forth from his face to the back of his head until he starts getting tired and his eyelids start feeling a little heavy. 

He drops his head on his arms again and instantly starts to doze off. Eddie knows he shouldn’t, not if he has a concussion, but he’s tired, and taking a nap right now sounds so good-

But just as he’s about to, Steve’s voice drags him away from the brink of sleep. “Eddie, hey, Eds.” 

Eddie burrows further into his arms, trying to ignore Steve who shakes his shoulder a little frantically. “Eddie?” 

“I’m fine,” Eddie mutters, twisting his head to the side, towards Steve, but keeping his eyes closed. “‘m just tired. Want to take a nap.”

“Uh, yeah, no. No sleeping while concussed,” Steve says in that bitchy tone of his. “Eds, come on.” When Eddie doesn’t respond, Steve nearly growls. “Eddie Munson, I will drag your ass to the ER if you don’t open your eyes right now.” 

“Fuck, you’re bossy,” Eddie huffs, but he opens his eyes, giving Steve a look that’s supposed to say happy?

Steve’s lips press into a thin line. “Well, sorry for not wanting you to die on me again.”

It’s probably not Steve’s intention, but Eddie immediately feels bad. He might not remember a lot of what happened after the hell bats attacked him, but he knows that at some point his heart stopped beating from all the blood he lost and Steve had to perform CPR on him to bring him back. And unlike Eddie, he probably remembers everything about it. It’s not fair that Eddie is making him relive that kind of worry right now. 

So he forces his head up, blinking his eyes a few times so they adjust and apologizes. “Sorry.”

Steve’s face softens almost immediately and he waves Eddie off with a shake of his head. Droplets of water hit Eddie’s face and he notices that Steve’s hair is wet, water steadily dripping to the floor from the few strands that hang over his eyes. Eddie has seen Steve after a shower before but he always dries and styles his hair before coming out of the bathroom which means he skipped his hair routine today, probably so he wouldn’t have to leave Eddie alone longer than necessary. 

“How’s the head?” Steve asks, brushing his hair back with a hand. 

“Hurts but the peas are helping. Or they were. I don’t know where they are now.” Eddie frowns when he realizes he can no longer feel them against the back of his head, they must have fallen to the floor when he started to doze off. Oh well. “How was the shower?” 

Steve snorts. “Quick,” he says. “Do you wanna take one?” 

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “I want to but there’s a big chance that I will fall in the shower and crack my head open if I do.” 

He almost wants to risk it just to get rid of some of the sweat, but then he thinks about falling in the shower and Steve barging in to help him while he’s naked on the floor and quickly changes his mind. There’s only so much embarrassment he can take in a day. 

Steve nods in understanding. “Maybe later then.” He jerks his head toward the door that leads to the living room. “Do you want to move to the couch? Just because you can’t take a nap doesn’t mean you can’t be comfortable.” 

“Sure, man.” 

When Steve stands up, Eddie’s eyes end up at the same level as his shirt. Which, thanks to the familiar Black Sabbath logo, Eddie realizes is actually his.

“Is that my shirt?” Eddie asks even if he knows the answer. Steve would never own a Black Sabbath shirt, not to mention Eddie remembers turning his room upside down looking for his the other day only to give up when he couldn’t find it- because it was at Steve’s house apparently. 

Steve looks down at himself and his eyes widen like he’s only realizing now that he’s wearing it. 

“Oh, um, yeah, you left it here the other day. I washed it and left it in my closet to like, give it back to you, but I guess I accidentally grabbed it just now,” Steve explains, running his hand through his hair a few times. 

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie says, big eyes staring up at Steve in his goddamned shirt. 

“Do you- do you want it back?” 

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, man. It looks better on you.” And it’s true- Steve looks good in Eddie’s clothes. “Besides, it’s only fair,” he adds, gesturing down at himself, still wearing Steve’s swim meet shirt and old basketball shorts. 

Steve chuckles, ducking his head and saying a little shyly, “Well, those look good on you too.” 

Eddie twirls some hair around his finger and tugs it in front of his face to hide his blush. He’s ridiculously bad at accepting compliments, especially when they come from Steve.“

“Okay,” Steve says, remembering why he stood up in the first place. “Come on, to the couch.” 

Standing up doesn’t make Eddie as dizzy this time and he manages to stay on his feet without Steve’s help. Slowly, he drags his feet to the living room and then flops down on the couch, tilting sideways until his head comes in contact with the cushions. 

“No sleeping,” Steve grumbles when he sees Eddie’s eyes start to slip shut. 

“I’m not!” Eddie says, his eyes flying open and finding Steve raising an eyebrow at him. “Okay, maybe I am, but you gotta help me stay awake, man. Put on a movie or something.” 

With a frown, Steve says, “I don’t think you should be staring at screens or any bright lights right now.” Then he perks up. “Wait, I have an idea!” 

And then, without explaining any further, he leaves. 

In his absence, Eddie sighs and burrows his head deeper into the cushions, but before he can even think of taking a nap, Steve comes back. 

“I think I might be having like a concussion-induced hallucination because there’s no way that you, Steve Harrington, actually own a copy of The Fellowship of the Ring,” Eddie says when he sees the worn paperback that Steve is holding in his hand. 

Steve glances down at it. “It’s actually Dustin’s, man. Kid gave it to me forever ago, but I never read it. It’s not really my thing, but it’s yours.”

“It most definitely is, Stevie boy,” Eddie says, “but I don’t think reading will help my head any more than staring into a screen.”

“You won’t be reading, Eds. I’ll read to you,” Steve says with a shrug. “Now, lift your head.” 

Eddie pushes himself from his lying down position so Steve can sit next to him, but before he can sit upright, Steve tsks and pushes his head back down so it’s resting on his lap, the right side of his face coming in contact with the fabric of Steve’s sweatpants. 

Eddie is too stunned to protest or move, but he does subtly pinch himself, a little suspicious that he might’ve slipped into some kind of concussion dream.

With one of his hands, Steve holds the book open and the other finds its way to Eddie’s hair. He’d tied it up in a bun when they started playing, but it’s mostly undone by now. Steve carefully tugs on his hair tie, freeing the rest, so he can run his fingers through the curls.

It sends shivers down Eddie’s spine, makes him feel like he’s going to melt through the couch and into a puddle on the floor. He can’t stop the whiny noise that slips through his lips. 

Steve’s hand freezes. “Did I hurt you?

Embarrassed, Eddie just shakes his head no.

“So this is okay?” Steve asks, scratching his scalp. Eddie just nods, afraid that if he opens his mouth some other embarrassing noise will slip out.

Eddie can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Good.”

After that, Steve clears his throat and starts reading. 

Eddie quickly realizes that Steve didn’t think his plan through- he heavily underestimated how soothing his voice is, how comfortable his thigh is and how good his hand feels in Eddie’s hair. 

Within minutes, Eddie feels himself starting to doze off again, but before he can, Steve jostles his thigh, the movement waking Eddie up.

“Hey, talk to me so I know you didn’t die.”

Eddie groans, pinching Steve’s leg. “I hate you.”

Steve chuckles softly. “That’ll do.” 

After that Eddie starts to focus on the words that Steve is reading and it makes it a little easier to stay awake, mostly because he can’t help but correct Steve when he starts butchering the names of the characters and locations in ways that Eddie can’t begin to comprehend. It’s not until a snigger slips past Steve’s lips when Eddie tells him that it’s “Bilbo, Steve! Not Bobbin!” that Eddie realizes he must be doing it on purpose so that Eddie will talk to him. 

After a while, Eddie stops feeling sleepy and his head stops hurting as much so, instead of just correcting Steve’s pronunciation, he offers commentary about the book here and there and quotes the book as Steve reads it, which earns him a fond nerd and a playful tug on his hair.

After a few chapters, Steve complains about his voice getting tired, but Eddie isn’t having it, he wants to listen to Steve read some more. 

“You owe me, man,” Eddie says.

Steve snorts. “Me? I’m nursing you back to health, why do I owe you?” 

“Because you made me play with you!”

Eddie can hear Steve’s eye roll. “I didn’t, you could’ve easily said no, Eddie.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to snort because the idea of him saying no to Steve is completely ridiculous. Before he realizes what he’s doing, he blurts out, “Nothing easy about saying no to the guy you have a crush on.” 

Silence falls over them. Steve drops the book on the couch. His other hand freezes in Eddie’s hair. 

“What?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie realizes what he just said and his whole body goes rigid. Oh shit, oh fuck.

“Nothing,” he says meekly. 

“No, you said-”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did, Eddie,” Steve says, annoyed. Annoyed at him. Eddie bites down on a whimper- this is his worst nightmare, the thing that stopped him in his tracks every time he so much as considered telling Steve how he felt. Suddenly, he can’t keep his head on Steve’s thigh, he can’t bear to have his fingers in his hair. Eddie sits up abruptly, his vision swims, he feels sick. 

“I, I have a concussion, I don’t know what I’m saying,” Eddie mutters, sitting on the far end of the couch, away from Steve.

“Eddie-”

“Steve, please just- Ignore it, please,” Eddie pleads, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands coming up to cover his face. 

“I can’t ignore it-”

Of course he can’t. Your friend having a crush on you isn’t something you can just ignore. God, Eddie really fucked up. 

“Fuck.” He squeezes his palms against his eyes until they hurt. 

The couch dips as Steve moves- is he leaving? Eddie’s heart falls as he wonders, but a moment later, Steve is sitting right next to him, their thighs touching and their arms brushing.

“Eddie, I don’t want to ignore it,” Steve says, and his voice is unbearably soft. He doesn’t sound annoyed anymore, maybe he wasn’t annoyed at all, maybe there’s some truth to what people say about Eddie being dramatic.

“Why?” Eddie asks warily, but God help him, also slightly hopeful. 

Steve scoots even closer, bumping their shoulders together. “The guy I’ve liked for weeks just said he has a crush on me, why would I want to ignore that?”

The words have Eddie whipping his head back to stare at Steve so fast that he goes dizzy. His face pulls into a grimace. “Shit.” 

“You okay?”

Eddie waves him off. “Did you just say you like me? Because if you didn’t, maybe I do need to go to the ER because I’m hearing things,” he says, his wide eyes blinking at Steve.

He gives Eddie a sweet smile. “I did say that. I do like you.”

His eyes go even wider. “Holy shit.”

“Do you like me?” Steve asks, a little shy. “Or was that just the concussion talking?”

A nearly hysterical laugh tumbles over Eddie’s lips. “No, nope, definitely me. Maybe the concussion made me say it, and for a moment there I thought I fucked up, but I meant it, Steve, I like you so much that I ignored everything I stand for to fucking shoot hoops with you. I don’t even care that I got a concussion because of it!”

Instead of smiling like Eddie expects him to, Steve seems troubled. Eddie wonders if maybe he said too much. “What?”

“I know I probably shouldn’t kiss you while you have a concussion,” Steve says, biting his bottom lip and having the nerve to glance at Eddie’s mouth. “But I really want to.”

Eddie’s stomach flip flops and he needs a few seconds to remember how to form words because Steve wants to kiss him! “Ever heard of the expression kiss it better?” He asks, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a smirk.

Steve chuckles. “I don’t think it applies here,” he says, but Eddie can’t help but notice how he’s started leaning in.

“We can still try,” Eddie says, leaning in too, knowing that Steve is about to break. He thinks back on the puppy dog eyes and the pouty lips he gave Eddie when he asked him to play basketball with him and decides to give it a try, batting his eyelashes at Steve and sticking his bottom lip out. “I really want you to kiss me, Steve.”

Steve’s eyes go wide and his breath leaves him in a whoosh, Eddie can feel it against his face. “Fuck, you were right.”

“About?”

“Nothing easy about saying no to the guy you have a crush on,” Steve says, echoing Eddie’s words. 

Eddie starts to laugh, but the sound dies in his throat when Steve cups his cheeks and closes the distance between them, pressing their mouths together. Eddie whines instead, low in his throat, his arms wrapping around Steve’s shoulders and sinking them both back onto the couch. They’re touching in so many places, but Eddie wants more, so he opens his mouth and hopes that Steve takes the invitation. 

And he does- licking the roof of Eddie’s mouth, and angling his head to kiss him deeper. And it’s so good, it’s like nothing Eddie has ever felt, and for a moment, he actually worries that he knocked himself out on the court earlier and this is just some elaborate coma dream. 

But Steve feels so real- his lips against his, his shoulders under Eddie’s hands, the sinful noises that he keeps making. 

Eddie swings his leg over Steve’s lap, straddling him and breaking the kiss for the first time so that he can grin down at him. 

“I think we found another way to make sure I don’t fall asleep,” he says, eyes roaming over Steve- his red bitten lips stretched into a dopey grin, his hooded eyes that keep darting to Eddie’s mouth, the rise and fall of his chest, the exposed collarbone thanks to how worn the collar of Eddie’s shirt is, the mole-covered skin there that’s just begging to be kissed, bitten, marked up. 

“I changed my mind,” Eddie says, picturing what a love bite on Steve’s chest would look like and wanting to get on with it.

Steve’s hands freeze where they came to rest on Eddie’s thighs, his pinkie brushing against the bare skin after his shorts rode up. 

“Are you okay? Does it hurt? Are you dizzy?” He asks, earnest eyes darting over Eddie’s face, looking for any sign that he’s in pain. 

“Not about this,” Eddie says with a little shake of his head that makes his bangs fall over his eyes. He tugs the collar of Steve’s shirt down- his shirt. “I changed my mind about wanting my shirt back.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up, his lips tugging up in a smirk. “Well,” he says, voice dropping low, his fingers teasing the hem of the shorts that Eddie is wearing. “As long as you give me my clothes back too.”

Eddie’s heart stutters, warmth pooling low in his stomach. “It’s only fair.” Then he remembers something else. “You know, I could use that shower that I passed on earlier.” 

Steve raises his eyebrow. 

“But I still feel a little dizzy,” Eddie says, putting the back of his hand against his forehead like a fainting maid, waggling his eyebrows at the same time. “Think you can give me a hand?” 

Steve grins. “Yeah, I can do that.”

They both try to stand up at the same time, and Steve almost sends Eddie toppling to the floor but luckily manages to catch him before Eddie ends up with another concussion. 

After that, they make their way upstairs, to Steve’s bathroom, kissing and touching and leaving a trail of clothes behind them. 

Right before Steve closes the bathroom door, Eddie’s eyes catch the basketball shorts Steve just took off of him, discarded on the hallway floor and he thinks- 

Maybe basketball isn’t so evil after all. 

[ziggyzolch]

Queen Bee-atch II (Regina George x Reader)

Warnings: Mentions of weight, implied eating disorder, Insecurity. No numbers mentioned.

✮✮✮

"Class isn't over yet, I haven't dismissed you!" The teacher's demands fall on deaf ears as the students pack up before the lunch bell rings, eager to see their friends. Your first three classes were relatively uneventful, the only entertaining thing being this ginger girl you've never seen before attempting to leave class without permission. Your eyes scan the hallways after you exit the classroom. Janis and Damien are the only people you can tolerate at this school, so they're the only people you ever seek out. There they are.

You make your way through the crowded hallway and purposefully shoulder-bump your target.

"What is wrong with you- oh you asshole!" Janis curses lightheartedly. She pulls you into a hug and kisses your forehead while you stand awkwardly with your hands at your sides. Instead of waiting for his turn, Damien joins in and wraps his arms around you and Janis. "I missed you guys so much!" You manage to get out while still in the bone crushing hug. "Where were you this whole summer? You went completely, like, radio silent." Damien asks with a suspicious look in his eyes. "Sorry, I got grounded for the whole summer. My mom found my cigarette stash." You confessed. "Idiot. Anyways, did you see that new girl?" Janis switches topics and Damien chimes in, "Yeah she's, like, a total disaster. We need to save her." Their words are background noise to you. You're staring through Janis, zoned out. Damien and Janis give each other a look.

Flick

"Hey what the hell!" You whine as you rub your forehead. "You weren't with us man, your eyes were drifting apart from each other and everything. Pretty sure I saw a bit of drool dribble out-" you lightly punch Janis before she can continue. "Yeah I was! You were saying something about that new girl. I think her name was 'Caddy' or something.", you defend. "She's a disaster, we should probably help her." Damien stares at you. "Babe, I just said that." Janis stares between you guys before interrupting. "Anyways...let's go look for her!"

Janis and Damien were your best, and only, friends. You wouldn't know what to do without them. As such, you basically stuck to them whenever you could in school. Following them to the cafeteria, you take your seats at your designated table. You spot female Ed Sheeran standing awkwardly in the middle of the cafeteria. She looks so stupid.

"Hey guys should we call her over?" You ask your friends. They stop their conversation and look at where you're pointing. Janis nods and yells out, "Hey ginger! What did you say her name was? Was it Caddy? Caddy!" The girl turns and points at herself, mouthing out a 'me?'. She comes over after we confirm and we all introduce ourselves. "...and that's Damien, he's almost too gay to function." Janis concludes. "So Cady, what do you think of the school so far?" You question. "Oh, I don't really know, I used to be homeschooled so I don't have much to compare it to." Cady replies.

You, Janis, and Damien all look at each other and back at her.

She raises an eyebrow.

You all begin going on about what to know about the high school: The best hiding places, teachers to avoid pissing off and such, and the various cliques in this school. "...and those are the sexually active band geeks. Don't walk too close, lest you get dragged into their never-ending orgy." You finish. Cady glances behind her and asks "What about them? They're kind of pretty." You all turn to see who she's looking at. "Oh honey, no no no, those are the plastics..." Damien goes on his little cautionary rant about how evil they are. You looked towards Cady and smiled while rolling your eyes.

While you're both giggling, your eyes lock onto Regina's...who is currently approaching your table. Perfect. "Hey, Gerard," Damien gives you a confused look at the name, "Who's this girl with you? Why don't I know you?"

You zone out looking at her when she turns away from you, gushing over Cady. You wish her attention was on you. Wait what- You're taken out of your reverie as Cady gets up and follows behind Regina towards her group. "Finally back to the present? What is up with you dude you've been out of it this whole day!" You shrug your shoulders at Janis and turn your gaze back to Regina. What's so great about 'Caddy' that caught the attention of Regina? You could look just as helpless if you wanted to, but you won't! Not on purpose anyways.

You get up.

"I'm going to the bathroom"

Janis replies while looking towards the plastics, "We'd come with, but we kind of want to see where this goes."

✮✮✮

The sounds of her friends taking Cady through the requirements to be a Plastic fade as she makes her way to the bathroom. She had forgotten her pocket mirror and had to re-apply her lip gloss, duh. A stench that can only be accomplished by a high school bathroom gets stronger as she opens the door. She stops in her tracks when she sees you reapplying your mascara at the sink.

"Hey Brendon Urie."

You hadn't even noticed someone walking in.

"God, that's actually worse than Gerard." You look at her through the mirror.

She moves a bit closer, "You look so familiar."

"Must've seen me in your dreams," You say while awkwardly winking at her.

She raises an eyebrow, "No, I know you. I swear I do!"

"Well yeah, I'm the one and only Gerard Way! Lead singer of My Chemical Romance-"

"Enough," She rolls her eyes.

You finish up and make your way out of the bathroom, cautiously walking around her with your arms up. "You'll figure it out. Don't worry, Blondie."

She watches you exit the bathroom.

✮✮✮

"Oh my god! Regina, remember this?" Regina glared at her mom as she continued trying to seem cool to her friends. She's known them for years! Why does she keep doing this? Cady looks at the book in Mrs. George's hands.

"What is that?"

"No way! We used this book to make fun of the freaks in our school. We'd tape photos of people then write down insults-"

"She understands, Gretchen. Can you get us some snacks, Mom?"

As Regina's mom walks out of the room, the girls are looking through the various insults in the book. They eventually land on a page with a picture of you and Janis.

'Janis, Pyro Lez' 'Y/N, puts in 110% effort because she takes up 110% of the room.'

Cady's eyes widen. "That's not even her." She says while looking at the picture of you.

"I think she moved schools, wait how do you know her?" Gretchen stops what she's doing to ask.

"I sit with her at lunch"

"What? There's no way, that Gerard Way girl?" Regina chimes in and moves from her spot at the mirror to look at the picture.

"Woah, did she just melt off half her body weight since freshman year?"

"I'm so jealous." Karen adds.

Regina stares at the picture of you. So that's why she knew you.

✮✮✮

You, Damien, Janice and Cady are all gathered around at your locker. "...and it's just a collection of insults, basically." Cady had been giving a summary of the events from the previous day.

Janice's eyes go wide. "Does it say anything about me?"

"Uhm, nope. Nothing about you."

"Ugh, those bitches."

You didn't want to ask if you were in it. You had an idea of what the insults towards you could be, and you'd rather not have your suspicions confirmed.

The bell rings, interrupting the powwow. You all bid each other goodbye, and make your way to your classes. PE was your next period, and you couldn't wait. It was a break from all the thinking you had to do.

You head towards the gym after switching into your exercise clothes. Most of your clothes were oversized and baggy, including your gym ones. You hadn't really upgraded your wardrobe since you lost weight. Everybody was already in, gathered in a circle, so you pushed yourself in, not paying attention to who you were standing next to.

"Alright! Today, we'll be playing soccer! Or football, as some of you may call it." The PE teacher announces, mumbling the last part of his sentence. "We will work in pairs today, so find a pair. Or partner, I mean. Whatever, just get moving."

"I can't believe they assigned that guy to teach us Sex-ed." Was someone talking to you?

You look behind you to find Regina looking down at you with a...genuine smile on her face? That can't be right.

"Right! He gives off the same vibe as those Reddit incels."

"That's so funny."

Are you having a normal conversation? With the queen bitch?

"What did you call me?"

Oh shit, you said that out loud.

"Uh-"

"Whatever, you wanna pair up? None of my friends are in this class, and you're the least annoying one here."

Thanks. You look around to make sure there are no other possible options. Regina rolls her eyes and grabs your arm, pulling you to an empty spot.

She was actually decent at football. You guys were practicing passing to each other while running and you were starting to feel lightheaded.

You waved to Regina, "Hey, I'm just going to get a sip of water."

"I'll come with."

"You should play football more often, you're more tolerable like this."

"Bold, are we?"

"I mean, I basically just called you a bitch and you haven't punched me in the face. So I'm right"

She laughed! What is up with her?

✮✮✮

Regina enters the locker room and spots you with your shirt halfway up. You really did lose half your body weight. Guilt pierces through her. Freshman year Regina was cruel. Somehow crueler than she is now, and fat girls were just easy to bully. Did you drop weight because of her?

Your shirt had gotten snagged on both your necklace and bracelet. After watching you twist and wriggle around for a while, Regina deems you sufficiently embarrassed and walks towards you to help you out.

You feel someone pull your shirt up and off of you. You had made sure to go into the locker room after everyone had already left. So when you were finally free of your cloth prison and came face to face with Regina. You felt nauseous. Of everyone!

She looks you up and down and suddenly you're more self conscious than you've ever been. Wrapping your arms around your stomach, you mumble out a 'Thanks' and put on your other shirt then hurriedly pack up and rush out of the locker room, leaving a guilt-ridden Regina behind.

✮✮✮

[bwambiee]

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏’ 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃

૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა. keep fuckin’ for hours, that pussy got power !

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : 𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐲𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

CW ꒱ა. smut ⸝ fem! reader ⸝ profanity ⸝ dirty talk ⸝ face-sitting ⸝ fingerin’ ⸝ oral sex (fem received) ⸝ spitting ⸝ mentions of oral sex (male received) ⸝ lots of nicknames <3 (slut is one of em’! lil’ warnin’) ⸝ slight dumbification ⸝ he mocks us again but he’s nawt as mean ! ⸝ isagi is in luuv hehe ⸝ wc(2.5k).

NOTHING GIVES ISAGI MORE DOPAMINE THAN THE HIGH OF SHOOTING A GOAL DURING A GAME.

the only exception would obviously be you, and your pretty eyes and pink lips smiling like a daisy when he wins the match. his face brightens up into a big grin like a kid getting ice cream on a sunny day, growing bashful when he sees you run into his arms and giving him a big hug, ignoring the sweat he’s dripping off and the glances you two get. of course, isagi sneakily hides the coy smile he has on his face by burying it in the junction of your neck and shoulder, inhaling your sweet scent as he twirls you around and lifts you up effortlessly like a princess while his teammates all look at him with jealous, beady eyes.

his teammates were filled with the evil green-eyed monster of jealousy because isagi was such a lucky bastard for having such a pretty girlfriend. someone who runs up to him with the prettiest smile, small hands pawing at his chest, perfectly manicured nails grazing against the tautness of his bicep as she nuzzles into his neck so that she can whisper praises about how much of a star he is.

but after those sweet little praises that make his heart swell with happiness, you start to whisper challenges, trying to rile him up to prolong the high he’d procured from winning the match. oh sweet girl, you're challenging him? the pride and joy of blue lock, who’s never one to back down from a challenge? he can’t help but let his signature smirk form, canines peeking out when she traces his jawline and mutters about how she’d love to see a supercilious egoist on his knees.

your little tease is fleeting of course, like the flap of a butterfly’s wings as you switch gears and go back to showing off that sweet smile of yours that mirrors the sweetness of the cherry lollipop you were sucking on earlier.

“awh c’mon doll face you don’t have to pretend that you don’t want it don’t you? if you want me on my knees then let’s make it happen. better yet,” his teeth grazes the shell of your ear, trailing down to the pulse of your neck as he whispers, careful to not let his teammates hear his sin-coated words, “i’ll let you ride my tongue so I can see what that pussy looks like from heaven.”

it gives him a big rush of pride when he thinks about what he can do with you behind closed doors, holding onto the underside of your thighs when he twirls you around again and your pretty little mini skirt billows and ripples with every twirl, almost teasingly giving his teammates a tiny little peek of the baby blue panties you’re wearing just for him.

shit sweetheart, don’t you know you’re killin’ him here? it all fed his devilish ego so good especially since he knows he’s the only one who gets to bury himself between your legs, your sweet moans echoing in the air like a hymn as he laps at your pussy like a dog in heat, trying to push you closer to his face, bambi eyes filled with tears of overstimulation and it gives him such a rush because where was that confidence from earlier?

so forgive him for being rough with you, guiding you through his apartment door and hastily locking it, shoving you into his room as you two can barely get a word in, hushed whispers and moans as you two kiss messily, large hands urgently pushing you against the light blue duvet of his mattress and smooths a pathway to the hem of your skirt, calloused fingers leaving featherlight touches against the backs of your thighs so he can grip the plush flesh of your ass.

“sit on my face, c’mon,” he urges, smacking your ass lightly as his hands move to the back of your thighs to gently push you to his awaiting mouth. you feel your breath get caught in your throat when you see how serious he’s being right now. it was simply just a joke! at least… it had started out that way. was her bashful yoichi really demanding her to sit on his face right now?

“you’re a little too eager for this y’know? don’ wanna hurt you,” you whisper shakily, voice soft as silk when you hesitantly sink down onto Isagi’s mouth and his face breaks out into a boyish grin. “ ‘ichi!” you cry out, body jerking in surprise as you hold onto the headboard for support when his tongue darts out to lap up your dripping honey.

“princess sounds so pretty when I eat her pretty pussy.” he spits, spreading his saliva on your swollen pearl, pushing it into your core shamelessly while smacking your hip with a low growl, unsatisfied that all of your weight isn’t on his face yet. he manages to get you to place all of your weight down, smothered under your pussy with his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he eats you out more frantically, practically using the same energy he has on the field but instead of scoring a goal, he was determined to taste your blissful arousal after weeks of endless training.

“wait yoichi… f-fuck,” you whimper out, thighs shaking as you struggle to hold your balance, knees pressed into the mattress while holding onto the headboard for dear life as you desperately try to keep yourself still. but it was so hard. so, so hard to not bounce down onto the tongue that was assaulting your core so relentlessly. “o-oh…nnh—! so good ‘ichi!”

he starts to pant loudly when he hears the oh, so wonderful little whines he adores so much, telling you that you taste like bliss, that soccer hasn’t got shit on this cute little pussy of hers. it was all just too much for you, heart jumping in adoration at the praises, voice drawled out in a sweet, pitchy mewl as you try hard not to grind back against his tongue.

he lets his hands wander up from your thighs so he can cup your tits, soft, perfect globes that fit into his hand like the last piece of a puzzle, working quickly to push up your soft cashmere top, the one that’s baby pink and shows off your dainty shoulders and defined collarbones. fuuck he loves this top, loves the bra you chose to wear today since it’s easy to push up so that he can feel your nipples pebble into his hand. he can’t help but groan into your pussy, briefly pushing you up so that he can talk to you as he feels you, cupping the heavy mounds, thumb rolling over your buds as he worships you.

“fucking perfect,” he whispers into your thigh and you whine slightly when you feel his other hand trailing closer to the comforting warmth of your centre. “you need somethin’ from me baby?”

“fingers—your fingers please ‘ichi!” you whispers tearfully. you want it, you want him.

he chuckles, the deep, rich sound that makes your toes curl so delightfully as you feel the vibrations on his chest. “i’ll give it you… oh ‘m gonna fuckin’ give it to you.”

you’ve never have nodded so fast in your life. yesyesyesyes that’s exactly what you want, to have isagi give you everything he has to offer while you helplessly paw at his headboard.

you honestly don’t know why you’re this desperate. despite initially refusing his offer to sit on his face even though you had teased the idea into his head, you didn’t think he’d actually go through with it! now here you are writhing in ecstasy from his tongue as his nose nudges your clit, hips wiggling slightly as you want your boyfriend to have unrestricted access to your aching cunt, to want him to bring you to absolute completion right on his face.

rough hands pet your pretty pussy, thumb rubbing the sensitive pearl and already the heat of his large palm has you gasping for air from the sheer thought of his fingers and tongue working inside you in tandem. his hands work like he wants to claim ownership, hungry and greedy to already stake some sort of claim on your body and it turns you on even more. to be desired this much, oh it makes your heart weep.

“what a little slut,” he hums the dirty words against your thigh again, “begging for my fingers and actin’ all innocent in front of my teammates earlier.” he knows what she was doing when she teased him, he’s immune to her little innocent act when she shyly tells him she was joking when he knows she wanted it more than him.

you’re, oh so sensitive and he works slow, his hands are careful and precise as he works you up rubbing and tracing your slit softly and he hears the soft sigh parting from your lips when he lets his index finger move to part your delicate petals, just barely slipping inside and it’s just too much.

his finger thrusts slowly and you’re thankful for that, giving you time to adjust to the familiar feeling but it’s been forever since he last fingered you. his finger was much longer and thicker than your own, your warm wet walls sucking him in right up to his knuckle and he grunts.

“y’re so fuckin’ responsive… must’ve wanted me real bad, hm?”

a whine gets caught in your throat as he moves his finger inside of you, curling it at just the right angle and ohh—there’s that spot, the one you always have trouble finding yourself. you moan involuntarily as he massages your velvety walls, fingers fucking you open in the dim light of his bedroom as he whispers sweet praises. he thumbs at your clit once more and his finger starts to pick up the pace, cunt clenching around his digit and you feel like you’re stuck in a euphoric high.

“can you handle one more pretty? hm? can my princess take another one?”

was that even a question? she doesn’t even process his words but she’s nodding as he doesn’t even bother to give her a warning, his middle finger being tucked away into the confines of your wet walls. once there’s two of his digits in you it’s all over, finger fucking you with harsh thrusts as he gives you everything. all of this pleasure was for you, and only you.

“I feel— huuagh! n-no ‘ichi! wanna cum from your tongue! wanna do it on your face!”

you sob helplessly as your senses short circuit, one hand is working your tits while the other finger fucks you into the stars. isagi is quick to oblige though as he pulls his fingers out, quickly grabbing the delicious curve of your ass so he can push you to his mouth again. the orgasm forming up your spine and spilling all the way down to your tummy was about to unravel, and it was coming fast if he continues his sweet bullying of fucking you open with his tongue, messy slurps and moaning coming from below you as he your warm, velvety walls pulse around his tongue, greedily suckling and slurping your pussy like a man starved for your attention and he wasn’t going to stop until you give it to him. do it pretty, cum all over his face.

“h-haah— yoichi ‘m gonna cuum! g-gonna cum ‘ichiii!”

brainless babbles are pulled from your lips as you wail out to him, voice akin to a siren who’s luring him to his sweet demise because that’s what you are to him, captivating his very being. pretty girl can’t you see you’ve ruined him? tore him apart and stole his heart right out of his chest while he digs tiny moons into your thighs, working his tongue in and out of your drooling cunt as your sweet cream trickles down to his face, soaking the ruby red of his jersey when you buck and thrash against his tongue, a white-hot heat spreading throughout your body that leaves you breathless.

“ ‘g-gonna cum ‘ichiii’, fuckin’ do it then angel. look so pretty goin’ dumb from my tongue.”

you can feel his lips form a lazy grin when he mocks your mewls, hearing how much of a wreck you are right now. a writhing, moaning, shaking wreck that you don’t even need to look at his face to see how arrogant he is right now. cockiness oozes from his body as broad shoulders bounce, clearly laughing at the fact that if he wasn’t holding your entire body with his mouth, you’d have toppled over by now.

“see the score baby? it’s 3-1, you helped me score that goal jus’ as much as hiori did. pussy’s the real mvp here—she’s my good luck charm.”

a small shaky huff escapes from your lips from the playfulness he’s exuding to you, little tremors racking your body as your boyfriend finally eases you off of his mouth, a thin string of your slick connecting your sensitive cunt to his tongue like a string of fate. see? even your pussy was missing him.

he can’t help but offer you a lopsided smile, licking off the remnants of your cream from his lips with the smuggest expression you’ve ever seen from him, not once breaking eye contact with your glassy ones.

fuuck now it’s his turn now.

“nngh… wan’ it yoichi. wan’ you inside really badly…!”

“yeah? wan’ my cock sweet thing? wan’ me to fuck you dumb ‘n make your pretty little head think of my cock?”

he’s condescending, the way his low, saccharine voice mocks your babyish babbles, hazy doe eyes staring up at him with such want that he can’t help but indulge in your request. but he’s not gonna give it to you so easily. you’ve been spoiled rotten so it’s high time you go and do some work for a change.

that’s what good girls do.

so with a swift tug he frees his cock from the confines of his shorts, holding his heavy cock in his hand as he uses his thumb to spread the pre-cum oozing from the flushed tip and tightens his fist around the base and pumps himself a few times. he looks at you with a narrowed gaze, piercing baby blues look into your teary eyes as his lips curl up into a grin, sitting up on his knees while you obediently position yourself onto all fours, moving your head to his groin and nuzzle his cock, no words or commands needed.

“look at you—so eager for your boyfriend’s dick. you ready to make a mess all over me? bet having my cock in your mouth is gonna taste better than any of those fucking cherry lollipops you always suck on.”

[chelseypprimrose]

I Dare You / Negan X Reader / pre apocalypse

Summary: A game of drunken truth or dare turns into the best sex of your life.

Warnings ⚠️: daddy kink, unprotected sex/rough sex, choking, oral, spitting, slight voyerism, slight dumbification and use of degrading terms (slut ect) bfd!negan, age gap

As always, all respective parties are over age of consent ect. 🤍 *Not proof read yet*

A/N: whelp here we are again, i started rewatching the walking dead from season 7 and tell me why I had totally forgot that Negan cleans out Alexandria’s houses just to burn their mattresses right down the road from them, the more I watch the more I remember how evil he really was and it makes me giggle and kick my feet i can’t lie lol. Enjoy this little depraved story, I’m just loving writing stories where the reader is very fully aware of someone watching/walking in bc it’s just so dirty I can’t freaking cope 😂love ya’s and my requests are open as always 🤍🎀🧟‍♂️

Straightening out your dress, you walked through the wooden gate at the side of your friends house, the loud thumping beats of music and chatter blaring through your eardrums. You held a bottle of Smirnoff in your other hand, remembering the teaching from your mother about never showing up to a party empty handed, that was considered rude and insulting.

You’d left the party girl lifestyle behind, having your fun in your early twenties but mellowing out in the last year or so, finding more enjoyment in a cup of tea and a good book. Not to the extent of being anti-social, just cutting off bad habits and rethinking where you wanted to take your life. Coming fresh out college filled you with a sense of doubt and confusion, you studied heavy, dedicating your time to educating yourself but hadn’t yet found what you wanted to be in the world. No matter how much you were freaking out about your next step, you couldn’t miss your friend’s birthday party, so you’d decided to have some fun and let loose, deal with reality tomorrow instead.

Pushing those dreaded thoughts underneath the surface, plastering a smile on your face as you entered the already crowded back garden of your best friend, Natalie. You’d known Natalie for years now, exact number you couldn’t remember but through high school and many ups and downs, you’d always stayed close, spending nearly every weekend at her house. That was with her mother though, she’d recently moved in with her dad, due to domestic arguments with her mother getting too toxic. You’d only ever seen her dad twice in your life, normally when he’d pick her up after the various extra curricular activities you two enrolled in together. Negan.

Such a unique name, you’d thought when you first laid your eyes on him. How anyone could give him up would be a mystery to you, from your limited interactions he’d always been sweet to you. Offering to drop you home as well but always denying, not wanting him to drive out of his route just for you. Those polished, pearly teeth gleaming at you when he asked, practically making you melt right there on the spot. You’d cursed yourself for manifesting a little crush on the man, who was your best friends dad, the forbidden attraction. The way he’d sit lazily in the driver side, his large hands gripping the steering wheel, your mind wandering to thoughts of what they would be like gripped around your dainty neck. The black bikers jacket he’d always wear even in scorching temperatures, fitting his frame just right.

“Hey hey girl, how are you?” She wrapped you into a affectionate hug, her candy sweet scent hitting your nostrils, her birthday tiara shining in the sun’s beam. You reciprocated, giving a small squeeze as you released her, holding the bottle out to her. “Happy birthday, Nat. It’s been too long!” You replied as she took the bottle out of your hands, thanking you for the gift. “Come on let me get you a drink and we can catch up!” She lead you through the crowd of people, a mixed bag, some young and some old. You recognised some familiar faces from growing up, giving a small nod at those who recognised you, commenting small hellos.

Natalie motioned for you to take a seat at the rattan sofa lounger, near the side of the backyard porch, a small fire pit in the middle, keeping you toasty as your dress was a little shorter than you were used to. Negan entered through the same gate you’d come through minutes ago, returning with a crate of beer from the garage. He fought his way through the crowd, handing out the liquor to those he’d promised it too. Small ‘thank you’s in acceptance, placing the remaining bottles into a cooler with ice. Wiping his hands off with a small towel, fingers slightly numb from handling the ice, his eyes moved around the yard, silently cursing his daughter for inviting so many people to this place. His annoyance came to a halt when his eyes locked onto you, recognising your face in the sea of people. Watching you laugh with Natalie over old pictures she was showcasing to you, he’d know your laugh from a mile away.

He couldn’t help the heat that ran through his body, his jeans getting tighter as he watched your chest rising, your arms placed in front of you, making your breasts press together firmly, slight cleavage coming into show for him to memorise. You’d definitely grown up since the last time he’d seen you, taking a beer out for himself, he started sauntering over to you, discreetly adjusting himself on the way.

“Well if that isn’t who I think it is? It’s been ages doll!” He exclaimed, your head whipping around to meet his gaze. He looked similar to how he did when you’d last seen him, the only major difference being his beard being thicker and slight whiteness now peaking out of it. “Hey! Mr Smith, it’s nice to see you after all this time!” You almost purred, he loved the way that name sounded rolling off your pretty lips, that familiar heat rising to his cheeks slightly. While it sounded completely innocent to everyone around, he could tell the difference. “Oh why so formal? Call me Negan, we’re all friends here.” He grinned, those familiar pearly whites coming into view as he swiped his tongue along his lower lip lightly. “Are you ladies okay for drinks?” Natalie waved her dad off, claiming they were fine, he took his leave but not before taking one last gaze over your body, your curves almost putting him under some witchcraft spell.

It was later in the evening, the sun setting over the horizon, you’d been roped into playing a game of ‘Truth or Dare’ under the suggestion of Natalie, it being the game you played at all those sleepovers you’d had with her back in the day. You were sat with a few other girls, ones you’d recognised from high school. You weren’t best friends with any of them, not knowing them well like you did Natalie, just more so the fact they were the only girls left at the party.

You’d played it safe up to this point, only choosing truth, you decided to throw caution to the wind when your next turn came, proclaiming dare to the group.

Natalie’s eyes found yours, you could practically see the cogs turning inside her head, it got you wondering what her depraved mind was going to come up with. “I dare you to… seduce my dad.” You almost spat your drink out, eyes widening at the request, palms hot with embarrassment. “What? You actually want me to do that? Are you insane?!” You asked, a confused look sat on your face. “Not to be rude but… you aren’t his type at all, so it’s a guaranteed point for me! I’m just being strategic!” She claimed, her eyes meeting yours, goading you to back down. Your heart sank at the confession, you couldn’t understand why it stung so much, it was just a little silly crush but you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t admit this new information made you feel a bit low. Your hurt feeling started slowly turning to slight rage, still watching Natalie as she challenged you with her eyes.

“Okay, how about we make this interesting though? $100 suit you?” You smirked, pulling a hundred dollar bill out of your purse, waving it in her face, mocking her. She returned your smirk, that goddamn egotistical smirk she got from her father, her manicured hand coming out in front of her to offer a handshake to seal the deal. “You are on, sister. You have to bring something back to the table that’s his, it’s the only way I’ll believe you.” You raised from the couch, slamming your empty cup down on the small table, taking your hair clip out, hair falling to the top of your back in loose, bouncy pin up curls. The girls watched you walk through the patio doors, sliding it to let you in before continuing on with the game.

You got into the kitchen, a few people standing around in conversations, you politely asked one of them if they had seen the man you were seeking out, answering that he’d gone up to his bedroom to change shirts, alcohol being split on him about five minutes ago. Making your way to the top floor of the house, you started trying doors, having absolutely no clue which one was his as you’d never been in the house before. You came to the last one at the end of the landing, being met with the very man you wanted to see.

There he was, shirtless in front of you, his room rather large. A four poster bed in the centre of it, black and red silk sheets with matching puffy pillows, a small door which lead into a en-suite, two bookshelves at the sides of the bed, small circle led lights above the headboard. He threw the wet t-shirt he’d taken off into the wicker laundry basket, not yet noticing that you’d entered the room. “Mr Smith? Sorry for not knocking, I need to speak to you about something.” You mumbled, the anxiety of what you were about to ask him gaining on you. He slightly jumped, a flirty grin on his face when he realised it was you who was there. You took a seat in the leather loveseat, matching the bed sheets, red and black were obviously his favourites. Your hands nervously played with the hem of your dress, his eyes wandering to your delicate fingers. “I’m all ears doll, ask away!” He says, turning his back to you as he found another t-shirt to change into, you opened your mouth to talk, nervousness managing to stop you in your tracks.

He turned back around, his face contorting into a confused look, wondering what you be needing to ask that would get you so worked up like this. “So Natalie dared me to… seduce you in our game of truth or dare. I had every intention to give it my best shot but she told me I’m not your type. W-which is fine, but I kind of bet $100 on it. Is there any chance you could give me something out of this room that I can take down to prove I did it, without actually doing it?” You awkwardly explained, your eyes not being able to meet his, if they had you would have seen the shimmer in his eyes as you cutely fumbled over your words out of embarrassment. He let out a large laugh, your face squirming, if his daughters confession made you feel bad, this was ten times worse. You felt a small tear gathering at the bottom of your eye, wanting the earth to swallow you in this moment.

It was the touch on your knee that made you look up, meeting his gaze as he knelt down to come to face level with you, Negan hadn’t bothered to put another shirt on, the low light of the room landing on his body just right, your core feeling slightly slick as his muscles tensed deep. You thought he was about to make fun of you for such a childish request, when he grabbed your chin firmly, making your head stay in position it was, looking into his eyes, not having the nerve to look away.

“Now doll, please tell me why you’d ever listen to such a fucking stupid thing like that?” He questioned, his thumb tracing your jawline slightly, still holding your chin in place. Your ears perked up, the total opposite of what you thought he was going to say coming out. “Uh, I’m not sure?” You replied, your voice not coming out as confident as you would have liked, that smirk still on his face. He was enjoying watching you squirm underneath him, his hand let go of your chin, hooking either hand around the underside of your thighs, pulling you slightly forward so your ass was half on the chair and half off. “How about I do you one better? Why don’t we actually complete the dare, huh doll? I don’t know why she’d say some crazy shit like that, probably hasn’t been paying attention to how I haven’t taken my goddamn eyes off you all night. You’ve really grown into a fine ass woman, you know that right?” You let out a slight moan, the feeling of his large hands keeping your legs spread open for him to see making your whole body electric. A vision of white panties peaking out under your dress, your new position on the seat making it rise up to your waist. “Thanks for the compliment Negan, but if… if you don’t touch me right now, I’m going to lose my mind.” You managed to make out, in broken breaths, your chest rising heavily up and down as you did, eyes wandering to his abdomen.

“Your wish is my command, pretty girl. Just relax and let daddy take care of you.” He whispered lustfully as his fingertips moved your panties to the side, showing your ever wetting slick pussy to him. He had to take a sharp breath in, nothing he’d seen was a prettier sight that this, hadn’t even imagined you looking this good, exceeding his wet dreams. He gathered saliva in his mouth, a powerful spit right on the centre of you, you whimpering in response at the degrading and dirty action. “Well, look at that! Someone likes a bit of domination doesn’t she?” He proclaimed to you, he couldn’t believe his fucking luck. You gasped as he finally took your clit into his mouth, sucking on it softly, teasing you with his devilish tongue.

He moves back to your pussy where he runs his tongue over your wet lips. You let out a deep guttural groan, as you grab large pieces of his slicked back hair, tugging him slightly, guiding him to all the places, you needed attention on. Negan continued to lick long strips down from your sensitive bud to your opening, listening to your moans and whimpers as he did. “Fu-fuck Negan! Yes, your making me feel so good.” He took his tongue of you, whining at the loss of contact. A darker look shifted on his face, more pressure as his hand dug further into your thighs. “Listen here, dollface. Tonight I’m not Negan, tonight I am daddy, you get that? Or has my tongue already made that pretty little head of yours blank?” He growled out, his tone completely like nothing you’d ever heard him sound like before, you’d truly woken the beast inside this man and you couldn’t wait for the journey. “Yes, yes, I’m sorry daddy, please put your tongue back on me, it makes me feel so fucking good!” He sinisterly grinned at you, parting your folds again and letting your juices flow down onto his tongue. He finds himself vigorously tongue fucking you as you begin gyrating on the chair, trying to push your hips into his face more, nothing mattering to you more than the pleasure he was providing, while pulling his hair with your fingers.

As he begins sucking your clit, he works a couple of fingers deep into your pussy, finding how tight you clamped around him, trying to intensify your pleasure. Negan begins to alternate between licking and sucking your clit, as you became more and more impassioned. It isn't long before you thrusted your pussy hard against his face, his beard scratching against you as your first climax washed over you, your hips bucking even more, back arched, your arms that were holding you up shaking.

“Fuck, daddy, I need you inside me now, please!” You whined, Negan hoisting you up off the now wet chair, the slick shining sun in the light of the room. He slammed your body on the bed, your head hanging off the edge of the bed, the blood rushing to your ears. “Goddamn doll, this pretty little pussy is going to be the death of me, pull that top down, I want to see those tits bounce as I fuck you dumb.” You obeyed, pulling your breasts out of your dress, the style of dress restricting you from wearing a bra, cupping them and rubbing your nipples as well. He could have bust right there and then, the image of you below him, looking like something out of a damn Playboy magazine.

He trails kisses up your body, tasting the thin layer of sweat on your skin until he reaches your mouth where he kisses your lips deeply, snaking his tongue into your mouth as he lined up at your entrance, rubbing his dick up and down your folds, setting your whole body on fire, nerves standing on edge. He releases your mouth, moving to your neck, nipping and biting at it as he finally stretched you out, filling you up nicely.

“That’s it doll, fuck. You feel goddamn heavenly, such a good slut for my dick right?” He grunts out, leaning away from your neck to hover over you as he put his hands around your throat, his pace getting more erratic, unable to control himself from his hard thrusts as your skin slapped together. Your head was starting to go dizzy, between being upside down and your oxygen being slowly cut by Negan’s large hand, it intensified your impending orgasm. Negan pulled out quickly, turning you over from your back to your stomach, forcing your back to arch as much as you could, slipping back into you. The new angle sent you nearly cock drunk, Negan too mesmerised watching his dick going in and out of you, not noticing the door slowly opening slightly.

You looked over to see Natalie looking on at you and her father, like time had stopped in place. You couldn’t see her whole face, just her eyes. Frozen, she made no move to say anything or close the door. You smirked at her, your eyes not breaking eye contact. “Oh daddy! You fuck me so good, my pussy belongs to you!” You moaned, a narcissistic grin sitting happily on your mouth. “Shit yeah doll, this pussy is all fucking mine you dumb whore.” His hand coming down in your hair, his other placed around your neck again. Hips snapping repeatedly against you at a now familiar pace, a moan leaving you every time he snapped. You raised yourself up on your elbows, repeatedly rubbing your thumb over the tips of your index finger and middle finger, the universal sign for Pay Me. Her eyes squinted in anger, closing the door again, not wanting to see anything else and now pissed she owed you money.

You quietly laughed to yourself as quietly as you could, feeling your walls clamp on Negan’s dick as you were ready to orgasm. “Fuck daddy, I’m going to cum again!” You whimpered, gripping the silk sheets below you both, Negan shallowly grunting above you. “Shit doll, me too. Let go for me baby, milk daddy’s dick doll.” You squeezed the bed sheet again, your whole body shaking as you closed your eyes, breathing irregular as you flopped forward on the bed, panting heavy. Negan pulled out at just the right moment, hot spurts of his cum hitting your lower back, cooling off after a couple seconds sat there. He carefully placed himself next to you, pulling you towards him so you rested in his arm. “I’ve been waiting for that for years, you know?” You told him, your fingers slowly drawing small circles on his forearm. “Could have told me sooner doll, that was fucking sen-sat-ional! You are perfect.” You laughed, kissing the side of his face, leaving a small nip at his ear lobe.

Two orgasms and $100 richer, it was worth leaving the house after all.

[bonthefuckjourx]

Lucifer x Sinner!reader (Hazbin Hotel)

   SUMMARY: You wake up in Hell and realize you didn't make the cut into Heaven. You never did anything evil, but never believed in God. You wanted to live life by your own morals. Little did you know a group of hazbins would take you in and show you more kindness than anyone on Earth ever did. Then you met someone you never thought you would, Lucifer, the King of Hell. Then you did something you never thought you would, make a deal with the devil.

WARNINGS: brief mention of depression/anxiety

WORD COUNT: 3100k+

A/N: Hello everyone! I haven't posted around tumblr all that much, but I hope this gets some traction as there isn't much Lucifer fanfiction to begin with. I love writing fantasy stories intermeshed with romance and Hazbin Hotel was a perfect world for this.

And yes, eventually there will be smut. I suppose you'll have to stick around and find out~

(Also, I hope you all know the Reputation album by Taylor Swift is fueling this ^-^)

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Chapter One: ...Ready For It?

One day you were in school studying for the next exam and then you were spawned into a hellscape like no other. The literal hell. You never were religious, and it always seemed more like a fear-mongering cult to you. Apparently even though you didn’t do anything evil or inherently bad you still went to hell. Gunshots fired off into the distance making you drop to the ground. They were loud and scared you to no end. Shakily you stood up, started to run. You didn’t know where you were going, only that you didn’t want to die, not again. Eventually you ran out of strength and wandered inside a hotel-like building before collapsing on the ground.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t just stand there Vaggie, come help me! It’s okay we have you now.”

With closed eyes you made out an alarmed high-pitched voice. It sounded like warmth and trust. You didn’t have the strength to open your eyes. Arms lifted you up and after some time you landed in a warm bed. You drifted off into a fitful sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As your eyes fluttered open you were met with one beady red eye.

“Nifty would ya give her some space?”

This so-called nifty jumped off your bed and landed on the floor next to you.  

“Hi, I’m Charlie. You collapsed on the floor of my hotel and so we took you up to a room. And yes, you can stay as long as you would like.”

            A hand was extended out for you to take and with a shaky arm you took it. The demon was pale with two red dots on her face that looked a bit like blush. She wore a suit like attire and seemed to be the one in charge. As you looked around you noticed a snake-like demon who said his name was Sir Pentious, a cat-like demon whose named Husk, and a spider-like demon whose named Angel Dust. The last demon sent chills down your spine with his unnerving smile, his name was the Radio Demon or Alastor. You hoped you never had to be in a room alone with him.

            “Uh thank you all for helping me. It’s my first day in hell and it’s a lot. I didn’t know where to go so I just kept running and running and it was so loud and violent and-“You started to look around frantically hyperventilating a little. This was all too much.

            “Hey it’s okay. This is supposed to be a safe place. You don’t have to go out there anymore if you don’t want to.” You looked at Charlie reassurance in her eyes.

            “It’s called the Hazbin Hotel! We rehabilitate sinners so that they hopefully one day can go to Heaven. As you know my name is Charlie. I’m also the Princess of Hell and I really want to be able to save my people from this life.”

 She looked solemn, but determined and in that moment, you had no doubt of what she would accomplish. You sat up and pulled Charlie in for a hug. Even though she was born in hell, she was much kinder than any soul you met on earth.

“Thank you, Charlie.”

You pulled away from the hug and noticed a tearful look in her eyes even though she was smiling.

“I’ll be honest I’m not quite sure why I’m here. It’s not like I did anything super evil, I just kind of lived an average life.”

“You didn’t kill anyone?” The radio demon mentioned from the corner.

“What! No? What is wrong with you?”

“What about prostitution? Apparently, the big guy hates it when you whore yourself out like that,” Angel Dust mentioned with a shrug.

“I was a poor college student, but I didn’t turn to that. I just had to take out an insane amount of loans.”

“Gambling, or suicide? I lost everything and well there wasn’t much place left in the mortal realm for me. The easy way out is an easy way into hell,” said Husk who stood next to Angel Dust.

“Nope neither. I don’t really think I had a reason other than not believing in God. I mean I can see now that demons are real, but why would I believe in a God that doesn’t care? His rules are horrible, you can’t be gay, or just enjoy yourself with another person. I lived my life by my morals, not someone else’s.”

You crossed your arms hoping the others would get the hint. You just wanted to be alone right now. Your life was cut short, and for what?

“I’m sorry y/n, but we can figure something out. Just give me some time, I promise.”

Charlie held out her pinkie and reluctantly you agreed.

“We’ll give you some time alone then.”

With that Charlie turned to leave and the rest followed her. After the door shut you curled up under the covers and wondered if life would ever be better. This whole heaven and hell thing made your head hurt. You never had much luck in life why would this be any different?

            A few weeks passed and although your death was still fresh in your mind you started to feel a little bit better. You and Charlie talked and set out on a plan to help rehabilitate you. She said you really didn’t need much help, but rather she had the hard task of trying to convince Heaven you should be up there with them. You both talked every day, and it helped take some of the edge off your anxiety. That and you always seemed to have company when you wanted it at the hotel. Angel Dust made you laugh and was always up for a drinking game of some sorts. Husk was always there if you needed to talk or rant about your previously human life. Sir Pentious was a bit peculiar, but over time you warmed up to him too. You didn’t talk to Vaggie much as she always seemed a bit distant. Everything she did was for Charlie, and she didn’t exactly make friends with other people and tended to only light up if Charlie was in the room. Thankfully you both silently agreed not to talk much. In the evenings you all would curl up around the fireplace and share stories or play games. Charlie loved to play human games like Never Have I Ever or Twenty Questions. She claimed they helped build trust.

            One morning while you and Charlie were having your daily talk, she mentioned that her dad would be over later that day. She was going to show him the hotel so that hopefully he could set her up an audience with Heaven. She could finally mention the souls, like you, here that could be rehabilitated. You were ecstatic that she could finally move forward with her plan but scared to meet someone new. Not only that, but this was Charlie’s dad Lucifer. The Lucifer, like the biblical fallen angel that probably has some awesome, but frightening powers. The anxiety was eating you up and you could tell Charlie wasn’t much better. She mentioned she hadn’t seen him in a few years, and you wondered how hard that must be on her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Everyone gather around! He should be here any minute,” Charlie yelled out to us, clapping to have our attention. I stood next to Angel Dust as we gathered around her near the front entrance. He always made me feel a little safer.

            “Charlie, so good to see you!”

 The door swung open and in came the most eccentric man I ever saw. He was almost bouncing around the room, hugging Charlie, then seeing Razzle and Dazzle, and finally stopped when he noticed the rest of us. You couldn’t move your gaze as you realized he was staring straight into your eyes. The moment was fleeting as Charlie grabbed his attention.

“Dad, hi. This is my hotel, and these are the inhabitants. Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, and y/n.”

When Charlie mentioned your name Lucifer met your gaze again. It was electrifying and made you blush to no end. He looked away giving Charlie his full attention once again. Suddenly Alastor appeared right next to her.

            “And I am the hotelier. Pleased to meet you, the name’s Alastor.”

            Lucifer’s eyes widened as Alastor put his arm around Charlie, his smile growing ever bigger. You swore a small growl came out of Lucifer’s mouth.

            “Hot,” Angel Dust whispered near your ear, and you did your best not to give out a small laugh.

            “Charlie, you need to stay away from this demon.”

            “Dad, I trust him. He’s been nothing but helpful. Once you see the hotel, I know you’ll have a change of heart.”

            Soon Charlie was leading her father around the hotel with Alastor on her right-hand side. Lucifer was less than happy to see his daughter hanging out around the Radio Demon. He didn’t trust Alastor, which you understood in a way. He was happy to meet Vaggie stating how he also like girls. He was quite awkward, but adorable in a way.

Next thing you know Alastor and Lucifer were arguing again. Music playing randomly and seemingly out of nowhere.

            “Yea don’t ask me why, but sometimes they break out into song.” Angel Dust leaned in towards you to comment shrugging his shoulders.

            A small laugh escaped as you took your time eyeing Lucifer up. Soon enough he was singing, his voice mesmerizing. His inflections and body language all showed off how prideful and confident he was. You supposed that’s why he’s called the sin of pride. There was something so sweet about how much he wanted to help his daughter, and attractive too. You never were able to have a family on Earth, but you wouldn’t mind having his babies.         

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the little sing off between Alastor and Lucifer, Charlie talked to her dad about the audience with Heaven. He decided to help her, and you could tell their relationship healed a little. You decided to leave them to it and left to go up toward your room. The elevator dinged at your level, and you walked out. The balcony at the end of the hall caught your attention as its glass doors were open. A breeze blew in and you relished the fresh air. As you reached toward the doorway you hesitated, bringing your hand back. Your heartrate picked up, pounding in your ears. You were going to turn around and run into your room, your safe place. Then you heard someone approach from behind you, making you quickly turn away from the glass doors.

            “Beautiful day out, isn’t it?” Lucifer mentioned as he moved towards you.

            “I suppose if you could call hell beautiful.”

            “Some might, though I suppose we aren’t apart of that group.  What are you doing over here?” He motioned toward the opened doors near me.

            “I was going to see what the view was like, but I backed out.” You looked away from him, not being able to look him in his eyes. He stopped walking when he was right in from of you and grabbed your chin guiding you to look at him. In his eyes you could see concern and empathy.

            “I know all too well what it’s like to be limited by your own mind. Not that we have a physiatrist in hell, but depression has had me for a long time.” He gave a small sympathetic smile. A small blush crossed your face being so close to him. Your heart melted a little at the kindness he showed you.

            “Yea well, I just get anxious about going outside. I thought maybe I could try, but it was a stupid idea. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.” He let go of your face and walked around you towards the balcony.

            “I know it’s not my place, but I could help you. Not to be boastful, but you are in the presence of the most powerful demon in hell. You would be safe with me.”

With that he held out his hand, willing you to take it. In that light he looked angelic even waiting for your hand, a genuine smile across his face as the outside wind gently rustled his hair. For once in your life, you wish you could just take that leap. If only…

…and then you did.

He pulled you in close against his chest. You could feel his heartbeat as he told you to wrap your arms around his neck. As soon as you did, he leapt off the side of the balcony over the railing. You closed your eyes and screamed as you both fell into a freefall. He wrapped his wings around you until they flapped open, allowing him to gain air. You kept your eyes closed the entire time, clinging to his neck and burying your face there. He chuckled to himself committing to memory this moment, feeling whole again. After about 10 minutes you both landed on solid ground. You didn’t dare let go, but he understood what you needed. Lucifer cradled you in his arms as he walked indoors.

“Here you go, you can open your eyes now.”

As you looked around you realized you were in an observatory-like room. It had high windows on all sides that looked out at Sin City. You didn’t realize until now how hard you were gripping him and embarrassingly tore yourself away from him.

“Sorry… Where are we?”

“Don’t be sorry for being yourself. It was cute.” You blushed and looked down at the floor, but quickly returned your eyes to him.

“It’s my study of sorts. I like to come up here to think or waste the day away. I used to invent so many beautiful things, but I’ve been uninspired for quite some time.”

You walked around taking in the view then turned back to look at him.

“Maybe you just need someone to inspire you.”

“Why are you willing?” He looked at you with a smirk on his face, almost implying something more.

“Sure, why not. Maybe you could help me get over my fears in return. I mean look at what you have already done for me today. I hadn’t left that hotel since I arrived.”

“Sounds like a plan, do we have a deal?” He walked toward you, willing you to take his hand again.

“What and make a deal with the devil?”

He pulled his hand away and for a second you swore you noticed hurt flash across his face. Quickly he hid it, behind a devilish smile and you decided then you’d never make him feel that way ever again.

“It doesn’t have to be, more so a saying then anything.”

            You stepped forward taking his hand in yours. He lifted his head up to look into your eyes, his face slightly flushed.

            “No, I want it to be, Lucifer. Let’s make a deal, to be there for each other until we can beat this. “

            He nodded his head, smiling with loving eyes, tears forming in them. With that he placed his other hand over yours and spoke. His eyes turned red, horns sprouted, and he looked possessed. Just as fast as it started, it ended. In the end you were left with a pentagram tattoo on your right hand. It was beautiful, but soon it faded leaving just an indent of it behind.

            “I enchanted it so that others cannot see it, however you can feel it. It will be binding until we fulfill the deal. I don’t own your soul or anything, but it acts like a bond between us. It will also let you teleport, put your hand over it and think of where you want to go. It’ll let me know where you’re going, but don’t worry I won’t pry.” Tears formed in the corners of your eyes as for once you felt like you could finally take a breath. You felt much safer knowing Lucifer was a thought away.

After that you two kept each other company and every now and then he would show you something he made. His magic was gorgeous and made your heart soar, you’ve never seen anything like it. As the night dragged on you mentioned you should probably head back so that the other’s wouldn’t worry.

            “Remember just touch the pentagram with your hand and think of where you want to go.”

            As you did you thought of your warm bed and the pentagram flashed to life. Then you felt something. The bond between you two tightened and you felt him. His magic pulsed through him as if it was alive and in front of you a portal appeared. The bond closed then for you. It only stays opens when he uses his magic, but as you stared into Lucifer’s eyes you felt emotions overpower you. Thoughts of safe and warm and love flowed through your head. Lucifer looked confused and scared for a second before becoming his confident self again. You said your goodnights as you fled through the portal to your bed.

Lucifer’s POV

            He watched as y/n touched her hand waiting for his magic. He hadn’t made many deals in his life, but he knew enough to know what to expect. There would be a bond in place caused from his magic and that would be used to make portals.

            His eyes wandered y/n’s body taking a second to indulge. Quickly he reverted to her eyes as she looked back at him. He wondered when their short friendship turned into more, or if it simply always was. She made him feel safe and warm and loved. At that moment a small tendril of magic snapped into place. He stepped back afraid of the woman in front of him, before realizing how much he was showing with his face. After recomposing himself he bid her goodnight and she left with a sleepy smile on her face.

            As the portal closed, he fell to his knees, wondering why fate would be so cruel. After thousands of years, trying to find something to inspire him and be his light. After all the fights with Lilith and trying to raise Charlie simply because he thought Lilith was it. With the palm of his hand, he wiped the tears away as he sobbed looking though the skylight at the darkness above. She wasn’t an archangel or a seraphim, or even an angel at all. All this torture and pain was for her.

            His mate…

            No, his salvation.

[derfpossessions]

Rented You Out - Part 1

Ever tried on a suit? Perhaps borrowed someone else's? Or you could've gotten it from a Suit Rental? Well let me tell you about a story of a man, whose body LITERALLY got rented out. So grab your ☕️, grab your 😸, because it's about to get WILD from here, well at least for our main boy.

Meet Denholm Gauthier, the 18-year old boy in 12th Grade, ready to graduate in a few months, but still have no decisions towards what to do in his life. He is a well-loved and kind student at his high school, and as the leader of the Football team and President of the Student Council, oh he's got it all. Plus, he's the class Valedictorian. So why is he such in a lost position? He had always seeked purpose in his life, though no one seemed to give him a damn since he's literally a privileged, handsome white dude. Everyone's got their own shit. To everyone's surprise, Denholm once mentioned that he didn’t want his life AT ALL, to which everyone got outraged about, saying “WHY NOT?!?”. Well, with this story unfolding, I guess I can say he found his purpose.

Chapter 1: Kidnapped

And so we begin. It was psychology class and the classroom was having a heated debate about the human mind and body. It escalated between the nerds too much that a fight could’ve broke out but thanks to Denholm it was de-escalated fast.

“It’s fine Mr Watkins, this topic was a bit controversial if I’m going to be honest with you. But I believe that our human minds are its own unique ways, and one could never be another person.”, he stated as he made the others calm down.

“Well that’s what you thought.” The quiet kid said. His name was Stanley. He’s the kid that sits in so much envy while watching Denholm rise up in the podium of popularity. He was always jealous of him. He wanted to live like him. Heck, he wanted to be him.

“What was that bro?” Denholm politely asked. Stanley didn’t replied, so Denholm’s just shrugged it off and packed his bag.

Lunchtime was up, and Denholm ate with Markus, who’s his childhood and best friend. Denholm long knew then that Markus likes other men, but Markus never really showed him that he wanted Denholm to be more than friends. Though with that said, Denholm is a very liberal person, and of course, a straight ally, which is not what Markus wanted but more than enough to keep them as friends.

“Hey bro! What’s up?” Denholm excitingly said to Markus.

“Nothing much, just tired of life as always.” Markus said.

“Why’s that so? You have friends and family!” Denholm replied.

“Well I don’t want this life. So stressful and so pressured. I wish I could be just as charismatic and attractive and NORMAL as YOUR life!” Markus said with a raising voice.

“Wha… is that what you feel about my life?” Denholm was shocked. Markus raised his voice on him again, which he typically does to cover his feelings of desire towards him. It’s really hard for a gay man like Markus to try and not fall face flat with his feelings towards straight boy hottie Denholm.

“You know my life isn’t easy too. I wish I could live as simpler as any other person.” Denholm sighed.

“Oh I’m sorry..” , Markus said. Denholm hugged him, and so the feelings came in again. Markus’ manhood was rising a little bit high that time, but not too high for Denholm to notice. It was almost like Markus wanted to kiss him on the spot, but he didn’t forgot his dignity and so he didn’t do it.

There was a student council meeting afterschool, so Denholm had to leave the last period early. While walking down the hallway, he saw a black van parallel parking in the lot. It was quite peculiar to see a car parking at that time. He wanted to investigate it but was running late for the meeting, so he ignored it.

The meeting had finally ended. Denholm separated with his classmates because his locker was at the other exit of the school, and now, he’s secured from the hands of evil. “I love you.”, said by Denholm to his girlfriend as he leaves the school through the back exit. As he was leaving, the black van he suspected earlier, was open. He was grabbed by two men wearing balaclavas and shoved him into the backseat.

Denholm tried to talk but his voice was muffled caused by the tape on his mouth. A silhouette of a teenager was seen from the car mirror, but that teenager quickly turned it away to get prevented from being seen. Helpless, Denholm tried everything he can to get unleashed, but it was no use. The two men started injecting something on his back, it wasn’t a syringe, rather a sharp wired material that penetrated his spine, and later his whole body. As he was agonizing in pain, the kid from the front seat was giggling, enticed to see the pain Denholm was going through. They then started to dig down his back even further, almost as if they were cutting it wide open like a zipper. As he can no longer tolerate the pain, Denholm passed out from exhaustion.

Chapter 2: I Am My Bestie

Nightfall came, and Denholm’s parents were very worried. His girlfriend along with his father seeked help from the police, to which they saw the van that took him away. Markus, who thought that the men might have put Denholm captive at school, drove straight there during the night.

To by his surprise, he saw Denholm lying down in the locker room. He screamed, “DENHOLM!!” As he tried waking him up. He tried to lift his body upwards but noticed something strange. His body was a little lightweight.. almost hollow.

As Markus went to see Denholm’s face, his eyes looked… empty. Something wasn’t right. It only took a matter of time until he discovered that Denholm had a huge rip on his back, with a little switch attached to his neck. Markus kept shrugging Denholm to awake him but there was no use. He then examined the rip, and accidentally opened it, which revealed Denholm’s insides with literally nothing in it. Just a hollow mold.

“My friend’s… a bodysuit?!?!?” Markus started to panic. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what he would tell to Denholm’s parents. So he kept trying to wake Denholm up, but he’s no longer there. There was only one choice. If Denholm WAS an empty suit for someone to wear, then someone must wear him for the meantime, and who would that be none other than Markus. “I’m so sorry, I love you.” Markus started to tear up. He then stripped off his clothes. He started to insert his legs and feet into Denholm’s empty body. Markus was a bit larger than Denholm’s so it was a tight fit. the warmness of the insides then slowly binded Markus’ legs onto his. There was no turning back. Next, he put on the torso, and leaned Denholm’s head forward for now. It was almost complete. The last thing to do is to put on the head. As Markus was putting Denholm’s face like a mask, it frightened him too much that he started suffocating. In the outside it looked like an expressionless Denholm but you can hear Markus grasping for air. He eventually fell to the groubd and passed out.

The next time Markus woke up, he was at the floor. His body was glistening with sweat, or should I say, Denholm’s body. He tried to get and up and looked around, then exhaled to see that he can breathe again. His breath smelled like Denholm’s, which shocked him a lot. He paused and saw the mirror, with Denholm reflecting back to him. “De..Denholm??”, Markus said. The voice still sounded like Markus wearing a mask, which was muffled, so Markus adjusted Denholm’s face to fit his even more. And so the face finally locked in. “Denholm??” He said again. This time the voice sounded EXACTLY like Denholm. He started to rub his new wavy hair, and touch his new skin in his face. He also noticed his eyes even changed. Rubbing it through, he no longer has curly hair or dark skin, and his smell noticeably also disappeared, revealing a musky, bold smell from Denholm.

He admired Denholm’s hair, torso, biceps, and stroked his 6.8-inch dick. He then started putting on his clothes, and covered up the switch with a bandage. He looked at the mirror again and said, “Sorry Denholm, baby, but I need to drive you for now.” and kissed goodbye to his reflection in the mirror.

Now that Markus holds Denholm’s life, it was time to tell the news to Denholm’s family. Going home a bit excited, he rushed into Denholm’s house where a worried mother and father rushed in to receive him in open arms. “We missed you so much honey!”, Marta said to her “son” while embracing him. Markus felt a wholesome rather never-before feeling at that moment, as his parents were divorced and was put into care by his evil grandparents. This experience has become a chance for Markus to feel the life he deserved to have: a loving family, popular, charming, spoiled, everything that he ever dreamed of. Besides his sexual desires in the love of his life’s body, it was a chance for him to enjoy a new life of his own.

Chapter 3: Denholm Slayy

Morning came and Markus woke up refreshed, and opened his phone to see that he still has Denholm’s face while looking at the front camera. “Good morning, babe”, Markus started teasing himself. Suddenly something raised from under the blankets. Markus felt aroused by Denholm’s morning look so much that he decided to have a little bit of fun before getting through his day.

He let out a quick moan as he started grabbing onto Denholm’s elastic manhood. And there he unleashed loads and loads of cum which splashed through the whole bedroom. He didn’t even gave a damn into how he’s gonna clean all that mess. Then he admired himself in the mirror then started kissing it. “Oh I wish you were fucking me like this baby. Such a slay”, Markus groaned as he breathed in great intervals. He was having the time of his life.

“Babe??? Babee, I came to pick you up!” that was Paula, Denholm’s girlfriend, picking him up to go to school. Markus got alarmed by this. How was he supposed to clean all that cum on the wall? He quickly got up from the bed and took a dirty shirt from the laundry to wipe off all the stains from the walls and floors. Then he put on a shirt before opening the door. “Babe! What took you so long?? Also why are you not dressed yet we’re already late!” Paula said. “Sorry babe, got a bit hazy from last night that’s all.” Markus replied. “Well if you want to talk about it, we can spend the day together”, said Paula as she seductively touches Denholm’s cheeks. “No it’s alright, besides you have a test today and we must put our studies first right?”, Markus said while feeling anxious. “Ok! I’ll wait for you downstairs while you get ready.” Paula replied.

“Babe babe… Babe my ASS.” Markus side-eyes Paula as she left. “You know Denholm, you don’t deserve this annoying slut!” Markus said while berating Denholm’s reflection in the mirror. “This is why I’m GAY! UGH! If only you were mine… But for now, I am you. I will make the most of it.” Markus said while getting dressed. He put on a new bad boy look for Denholm, compared to the plain shirts that Denholm used to pull off with. Markus did a grin in the mirror as he admired his ideal look for Denholm.

“Oh daddy, you’re really such a fine person. I hope we get to bond more like this again.” Markus sighed. He then headed off to school with Paula.

———

It was now the afternoon. No one has seemed to have noticed that Denholm was being controlled by another person, as Markus has studied every single inch of how Denholm moves and speaks, which counts to the amount of obsession he has towards his homie. But there was one person that wasn’t convinced by the act though. While walking down the street, Paula confronted Denholm/Markus. “Babe, is everything alright? You seem distant.. detached today…”. Markus started to get nervous again, not knowing what details to say to her. “Babe its nothing.. look, I’ll head home now. Maybe I just needed a rest.” He replied.

Markus was finally back at Denholm’s room. It was now late at night. He took off his clothes and decided to lie down. “Maybe I should… do it again..” As Markus tried to stand up, suddenly he felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he was suffocating through latex. He then started gagging until he choked. It was the suit. He tried leaning on to something, but eventually the sweat that accumulated the suit made him trip down and struggle to get up. It felt like he was about to die, something was crushing him from the inside. Desperate, he tried unzipping off from the suit, which worked perfectly well. Markus finally got out of Denholm again, after over a day of using him. Both of them were covered in sweat, with Markus hyperventilating as he stared at Denholm’s lifeless body.

[kokomyass]

Megumi Fushiguro ☆ 'Aight Bet'

Megumi x Fem!Reader

Genre: ☁️

Word Count: 2648

Trigger warnings ⚠️: swearing, none!

a/n: WHEREVER THAT SWEET SWEET ANON IS THAT REQUESTED THIS....KNOW THAT I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU 💜

I did my best for you, and wherever you are, I hope you really like it and enjoy it! p.s it wasn't cringe at all, cause I remember you apologising 😉🥰

this is slightly based on the bonus ending of 'Nightmares' fanfic but not the same story if ygm?

You can go and read nightmares here!

Second person POV

"Bet you guys, 2000¥ they have held hands."

"Aight bet! I bet you 3000¥ they have hugged!"

It was the training session in Tokyo Jujutsu High and you and Megumi were sparring as you had been put in a pair.

However, for the rest of the students this was more of a gossip session.

The thing is everyone ships you and Megumi, it is pretty clear to see you like each other from a third person perspective but you are both too dense to notice each other's feelings.

It was true, you did have the biggest crush on Megumi and you thought you played it pretty cool but there is no denying you do stare at him as much as you can whenever you get the chance.

However, on the other hand, Megumi was rather obvious with his crush towards you, not because he was trying to be, but because he is unconsciously 100x nicer to you compared to the rest of Jujutsu High.

Nobara and Yuji had been going back and forth splurging their whole bank accounts on betting on the amount of romance that both you and Megumi had engaged in with each other.

"Guys, on a serious note...how fucking dense are they like...look at how they are sparring..." Maki scoffed and she folded her arms smirking, nodding her head to you and Megumi sparring with passion and a lot of physical contact.

"Wasn't that like you and Yuta in first year though?" Panda chirped up, raising an eyebrow to Maki.

"Salmon." Inumaki agreed with Panda nodding.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Maki shouted, huffing and denying all allegations.

"I do see Maki's point...I wish we could make them confess when they have no choice....." Yuji mumbled as everyone nodded silently agreeing with Yuji.

"Why wish when we can actually do it!" Gojo randomly came up behind the students, hands on his hips, looking awfully mischievous.

"Where did you come from?" Maki asked feeling genuinely confused.

"I do agree with you guys that these two lovebirds need to get together, fast....so I'm thinking we set up a little party that only they are invited too!" Gojo completely ignored Maki as he explained his oddly well thought out plan to the students.

"Hmm, that's actually a good idea...but what if they still don't do anything?" Panda asks.

"Good point my fellow Panda..." Gojo placed a finger on his chin pondering the solution to the dilemma Panda brought up.

"I know! I will write a simple riddle for them to read and hopefully they will get the memo and say their vows and stuff!" Gojo clapped his hand together as he came up with the 'perfect plan'

As everyone was still discussing the plan to get you and Megumi together once and for all you both started walking up to the group.

"Hey guys! Whatcha talking about?" you asked walking up with a smile next to Megumi, both of you completely oblivious to the evil plan that has been made.

Everyone went awkwardly silent making you slightly worried.

"Um are you guys okay?" you asked worry laced in your voice as you started feeling self conscious.

"Y/N!! Megumi! I was just telling everyone how I'm arranging a small party for us all tomorrow to celebrate togetherness!" Gojo swiped both you and Megumi into a side hug smiling ecstatically.

"Oh my that's going to be so fun! I can't wait!" you giggled as you felt very excited as you rarely got to do things like this in school.

"...do I have to go?" Megumi grumbled shrugging himself off Gojo, walking off slowly. This immediately made you feel sad. Whilst all the other students felt panicked as the plan was already failing.

"Megumiiiii pleaseeeee! It will be so fun, trust me and if it isn't I will treat you to whatever you want!" you grabbed onto Megumi's hand shaking it as you were practically begging him.

Obviously he couldn't say no as his ears dusted a light pink and he stuttered slightly.

"F-Fine, I'm only going because you said so...." he looked away as you gave him a big hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank youuu!!" you let go and smiled at him warmly as he smiled back. "Let's go get some drinks from the vending machines."

You and Megumi left the group without another word as they all stayed silent for a bit.

"Hey Yuji?"

"Yeah Nobara?"

"You owe me 2000¥"

"Well you owe me 1000¥"

Time skip!

The next day arrived quickly and you found yourself feeling jittery and excited.

Today was the day of the little party and you felt this was your opportunity to have Megumi really appreciate your beauty whilst pretending you didn't spend 3 hours deciding what to wear.

You also wanted to be fashionably late so you didn't seem like a loser for wanting to be so early.

Gojo had said the theme was fancy, so of course you wore the fanciest dress you owned with some fancy makeup and hair.

You couldn't wait to see Megumi all suited up, the thought made you kick your legs and giggle to yourself.

You decided that you would leave now walking through the dorm corridors to the classroom that Gojo said the party would be in.

Funnily enough, as you arrived to the door, Megumi arrived at the same time and your eyes widened at how amazingly handsome he looked.

He was a fine piece of art. The suit he wore suit him so much it hurt and for some reason his eyelashes made you fold.

Megumi took a moment to take you, in his mouth slightly open from shock at the beauty beholded right in front of his eyes.

"You look....beautiful Y/N." Megumi said to you as if he spoke faster than his mind could register.

You face burned red as you looked away giggling slightly before looking back at him.

"Thank you Megumi, you look ever so handsome too" it was Megumi's turn to blush as he smiled lightly rubbing his neck and looking a away his cheeks flushed pink.

"Shall we go in?" after a bit of silence Megumi gestures for you both to go in the oddly quiet room.

Megumi held the door open for you as you gave a small 'thank you' and he entered after you but in the room, no one and nothing was there only a table and a note.

"Um Megumi-" you turn back to see Megumi behind you looking as confused as you.

Suddenly you heard a door lock as you instinctively reached for Megumi's arm as he pulled you close.

"It's okay im sure it isn't really locked." Megumi went to try and open the door. No luck.

"Oh dear...what's going on?" you look around feeling your arm hairs stand on end.

"Maybe we can read through that note there, I bet Gojo sensei is just messing around with us..." you nodded and move close to Megumi as you both approach the letter.

Megumi picks up the letter and opens it.

"If by dawn, you confess without waver, then you will not have to fear the power of the taser?..." Megumi sounded genuinely confused at the weird riddle that made no sense as you snorted.

"I don't know if I am more confused or scared right now..." you both chuckle together.

"Well, I guess we should confess something? Maybe a secret or something? So we don't get...tasered?" Megumi says still sounding extremely uncertain but you shrug it off desperate to find out what is going on.

You then realised you were alone with Megumi. In a locked room. The thought made you blush and smile softly.

"Erm, earth to Y/N?" Megumi waved his hands infront of your face as you snapped out of your thoughts realising you got a bit too lost in them.

"Yes your right! Sorry I zoned out....hmm maybe a game of truth or dare? I can't lie this shit makes no sense to me..." you sighed placing a hand on your forehead, whatever were the others thinking?

"I second that...I'm not surprised...Gojo is an odd specimen." Megumi deadpanned, making you laugh loudly.

"You aren't wrong there....anyways sit down!" you grabbed Megumi's shoulder and sit him on the couch in the back of the room, and you sit next to him as you both turn so you're facing each other.

"Okay! Truth or Dare?!" you smiled widely feeling too excited about this game. To be honest, your plan was to see if Megumi liked anyone and if there was any chance it could be you.

"Ummm truth?"

He was falling in your trap.

"Do you like anyone~? And for what reason?" Megumi's eyes widened and his cheeks and ears turned a light pink.

"...Yes....because she is pretty, kind, soft-spoken, easy to get on with and makes me genuinely happy" Megumi mumbled his whole answer looking away from you at all times, despite the small genuine smile that graced his lips.

Despite his reluctance to answer, Megumi couldn't hide how much he liked you, because you were so perfect in his eyes.

"Oh my!!! That's so kind, whoever gets with you is a lucky girl!" you chuckled as you playfully pushed his arm.

"Thanks...now, your turn truth or dare." Megumi sighed feeling relief as he nearly exposed himself.

"Hmm I shall go with truth!"

"Do you like anyone and if so why?" you smiled softly and shut your eyes.

"Of course I do! He can be a bit grumpy sometimes...but he is honestly such a kind person and he makes me feel all weird inside, but also makes me feel safe." you opened your eyes staring into Megumi's eyes as Megumi gave a forced smile back.

At the moment, in Megumi's mind his heart felt crushed. You liked someone....and the person who fit that criteria was Nanami. How in the hell? You were wayyy younger than him....maybe you were into older men, he couldn't deny his amazingly good and chisled looks, but even so-

"Megumi!! It's your turn!" you interrupted Megumi's thoughts as you tapped his cheek softy to get his attention.

"O-Oh my bad...dare?" he chose dare because he didn't want you to make him confess his unrequited love for you.

"I dare you to tell me who you like!" you smiled innocently as Megumi stared at you shocked, as if he had been stabbed in the gut.

"Y-You can't do that! That's not how the game works!" Megumi started scooting back as he sweatdropped. You just inched closer and closer.

"It is a dare. You have to do it. No backing out." you caged Megumi, with his back resting on the arm of the couch, your hands resting either side of him.

Megumi sighed in defeat. What was the worst that would happen? He gets awkward around you and you friendship is over? That's pretty bad...oh well...

"...you..." Megumi looked away as your eyes widened and you backed up from shock.

"Wait what?"

"....I said you, but I know you don't like me back, I can see why Nanami is in your agenda..." Megumi started rambling.

All those things he said, were about you? You smiled the most genuinely happy smile at Megumi making him look at you wide eyed and confused.

"Megumi, I like you too! What are the odds huh?" you spontaneous wrapped your arms around him squeezing him tight as he slowly wrapped his arm around you, the other arm keeping his body up on the couch.

"Wait so you don't like Nanami?" you pulled away as you gave Megumi the most confused look of the century before you burst out laughing

"Oh Megumi~ why would you think that? How could I ever do that....kinda sketchy no?" you pinched his cheek teasing him as he flushed an even brighter red.

"Well I thought he fit the criteria when I asked you why you liked them..." you smiled warmly at Megumi, your cheeks going pink.

"That was all you Megs. I honestly do really like you and admire you, I'm glad that you're in my life." you held his hands tightly as he squeezed back.

"I-I could say the same to you. You are so beautiful and kind and...and I really do like you. Sorry for thinking you like Nanami...." you giggled again, going in for another hug.

"It all okay, maybe next time don't be so dense." You pulled away and pinched his nose.

You faces were inches away from each other and you desperately wanted to kiss him.

"Can I kiss you?" Megumi asked, looking at you intently waiting for you answer. You smiled and nodded leaning in for a kiss.

Surprisingly he was a good kisser, his soft, glossy lips moulded into yours making you both get lost in the moment.. He stroked your back as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You didn't want the moment to end.

You both pulled apart from each other to get some air. You cuddled into him suddenly feeling quite fatigued.

"Remind me to do that more often." you giggled as Megumi chuckled.

"No objections there."

You both cuddled together not even bothering to check if the door unlocked, eventually falling asleep in each other's comfort.

A bonusssss!:

"I bet you 4000¥ they are cuddling right now." Yuji whispered to Nobara.

"I bet you 5000¥ that they kissed." Nobara gasped and began smirking.

"Aight bet."

"Guys! Do you have your tasers at the ready?" Gojo whispered to all the students.

They were all gathered outside the room you were in, all with taser in hand.

"So we go in, if they aren't cuddling then we taser them like psychopaths? Got it." Maki found some sort of amusement in all this.

"Okay guys, 3, 2, 1..." After Gojo's countdown ended they all entered the room. To be blessed with an adorable sight.

"Nobara pay up!!" Yuji shouted causing you to stir awake.

You jumped up and screamed to see everyone in front of you with tasers smiling with devious intent.

"W-Why do you have tasers?" you stuttered as you backed up with your hands up as if you were guilty, whilst Megumi was still basically asleep on the couch.

"Y/N did you confess?" Gojo came in closer as all the others followed him with their tasers making horrifying noises.

"What are you on abo- Oh!" It all made sense to you now.

You had been locked in a room with Megumi to get you to confess your feelings to each other.

"If by dawn, you confess without waver,

Then you will not have to fear the power of the taser..it makes sense now!!" you exclaimed making sense of the situation now. What an evil school you were in.

"HEY! Y/N YOU BETTER ANSWER ME." Gojo shouted snapping you out of your thoughts, getting an arms length away from you.

"YES! YES! WE DID! WE EVEN KISSED IS THAT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU? PLEASE DON'T TASER ME!"

Suddenly all the taser noises stopped and you looked up to see everyone look relieved.

"You kissed?! YESSSS! Yuji pay up~" Nobara smirked and Yuji looked pissed.

"You made a bet on that?" you asked genuinely shocked as to how much you were shipped.

"Don't worry about that..."

"Let's go gang! Our job here is done." Gojo said as everyone followed behind him congratulating you on their way out.

You looked shocked as you turned to see Megumi looking as confused as you.

"What just happened?" Megumi asked looking like he saw an alien.

"I think it's best you don't know...." you sat down and rested your head on his shoulder.

What a crazy community you were a part of.

a/n: I hope you enjoyed that! and don't forget to request if you would like!! ANON I AM STILL LOOKING FOR YOU!!

love you all!! 💜🎵

[chaoticbardlady99]

She's My Religion (Part 1: She's Cold, She's Dark, She's Cynical) Astarion x F! Reader

   Hello! I have been plagued with an idea! Enjoy! This will probably be a four part story, but I am not sure just yet!

Title from song “She’s My Religion” by Pale Waves

CW: Parental death, grief, murder, domestic violence, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of emotional abuse.

Synopsis- You are a paladin under the Oath of Vengeance. You escaped the noble life that was unwillingly thrust upon you. Now, on your way to kill your evil step-father while trying to find a solution for the parasite in your head- you find out he’s promised your hand in marriage to Lord Cazador Szarr and that he’s taken your mom’s life. Looking for some comfort- you go to Astarion, but you don’t hear the words you were hoping for.

*Gif does not belong to me- could not find original owner

Karlach whoops and cheers as she releases you from a rib crushing hug- Wyll and Gale are grinning from ear to ear. You are all elated for her that Dammon was able to figure out how to cool down her engine- even if temporarily.

  You know that she doesn’t want to hear about the future and the harm not going back to Avernus will cause so you don’t say anything while Wyll tries to lecture her. You are barely listening as the two of them go back and forth, but when Wyll glances back at you with a look that screams, “Can you please help me out over here?”

  You chuckle at your close friend’s distress and shake your head at him. Wyll adores Karlach- you know he would give her his own heart if he could. He just needs to let her come to her own decision- you’d like to think that Karlach might decide to go back until they can come up with a permanent solution. However, at the end of the day, it’s Karlach’s decision. You are just as unhappy with the impending doom your bubbly companion is facing, but that is not your weight to carry.

  “Unfortunately Wyll, I am going to support whatever Karlach wants to do for as long as I can emotionally tolerate it,” you give Karlach a playful punch in the arm, “you’re not allowed to die on me, ya know?”

  Karlach rolls her eyes and smiles- pulling you in for an awkward walking side hug.

 “Don’t worry Soldier- I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

    You all begin to head back to camp from Last Light Inn when Jaheira calls you from afar, waving you over. You look at your companions and they look back at you- equally as confused. You tell them that you will catch up with them in a little bit and they leave you there alone. Cautiously, you walk towards her- she did just threaten to kill you not even 72 hours ago and what an eventful 72 hours it has been. 

  You killed a devil, almost died killing that Devil, found out Astarion’s life is in far more danger than initially thought, watched Astarion convince a weird man to drink himself to death, watched an even weirder man be inhabited by a dead lady, fought shadows, and now, Karlach can hug people. 

  Life could not be any weirder, but you gladly welcome it over the mansion you had been trapped in after your mother married your step-father. The day you escaped from there had been bliss- despite how much you miss your mother. Your mother had been of noble human blood before she met your father (an elf). After one late night tryst and falling pregnant, her title had fallen significantly. She married your father and you had all lived happily together in Baldur’s Gate. You grew up poor, but Duke Ravenguard always tried to make sure you and your family had been taken care of. You grew up with Wyll Ravenguard and you have been tight knit friends almost your whole lives. 

  Until you were 14.

  Count Bridril Von, a high Sorcerer, had not forgotten your mother nor her breaking her promise to marry him by becoming pregnant by another. After your father died, he found your mother and enchanted her to become a mindless puppet. She would break occasionally, but ultimately you were left to fend for yourself against your 9 step-siblings (5 girls, 4 boys) and Bridril Von- who enjoyed taking out all his anger and hatred for your father on you. The only times he would claim you as one of his own would be when you had competed in various competitions and won- outranking his sons. The publicity he got from having a little sharp shooter and for “raising his darling step-daughter after she so horribly lost her hero father” was incredible. You became a show pony- a pretty, malleable little thing that was forced to perform and excel so that she could be treated with basic respect.

 The minute you were able to escape the Mansion from the Hells, you ran to the docks, bought a ticket to Silverymoon, took an Oath of Vengeance, and now you are here with an illithid parasite in your head. At first you had thought you were the unluckiest person in the world when you were kidnapped by a mind flayer, but your companions have quickly made the whole journey worthwhile- Astarion especially.

  You had met him before in your previous life as a troublemaking bastard and you had had conversations before- nothing too crazy nor serious, just quips and flirting back and forth. Astarion had been at the mansion frequently or you at the palace because your oldest step-sister, Daisy Von, is (was?) due to marry Lord Cazador Szarr. It was no secret to anyone, not even Daisy, that Cazador wants to marry you due to your likeness of a long lost love of his, but you are not of royal blood. Cazador would lose his alliance with Bridril if he married his boorish, rebellious, and unwanted step-daughter- despite your many achievements. You were grateful. You didn’t want to marry the man and Daisy was foolishly smitten- she could have him for all you care. That was your mentality before you knew he was a Master Vampire.

  Your family and Astarion’s ‘family’ spent a lot of time together. Astarion had become your escort around the palace grounds because Bridril did not want you to take the spotlight away from Daisy. 

 Originally, it had been Pale Petras, but you had unceremoniously kicked him in the balls after he had said something rather unbecoming towards you and had to be physically dragged away by Leon before he tried to kill you or worse. Astarion had immediately taken a liking to you for that alone. 

  When you had stumbled upon each other at the beach after the Nautiloid crash, it had been a little over two years since you had last seen each other. Without the watchful eyes of Cazador, your friendship and romantic relationship has blossomed. 

   You had been weary at first, worried that he was just getting close to you because he knew how much it would piss off Cazador if Astarion were to be with the one person Cazador could not have. Now, you are about 95 percent sure that isn’t the case, but you remain alert- just in case. 

  You are used to being used for an upperhand in the world and you hope everyday that you are more than an advantage against Cazador to him because he truly means everything to you. 

  Which is maybe why you are quite agitated with Jaheira taking precious minutes away from you that could be spent with your love. You offer her a smile as she holds out a letter.

 “A letter? For me? Oh Jaheira, you shouldn’t have!”

   Jaheira hides her amusement behind a scowl, “it came through here magically. Rolan was able to calm down the little portal it came flying through- I suggest waiting until you reach Baldur’s Gate to be sending and receiving mail.”

   You apologize and walk towards camp, opening and reading the contents in the letter. The letter rips open your entire body and it feels like the ground is going to cave in. You read and reread the letter multiple times- standing between the edge of Last Light Inn and the edge of Camp, not even 5 feet away. 

  Tav,

  My name is Mary, I was your mother’s lady in waiting. You were always so busy that we never got the opportunity to meet. I am sorry to tell you that I only have bad news.

 The Count had received an offer from Lord Cazador Szarr two weeks ago regarding marrying you that he is not going to refuse- initially he was, but then you continued to not come home and he became bitter. 

  Cazador expressed urgency regarding getting you back to Baldur’s Gate. Bridril has hired mercenaries to hunt for you.

  Bridril killed your mother- the whispers in the castle say it was not an easy or quick death. My understanding is that you took an Oath of Vengeance so I hope Bridril is on your list. Your mother was the kindest woman I have ever had the privilege of meeting.

   I know she would want you to know that she loves you, is proud of you, is watching out for you, and knows you are off to do great things. 

  Keep vigilant and may Selune bless your path.

  -Mary

     No. This isn't happening to you. You are only days- maybe even a week or two away from going back home, killing Bridril, and freeing your mother. You were going to be a family again. You wanted to introduce her to your companions and buy a nice little home to live in with her like you used to when you were little. You were going to tell her all about your adventures, your time on the Pirate ship that took you to Silverymoon, your life there as a Paladin, and his whole fucking excursion.

   She’s gone and the wail that threatens to crack open your chest is suffocating. You quickly walk to Astarion’s tent, where you have been sleeping most nights, and he’s not there. Of all the times you really need him to not be doing anything and yet! You shove the letter back in the envelope and absentmindedly throw it to another part of the tent- not looking and not caring. Your grief feels like it may kill you and you just need to be held- to know and feel like you aren’t completely alone in the world right now. 

    After a brief chat with Halsin, you discover Astarion is hanging out with Shadowheart behind her tent. You make haste that way- hoping they won’t be too mad that you are interrupting their wine and gossip time. You had gotten back earlier than anticipated and in other circumstances you might wait until he is done, but you aren’t in your right mind. 

  You approach the tent and hear them talking on the other side, facing the forest, and sitting on a log. The tears begin to manifest in your eyes as relief floods you- you are so close to feeling okay again.

  “How bloody hard is it to nicely, lovingly tell someone that you’ve been deceiving them this whole time?”

  You stop dead in your tracks. 

  No. 

  “Look, there is no good way to say it,” Shadowheart says, “you just need to own up to it and then be honest about all of it.” 

 “Oh yes because ‘I planned on seducing you, sleeping with you, and manipulating you from the start’ is such a great opener,” Astarion scoffs, “there has to be some other way to make it flow with the rest of it. A better way to tell her.”

  “No need,” you speak up miserably, coming around the corner, “you just did. Wasn’t that hard was it?”

  Astarion and Shadowheart look absolutely shell shocked to see you standing there. Astarion looks like he’s about to throw up as he gets up and looks at you softly, a pleading, panicked look in his eyes.

  “Darling!” he says, getting up, laughing nervously“you’re back early. I- can we-”

  “Whatever we are,” you say with a glare, tears now pouring and with as much hatred in your voice as you can muster, “or whatever you were pretending I was to you- it’s over.” 

  Astarion’s entire face falls while he’s staring at you and he looks like he might cry, he opens his mouth, “Darling, pl-”

   Shadowheart looks like she is about to speak up for him too, but you are far too angry, far too hurt- far too lonely right now in the world to let yourself be tricked into staying with him. They are best friends, she’s probably in on it too. 

 “No! I hate you so much!,” the venom in your voice being watered down by your anguish, “I hate you more than I thought I could ever hate anyone- undead, dead, or alive! I trusted you and you used me for your own gain- so unkindly, go fuck yourself!”

   You spin around on your heels, race over to your tent, and tie the flaps tightly shut. You slump to the ground and just sob- grabbing your mother’s old blanket that you had stolen before you left. You scream into it silently and all the pain in your body is threatening to make you burst apart at the seams. You wouldn’t be surprised if you did. 

  In less than an hour you have lost your mother, Astarion, and potentially your freedom. Astarion had used you to get one up on Cazador and he succeeded. Now that he knows what Cazador’s ritual is- he’s decided he’s done with you and every step you make has to be done cautiously because one slip up and you are going to be the consort to a fucking Master Vampire after fighting to avoid this for so long. All because Astarion just had to poke the bear. 

Astarion signed your fate using your blood as ink.

   Your throat is raw and your head is pounding by the time your lungs feel like they know how to properly breathe again. You hear someone knock on one of the wooden beams of your tent and you scoff.

  “It’s just me Tav,” Wyll says softly, “can I come in.”

     You get up and untie the tent flaps numbly. You look at Wyll, eyes puffy and red- your face streaked with tears. As Wyll walks into your tent, you get a glimpse of Astarion looking crestfallen as you invite Wyll in. You just scrunch your nose up in disgust at him before closing your tent. 

    Wyll is sitting down on your bedroll and you sit down right next to him- both of you looking at the ground. Wyll gently puts his hand on top of yours and smiles at you with his signature gentle, I’m here, grin.

 “My mom’s dead, Wyll.”

  “What?” 

 “Bridril killed her. She had snapped out of whatever hold he had on her when he agreed to marry me off to Cazador,” you choke out between sobs, “he killed her for trying to protect me. Now? I am officially going to be married off to a Master Vampire the minute I step foot in Baldur’s Gate if Bridril has his way.”

  “Oh Tav…”

 “And then! To make matters even worse?,” you look at him with disbelief and your voice sounds borderline hysterical now, “I overheard Astarion and Shadowheart prepping his ‘I’ve been using you this whole time and I’m ready to break-up’ speech. He was trying to figure out how to be nice about it.”

  Wyll stares at you with bewilderment. He is absolutely silent as you break down sobbing again, but he pulls you into him and you put your head on his shoulder.

  “I fe-feel so alone,” you manage to say coherently, “and so frightened.” 

  “I know you do my dear friend,” Wyll strokes your hair as make a mess of his shirt, “but you have Karlach, Gale, Lae’zel, Halsin, Scratch, and even an Owlbear Cub for Gods sake!”

  You smile at the emphasis on your rather dangerous furry friend. Wyll had asked what you were going to do with him when you got back to Baldur’s Gate and when you didn’t have a plan- both of you were a little horrified. You both decided to send it to Daisy as an engagement present once it’s big enough to stomp on Cazador and Daisy mid-wedding.

  “And besides,” Wyll says, “you’re my closest friend. I won’t allow you to be alone nor face this alone. I’m probably the best monster hunter you know.”

 “You are also the only monster hunter I know.”

  Wyll rolls his eyes and smiles brightly at you, “That’s besides the point, but I am going to let you sleep. You look like you need it.” 

   Wyll places a soft kiss on your forehead before he leaves your tent.

  “Thank you Wyll.”

    He turns around and smiles, “Any time Tav.”

_________________________________________________

Tag-list: @spacebarbarianweird @domainoflostsouls

[icannot3]

"Prom Night"

Peter Maximoff x Reader

Word count: 4.2k (a biggie, sorry)

Warnings/notes: NSFW BELOW THE CUT (just the standard stuff, yk?) P in V penetration. Oral (male receiving). Lots of plot before. Despite the title, both Peter and the reader are adults.

Taglist: @taintandviolent @lilthbunny (comment if you'd like to be added!)

..........

The music is loud, and the atmosphere radiates unadulterated exultation. Like any other traditional party event, bright neon lights illuminate the otherwise dimmed area. The dining hall of the institution looked nothing like it had before. The entire area had been cleared out besides the tables full of delectable treats to snack on in the corner. Students were laughing and dancing to the beat of the music, most very uncoordinated, but that didn't matter. For the first time ever, the young mutants got the chance to feel like normal teenagers. It brought you so much joy to know that it was your idea to have an annual prom at the school, this being the very first and very successful attempt at doing so.

You could see a few students of yours beginning to come out of their shells. Many of them never got the chance to participate in such a social setting. You can tell they felt moderately awkward at the start but slowly allowed themselves to enjoy. This prom was much different than the ones you attended in high school. You always remember them to be boring but customary, hence why everyone still went for the hell of it. Part of you wished you could have had a lively experience like this one, knowing all too well how different you felt in the crowd then, as a secret mutant scared of what others may do if they knew.

But that's all in the past, and truly you could not be happier as chaperone. In the crowd of people, you see bodies being pushed to the side as an undetectable figure zipps past them. You know it's Peter, one, because obviously his powers, and two, because the blur is quickly making its way to the snack bar. Who else would be so desperate to get to them? You giggle at his determined feat. It isn't long before he runs up to you, a plate with a large, overstacked assortment of cake and cookies in hand.

Peter places his free hand on your back, his hand warm against it. "Geez, you look like a supermodel!" Like any school dance, everyone was expected to dress to the nines. All funded by the Professor through the kindness of his very rich heart. The staff is expected to wear nothing short of this, everyone in expensive formal gowns to match the children. Peter's outfit makes him look exceptionally handsome, even though he's already loosened his silver tie sloppily from around his neck. Other than that, his suit is black with a white undershirt that compliments his silver accents. To be real, the color is his trademark. Quite literally, "Quicksilver."

You pull him into a hug he reciprocates as much as he can with only one arm. "Thanks, Quicky. You clean up nicely, too!" Your finger comes below his tie, playfully flicking it upwards to tease him. "You seem like you're already excited for the after party?"

His head jerks back, and Peter lets out a dramatic sigh. "You have no idea how uncomfortable these feel. Sure, women have to wear heels, but I really think that this is the equal evil we should also acknowledge. Plus, you guys get to shamelessly take them off at the dance because everyone understands. Xavier is absolutely insane for wearing this every day." He continues to passionately ramble about the inconvenience, referring to it as "neck prison." You cackle at everything he says because it's Peter. He's naturally always funny. Or perhaps it's your blossoming feelings for him that make you feel this way.

Sometimes, you wonder if Peter is just naturally a touchy person or if there's something more behind his lingering nudges and holds. You certainly entertain it regardless, allowing him to hug and hold you as he pleases. His fingers are delicately playing with the stray hairs against your neck, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He has to know how crazy he drives you.

The timing feels perfect as a slow song comes on through the loud speakers. You silently prayed to whatever DJ God there may be for giving such a great opportunity. You hold his hand in yours, his plate being disregarded elsewhere as you take him to the dancefloor. "You gotta dance with me, I never got to do this with anyone in high school! Please?" Your request accidentally seems more like a demand with your excitement, but he knows you'd never make him do anything he doesn't want. He grins, keeping your hand in his own and wrapping his arm around your waist before swaying to the music.

You're friends. That's all. There's nothing more to it, and there never will be. You conclude that you'd simply have to die with these feelings because certainly they aren't ever going away. It's been years already that you've pined for him. Years that the two of you have been stuck by some imaginary friendship glue. Many of your days are together, you teach gym class with him. When you go on missions, Peter compliments your mutations so well that it's rare you're ever separated. He's what you would call your platonic soul mate.

But that platonic bit feels really out of place when he gives you a look that makes your heart ache. You decide that looking at his eyes that are staring deeply into your own is not helping subside your confidential feelings. Part of you wants to read more into his actions and convince yourself that he feels the same way, but you know that only leads to a shit-ton of misery once you realize that his feelings are still unrequited. So, instead, you rest your forehead against his chest and think about things that don't make you flustered. Like what you're doing tomorrow for training and not how his new cologne for the occasion smells stupidly nice.

The song picks up the beat for the chorus, and either Peter secretly takes dance classes on the low, or he's just naturally this smooth. His hand lifts yours up in the air as he encourages you to twirl. You do, the dress you wear swaying around with your spinning. He brings you back to his chest and then decides to continue to baffle you by dipping you to the floor. You lean back, trusting him fully as he pulls you back up.

By the time the song is over, the two of you are laughing, and you feel as if you can't breathe. "Didn't know you had that in you, Maxipad." The nickname is from an inside joke that you remind him of because it embarrasses him. You used it in hopes that it would make your own pitifully flustered state less noticeable.

"Please, all of those arcades I played Dance Evolution at growing up had me ready." He made his way back to his snack stash, grabbing a cookie. "Even though I was more of a Pin-ball guy. I still have record scores at the arcade in the town I grew up in."

You steal a cookie off of his plate, the bitter-sweet chocolate delight melting on your tastebuds. "You still need to show me what an arcade is like. Maybe we could hit that one." Previously, you had a conversation where you revealed that you've never been to an arcade in the past, which left Peter deeply offended. He vowed to take you to one soon, but the two of you as of lately had found yourselves so busy there was simply never a time.

"Damnit! You're right." His expression of distraught quickly changed to that of a happy one with an idea. "There's an arcade machine in my room I can introduce you to! I mean, it's nowhere near as fun as the entire arcade experience, but-"

"- That sounds perfect, Peter." You didn't even have to be convinced.

You stayed at the dance until it ended for another hour, and Peter seemed to be rather eager to get back, considering the cleaning was going to be a group effort with all of the teachers; but he took the initiative to do it all himself instead of waiting and finished it all within a minute. Not that anyone was complaining, though. It was well past midnight, and class would still be resumed tomorrow at the normal crack-ass of dawn. Any sane person would pass up Peter's offer and reschedule for another time. But not you, you were so unimaginably happy to get invited to his room that the offer still remained as good as gold.

He sped you to his room, and it was everything you expected. For a man almost in his thirties, his decor resembles that of a teenage boy. This ranges from posters, snacks, and scattered piles of clothes on the floor. You can sense his immediate panic due to him not preparing for your presence. Frantically, he zips through his room, and a moment later, it's spotless. You laugh at this. "You know you don't have to do that for me. Mine is probably way worse."

You saunter over to the large arcade machine in the corner, touching the plastic buttons. "Did you buy this thing?" It's clearly a very expensive piece of equipment, gathering by its newer looking condition. Peter comes up behind you, chuckling to himself. "Nah, bro." His response made you certain that he'd stolen it, likely in his youth when he was a bit more scandalous.

Turning around to face him, you notice he's rather close. As much as he was earlier, except clearly not for the reason of dancing. You can't help but remember how low his hand was against your back. If he'd moved it even an inch further, he would have been touching you much more sensually. You wouldn't mind if he had.

As a matter of fact, you gathered that it's strange he'd invite you up so late. Yes, it's Peter, and he's never been the predictable type. But never in the years that you've known him has he invited you to spend quality time together at one in the morning, in his bedroom.

Once again, you shake yourself out of your lingering thoughts, ashamed. You're so ridiculously horny that it's embarrassing. He remains where he stood, playing with the strap of your dress.

"That's gotta be uncomfortable. Do you want something else to put on?" His thumb grazes over the red mark where the strap had been rubbing against your shoulder. Before you can even answer the question, he's searching through his dresser. He pulls out a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and sweats. Not wanting to be rude, you take the clothes and step in his personal bathroom for privacy. Looking in the mirror gave you a small boost of confidence. Your makeup looks still wonderfully intact, and the dress you picked hugs your curves beautifully. It makes you feel so elegant that you almost feel sad to take it off.

But you can't. When your fingers give the zipper on your back a hard tug after many other failed attempts, you begin to panic. The fabric must be seriously jammed for this to happen. You've never had this much of a struggle taking off an article of clothing. For over ten minutes, you desperately try, breaking a sweat as you do so. That sadness from earlier changes to desperation as you try to then pull the dress over your head. You are unable to do this. It's too tight and won't even come over your shoulders.

Peter must have started to grow concerned with your absence. Hearing a knock on the door makes you jump. His voice from the other side is quiet. "You alright in there, bud?"

Your hands cover your face in embarrassment. You feel like you want to scream. It takes you a moment to awnser, fighting yourself on what to do next. There's a small window in the bathroom you think is large enough to jump out of, but considering your mutation is not flight and the fact that you're on the second floor makes you decide against it.

Finally, deciding to fess up, you stand at the door, opening it. "I'm stuck. My zipper is stuck." Clearly having no issues himself, he is already in his own comfortable clothing. You can see his suit disregarded on the floor in the corner of the room, that godforsaken tie on top of the pile. You know you can trust Peter to help you. He's not a creep. Not anything besides the occasional childish sex joke.

Peter laughs, motioning for you to turn around. "Geez, it seems like you just want a reason for me to undress you." You turn your head back to give him an eye roll, but accept his help and lift your hair up to assist him. His hands are gentle as he fights with the zipper. He seems to struggle as well, fiddling with the fabric for quite a while before finally you feel the sweet release of the restrictive clasp coming undone. After hours, you can finally breathe.

He'd just undone the top, but his hands stayed in their spot. Tingles went down your spine as he continued to slowly bring the zipper down. It was getting low. When you put it on earlier, it went all the way down to your ass before it was zipped. Right before he gets to that point, you stop him with your hand. Turning around to face him, you awkwardly smile; his hand still behind you.

Ultimately, you had enough, placing your hand on his chest. You aren't brainless. That was definitely a signal. "Peter, did you really invite me up here to play games? If not, that's fine, but I'm kinda dying from anticipation right now. Sometimes, I feel like you're leading me on. But then you do things that make me think we're just friends, and it's really confusing. And I have no problem with just being friends, but it's the middle of the night, and I'm standing in your bedroom half naked instead of playing Pong like we said we would and -"

He ends your rambling by pulling you close, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips. You deeply inhale, taking a moment to register what's going on before kissing back. It feels heavenly, like drifting down a lazy river that doesn't have any kids in it relaxing. Like, your brain is slowly going to mush and becoming more and more useless as you continue, but you're totally okay with becoming a human vegetable if that means you can just keep going. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the connection. He tightens his arms around your back before lifting you up off of the ground, slowly twirling you around in a circle while in the air. This makes you snicker against his lips, which he reciprocates. The happy moment makes your brain foggy with admiration.

"I'm an absolute loser for not doing this sooner." Peter lays you down on the bed, joining beside you. Your legs hang off of the edge of the furniture. "I really, really like you. I have for a while. When we decided to have a prom I wanted to ask you to go with me so bad and be all cheesy about it, but I pussied out so I decided that the next best option was to get Jean and Raven to teach me how to dance so that we could." His words are being sputtered out like rapid-fire. "Please tell me I'm not finally saying this too late, and you haven't met someone else?" His voice is soft, laced with hints of doubt. He brings his fingers up to your hair, brushing it off of your cheek and behind your ear.

Your discomposure becomes all the more obvious as you pick at your nails, fiddling with your hands anxiously. This entire moment is more than you could even fathom in the past, like a fairy-tale coming to life. He likes you. He has liked you! Every pent-up feeling you've ever had for years has been reciprocated. "Peter -." You pause, trying to think on what to say. "You have no idea how happy that makes me. You wouldn't be late even if you had waited another few years to tell me that. I've liked you for a while."

Peter rolls himself on top of you, pressing multiple kisses to your face. He starts with your forehead, traveling his lips quickly down your nose, then rapidly on your cheeks. The affection feels pleasantly smothering. Finally, with one last final peck on the space between your brows, he connects himself to your lips once more. It's even better than the first time, giving you more of an electric sensation.

You grow heated, the sensation making you feel aroused. The kisses on your end grow more open-mouthed and inviting. When his tongue slips inside hungrily, you whimper, reveling in the feeling. This only encourages Peter more as he lifts his arm behind your back, making it arch while gliding his other hand down your torso. He groans delightfully, feeling your curves with fervor.

"Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?" His voice is deep with longing. His tongue laps against the sensitive flush of your neck. He finds the spot that makes you gasp the loudest, sucking the area just enough to make a small mark of his presence. You definitely don't ever want him to stop. He continues to go lower, trailing down between your breasts. Peter pulls you up, sliding the already half-off dress down your shoulders. His face turns bright red as a gawks at the sight of your bare chest. His finger rolls over your soft bud as he feels it harden beneath it. Squeezing your soft mound, he plays with you for just a little longer before connecting his lips to yours. There's a certain gentle urgency in his touch that brings you to an otherworldly place. Nothing else matters in this moment besides his hand that's slowly coming up your thigh. You can feel yourself already slick with arousal as you squeeze your legs together for some kind of friction. Peter senses this, using his hand to spread you apart as much as he can with your still clothed bottom-half.

He cups your center with his palm, rubbing over the area. His fingers curl inside of your folds, the ghost of a touch teasingly going over where you need him most. You mewl desperately for him, grinding into his hand. He grins against your neck, chuckling to himself. "So wet for me already? That's extremely hot. Have you ever gotten this worked up for me before, when you're all alone?"

He finally rubs slow circles against your clit, causing your eyes to screw shut with ecstacy. You can only bring yourself to nod as a response, finding yourself physically unable to speak in such a state. His hard-on is pressing against your leg. You can tell he's just as desperate as you are. Taking your hand, you press it against his chest to signal him to stop. His movements coming to an end leave you with a sense of longing as you get up, but quickly, you remove the rest of your dress and allow it to fall to the floor. Fervently, you slide down his pants and boxers. His cock springs to life after no longer being restricted by the confines. His tip is already leaking precum. The craziest thing about this entire ordeal is how natural it feels, but perhaps that's because of how often you find yourself imagining it.

Peter swallows, knowing where you're going with this as you wrap your hand around his shaft. You squeeze him lightly in your hand, testing the waters by giving a few slow pumps while watching his reactions. His face contorts in pleasure as he leans back on his elbows. He refuses to look away, fascinated by the sight of you. You experimentally lick from the bottom of his length to the tip, swirling your tongue around it. The taste is actually quite nice, faintly sweet. You suck his tip once more before finally bobbing your head down, taking as much of him as you can. It's only a little more than halfway before you can feel him against the back of your throat. You have to hold back gagging from the sensation. Peter lets out a deep groan, saying your name like it's his mantra. As you continue, his groans grow more needy. His hips instinctively thrust upwards, causing your eyes to water as he fucks your throat. A part of you grows embarrassed, knowing the tears in your eyes and swollen lips are not the greatest sight to see. But Peter trains his eyes on you, mesmerized.

He pulls you off of him, taking off his shirt before aligning himself with you. You look down and admire his toned muscles, stroking them curiously. It's wonderful. He feels and looks like one of those majestic Greek statues. Not the weird ones with small dicks and missing noses. Peter's cock teasingly rubs between your wet folds, brushing against your sensitive clit. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him to go inside. He begins to push his tip in, slowly bottoming out. When he finally does, he gasps, squeezing your hips. The feeling is delectable as he stretches you out so perfectly. You can feel your walls fluttering around him. Nodding your head, you signal for him to continue.

His pace quickens fast, and Peter pulls one of your legs up as he thrusts to go deeper. His eyes are trained on your expression, trying to find the perfect spot to hit in order to fully satisfy you. When he achieves this, the upward curve of his dick rubbing an area that makes your eyes practically roll to the back of your skull, he drills you just like that into the mattress. You find yourself unable to hold back the unholy noises you had no idea you could make. Pleasure overwhelming enough to make you mentally check out.

You begin feeling an all too familiar intense fondness in your abdomen. It's like a tital wave threatening to spill over. You grab Peter's shoulders, pulling him close. He peppers kisses along your collarbone, thrusts getting more uncoordinated and sloppy. He's getting close too, you can tell by his labored breathing and moans that are growing slightly more high-pitched and frequent. His hand reaches down, buzzing against your throbbing bud to finish you off. Your eyes shoot wide open, not expecting that suprise. Sure, you've seen him use this technique in the past to break glass, but never had you imagined that he could do this. He pumps once more deeply inside of you, sending you over the edge. Blinding pleasure explodes throughout your body, sending you into an oblivion. Peter pulls himself out, cumming on the soft skin of your stomach and letting out a guttural moan.

He collapses on top of you, nuzzling his head in the crook of your shoulder. Sweetly, his hand runs through your hair, a string of unintelligible compliments being whispered in your ear. "You're so perfect, baby. Never, never, never ever letting you go. Never. Don't ever leave me." Those are a few of the many you manage to make out. You tightly embrace him, allowing yourself to relax against him.

You feel a sudden shift, and in the blink of an eye you find yourself wearing the clothes he gave you earlier, all cleaned up. He is instantly laying beside you again, fully dressed, with a blanket covering the two of you. He pulls you against him as he lays on his back. Smiling, you trace small circles onto his chest. "We should do that more often, huh?"

He nods excitedly, pulling you in tightly. "Oh hell yeah, we've got years of being deprived we gotta make up for."

[haet-sal]

An Attic Affair//Younghoon x reader smut

Since the Kim brothers moved in, your life has been hell. Sunwoo took over your room and made you sleep in the attic, and Younghoon… well, you don’t mind seeing him. What makes it hellish is that you’re incredibly attracted to him, and he doesn’t even seem to notice you.

Tags: stepbrother smut, KINKY fingering scene (but who cares youre already fucking your stepbrother), he calls u a 'SLUT', scene of watching porn + lots of masturbating, PERV!hoon+sunwoo (panty-stealing & ogling), perv!you, hoon calls himself "oppa" once, unprotected🤷‍♀️, BULLY!Sunwoo, hoon is VERY NICE to you

W.c.: 5.5k

Excerpt; “Don’t worry,” he says, “oppa learnt a lot about making dumb little bunnies like you cum. I bet I can make you cum… hmm…” He flicked your nub, making you squeal. “... with just a flick of my finger.” He’s still laughing at how you were trying to compose yourself, and failing.

~~

“Move over, idiot.” Sunwoo pushed you out of your high chair, and sits down with his breakfast. The same way he pushed you out of your room.

“You decided last week that that was your seat,” you say, pointing to the chair across from you two.

Sunwoo grunts. “I’m sorry, we have ‘permanent’ seats in this house?”

Your mother says it’s just the thing with having siblings now, you’ve been an only child so you don’t know how to share—why couldn’t you be more like the Kim brothers? When Sunwoo calls her ‘mom’ your mother just goes nuts with pride, so when he asked her, “mom can I please have Y/N’s room, it’s so much bigger,” she immediately gave it to him.

You couldn’t even move to the guest room, because it was now taken over by the older brother, Hoonie—who had moved into an apartment in the city, he didn’t even live here—but they wanted to keep his room and stuff there, so you had to settle for… the attic. Bullied out of a bed by Kim Sunwoo, who in the eyes your mother could do no wrong.

It wasn’t enough that he saw you battling with attic dust and cramped space every time you came down out of a ladder for breakfast, Sunwoo had to take everything else from you—your seat at any table, your laptop because his kept ‘freezing’, any alone-time you could get—and still wasn’t satisfied. Sunwoo was a bully. You didn’t know how your mother couldn’t see it.

You didn’t hate all the Kims, though. Your new stepdad was a great guy, the perfect fit to your mother’s jigsaw puzzle of a heart, and Younghoon…

You didn’t hate Younghoon. You didn’t even know how someone could begin to hate Younghoon. You first met him wearing some shabby Christmas sweater, but on the day of the wedding, he had a suit on…

You got cake frosting in your nose staring at Younghoon back at the wedding. You didn’t understand how fabric could be so sinful, more sinful than nakedness, how the thin white silk shirt hugged his chest, and the length of his legs exaggerated by the tailored pants… Younghoon was like a vision of a dream you couldn’t get enough of. Thank God he lived in the city, away from you, or you would have committed multiple crimes.

As you were staring Sunwoo down at the breakfast table, the front door suddenly opens, and two long legs strided into the dining room, to your surprise—Younghooon is in the kitchen, picking out muscats out of a bowl. “Hey, appa. Hey, mom.” Younghoon had started calling your mother ‘mom’ too, to your disdain. “I got a break from my job, and my roommate’s got his girlfriend over the whole time, so I thought I’d just come see you guys. Surprise?”

He takes a seat beside you until you’re sandwiched between both brothers. Your mom shot a look at you—“Sweetie, let them sit together, they haven’t seen each other in a while.”

Once again pushed out of your seat, you frowned, only Younghoon goes: “that’s alright, we’ll let her eat in peace.” He shot a look at Sunwoo. “You haven’t been more of an evil bastard, have you?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” But Younghoon was only there for the attic thing, and not the laptop-borrowing and all the bullying that’s been going on.

~

You knew Sunwoo was a bit of a perv to other people, but… he wouldn’t steal your panties, would he? It’s weird, because it happens sporadically—once when you still kept your clothes in your old room, and right now. It’s just that he took your favorite lacey, pretty-pink-and-yellow ones, so it’s hard to not notice.

You rifled through your closet in the attic trying to find the missing panties. You thought you’d wear them, just because Younghoon’s around and you need your intimates to feel sexy. But they’re nowhere around.

Sunwoo couldn’t have, right? He’s not that sick. But who else could have? Certainly not Younghoon, who only ever even smiles at you out of obligation.

You won’t confront Sunwoo, though, just to not embarrass the both of you. He’d just deny it anyway… And currently he was hogging the bathroom just because he knew you were planning to shower.

You’re clutching your change of clothes to your chest as you knock on the bathroom door, trying to word your commands as sweetly as you could: “Sunwoo, I need to shower before my appointment!”

“You can’t rush me,” he retorted. “I’m doing my 16-step skin care routine.”

“Sun—” Your yell got interrupted, as you froze on your spot, to see a half-naked Younghoon with a towel around his waist, coming up to you.

“Oh,” he says in realization. “You were waiting on him, too? Then you can go first—”

“No!” you gasped. “No, you should—if he decides to come out, that is.”

“Hey, it’s your home,” he offered with a friendly smile.

The door swung open, and Sunwoo marches out, also half naked but ineffective on your psyche. You knew he only came out because he heard Younghoon, not because he finally felt some pity for you.

“16 step skincare routine?” Younghoon says with a sing-song.

“It’s how I keep my face baby-soft, loser.”

“Looks rougher than those basketballs you throw around to me.”

Wordlessly, Sunwoo reaches for the towel around Younghoon’s waist, and pulls it towards him, laughing maniacally as it comes off, and he throws it into the air before exiting the scene. You turn away from both boys, staring off, holding a scream inside your throat.

“Hey,” Younghoon says with a laugh, “Y/N, it’s fine. I had boxers on.”

“Wh–What? Oh.” You bat your eyes until you’re seeing clearly; Younghoon had boxers on, those baggy plaid boxers perfect for lounging around if he were living alone.

You imagined him on the couch, absentmindedly watching the TV, manspreading, the outline of his dick thick and dark in the shadows it casted. He’d reach under the waistband of those boxers, eyes still fixated on the TV in front of him, and start palming his cock, until it grows pink and needy—

You drop your change of clothes you had just thinking of it, and Younghoon looks dumbfounded. As you both reach out to grab them off the carpeted floor, Younghoon’s body ends up so close to you, half naked, almost like a side-hug. You feel his chest against yours, body so warm and real and solid.

He’s so hot. You pull away. “Um, you should shower first,” you offered. “You’re… older, and all.” You ran back to your attic screaming internally.

Brother, you tell yourself, that’s your step brother. Jeez, please, chill out, Y/N!

But you just felt his naked chest against your body, like if he were holding you in bed—

What bed! You groan. You were sitting on the mattress in the attic with your towel and clothes, waiting for Younghoon to finish showering. You willed yourself to not think of what he looked like naked—you’ve already seen enough. A whole lot. And still it wasn’t enough or you?!

~

“It’s so perfect that Younghoon’s here!” your mom starts to say. You’re confused. Why? “I wouldn’t have trusted you two here, but with your big brother here, maybe me and your stepdad can go on a trip!”

Sunwoo just grunts in response. You’re aghast—not that you didn’t trust Younghoon, but even your mother wouldn’t defend you against Sunwoo’s raids—how would Younghoon?

But the older boy grinned at your two parents. “You two should have fun, mom and appa,” he said. “We’ll take care of the house.”

~~

Your parents were packing for the trip, as they hurriedly booked a hotel with a lakeside view. You sat on the bed in the master bedroom, helping your mother with her luggage. “Do you have to go?” You couldn’t bear thinking about what Sunwoo would be like if some adults weren’t around.

“Younghoon’s here,” your mom assured you.

The said man was currently leading against the door frame talking to his dad about sunglasses, and if they were gonna swim in the lake. You sighed, dreamily staring at him. Just all the fun you couldn’t have… From downstairs, you could hear Sunwoo loudly playing fifa.

“Younghoon’s very responsible,” says your step dad. “He was resident advisor back in college!”

“Nah.” Younghoon scoffed cooly. Since returning to town, he had cut his hair the way wall street brokers do—clean cut, full forehead showing, dark brown hair pushed aside. The perfect son-in-law look, too bad your mother already calls him son. “Resident advisors are assholes on power trips. I was just the guy that helped deal with them.” He grinned, shooting you a look. “Hey, young lady, before I forget, I brought you a present.”

You raise your eyebrow in confusion, gingerly following him out to the former guest room—which was better than Sunwoo’s current one, and big enough for two people. You’d be mad at both brothers, if only Younghoon wasn’t so goddamn nice.

“Here.” He handed you a neatly folded burgundy-brown hoodie, incredibly similar to the one he wears to bed. You couldn’t control yourself from bringing it to your nose, and it smells like him, freshly taken out of his luggage, where it had laid folded next to his cologne and aftershave. So heavenly, boyish, sexy. It felt like hugging him.

“Thanks!” you chirped to Younghoon. “You’re the nicest.” The hoodie was a medium version of the oversized one he wore to bed. It’s disgusting to make a coupling joke with your step brother, so you don’t.

You looked back at the luggage it had come from, and you just… thought of something. Wouldn’t it be so cool, if you could have Younghoon’s actual, well-worn clothes? Like one of his soft giant shirts? Something that was just entirely his?

You’re so stupid. But it’s just a crush—you just needed to get over it. Right?

Well, you thought, if Sunwoo could (allegedly) steal your panties, you could take Younghoon’s shirt.

~~

While Younghoon and Sunwoo had dinner on the empty first floor—your parents had left already, adding to the stillness—you had an amazing idea. A horrible, perverted idea, but amazing nevertheless.

You open the door to Younghoon’s room ajar so it didn’t creak, and rifled through his bag. Where was it, the pristine-bleached white shirt, with the badge on it, that makes Younghoon look like an Abercrombie model? Your hands brush against the cold glass of his cologne, and you bring it out to sniff the top.

Like a creep. At least you weren’t sniffing underwear or something, ew—it was just cologne. Expensive french cologne.

Everything in his luggage was oversized and therefore too conspicuous if you take it away, so you decided to go through his unfolded just-dried laundry, which he had just done. Going through the first couple items… something flimsy and lacey fell out of it.

You thought you knew what it looked like, so you grab it from off the floor. Your panties, the ones you lost. What was it doing here… You felt embarrassed by the thought of Younghoon seeing your panties, so you just pocket it, thinking it got mixed in from the washing machine—ugh! That’s so embarrassing.

Under the pile, you find the white shirt you were looking for, and giddily take it away. He’d just think it had gotten lost somewhere, right?

You take it and threw it up the attic, ready for whatever you were going to do with it. Emphasis on whatever.

You go back downstairs to greet the brothers like nothing happened, you knew you had to do their dishes soon, which you think was your duty—only, Younghoon is pressuring Sunwoo to do them.

“You can’t just not wash your own plate, loser.”

“Why not? I let our dear little sister wash them, all the time,” Sunwoo says with a laugh.

“Sunwoo…” Younghoon sounded like he was losing patience. “Be nice to y/n.”

“No,” Sunwoo retorted, “why should I?”

“You wouldn’t do this if you didn’t like her, though,” Younghoon said in a scolding, all-knowing tone. “If she was ugly you’d leave her alone—you’re too obvious. Have some respect for the person that gave up their room just so you could jack off in it.”

You could see Sunwoo’s face, but from the back you could see that he literally flinched, stepping backwards out of instinct. Younghoon didn’t care. “Now I’ll wash the dishes for tonight, but tomorrow you’ve got no excuses, okay?”

Sunwoo didn’t dare storm away, but he got out of the kitchen as fast as he could; you hid yourself behind the stairs until his footsteps disappeared into your old room.

You felt semi-bad about causing a fight between the brothers, so you gingerly approach Younghoon at the sink, where he was getting the water ready, and offered to fill in for him. “I… usually do those,” you say softly. “Let me?”

“Don’t worry about the dishes,” Younghoon assured you with a smile, “I’ll wash them—or Sunwoo will wash them. For this week, just relax, can you do that for me?”

He reacted to your surprised expression by ruffling your hair like you were a little kid, and then avoided your body to grab the dish-washing gloves.

Can you do that for me? Jesus, it sounds like ‘can you do that for daddy?’ like in every porn you’ve seen before. The way Younghoon stood up for you gave you a knot in your stomach, and not even the bad kind, which you were so concerned about.

Now you feel extra bad for what you were planning to do with his shirt.

~~~

You type in ‘stepbrother’ into the search box, already cringing, toes curled and fists clenched. Eww, you did not want to do this, but your neanderthal brain was telling you otherwise.

The guy in the video is a white guy, so different from Younghoon, but soon he’s feeling up his costar, while she pretends to be unaware. You wondered what you would do if Younghoon did that to you, although he wouldn’t. He was just so clean-cut, and didn't seem to have a hint of perversion in his head.

You started to think of Younghoon’s cock in those plaid boxers again, the thickness of the shaft, the whole head of it, although left to your imagination it grew hot in your mind; you started closing your eyes and teasing your clit with just one finger, thinking more about Younghoon than concentrating on the porn, until it was just a mess of moans to you and it was Younghoon acting it out with you, in your head.

“Yeah, you like your stepbrother’s cock that much?”

You grabbed the shirt now, the fabric thin from being so well-worn, and stuffed the fabric in your mouth, the scent of it—Younghoon’s smell, his detergent and after-shave and just him—around your face reminiscent of what it would be like if he were gagging you, three fingers in your mouth— “shh. You wouldn’t want mom and dad to catch us, would you?” You shivered already, toes curling as the thought of him fills you up the way your fingers filled your cunt up.

With the video still playing, you toyed with yourself mercilessly, as if you were trying to get a rise out of yourself, moans perfectly muffled by the shirt that there was no way either step brother could hear from downstairs.

You came to the thought of Younghoon, his kind eyes turning feral as he watched you this way, hand inside your soaked panties and your pajamas unbuttoned that he could see your chest; you imagined him standing over the mattress, watching like a freakishly tall stalker.

When you open your eyes, he’s not here, and the audio plays blaringly from your headphones as the actors crash into each other, less chemistry than you and Younghoon had. You spit the shirt out of your mouth, his scent still lingering.

“Ah, I love your fat cock!” “Yeah, your tiny cunt is squeezing all my milk out of me—”

You hurriedly close the tab, cringing. Ew, did people actually talk like that during sex? You’d only had it once—the one time you lost your virginity to some kid named Soobin in college—and it was done in complete silence and whispers and coos, nothing like the pornographic monstrosity.

You quickly delete your history from your laptop, in case Sunwoo comes to borrow it again—imagine if he’d found stepbrother porn in your history. He’d get the wrongest idea in the world.

Or what if Sunwoo figured it out? That you were head-over-pussy in love with the older Kim? That would be so fucked up, a new way for him to torment you. You could never let him figure it out.

~

“I’m having a party,” Sunwoo tells you, as if it wasn’t obvious from the way he was setting up food and beer and one-use cups. He toiled with a beer bottle in one hand, wondering if he should start drinking before anyone even got there. “Just don’t be here because I don’t want my friends making comments about you, or anything. Also, help me set up the chips table first.”

“You’re not in high school anymore, idiot,” you replied, having half a mind to slap the chips bowl out of his hands. But then he’d just make you clean it up. “And I’m not Cinderella to help you with a party I’m not even allowed to go to.”

“Okay, attic rat.” Sunwoo was fluffing up pillows. “Just be gone when they get here, understood?”

You looked around the house—Younghoon had left to meet his friends, and wasn’t there to defend you, and maybe Sunwoo is right, maybe you should haul out, you didn’t want his friends making comments about you, either.

You shot Sunwoo an indignant look, though. “Go fuck yourself.”

“That’s no way to talk to your brother.” He drinks the pre-party beer.

~

When Younghoon comes home from having coffee with his friends (Jacob and Kevin), it’s late and his house is up in lights and loud with Sunwoo’s new age rap blasting from the speakers, and the smell of alcohol and weed overwhelmed his every sense to the point that he could taste it.

He found his brother smoking with a girl in the back porch, and immediately dragged him back into the house by the nape of his neck, leaving the girl stranded there. “You threw a party?”

“I haven’t had the house to myself since forever—”

“All you gotta do is move out, you sock.” Younghoon looked around the house. “Where’s Y/N? You know if your troublemaker friends see her, it’s gonna be a whole thing.”

“She’s been gone since I told her we were having a party, I think,” says Sunwoo. “I told her to get lost, anyway.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Younghoon chides under his breath, but Sunwoo goes back to drinking his beer out of a used cup like he didn't hear him.

The party was continuing downstairs, and the 2nd floor was more deserted. Sunwoo’s loud rap music seemed to die down slowly as Younghoon got on the 2nd floor… and then started to unlatch the ladder towards the attic.

The sounds muted down completely once he’s in, and he quickly pulled the ladder back up to cover his traces, and also so no one could follow him and interrupt.

He started his routine of rifling through your underwear drawer, last time he got lucky with those pretty pink panties, so now he wanted something else, something just as precious and sweet that makes him cold-sweat from the tension in his lower belly. From the moonlight streaming in from the skylight, he finds a pair of panties, white with a ribbon on them, pretty but cotton instead of lace, and he decides, as good as any other. Younghoon brought it up to his nose, and smelled only the detergent and fabric softener, and not a sense of you.

Needing you desperately, he heads over to the bed, thinking of lying on the same mattress as you, trying to think of what you’d look like all these nights when you touched yourself, whatever you touched yourself to. He crawled on his hands and knees onto the mattress, thumbing over the panties like he would with your skin, until nipples hardened and tight little warm walls twitched.

~~~

You were awoken as you felt movement on the other side of the mattress. You’d fallen into a deep sleep since Sunwoo told you to get lost, thinking you’d crash at a friend’s for the night, but you’d fallen asleep even through the party. Goddamn it. Now who was in your bed?

You rolled over, until you were nose-to-nose with Kim Younghoon himself.

You screamed. “Younghoon?! What are you doing here?” But your bodies were so tangled in your sheets that he couldn’t get away from you, and was in fact actually tied together, you basically on top of him.

“Y—Y/n!”

“What is that you’re holding?” you ask; it’s too small to be a phone. Unless… no way.

Younghoon tries to shake off the feeling, but he’s still frozen in his flight responses, frozen while you touched him and wrestled the fabric out of his fists.

“My panties?!”

Busted. Younghoon’s face was heating up, even if you couldn’t see it in the dark. “I–I was—” he started. “Uh, just… going through your laundry?”

You’re the one frozen now, and Younghoon quickly disentangled himself from the sheets, uncovering the little white mass stuck in the foot of the mattress—holy shit. “Is that my shirt?!”

He picked it up. “It’s stained.” You have no words, so Younghoon looks back at you, grinning maniacally. “Were you being naughty?”

It’s horrible how his entire demeanor could change in a second. Under the blankets, he started to touch you, not even a little shy, grabbing you close by the waist so horribly hot and warm. “Ah, so you were cumming to the thought of me, your step-brother?”

“I—I’m sorry!” you squeaked. “Wait, my panties—are you—are we…?!”

“Do you want me?” Younghoon asks, voice dropping several octaves just so hoarse and sexy. In the dark, he stared at your form with glinting eyes. “I do,” he says when you wouldn’t. “I want you so, so… bad…” His fingers crawled up your bare thighs—you were wearing just a night dress, flimsy and short.

“You don’t even notice me,” you huffed.

Younghoon scoffed it off, although he looked concerned. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said, “plus your mom and my dad wouldn’t have liked it if I kept staring at your legs, like Mr. Obvious downstairs. Although, I did stare, when you were just too… juicy to look away from.”

You’re aroused, it showed. “R–really?” you squeaked, trying to keep your hands to yourself. He was still wearing his outside clothes, a button down and actual tailored pants. He smelled like his normal cologne, too.

“You’re a sick, sick, girl, you know? Wanting to be noticed by your step brother…” His free hand cupped your face to make you face him, harsh against your skin. He hummed, as if deriving pleasure just from touching you. “But don’t worry, I won’t punish you or anything. You know I’m the nice one.”

“Younghoon…” Your hands go up to press against his shirt, although not pushing him away, yet.

You hear him hum again, this time with a little giggle. His hand is trailing up your bare thighs, now landing between your legs, at the very core where all the heat and pulsation were coming from… He prods it with just one long middle finger, rubbing against the nub and the slit—although it doesn’t catch your clit to stimulate you, the lewdness of your step dad’s son's hand behind on your bare cunt was doing enough.

“No panties,” he observed with a cocky laugh. “And wet. What, were you dreaming about me?”

You moaned his name again. “Please…” Your hands went to his shirt and grasped onto a bunch of the fabric, like pornstars grabbing on bedsheets. You could feel his heart, and despite his demeanor, it’s pounding so hard in his chest.

“How many fingers do you think you’re ready for?” he asked.

“Um… two.” That’s a good number to start. His fingers are long and thin, but bigger than yours anyway.

“Hmm, you are tight.” He was prodding you with one finger, and when he enters, two fingers in you—it’s almost too tight in you, too much, too soon. Stuffed up inside you, so foreign.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “oppa learnt a lot about making dumb little bunnies like you cum. I bet I can make you cum… hmm…” He flicked your nub, making you squeal. “... with just a flick of my finger.” He’s still laughing at how you were trying to compose yourself, and failing.

Suddenly the door to the attic unlatches, the stairs springing down. Your goddamn attic wasn’t lock-able, from either side. Goddamn it. Younghoon stops everything, his free hand coming up to cup your mouth, eyes wide in alarm. “Shh,” he whispers to you.

It was a couple of Sunwoo’s friends. “I don’t know if I want to go up,” one guy was saying. “There’s spiders, and it’s Kim Sunwoo’s house—who knows what kind of monstrosities he has lying around?”

“You want to do it in his parents’ room?” This was another guy.

Younghoon’s fingers were still inside of you, and slowly, they begin to curl, uncurl, curl… You suppress a moan by biting down on your tongue, but the guttural sounds threatened to spill out of your throat.

To silence you, Younghoon hurriedly planted a kiss to your lips, tongue fighting its way in and taking over yours, when you moan it’s right into his mouth, the sound getting muffled and tortured and he kisses you with more force. His fingers up inside of you are now working faster.

You think you’d scream if he didn’t stop—or also stopped—you shut your legs, but his long, veined arms are persistently still stuck and working between your thighs. When you open your eyes, you see the moonlight catch in his fanged teeth—he’s laughing soundlessly at your plight.

“This is creepy,” the partiers were saying. “I’m high, anyway, I think I’d fall of the ladder if I tried.”

“Right. We’ll go to his parents’ bedroom—if someone hadn’t beat us here.”

Younghoon looked at you, releasing you—both hands now away from you, body pinned against yours. The ladder was still down, the light from down the stairs spilling upwards.

“We should close…” you started to say.

He kissed the back of your ears, one hand pinning your arm down. “Mmm… I like knowing someone could walk in…”

“Hoon, we’re not meant to be doing this, we’ll get in trouble. You’re my step brother.” Now you really sounded like a pornvid reciting its lines.

Younghoon shushed you, parting your legs with his knee. Your bare pussy under his legs, you couldn’t help yourself from grinding against his thigh. “Such a bad girl,” he remarked in a strained voice. “Ah.” He lifted your leg up higher, and took himself out, rubbing the head against your cunt. “You want it?” His voice was still deep from whispering.

You simply nod.

“Use your words…”

“I… I want you to fuck me.”

“Tell me how much of a bad girl you are,” he says, tone still teasingly tantalizing. “Tell me how much you want your big step brother’s cock buried inside you.”

“I want my step brother’s cock in me, I’m so bad. I’m so… hnng, fuck…” You couldn’t reach the bed sheets, so you just grab Younghoon’s shirt again. You were making an untidy mess of his outside clothes, although he still had hair still perfectly parted like for an event, he looks amazing. And he’s inside of you, buried all the way, he zaps his head away from you just to make a guttural grunt. “Fuck, Y/N. You’re so bad, you… you know that?” He pulls out, only to slam back in, and you squealed.

“Already? I haven’t even…” He’s now obeying the urgency in your eyes before you can even say ‘faster’. He’s quick and fast and thick and hard in you, and he’s starting to break out in sweat just from the heat of it all.

He tears the rest of the blankets away from your bodies so he could thrust into your pussy easier. You just hear his panting, and just to silence himself, he bites down on your shoulders, and up your neck. You hear “hnngg, yeah~” out of his lips, like he was having a hard time controlling his own pleasure spilling out from him.

You moaned. “Sunwoo’s gonna see these…”

“And think you’re a slut that fucked one of his friends,” Younghoon says. “Is that what you are? A dumb little whore that just spreads her legs for everybody?”

“N—no!” You’re doing everything just to not scream, but it’s excruciating holding it in. “I’m n–not a slut. I’m just a slut for—for you, Hoon…”

Younghoon laughed. “Is that right?”

He switched the position to missionary, holding you underneath him as he pounded your poor cunt, the same way he imagined he would when he was masturbating with your panties. You hear his strained panting again, his lovebites still stinging along your neck. You threw your head back and moaned.

“So, so wet… baby…” It grew sloppier, with sounds of the wetness of your cunt and his precum, disgustingly mixing. Younghoon fucked you harder now, knowing he had to pull out soon. “Fuck… fuck!”

Your hands crawl up from under his shirt, scratching his back. He was so big, every part of him… you sink your nails into his waist. “Ugh, Hoonie…”

He hurriedly took himself out of you, panting, to spill his seed on your stomach. You still had your nightdress on, and the cum got on it, white against white… It’s almost beautiful, a ruin of your innocence. It satisfied Younghoon enough, that he just fell back into the mattress beside you, catching his breath. “I’m… sorry…” he said. “Ugh, I feel like such a bad man.”

You wiped it off your belly with the dress, and then took it off. “No, I liked it,” you reassured him. You put the dress away into the laundry basket, and put on the hoodie that he’d given you, grinning at him. He had his eyes closed, slowly feeling the post-ejeculation clarity.

You crawled over and shut the latch, blocking it with a box so no one could come in. “Seriously, though… Sunwoo might see your hickies,” you say.

“Let him.”

“I don’t want him to call me a slut, to add to everything else he calls me.” There was a truthful sting in your voice that Younghoon felt the pain. He gathered you in his arms, until you were just cradled so tiny in his chest.

“Shh, it’s alright.” Younghoon kissed the side of your face again. “I’ll take care of you, okay? You’ll sleep in my arms tonight.”

~~

“What the hell is that?” Sunwoo demanded at the breakfast table, cups still scattered around the kitchen counter.

“What the hell is what?”

“You got laid last night?”

“Kinda weird that you notice it when you can’t even get your eyes to open from the hangover,” you pointed out, “are you in love with me that much?”

He stuttered. The first time Kim Sunwoo had ever stuttered in his life, although maybe the hangover was giving him a brain fog. “Shut up.”

Younghoon was cutting you strawberries in heart shaped cutters and frying pancakes on another pan. He watched you out of the corner of his eyes, smiling to himself.

“Hey,” Sunwoo whines when Younghoon makes two portions—one for himself and one for you—and leaves him out. “Where’s mine?”

Younghoon pinched your thigh under the table, the way he did last night… you threw your head back and moaned a little from the pain.

“Whatever!” Sunwoo groaned. “I’ll probably just vomit everything back up, anyway—I’m gonna nap.”

As soon as he turned his back, Younghoon inched closer to you on the seat, lips attached to the same place he had sucked hickies on. “This is so fun,” he giggled. “And just the beginning of the whole of it.”

~~

Who wants part 2 where you fuck sunwoo too!! Tell me if i should write it ahahahhaa

[luveline]

hihihi! request for zombie steve au! maybe someone at the college bullies reader into thinking she’s not good enough for steve?

just gotta say that I LOVE LOVE LOVE all your works & esp this au 😩 it just does something to me

hi thank you so much for your request! I didn't make it so severe as bullying I don't think, but tw for bullying just to be safe, and suggestive! tw mentioned weight loss <3 zombie!au steve 9k words

The dinner line is long and winding. You and Steve stand elbow to elbow, the smell of refried beans and homemade tortillas near hypnotising.

"I know the tortillas are gonna taste a little weird, I just don't care," you say, the hand you’ve curled around your boyfriend's forearm squeezing enthusiastically. 

"Imagine if they had cheese," he taunts. 

"Don't be evil, Steve." 

His laugh dissappears into the swelling sounds of a hundred conversations. It feels like high school, bodies packed into the same room like a bingo wheel, people bouncing off of one another frenetically as the night turns forward. There's a lot of happy energy in here tonight. You're contributing at least half. Not even Steve's unfortunate truths can get you down. Yeah, you miss cheese a lot, but after a full day in the pantry shift and close quarters to such gorgeous smells, you're ravenous. 

Your stomach gives a rumbling groan, and Steve's pressed so close to you that he can feel it. He wraps his arm around your shoulder to kiss the top of your head. 

His easy affection sates you for a while. You turn to watch the people already sitting with their meals, jealous but not too much, and find your happiness isn't grudging. You're happy to be here. You won't take this stroke of luck for granted, not again. 

You and Steve get your plates, refried beans, roasted greens seasoned with a vibrant red that smells spicy and decadent. There's definitely olive oil mixed in. You thrum with pleasure but wait patiently for steve to collect his own helpings, your cutlery, and finally, your drinks.

Robin sees you coming and waves you down unnecessarily. She's sitting with a dark-haired girl called Vanessa, and another girl you're unsure of. Vanessa had been part of your rescue squad, the team of people who'd fought to bring you back to The College. You'd show her some gratitude if she deigned to look at you. 

No matter how snooty you find her, Robin likes her. You try to like her too. 

"Hey," you say, putting your place setting down in front of Robin to encourage Steve to her side. 

He might downplay it but you know how much he loves her, and how much he'd missed her when they were separated. She's an extremely important part of his life. You wish he'd spend more time with her outside of scavenging and supply runs, but Steve is stuck to you like glue. It's awful and amazing. 

"Hi, killer," Robin says. 

You scrunch up your nose. "We're still using that?" 

"You were impressive!" she emphasises. 

Steve puts his drink down before his plate. She's quick to grab it, taking a generous swig as he grumbles and grouches. 

"Do you mind?" he asks. 

"I don't. Tell your girlfriend you think she was impressive!" 

"She knows exactly how I feel about her."

You smile at him. You know more than enough. He's a sweetheart through and through, and though the incident Robin's referencing hadn't been one he loved, he agrees; you'd managed to cut down six zombies all by yourself when they'd split off from a herd that managed to infiltrate community defences, and Steve had thought you were a rockstar. He'd grabbed you, covered in blood and sweat, and asked you why you couldn't just stay inside, and then he'd hugged you for too long, and said later, "My girl's a fucking weapon." Like a nerd. 

It's not complicated. Steve had been in danger. You'd wanted to save him, and you'd tried. Turns out he'd be the one to save you… for the hundredth time. But your efforts impressed him. 

Impressed everyone, according to Robin. 

"Hey, Vanessa," you say warmly. 

Vanessa gives you a strange smile in return. Despite mutual friends, Vanessa hasn't warmed to you. She'd been one of the only people who'd volunteered for your rescue squad but you're starting to think that hadn't been because she liked you, exactly. She just couldn't really say no. 

"Hey," she says. "How are you?" 

Civil you can do easily. You and Steve had been civil for weeks. 

"I'm good! Yeah, we heard there were gonna be real tortillas tonight and thought we'd get here early, but everybody had the same idea, I guess." 

She laughs politely. "We did." 

You wouldn't villainise Vanessa for disliking you. You barely like yourself. And, in your opinion, you'd gotten pretty damn lucky that Steve likes you as much as he does, though a small voice whispers that it'd been a grudging sort of love, like a flower squeezing its way through two panels of sidewalk. A weed that isn't supposed to be there. You worry often and in droves that Steve will come to his senses. He's gonna wake up one day, look at your sleeping face, and realise it isn't enough. 

When you'd first joined The College community, you'd thought for sure that was it. Steve was gonna trample your heart once and for all. He never did, of course. The opposite — he'd doubled down. Told you he loved you for the first time, and a second time, too. 

And now, miles trekked to get you back, his calf a blistering star of heat where it kisses your own beneath the table, your doubts fade away. 

Vanessa doesn't have to like you. That's not the way the world works. With Steve at your side, the rejection barely stings. 

You rub your shoe gently against his ankle. He looks up at you, a crazy amount of tortilla in his mouth, and he looks so silly you laugh hard and suddenly. 

He covers his mouth. 

"I thought you were looking somewhere else," he defends. 

"Pig," Robin says, still sipping at his cup of water. 

You rub his ankle again. A joke waits at the tip of your tongue, You're lucky I love you. It would feel good to say, but it's not your thing. You've never been outwardly romantic. 

His cheeks pink a little under the fluorescents. 

For Steve, you can be romantic. 

"You're lucky I love you," you say. 

There's too much emphasis on 'love', not enough on 'lucky', and the joke refuses to land. Your voice is softer than silk. It's all too sweet. 

"More than lucky," Steve says, grinning at you.

You try to put your glass of water on his tray. He puts its straight back on your own. 

"Robin's gonna go get me another one," he says. 

"I need one for myself," she says, unhappy. 

"You have two hands." 

"Will you get me a refill?" Vanessa asks. 

Christopher, another of Steve's fast friends, slams his tray down next to yours happily. Jonathan is right after him, and then the table's filling up with people: Jonathan's younger brother sits beside him, and the younger brother's friends follow. They're all glued together, you swear. You recognise Dustin in the throng, his chestnut brown curls crushed under a blue hat bragging the Claypole Farmer's Market, wherever that is. 

"Steve's getting drinks?" Chris asks.

"For me too, please," Jonathan adds. "And Will, if you don't mind." 

"I actually do," Steve says. 

"And us!" Dustin says, smirking. "Thank you, oh gracious one."

Steve looks at you for a second, slack-jawed. Can you believe this shit? He stands up, grumbling, and forces his hand between Robin's upper arm and chest to drag her with him. 

"Come on, Rob, I can't carry them by myself." 

"Steve, please, I'm tired," she moans, her words all lifted and croaky. 

"How'm I supposed to carry them by myself? Am I a fucking squid?" 

"I'll help," you say, happy to do it, anything for him and at any time. 

He puts his hand out to you, a universal gesture for Sit the fuck down. "Buckley will be more than capable." His smile softens. "Thank you." 

You pout at him very gently in a kissy face to watch him light up. It's cheesy and rom-com, and it works like a charm. By the time he gets Robin on her feet the tips of his ears are completely blushed, a stark red against the mousy browns and blondes of his hair. 

"Hey, Y/N," Chris says, mouth full of tortilla. Boys are all the same. 

"Hey," Jonathan echoes, and at least his hand is in front of his mouth, "how are you feeling? They let you back in the kitchen yet?" 

"They did. Hopper really didn't like that I broke the lock down rules, but at the same time, I think he understands that I'm a grown up." 

Lock down rules being, once a door is shut, it stays shut. Do not give a herd the opportunity to worm its way inside. 

But you'd made sure the coast was completely clear, and after Maybelle and Pauline, your fellow kitchen staff, had vouched for that, he'd let you off the hook, and back to work. You hadn't realised how punishing not working could be, especially when Steve had stayed on shift, his time split between scrounging outside of the community and fence duty. There's nothing to stop you from spending the day thinking about what-ifs, which is veritable torture. 

"You missed the kitchen? Did you make these?" Chris asks. 

You turn to your food and tear off some of the warm tortilla, sighing with pleasure. "No, I'm just kitchen pantry, you know? I'm sorta like an accountant. Like Dora in the armoury, or–" You nod at Vanessa with a smile. "Vanessa. You're in charge of the toiletries and stuff, right, with Cooper and Dean, and those guys?" 

She clears her throat. "It's more than 'toiletries and stuff,'" she corrects with a stilted laugh. "It's everything that isn't food. Medicine for the medic, the nursery supplies, the batteries. It's important." 

"No, of course! I didn't mean to imply anything else. I can't imagine." 

You're sure her smile this time is genuine. You and Vanessa can't seem to mesh because she's a little more serious than you are and your easygoing tone rubs her the wrong way, but you think your explanation makes it up. 

She opens her mouth to speak when Dustin leans over the table, projecting his voice down the line. "Y/N! Are you coming to cards club tonight?" 

"I don't know, babe," you say, startled at his question. "I thought so. If Steve isn't too tired then yeah, absolutely." 

"You can come without Steve," Jonathan says. 

"I know," you say, softly so you know he's grateful for the reassurance. 

"You're the only one who can beat Will at Yahtzee. You have wicked luck," says Mike, their pale, dark-haired friend, who usually rivals Dustin for hostility. You're glad he seems to like you. 

"Yahtzee isn't luck based," says Will. 

The entire group groans at the ignition of a familiar argument. 

"Robin, if you fucking nudge me again I'm gonna make sure this goes all over you," comes Steve's voice. 

You turn in your seat to watch their procession of glasses, at least six between them with not a tray in sight. Robin looks confident, Steve terrified. You jump to your seat to rescue him, taking his third glass from the nestling group so he can pick up his pace. 

"Thank you," he says, dipping his head down for a kiss. 

You're surprised but never not wanting to be kissed by him, your chin lifting on automatic to reciprocate. You chase him when he pulls away, turning one kiss into two, his lips the tiniest bit chapped against yours. It's a comforting pressure. 

You ease away. "Are we going to card club tonight?" 

"If you want to, of course we are." 

"You aren't tired?" 

"You're saying I look ugly." 

He glares at you, faux-offended.Your laugh is peeling, infectious to your own ears. 

"No!" you deny. 

"Right." He tries to be deadpan, sighing in defeat when he can't keep up the illusion. "Shit, I almost had it. S'too bad I'm a sucker for you when you smile like that." 

— 

Later that night, you and Steve are sitting around the very same tables that have been wiped down with a watery lysol, and you have an amazing three game Yahtzee streak going where nobody can beat you.

Steve's ears are ringing with the clattering sound of dice in the shaker, and he's freezing. It's a great night. He shrugged out of his jacket to lay it over your shoulders, and has to periodically readjust it to stop it from falling to the floor, your arms moving enthusiastically with each new shake. 

Steve winces as Dustin makes a fatal mistake. He’s used his two sixes to mark a 12 in the sixes column, holding out for a yacht.

"Dude, the chances of getting Yahtzee are like, one in a thousand," Steve says.

"One in thirteen hundred," you correct, already scooping up Dustin's die to take your turn. 

"One in seven thousand and seven hundred for each number," Mike says. 

"Ew," Steve says, face slumped into his palm, elbow aching where it's pushed into the table. "You fucking nerds infected my girl." 

"It's in the rule book," you say, shaking the circular dice container with your hand on top. You throw them out on the table and assess your given numbers with a frown. 

You have three threes and two ones. You keep the threes and shake the other two dice again. Yahtzee had felt complicated when Steve first learned how to play, and now it feels maddening. It's definitely luck based, in his humble opinion, and that has nothing to do with his never winning a game, he swears. 

"Does the chance of rolling a Yacht get higher if you keep the dice?" he asks, gesturing to your three threes.

"Yeah," you mumble, throwing your second shuffle out onto the table. "Yeah, but it's pretty negligible, handsome. Goes from point one to point two."

"It isn't negligible," Will denies. "It's probability, not luck, and it isn't point one, it's zero point zero eight, and it can be as high as zero point five. That's one in two hundred."

"That math isn't right," Dustin says. 

"Yes, it is."

"No, it isn't." 

You throw out your last shuffle and everyone leans in to see what you rolled. Your three threes are kept to one side, and your new rolls clatter to a halt in front of Steve. 

"Holy shit," he says. 

You rolled two threes. 

"Yahtzee!" you cheer, pumping your little fist adorably. Little in that it's smaller than his, and not very little in reality. "Alright, who's next?" 

"The game isn't over," Dustin says, peeved. 

You peer down his scorecard. He could win, theoretically, if he were to score multiple yachts, or if he'd been careful with his aces, ones, etc. 

"Nah, it is," Steve says. "Take it like a champ, Henderson." 

Dustin refuses to give up, playing until the end. You score a solid 319 to his less impressive 178. 

Steve robs your hand before you can agree to a rematch, forcing you to unfurl your tensed fist. He loves doing this — he presses the tips of his thumbs into the sides of one of your fingers and pushes down. It must hurt a teeny tiny bit but you never say a word, only giggle at his touch and lean toward him like you might tell him a secret. He would lament how much time he wasted being an asshole to you if he had the wherewithal. As it is, he's enchanted with you, and he isn't casual about it, pushing all of your anxiety down to your fingertips. He brings them to his mouth and kisses them each in turn. 

You pull your hand away. He thinks you're standing up to leave the table, but you're moving closer to him and straightening your back. He can picture the ache between your shoulder blades as it is between his own, the weird raw feeling, a tightness. 

"Want a neck massage?" he asks as you place your hand against his cheek. 

You brush your thumb over his stubble. "Do you want a neck massage?" you ask, unperturbed by his sudden question. His jacket threatens to slide onto the floor. 

"Are you offering?" 

"Not in cards club." You look over his shoulder. "We could play poker."

"The buy-in's too expensive." 

"What?" You frame his face with your hand. He's not sure you know you're doing it. "We can spare it, isn't that why we brought it?" 

Buy-in tonight is a bar of soap. Half the time everybody goes home with what they brought anyways, so you're obviously not worried. 

You squeeze his cheek and laugh. "You'd be cute if you were chubby." 

He grabs your hand, face warped by an irreplaceable joy, a delight to have you and be with you, a sparkling kind of lightness to know you're safe and happy here. He kisses your cheek, and says, smushed up against your skin, "You're cute." 

"Thank you." 

He hums. "So. Poker?" 

—

You have a small sink in your room with a hot and cold faucet, though no matter which one you choose, the water comes out cold. It chills your face as you scrub. When your face is reasonably wet, you lather the bar of honey soap Steve insists on keeping at the side of the sink between your fingers before dropping it imprecisely into your boyfriend's waiting palm. He laughs under his breath at the clumsy manoeuvre. 

You listen to him do the same as you had as you soap your face. You give special attention to your nose, your eyebrows, and your ears. Steve laughs again as you work a small towel behind them. 

"What's funny?" 

"Nothing." He holds his hand out for the towel, patting down his face with less ardency. He isn't less clean for it. "You have suds under your nose. Tiny moustache." 

He reaches for it with the towel, lifting your face with the back of his hand under your chin. His eyes are their forever warm brown, fixed on your top lip with a dedication that makes your baseline fondness for him surge. 

"I was pretty bad at poker, huh?" you ask. 

"No?" He dries a lingering stretch of dampness painting your cheek before dropping the towel behind the faucets. "You didn't win. Doesn't mean you were bad." 

"Vanessa said I should stick to Yahtzee," you tell him. You pause, wanting his input, and worried you're feeling offended by something that isn't inherently offensive. 

"Vanessa should stick to lawn darts," he says, chucking you under the chin. 

He starts to pull his pants down like it's no big deal. It isn't, not after so many months together, you've seen him do worse in worse states than this, but it feels forbidden anyhow to watch him climb into bed. 

"Could you pass me my sweatpants?" he asks, face turned into the pillow, his shoulders deflating.

"You're decompressing without me." 

"Am not." He pushes his hand under the pillow, shoulder blade shifting under his shirt noticeably. "Hurry and decompress with me."

You throw his sweatpants at his calves and he does a sort of vertical dance to put them on, one leg then the other, lifting his hips and dropping heavily back into the sheets when he's done. He looks at home. His relaxation catches you off guard, a pleasure to see even if it isn't strictly new. He feels safe here with you. 

"She's good at those darts," you say. 

"And shit at poker," Steve says agreeably. He lifts his head off of the pillow. "Are you coming in or are you gonna sleep standing up tonight?"  

You shimmy out of your stiff jeans and try not to feel the huge weight of his eyes on your skin. It's an impossible task, and you fail immediately. 

"Stop looking at me." 

"M'not." 

You glare at him, find him absolutely looking at you. Your glare fades when you realise how loving his gaze is, how it doesn't waver for a second. He pushes the sheets down on your side of the bed and waves his arm for you to get in. 

You pull on your pyjama pants and take off your bra, climbing into bed beside him. He wraps his arm around you quickly, or rather under you, his bicep crushed by your shoulders. Chills prickle against your skin as he cups the flesh just shy of your breast. If Steve wanted to touch you like that, he could. You want him just as much as you don't, content to cuddle with him, content to kiss like teenagers with nowhere to go tomorrow, content to do worse. He spreads his fingers over your torso, pinky nudging the underside. You'd let Steve touch wherever he liked, and he'd enjoy doing it, you think. That's a gift in itself such casual intimacy. 

"Vanessa, is she…" Steve's minty fresh breath pushes over your face like a small gale. "She's not picking on you, is she?" 

You like to be honest with Steve, and you want to be honest now — I don't know. But you hate thinking he'd have to look after you more than he does already. 

"No," you say, "we just aren't a good fit."

"Like a puzzle?" Steve asks sceptically.

"Guess my pieces are a little warped after spending so much time with you." 

He laughs like you're the funniest girl he's ever met, a big breathy sound with the punch of his voice behind it. "Guess they are," he says, hand climbing higher over your chest. "Is that a bad thing?" 

"Never," you say lightly. 

He smiles at you. You forget Vanessa's out of place comments, her weak smiles, her for-show friendliness in front of Steve. She doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things, and letting her dictate your thoughts in gorgeous, glowing moments like this would be a waste. 

"Love you," you whisper. 

Steve nestles into the space under your jaw. He doesn't fit but he does, of course he does, he's your everything. If that's where he wants to sleep tonight, so be it. You turn into his grasp to take the pressure off of his arm and return his gentle hugging, forcing his face closer so you can breathe in the smell of his hair. 

"Love you," Steve says. He kisses your neck chastely. "Turn the light off?" 

You reach back blindly and switch off the lamp. Everything will be okay as long as you have your boy. Right? 

—

Vanessa gets worse. She makes neutral comments with enough friendliness to make you wonder if she's truly being cruel? Am I just looking for a fight? What do I want? 

Maybe it's Vanessa's clear preference for Steve. You could be jealous. You aren't sure what jealousy feels like in relationships until she's touching him when she doesn't need to be and smiling at him like he hung the moon. She doesn't go overboard, though. She keeps her hands mostly to herself. She goes as far as to tell Steve that she thinks you're beautiful. 

You don't know how to explain your reservations to him if he can't already see it. If she'd really thought you were beautiful, surely that's something she could say face to face, rather than the unhappy little nod she gives you whenever you cross paths? Despite evidence suggesting it, you don't think Vanessa's trying to make a move on Steve. 

She's a bit of a bitch, but that's not a crime. Unfortunate? Yes. Illegal? No. Immoral? You aren't sure. 

It's her most obvious dig yet that manages to grab Steve's attention a second time since the poker incident.

"I couldn't let my eyebrows grow out like yours," she says, voice bubbly with a faked awe, "I think it's super cool of you."

"Vanessa," Robin says, eyes on her plate, an inquisitive twist to her voice that you've come to know as her sarcasm, "we're in the apocalypse." 

Steve, who'd seemed torn between speaking up and genuinely confused about the comment Vanessa'd made, chokes on his food beside you, soup dribbling down both corners of his mouth as he laughs. You wipe the corners of his mouth with your long sleeves.

"Jeez, you're like my baby," you say. Your voice is occluded by Jonathan's silvery giggles. 

Steve swallows roughly, "I resent that."

He still lifts his chin so you'll rub the bead that's escaped down his throat. 

Vanessa ends up laughing too, says, "I think I'm just crazy tired," punctuated with a high-pitched laugh. 

"Honestly, me too," you say, because maybe she is, and maybe she needs just a little smidge more benefit of the doubt. 

"I've been keeping her up," Steve says smugly. 

"He still making you read that King book? The Gunslinger?" Jonathan asks. "Will wants it whenever you're done." 

"Every night," you say. 

You're pretending it's a chore because that's what you and Steve always used to do. These days room for sincerity is much larger, but it's fun to give him a hard time when, at the end of the day, you'll crawl into bed together and tuck his face into your neck, flipping to the dog-eared page of your worn paperback to read in dulcet tones until he's a dozing weight warming your skin.

Steve looks for your hand under the table and lets your small group of friends laugh at him. Chris makes a whipping sound through the corner of his mouth. It's surprisingly accurate, and it makes you laugh worse, leaning your weight into Steve's arm for support in an action so familiar it's entirely thoughtless. 

"It's not that funny," he murmurs, breath tickling your forehead. 

"M'not laughing," you say. 

You are most definitely laughing. It's a good moment, even if Vanessa's comment sticks around underneath to nibble at your heart. 

He doesn't let your hand go for a really long time. Not when you're taking the plates up to the dirty dishes trolley, or on the walk back to Little Hawkins' with everybody in high spirits. He struggles to unlock your door one handed and he's still insisting when you try to tug away from him. 

"Let me make the bed." 

"We're getting back in 'n like, ten minutes." 

"You're tired?" you ask. 

"No. I just wanna lay down with you." 

He says it simply. Concise, with neither affection nor anything less. It's damn near factual. Steve just wants to lay down with you, out of everything in the world he could do. He could be haunting Robin's room, stealing snacks from under her bed and claiming them as bribes for not tattling on her to Hopper. He could be with Dustin in the new rec room —aptly labelled Nerd Club, when put to a vote— arguing on how to spend the valuable alloted half hour of TV time. 

He could stay with you and insist on other things. Reading. Self-defence. A walk around the community. Sex. An early night. A cold shower. 

But he's content to lay with you, to share one another's space without asking for anything else. 

Though you won't rule everything out. His kisses lately are a lot more than you're used to. 

"Let my hand go, you fiend!" you declare, overcome with a rush of affection for him. "I'm gonna make the bed and we're gonna lay down and then after that we're gonna go bother Robin." 

"You know, I'm not sure I like this you and Robin thing." 

You tug your fingers from his. It's like trying to escape a sticky fly trap. 

"You mean us being friends?" you ask.

You throw all of your throws and pillows onto the ground and grab your thick quilt, shaking it out over your mattress as Steve groans. 

"Exactly!" 

"I thought you wanted me to have friends?" 

"Of course I do, you word-twisting douche." 

"Nice, nice. Dustin or Mike?" 

"I stole that one from Will, thank you very much." 

"See! You have upwards of four friends, Steve, and I'm not allowed to have any?" 

He grabs you from behind. You drop the quilt with a sigh, going limp as a fish in his arms. He staggers backward under your dead weight but manages to keep you up, breath tickling the inside of your ear as he says, "No, you're not. Just me." He kisses your ear.

"I tried that and everyone got mad at me." 

"No, they didn't." 

They really didn't. You cover his arm with your fingers, rub your fingertips over the hill of his arm. His arm hair is soft. 

"Steve." 

"What?" he asks, his hands crawling down to cover your stomach.

"Don't squeeze me." 

"You're very squeezable." 

"I was way more squeezable before, remember." 

You'd lost some weight from the start of the apocalypse to now. Steve hates it. You're perfect, he'd said once, no matter what. But still, he laments your lost weight for what it represents — times where you and he had struggled to survive. 

"I'm working on that," he promises. 

You turn your face, shifting in the circle of his arms to meet his eyes. He has gorgeous eyes. You'd admitted that to yourself a long time ago but each time you really stare into them it takes a moment for it to settle. He is a pretty, pretty boy.

He's looking at you with a soft smile. Then, for a split second, you swear his eyes rove up to your brows. It's more than likely your imagination.  

"Let me finish making this bed," you say, turning back to the discarded pile of pillows and blankets. 

"You want your jammies?" 

You snort happily. "Yeah, sweetheart. Lay 'em out for me, please." 

—

For the last week or two, Steve has noticed a change in you. You've changed a lot since you met him (for the second time). You've gone from prickly and distant and somewhat distracted to determined, vigilant. You may not come on scrounging missions outside but you're brave, and you've survived more than he ever wanted you to have to go through. 

This change is distinctive. It's like you've reverted to how you acted when you were more friend than girlfriend; you're self conscious. 

He really hates it. 

He can't work out what he did, or what happened, but it sucks. He sucks. 

"There has be be something you want," he says. 

You're standing with him by the south fence. He and his team are about to head out for the shopping mall for as many blankets as they can carry. 

"I just want you to be careful," you say. 

You look tired. It's early in the morning, and you'd woken up earlier still. Your hair is freshly washed from a cold shower. 

You're still not comfortable showering without him, but of course the other girls aren't comfortable with him sitting in there when they're naked. You've had to schedule your showers for the dawn hour. 

"I'm gonna be careful for free," he says, pulling at a wet strand of your hair. He scratches lightly around your ear before hooking his fingers underneath it, his thumb drawing from your cheek to your lips. "Pick something you want and I'll find it. You know, Robs said we might be able to pass by a real small cherry garden on the way home. Do you–" He should know this. Why doesn't he know this? "Do you like cherries?" 

Thankfully, you laugh at his question and let your face fall into his hand. He thumbs your ear lobe gently. 

"I don't want anything at all. 'Cept for you to be extremely careful," you say. 

He pulls you in for a hug, smashes a messy kiss to your head, and tries to pull away because he's cool and the guys are watching. 

You're less quick. You rub your cheek against his chest. 

"Please, Steve," you whisper. 

He frowns. There's something you're not telling him. He wishes you would, but clearly you don't think you can. He's gonna try to do whatever it is he needs to do to get you there.

Steve takes your face into both hands. 

"I will be super careful, dummy. That's my middle name, I'm Steve Careful Harrington," he says. 

"I thought your middle name was Danger?" 

He kisses you. "No? Who told you that?" 

Your laugh is pretty enough to keep him smiling for most of the hike to the mall, until Robin says, mid sentence, "–Jeez, you're pathetic." 

Pathetic for you is something he doesn't necessarily mind being, but pathetic in general he cannot abide. He spends the rest of the hike stepping on the sides of Robin's shoes as she retells the plot of Murder on the Orient Express. Steve had seen the movie once but he's never read the original novel. Lucky him, Robin had an Agatha Christie phase when she was twelve, and she knows all the best parts. 

Hike is a strange word considering all of their walking is through steep roads. They move past rundown cars, streets and streets of abandoned houses scraped clean. There's an elementary school with a rusted playground in front. Vegetation has already started to spread through the packed wood chip flooring, and one of the swings has a broken chain. Steve hadn't realised how quickly human things fell into disrepair when attacked by the elements and left maintenance. 

The mall is a better example. Smashed glass lays around the entrance in tiny pieces like a huge back of upturned sugar, and bluegrass eats its way between paving stones. The team consists of eight people, including Steve, Robin, Christopher, and one of the College's co-leaders, a mister Jeremy Livingstone. They make their way carefully through the glass and grass in a wave of crunching footsteps to the front of the mall, where Steve wedges the flat blade of his knife between the automatic doors and works them open. When there's enough room for a second hand, Chris slides in beside him, and they work the doors open. Steve's biceps are burning by the time they're inside the mall. 

"Alright, guys," Jeremy says. "There's a bedding store toward the back of the mall. We'll go there first, and then we'll try to work through the list of requests. Blankets and sheets are our second priority. Staying safe and alive is first. Only grab what you know you can carry, you can bring back whatever you want, just… don't be greedy. Alright?"

They head out for the bedding store at the back.

"How much stuff can we carry?" Robin asks him. "I have weak arms. I'm a weakling." 

"Isn't there uh, a fancy storage place? We could drag a suitcase back." 

"For two hours?" 

"Is it two hours? Livingstone! You want me and Robin to grab some suitcases?" 

Everybody fills a suitcase with sheets and blankets in plastic wrap. The brand new stuff feels like a luxury, and Steve dibs a double mattress bedspread made of Egyptian cotton, knowing that'll make you smile. Now he's got your mattress up on those crates from behind the cafeteria, your room has really come together. Blankets and trinkets and sweet glassware. You have a small shelf of books, your clothes, your pens and pencils. 

Steve'll bring you anything you want, only you don't seem to want anything at all. 

He'll just… have to bring you some of everything. 

—

Your tears taste salty. You feel gross for licking a tear off of your top lip but nobody's around to see you do it; Steve might not be home until dark. You have time to get this upset out of your system. 

You'd been asked by Maybelle to swing by Armoury and Amenities, an unofficial name for the building where the community keeps the bulk of its collective resources, for a new propane tank. You'd gone inside, said hi to Cooper, said hi to Vanessa, explained why you needed the propane, and left. 

Or, you'd tried to leave. The propane tank was heavy, and the front door had been difficult to open one handed. You'd swung it open, quickly put your hand back on the tank to stop yourself from dropping it, and watched in frustration as the door slammed closed before you could worm your way out.

"She's the one who got, like, taken?" came Cooper's voice, pretty much as soon as the door stopped bouncing. His voice echoed from the next room.

"Sure, taken." 

You'd stilled instantly. 

"What, you think she wanted to go?" 

Vanessa sighed. "No, I don't think so. She didn't try very hard to come back, s'all I'm saying." 

"Chris says Harrington's infatuated with her. Like he's under a spell," Cooper said, chuckling.

"It's gotta be some kind of magic, she's… Well, God knows he'd have his pick if he came back to reality. You have the catalogue? I wanna note the propane before I forget." 

And that had been that. 

You don't understand why Steve loves you, sometimes. You know he does. It isn't up for questioning. Love with Steve is a lot of things — long talks in the mornings about anything and everything, his fingers tucking your shirt into your jeans. It's him pulling your hood over your eyes whenever he's behind you and laughing when you grumble. It's hiding in places you shouldn't be, hand in hand. It's miles of Indiana highway. It's heart-racing anxiety that one of you might not make it to the end. Love with Steve is a devotion: he takes care of you. He's taken care of you ever since you met. 

You haven't stopped to wonder if you deserve it in a long time. 

I don't, you think, half tears and all heartbreak. You don't deserve it. You don't deserve Steve. He's too good, the kind of good that starts life in the marrow of bones. He's sweet and soft-handed with a softer heart. He looks like a dream, and it shouldn't matter but it does. His voice is the only one you like waking up to, his lips hovering by the shell of your ear. 

Time to get up, dummy. Rise and shine, angel. Baby, come on. We slept in, loser, and you need to get dressed. Hey, are you listening to me? I miss you, wake up. 

"Y/N?" Steve asks, trying the handle. 

You flinch hard, and your heart jumps with you. A flip flop somersault feeling in your chest that plummets to your stomach. You scratch madly at your cheeks with two woollen sleeves and stand up as he opens the door. 

"Hey," Steve says, and he's safe, he's alive and well and home again. 

He stands in the doorway with a bulging rucksack on his back, windbreaker zipped tight to his neck, hair a windblown mess. His nose is red from the cold and his cheeks are ice-bitten, though the colour is coming back to his skin slowly. 

You don't feel as though you deserve him but you can't help yourself from springing into his chest, arms around his waist before he can blink. Before he can see the wet mess of your face, and your tear swollen eyes. 

"Hey," he says again, leaning a great deal of his weight over your shoulders. He sniffs your hair. "Hey  dummy. Told you I'd get home fine, huh?" 

You try not to breathe too loudly against his chest. The fabric of his coat is stiff and cold, a contrast to your heated skin. 

"Hey," he says, for a third time. This time it's all powdered sugar soft. Concern and exhaustion wrapped together. "I know, I'm sorry it took longer than usual. It's my fault, I wanted to get you something 'n' I made us all late coming home, I know you worry."

You don't answer again. You don't know how to explain it to him. You can barely understand it yourself. You cling to him and his solid mass until he gives in, his mouth pressed to your temple, his arms tightening behind your head. He shields you from the world for a handful of long, stolen minutes. There's nothing but his hugs, no sound to battle the plastic sounds of his windbreaker or the blood rushing between your ears. 

"I didn't mean to worry you," he murmurs.

You don't trust your voice to come out whole. 

He freezes under your touch. A slow hardening. His hands pause where they'd been rubbing short, featherlight lines. 

"I'm sorry," you say, enthusing your tone with some self-deprecating cheer.  "You're tired, I'm sorry. You wanna sit down." 

"I really do." He laughs. 

You peel away from him, the two of you sheepish and awkward and it's so unlike you, unlike him. You think you've made a fool of yourself as he takes off his rucksack, laying it carefully on the floor by the bed as you turn to your shared dresser and rummage through the top drawer for some clean clothes for him to take when he showers. 

You've freaked him out, and he thinks you're a weirdo, and he's gonna realise you don't deserve him and you never could. You're bad at nearly everything, and you're a total slob, and you should've tried harder to get back to him, and it's all your fault. Misery grips you and drags you down hard. It spirals, surface level comments from a shallow, jealous girl, they twist and twist until you feel wrung out and useless. And now Steve's home, and you're–

"Are you mad at me?" Steve asks. 

You wince and face him, his sweatpants pressed to your chest. "What?" 

"You're not talking to me, and you only ever used to do that when you were mad." 

You pass him his sweatpants, clear your throat. "Stevie, I'm not mad at you." 

"Then what's up?" He unzips his windbreaker, keeping his eyes on you. "I know it's something." 

You force yourself to keep a mild smile. You can't think of a lie — you don't want to lie. 

Steve frowns as your face crumples, a large palm leaping to the curve of your neck. 

"What's wrong?" he asks. 

You can't align this Steve with the one you knew in Hawkins. He's so different. Or maybe he isn't different at all, and you're lucky to see the depth of his feelings, the expanse of his goodness and his heart and his secret smile, corners pulled up and eyebrows pushed down just so. It says, You're okay, because we're gonna do this together. The world will keep spinning for us as long as we want it to.

"I had a bad day," you say. 

"Are you sure? I've seen you on some bad days, baby. This doesn't feel like that, you know? And I get that I don't always know what to say, but I promise I wanna know. Whatever it is that's been making you all grumpy." 

His smile glows, his eyebrows rising. His teasing tone toward the end of his reassurance is a lightness you cling to. 

Lately, everything has felt so heavy. 

"I'm worried I don't…" Even attempting to say it has your throat aching. You cover his hand with yours. "Steve, I– I feel bad lately. I feel like I'm bad." 

He shakes his head, strands of his brown hair unsticking to dance in front of his eyes. "You're not bad." 

"I don't deserve you." 

He stares. 

"Being with you now, having you look after me, I didn't deserve you when I met you." A tear gathers in the line of your lashes. "I don't deserve you now. I'm just me, I'm useless, and you don't have to be with me and I've," —you take in a shuddering breath, and step away from Steve's hand— "been trying to work out why you're still with me and it doesn't make sense. Why do you stay with me?" 

"That's a stupid question," he says. 

You try to swallow a lump. It stays right there in your throat. 

"I got a policy against stupid questions, remember?" 

"Steve…" 

He cuts you off, tangling his fingers with yours, and easing you close until his breath is warming your lips and you can see the honey-browns that circle his pupils. They feel bigger the longer you look at them. 

"How can you ask me that?" he says gently. "You know how much I love you… Right?" 

You nod and knuckle a tear off of your cheek. "I know," you say, and you're crying now, little bubbling sobs that wobble your shoulders. 

"Listen, if I haven't been showing it I'm sorry, and I'll prove it to you. I don't want you to question it."

"It's not you," you say, pressing your forehead to his collar, craving his comfort so much that you don't care if you don't deserve it. 

"Everybody knows that line is a lie," he says.

"I'm not lying. Everybody knows I'm the part that doesn't fit." 

"Who's everybody?" 

You try to backtrack and pull away, but Steve won't let you this time. "I'm just having a bad day," you say, "and you've had a long one–" 

"Stop it." Steve looks at you seriously. He takes your face into both hands, like he always does when he's worried. "I don't care if I crawled home with two broken arms, loser. I gotta know what's wrong. All of it. And you need to tell me." 

He thumbs at your damp cheeks. 

"Okay," you mumble, embarrassed and relieved at once. "I'll tell you."

You insist that he take his shoes off and stretch out in bed even though he's got dirty jeans on, and he doesn't wanna get your nest of throw blankets dirty, so he peels out of them and sits in his boxers at the top of the bed. You slide in next to him, and he works his arm over your shoulder, and you cry like a baby when he calls you honey under his breath. 

—

"And these are for you, too," Steve says, pulling a slightly smushed box of cherries from the bottom of his rucksack. 

You look beautiful. Afternoon sunlight drips in from a crack in the curtains, kissing up and down your smiling cheeks. Your eyes are still puffy, but your smile hasn't moved all morning. 

"You didn't get anything for yourself?" you ask, though any outrage for him you harbour is hidden by your awe. "I don't remember the last time we got fresh fruit, and you didn't even put them at the top of the bag." 

"You're such a whiner. Just try one." 

Your fingers play delicately over the punnet of cherries. The cherry garden had had a lot of supplies left to 'borrow', and after a sickly half an hour of him and Robin staining their teeth, he'd managed to grab a perfect box's worth for you. Perfect before they got squished, that is. 

"You should have the first one," you say.

"No," he says, and shoves the box at your calf. "They're for you. If you like them, I want you to eat all of them and throw up like a godzilla." 

"Not sure you're remembering that movie right," you murmur, plucking one of the cherries out of the box. 

You bite into the cherry and your eyes screw up. "Oh wow, that's sour. I don't…" You finish chewing, and Steve is rocketed to cloud nine when you go in for a second cherry, and then a third. 

Last night had been tough. Steve spent a long time talking you down from what'd been sewn into your head, and he'd pulled the truth from you in strings. Vanessa had been cruel to you on more than one occasion now, which Steve had known but not to the full extent, and her last comment had been too much. Steve, unapologetically, hates her. 

But Vanessa isn't the sole problem. 

You're having a really hard time. All of this has been so much for you. It is, in Robin's words, the fucking apocalypse, and between nearly starving to death and all the shitty things that have happened to you, he isn't surprised to find you're fragile. And he doesn't say fragile, meaning weak. He doesn't know a lot about the world but he knows the human brain and body isn't built for this. You're his girl, and you're hurting, and while he knows objectively this isn't his fault, he vows to do a better job at protecting you. 

He won't fail you again. He can't. 

He watches cherry juice escape out of the corner of your mouth. 

"You're cute," he says. "Where's the disposable? Pass it over." 

"You are not taking a photo of me right now, baby." 

"You look beautiful." 

"When will we ever get the photos developed, anyway?" you say, laughing, kissing juice off of your fingertips. 

He leaps for the camera and tussles you when you fight back. You laugh and lose, weak with giggles as he holds you away, his fingers pressing into the soft plush of your waist. 

"Jonathan does all of that stuff," Steve says knowingly. 

He gives you a little shove. You cover your face with your hands, words muffled, "Thought the camera was for me?" 

"We're sharers. We share things. Look, if you don't smile for me I'm gonna take a picture of you in your underwear." 

You throw your hands over your lap and he snaps a photo of your shy face. 

"Shithead fucking pervert," you say. 

Steve knows he's off the hook when you laugh. 

He's gonna give Vanessa the coldest shoulder anyone has ever given, and if she were a guy Steve would defend your honour in a more physical manner. He'd suggested a verbal defence last night but you'd begged him to never, ever bring any of it up to Vanessa or your friends. It startled him —you have nothing to be ashamed of— but he'd agreed. Whatever's gonna make you happy is, perhaps cornily, what he wants to do.

Right now, making you happy is gifts on the floor of your tiny shared bedroom, pantsless but, fascinatingly, with socks. He points the camera at your ankles.

You grab the new blanket he'd given you and drape it over your legs. "Pervert," you reiterate. 

He puts down the camera. 

"Not my fault they made you perfect." 

"Who's they?" 

Steve shrugs, and can't keep the smirk off of his face as he says, "They made every damn inch of you perfect, especially but not limited to your pretty eyebrows." 

Your smile settles into something more timid. You push your hill of gifts aside, careful not to spill your cherries, and walk the short distance on knees to wrap your arms around his neck. Your face fits into the curve of his neck exactly the way it always will. His hand cups your lower back. 

"Love you, Harrington," you say. 

"How much? 'Nough to let me have some of the cherries?" 

You shake your head gently, the tip of your nose bumping his Adam's apple. "No…" you say apprehensively. 

"No? You don't wanna share with me?" 

"No." Your mumbling is adorable. Steve wants to eat you alive, or at the very least kiss you until you turn to jelly in his arms. 

If he starts now, he can be done by dinner. 

"Five seconds to change your mind. After that I'm taking all of them by force. Five, four, three…" 

You shriek, and even your shrieking  is a sound he wants to hear. You drop away from him and grab the cherries, cornering yourself too fast as you stagger to your feet and hide by the desk. Shoulders against the cabinet, you grab up one of your rare books like a shield, and you glare at him over the cover. 

"You said they were for me!" you say, real panic in your voice. You know from experience Steve will tickle you until you can't breathe.

"They are for you! I love you," he says, words dripping with a false sincerity (though he loves you, undeniably). "I'm just trying to help you, sweetheart. You don't want my help?" 

"You keep your help away from me, beast." 

It doesn't take him nearly as long as he'd thought to melt you. He tickles you, and he steals a handful of your precious cherries, and when he kisses you dizzy it leaves red-pink splotches over the column of your neck, his smile temporarily printed into your skin. 

—

ty for reading <3 I hope you enjoyed, and if you did pls consider reblogging <3<3

[ninapi]

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- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ Better Half ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

Premise: Nobara forced Yuuji to stop by a food stand every time they came back from a mission. The girl working there always entranced the youngster, causing his teammates to tease him more than usual. An odd encounter brings her a little too close to Sukuna who ends up just as smitten as his counterpart with the young beauty. Which half will get her heart? Only time will tell.

Word Count: 2381

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Old sweet Nobara…

She might be a good friend, sweet, loving teammate, yeah all that and more…but Yuuji had reasons to hate her, as much as he had reasons to love her.

Nobara loved the colorful streets of Tokyo more than anything in her life, she lived for the very little time she had to indulge in the magic of the alleys, though, every time they came out of a particularly tough mission, she would beg her loving teammates to stop by her favorite crepe stand.

“Oh c’mon! Like you don’t like going there as much as I do…More even…”

“I beg to differ…” Megumi plopped on a near by bench hoping that would stop her from walking any further.

“Ok, maybe you don’t. Cuz you’re a grandpa. But Itadori is a different story, isn’t it mate…?” her suggestive smirk made Yuuji uncomfortable to say the least.

“I mean…their crepes are really nice…so fluffy…and…flavorful…” his voice was low, so much more than his usual boisterous one, it was comical.

“Oh yeah, fluffy…definitely…” this made his cheeks turn crimson, his fidgeting getting in Megumi’s nerves.

“Gotta pee or something?”

“NO!”

“He’s just eager to see his lovely crush.”

“So he does like her, huh? I guessed as much to be honest...” heaving a defeated sigh, he got up from the bench being the one leading the team now on their way to the delicious smelling food stand.

“W-where are you going Fushigoro?!” Yuuji trailed after his friends that were currently sharing a mischievous grin like a lost little baby duck.

“Kinda hungry, man…”

“You should try the chicken one, it blew my mind…”

“GUYS! Can you stop for a second?”

“Of course not.”

The sigh that left the pink haired male made them burst into a flush of evil laughter, his sad puppy eyes and frown making him look adorable which just made it all worse for him.

“Aw, baby Itadori needs a hug. Shall we communicate his needs to the cute lady crepe chef?”

“Her name is (Y/N).”

“What? How do you know that Fushigoro? Do you like her too?”

“Too, huh? She has a name tag you moron…”

“Oh….really? I mean…”

“You mean to say you haven’t even glanced at her boobies? Wow, this is worst than I thought, I think he’s in love~” Nobara skipped her way over to the stand, dramatically moving her hands as she was a maiden in distress.

“I hate her…” his puppy eyes turned watery as he shared a look with Megumi.

“Nah…you don’t. Let’s catch up before she really tells her to hug you-“ he hadn’t even finished his sentence when Yuuji was already behind Nobara, a desperate look on his face.

“Ugh, HI!” a high pitch little scream left him, making him even more flustered, your cute giggles making him feel ridiculously happy for some reason.

“Hi~ You want the usual?” He had a usual? He realized he’s never really ordered anything, he just stares at your face from the moment he arrives until he leaves.

“Sure! It’s the best flavor ever!”

Nobara looked up with a raised eyebrow as she adds his order on the screen, “Strawberry cheesecake?”

Is that what he always ate? It was certainly good, girly as hell, but good. “Yeah, I mean is so fluffy, you should try it too, Kugisaki.”

“If you say so, I’ll get one of those then. How about you, Fushigoro? Chicken?” he just nodded, staying silent in the background assessing the situation from afar. He noticed how you’d smile at Itadori a tiny bit brighter than you did to Kugisaki, your pretty eyes sparkled so much that it made him blush, and that, was weird.

Your hands brushed Yuuji’s when you handed him his crepe, then placed the other two in a carrier and gave it over to Nobara. It was very unnecessary, yet you seemed to know how he’s always so hungry and eager, like you knew he wouldn’t wait until he arrived at a place to eat it peacefully, as if he was dying to bite onto it as soon as possible.

And right you were, his first bite was something else… his nose ended up full of wiped cream and that dorky smile of his full of crumbles.

You didn’t have to do anything about it, but you did. You leaned over the counter window and got it off his face with a wet tissue, the adoring smile you had on your face not easily missed by both of his friends.

“Sorry to break the lovey-dovey moment, but Gojo-sensei is waiting for us. We must eat them before he finds out we’ve been eating sweets without him.” she grabbed onto Yuuji’s elbow, dragging him with her like a dog on a leash.

“Ugh…(Y/N)! Thanks! It’s as good as always and I’m so clean now! Feels great! You're the best, your boss should give you a rise or something!”

“Oh for fuck sakes…shut up Itadori…you're embarrassing...”

He was now being dragged away from you by both of his embarrassed friends. His smile though, never leaving his face, just like yours didn’t for the rest of the day.

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“You went where??” Gojo was pacing back and forth in the classroom, lack of sugar being pretty evident in his current behavior making them feel even guiltier.

“We just made a little pit stop on the way, gotta eat too, you know?"

“You didn’t just make a ‘pit stop’…you went to my favorite crepe stand…and didn’t bring me anything….you’re such a soulless bunch of brats…it’s unbelievable…I’m so good with you all and you just…” his sulking increased even further, making Nobara giggle.

“You’re such a drama queen, sensei…”

“King, you mean. King of the world~”

“Ugh, I’m out of here…”

“So what’s wrong with Itadori?” stealing the last bit of his defenseless student’s crepe, Gojo sat on his chair, feet resting on his teacher desk.

“He’s in love…with an older woman…”

“She’s not an older woman!” the little snarl he gave Nobara was one that would rival a feisty tiny chihuahua, but it gave Gojo a pretty good idea of how serious this whole thing was.

“So, who’s this older woman?”

“The crepe stand girl.”

“Oh, ok Itadori’s right, she’s not an older woman…maybe a couple of years older than you at most. She’s a part-timer I believe.” the look in Yuuji’s eyes changed immediately, turning into a soft dreamy one.

“Though, you might want to keep yourself at bay, Itadori. Must I remind you the king of curses lives within you? Just thinking of sweet little (Y/N) being in danger makes me feel sick…” his words were harsh and made Yuuji recoil, he knows this, all too well, but there was no need to worry as much, is not like he was planning on confessing or something.

Without giving as much as a reply to his superior, Yuuji just left the classroom and hid himself in his own room for the rest of the day.

It was so frustrating to him how he couldn’t even have a crush, how much this curse has affected his life and how much he sometimes wished he would get to be a normal teenager once more.

To make things worse, Sukuna has been listening all this time…

Falling in love made Yuuji weak, his defenses were slowly disappearing and his mind was just somewhere else, the perfect timing to go for a little ride.

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Another mission came along the next day, it was an easy reckoning one, over after an hour or so, there was no excuse to go for crepes and for that Yuuji was grateful.

However, Sukuna himself had other plans.

Yuuji’s depressed aura as they walked past the street you worked at was the final push necessary for him to take full control of his host’s body.

“Itadori, how about we get some ice crea- 

Itadori?

Fushigoro…Itadori’s gone-“ looking around desperately there was no sign at all of their teammate.

“What? What do you mean gone?” turning around just as desperate, all he could see was a dust cloud, proof he had been there not long ago, but not just of that, but also of the fact that he had left at an incredible speed.

The amount of cursed energy coming from down the road overwhelmed the young sorcerer, his face paling instantly. “Kugisaki….Sukuna…he’s…he’s here…”

“Tch, of course, he loves coming out when Gojo-sensei isn’t here…What do we do now?”

Megumi’s face was worrying her, he’s not someone to show fear easily, it also meant he had no clue of what to do next and she wasn’t great at this sort of impromptu life saving plans.

“What’s wrong, Fushigoro? Is he going too far this time?”

He just nodded, swallowing his anxiety down, “The crepe stand…”

Now that was playing dirty…he would for sure harm you if that meant getting full control of Itadori’s body, the perfect token for blackmail.

With a frown and unshared words, both ran towards the direction emanating the ridiculous amounts of cursed energy.

Though, what they found at the scene was beyond their expectations.

You were leaning on the window, like you usually do to get closer to Yuuji, like if nothing was out of the ordinary, like he didn’t have a completely different appearance and voice, making Megumi frown with distaste.

While he was fully concentrated on your safety, Nobara had her eyes on Sukuna. Saying his demeanor was odd, would be an understatement.

His smirk was wide, his eyes mischievous, his elbows were leaning on the same windowsill as you were, his face inches from yours. “My lovely angel, would you be willing to go to the depths of hell with me? I mean, hypothetically of course…” his words made you giggle and blush.

In all honesty, you did notice the change, though you didn’t question it much, is not like you had knowledge of curses, therefore the idea of your crush being possessed by an evil curse never crossed your mind.

“Is hell a nice place?”

“It isn’t. But I would make it comfortable for you if you do agree to come with me…”

Megumi’s blood ran cold and without thinking much he grabbed Sukuna by his elbow pulling him away from you, “Itadori…you’re scaring (Y/N)…”

Truth is, he wasn’t though. 

You had a delighted face while talking to him and the flirting has been mutual the entire time.

While Yuuji’s real and sweet persona made your heart skip a beat with his cute shyness, Sukuna’s assertive and even commanding self made your knees weak. 

You didn’t really understand his change in demeanor and you even considered him having double personality, but the truth was simple, you liked both sides equally, and didn’t mind one bit if he indeed had it, he at least seemed to remember you in both states.

But you went along with Megumi’s act, as he looked quite disturbed and worried, he did know him better than you after all.

Megumi’s words seemed to stir something inside Itadori, his eyes switching from a harsh scowl to a soft worrying misty look. He was struggling to gain control back since he really didn’t want to harm the woman he loved and he knew very well what Sukuna was capable of.

“What are you talking about, brat? You like this side of me much better, don’t you gorgeous?” his playful wink made you swoon, causing Itadori’s stomach to sink just a bit.

“I like every side of you. Though, why the face painting? Are you guys performing art students?”

“Something like that…now If you excuse us, we won’t be getting any crepes today, we need to take him home, he needs a bit of…ugh…rest.”

“Think about it babe, alright? If you so wish to, I’ll make you my queen.” 

After his last statement, Yuuji finally managed to wake up and gather his bearings, he felt like crap and had no energy left within his body. With an arm around each of his friends, he was able to get back to the academy in one piece, though, his heart had taken a harsh blow. 

You liked Sukuna…but you also liked him?

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