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sugrhigh · 5 months

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HOTBOX - ( m.s )

part two

summary- matt finally decides to smoke with his best friends for the first time, and he finds that it’s impossible to keep his eyes off of you

warnings- drug use, swearing, tiny bit suggestive

bff!matt x fem!reader

a/n: WOOOO finally a real piece of writing! i hope u guys enjoy. will possibly do a part two but idk, so if you have requests just ask!

he can’t stop drumming his fingers against the wheel as he steers the car along, desperately trying to relax a little bit and focus on the music that’s blaring through the speakers.

chris sits beside him in the passenger seat, feet up on the dashboard as you guys speed toward your destination. he can hear you and nate conversing in the back, practically shouting at each other over the song.

the waterfront comes into view through his windshield a moment later, moonlight shimmering against the glassy surface. matt takes the next left, swerving across both lanes of traffic to pull into the deserted lot.

there’s nobody on the beach of course, considering it’s almost midnight in the middle of november. he throws the car into park and lowers the volume, shifting in his seat so he can actually see everyone.

“i think that’s the fastest i’ve ever seen you drive, grandpa.” you tease him, unbuckling so you can lean forward in your seat.

he rolls his eyes, though he never actually minds it when you’re the one chirping at him.

“you’re gonna wish it was me once nate gets behind the wheel, i promise.”

“wow, so i volunteer to stay sober and this is the thanks i get?” his friend asks, arms crossed over his chest defensively.

“thank you nate.” you reply in a sing-song voice.

“yeah, yeah. whatever.”

matt watches as you claw through your bag, finally digging out a small blue pouch after a few more seconds of searching.

the moment you unzip it, the all-too familiar smell of weed fills the interior of the car. chris cheers when he sees you pull out a perfectly packed joint, holding it in between your middle and pointer finger with precision.

“you know, it’s really upsetting that you can roll better than me.” nate shakes his head with a sigh.

“aw, you gonna cry about it?” you puff your bottom lip out at him.

“i swear i’ll fucking walk home and leave you guys stranded.”

“sure you will. hold this.” you pass the joint to him before retrieving the lighter.

matt tries to play down the smile that’s beginning to take over his face as you hold it in your palm. he got that one for you on your last birthday. it’s a silver zippo lighter with a big winding dragon engraved on the side.

it was kind of a gag gift just because he knows how much you smoke, but you ended up genuinely loving it way more than he had ever expected.

chris smacks him in the arm gently, and he finally tears his eyes away from you.

“you sure you want to?” his brother double checks, though he doesn’t do a very good job of containing his obvious excitement.

“yup.” matt replies simply, his gaze darting in your direction again.

he’s never once felt pressured to smoke before, but he’s always been a little curious. he’s hung out with the three of you while you’re all stoned enough times to realize that he at least wants to try it.

and sure, maybe a tiny part of him is doing this because he wants to impress you. but what’s the harm in that?

“i’ll start her off, but then it’s coming your way matty b.” you nod at him with a smile, taking the joint back from nate.

his heart is already pounding and all you did was look at him.

you put the filter between your lips and spark his lighter, holding the flame to the end. he watches it burn as you inhale, trying to figure out exactly how he’s supposed to do this when it’s his turn.

you blow the smoke over your shoulder, careful not to do it in anyone’s face. no cough. matt doesn’t even see you flinch.

you take one more quick drag, and he’s already entranced by your fluid movements.

then you stretch your hand out, offering him the next hit as you silently exhale once again. it’s impossible for him to ignore the way he fumbles with your hand before he finally pinches it between his fingers.

it feels awkward, like he’s somehow already doing it wrong.

“just put your lips on it, suck in, not for long though because that’s real shit. then hold it in your throat, inhale it, exhale it.” you instruct him, and his mouth is already dry from the way you’re talking.

there’s something about the commanding edge to your voice that’s driving him crazy. he kind of likes that you’re the know-it-all, the one in control.

“sounds dirty, but you get the point.” chris states with a shrug.

yeah, sounds fucking dirty.

“you got this, don’t even think about it too much.” nate adds encouragingly.

matt bites the bullet, curling his lips around the end and inhaling. he definitely feels the smoke fill his lungs, so he pulls the joint away quickly and practically tosses it to chris.

“exhale, exhale.” you instruct, and he does so all at once.

it fogs up the car, smoke flying back up in his face instantly. then he feels it. the burning in his throat. the desperate need to cough.

he sputters, and chris is already motioning to one of the waters in the cup holder.

“keep holding your breath and drink that.”

he tries to do as he’s told, but it’s impossible to hold it in. he lets out a loud hacking cough. then another, and another. matt tries to sip on the water in between them, though it’s hard.

you rub his arm gently as the cough attack begins to die down, and the feeling of your fingernails scratching him lightly through his sweatshirt almost makes him shiver.

“i personally like a good cough everyone once in a while. humbles me.” you joke, removing your hand and sitting back in your seat once you’re sure he’s alright.

he misses your touch immediately, and it’s embarrassing.

chris has been keeping it lit, so he passes it back to you once you’re ready. matt is left out for a moment, and he doesn’t mind the brief break.

the music stays on in the background, a curated playlist of stuff that you all like. he sees you bopping your head along to baby keem, and you turn to him with the joint still burning between your lips.

“you want more?” you say as the smoke curls around your face.

in many ways.

matt nods and reaches to grab it from you, trying to be careful where he positions his fingers. he repeats his actions from earlier, breathing out slowly this time.

he still coughs quite a bit, but it’s not nearly as bad. the high is definitely rushing straight to his head, and it makes him feel like a balloon full of helium.

his brother guides the joint out of his hand gently. even he wheezes a bit as he takes his fair share, which makes matt feel better.

“how do you feel bro?” nathan asks him through the haze that’s filled the car.

“good. i feel good.” that’s all he can think to say.

and it is nice. everything seems just a little bit lighter. his body feels…loose. matt blinks, and he swears he sees stars behind his eyelids.

you reach up to open the sunroof, letting some fresh air into the car. there’s not a cloud in the sky tonight, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore calms him.

“one more baby hit, then you’re done.” you pass it to him for the last rotation.

“so bossy.” matt smirks at you, and there’s a humorous glint in your eyes as you watch him take a drag.

he tries impossibly hard to make it look cool, despite almost hacking up a lung and choking on his water. you laugh, but matt somehow understands that you’re not making fun of him by doing so.

chris snatches it from of his hand. “gimme that, it’s almost out.”

it’s like a game of ping pong as matt watches the two of you bounce back and forth, hit after hit. the joint dwindles and finally dies a minute later. you toss the burnt remains into a dunkin bag from god knows how long ago before slipping the lighter back into the pouch.

“alright, matt. time for you to switch with me big boy.” nathan reminds him, turning to open his car door.

matt follows his lead. his body feels like it’s three feet behind his brain, like his consciousness is just a few seconds faster. his legs wobble as his feet hit the ground, but he manages to steady himself, hand against the car as he moves.

nate walks him to the door just in case, and matt stumbles into his new home in the back, laughing at himself under his breath. you help him sit upright in the middle seat, reaching across his body to get to the belt.

“lift your arm.” you tell him, and even though he doesn’t want to, he listens.

you pull the buckle around and click it into place so he’s properly strapped in, doing it for him like he’s a toddler or something.

this is an action he’d normally protest, but he’s solely focused on how close together you are. he can feel the heat radiating from your body as your shoulder presses against his, knees knocking together as he gets comfortable.

“how are you doing? everything okay?” you ask lowly, looking up at him through those long lashes.

he can see the red tinging your eyes, and his own feel droopy as he continues to stare. matt just can’t help it. you look so gorgeous, somehow even more so when you’re both faded.

“cat got your tongue?” you joke, head tilted back to rest against the seat as nate puts the car in reverse.

“you’re pretty.” it slips out before he can stop it, and yet he’s too high to care.

your eyes go a little wide, and your lips part slightly as you suck in a breath. he wants to kiss you so bad, to get rid of the centimeters of space between you and just press his mouth to yours.

“and you’re stoned.” you smile a bit and look away, trying to play it off.

“but i’m serious.” he doubles down, and you glance at him once more with those fucking bambi eyes.

you shake your head and place your hand on his thigh. “i promise you’re not.”

it ignites a fire in his stomach, one that won’t die down. he wants to move his hips, to feel some sort of friction against your palm. but he holds still, even despite how much he needs you.

“you don't know me.” matt hears his words slur together slightly as he speaks.

“i definitely do.” you argue.

“fine, but you can’t possibly guess what’s going on in my head.”

matt’s still not sure where any of this is coming from, or why he’s saying it to you now, but the word vomit won’t stop.

you shrug, squeezing his thigh lightly. he shifts a little bit, trying not to get too worked up over the pressure.

“i guess that’s true. so what are you thinking?”

matt glances up front at his brother and his best friend, and he knows neither of them are paying attention to the two of you. they’re too busy singing piña colada by yung pinch to care.

he hears you hum a little bit of the chorus under your breath as you wait for his response.

“i’m thinking about you.” he finally admits, leaning over so he can say it directly into your ear.

he can smell your rose shampoo, the fading hints of flowery perfume on your skin. it’s intoxicating, being near you like this.

you move your hand off his leg to shove his chest playfully. “shut up.”

the city blurs by as nate continues to drive, and matt admires the way the light from the street lamps dance across your face.

“why don’t you believe me?” he mumbles, barely audible over the combination of the breeze and the music.

“because you’re high as a kite, i can see it written all over your face.”

“doesn’t mean i’m lying.”

you study his face like you’re trying to find the truth in it. he can’t help but grin, because you’re so fucking clueless, and it makes you smile right back.

“touché.”

#matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #fanfic #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #youtube

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4theluvofsapphos · 20 days

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Devil's Advocate 2/?

A/N: I LIED THERE MIGHT BE MORE LOL ,,,

part one

Warnings: R passes from an implied inebriated fall (DDDNE), Drinking, Smoking, Mentions of a high/drug related analogies/metaphors(?), Heavy Sadism/Masochism, Blood + Blood Drinking, Slut-Shaming/Harsh Degrading, Dubious Consent (R is bound by contract, yet still consents + is sober, so I’m not sure if this is dubious consent or not, but I’m not taking any chances afhksdfj), Brief mentions of being apathetic towards death/life

“Going somewhere, starlight?”

Your gaze snapped up, and you were met with two black, heeled boots. Confused at first, your automatic instinct was to back peddle, to get a better look at whoever–or whatever– it was that stood before you.

You didn’t know what to say. You were going to ask where you were, who–what this thing was…yet the back of your mind told you what you didn’t want to hear. You knew where you were, and who you stood before.

“Satan…?” you ask meekly, your voice coming out a sad, squeaky whisper. You kept your eyes trained on those boots, your body completely still, too terrified to look any higher. Like a rabbit, you felt your heart pounding against your rib cage, your eyes wide with terror, yet they also ebbed with curiosity.

A low hum affirmed your beliefs, the shoes in front of you shifting slightly, accommodating the movement of the being attached to them. Kneeling, the Lightbringer’s hands came into your view.

In retrospect, you kneeled before them…not the other way around.

Slender, strong, pale…large. One bore a beautiful Jade ring, encrusted with gold- lavishly contrasting the fairness of their skin. You realized then that they were likely much taller than you had anticipated.

To be fair, you hadn't anticipated Satan at all.

“You will call me ‘Your Majesty’...or you will call me ‘Lightbringer’.” Their voice lilted with a sort of melodious cadence, rumbling from deep within their chest. It sounded like a lullaby, a psalm. It flowed like honey and settled into a space between your heart and your mind effortlessly.

There was no arguing with The Lightbringer. “Ah- uhm…y-yes of course Your Majesty.” Moments passed before you spoke up again, uncomfortable with the prolonged silence. “Is this all Hell is-? A big corridor?”

The blonde’s gaze softened at your confusion, lips pursing ever so slightly. “Hardly…you simply happened to land in my chambers— which on its own is rather odd, I must say.”

The fallen angel then gently clasped your chin between their index finger and thumb, slowly guiding your eyes to behold their own piercing blues. You felt your throat knot, eyes swelling with tears, feeling like you were face to face with the very consequences of your actions.

“And you died recently, didn’t you?” They hummed, as if they didn’t know exactly how and when you died. Under what circumstances, there was no question they knew that too. “Y-Yes–, Your Majesty.” The words sputtered pathetically from your lips as you looked up at them, drinking in their cherubic features for the first time.

Magical, was the only word you could manage to place on the entire experience. Their eyes were bright, lashes as light as their platinum locks of curled hair, sitting upon their head like a halo. The small scar along the right side of their lip more prominently shown when the Lightbringer smiled ever so slightly, noticing your curious gaze.

“What’s the matter, lamb?” They asked, their prying gaze forcing the words from your mouth before you could stop them.

“You’re beautiful…” You whispered, immediately clasping a hand over your mouth and nearly toppling from the abrupt change in your center of gravity.

The Lightbringer’s hold on your face kept you still, though. Their laughter twinkled throughout the chapel-like halls of the underworld. With a gentle trace along your jaw, the fallen angel stood once more and looked about the halls.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, starlight.” They crooned, gesturing for you to stand soon after. You obeyed almost immediately, getting onto your knees, before wobbling onto your feet.

Looking to the left, Lucifer waved their hand, and a previously concealed corridor seemed to appear in the very marble of the walls. The doors silently opened, allowing the two of you to enter their personal chambers.

“I will speak with the others as to why you’re here. While you are here, though, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for you to enjoy the niceties of my homestay. Come, bathe the soot and blood off of your body. If you are to be presentable for me, I want the best.” Others? Homestay? Soot and blood? Your head was swimming with questions, but the one of your current state was quickly answered when you turned to see your reflection. The person staring back at you pale as a ghost, covered in crusted over blood and soot. It looked like you had just gotten crushed by a truck and shoved through an unclean chimney.

Your lips parted in shock, seeing blood drip from the cracked and crusty skin of your lips…and that's when you realized just how pain filled your entire body seemed to be. Moving hurt, breathing hurt, your eyes burned and your lips felt like they were run against sandpaper.

Lucifer paused, looking at you through their own reflection. “You’re in quite the dreadful state…your body is essentially reflecting a small portion of just how damaged your corpse is right now.” The fallen angel’s moved about lazily as they spoke.

“In fact, your remains are getting scooped off the street as we speak, put into a little black bag for cremation. I take it you have no family or friends to give you a service, hm…? How sad.” They tutted, clicking their tongue before continuing down the hall.

As you stood dumbfounded by the state of your ‘body’, if that was even what it was, the ruler’s wings flapped once more, causing the hair on your head that wasn’t matted down by your coagulated blood to flutter against your face.

“The baths are by the balcony on your left, just call for me when you’re ready.”

Bewildered and overwhelmed, you watched the towering figure of your new host slowly fade away into nothingness.

Were you really going to stay in Satan’s house? It seemed so.

A/N: HEHEHEH errrr yea :3

tags: @justcallmelittleone

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #lucifer morningstar #the sandman #lucifer morningstar x reader #gwendolineuniverse #wlw #lucifer sandman x reader

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ninthskzmember · 4 months

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Used to this ღ

Kim Seungmin x reader.

bestfriend!seungmin, idol!seungmin, idol!reader word count: 1,5k warnings: fluff. petnames. i didn't proofread it. tags: fluff, friends to lovers.

Requests are open :)

April 9th, 2023.

A week has passed since the Maniac tour ended, meaning that today you will be able to see your dumb best friend at the company after a long time.

"Excited?" Kia asked with a smile on her face

"Why would I be, unnie?" You frowned at her question

"Kim Seungmin is coming back today. All of them are coming." She kept that smile on her face

"You're annoying. It's not like I haven't been talking with him all along" you rolled your eyes and she laughed at your reaction

"I just stated facts! I didn't know you would be upset about seeing your boy best friend after so long"

"I'm not upset" you held back a laugh and pushed your leader lightly

"Are you excited or not?" She asked again

"Are you excited about seeing Chris after so long too, unnie?" You fired back

"Hey, that's not funny" that smile disappeared from her face

"How to forget the night where Kia unnie was so drunk that she threw up on Chan Oppa's bed" Ski said, getting into the conversation

"Yeah, what were you doing in his bed again?" Lu teased

"Back to practice. Now." Kia turned on the leader mode and the seven of you got into position.

"Yeah but actually..." a curious Haneul spoke from her place "I never knew the reason behind you being there" her angelical aura couldn't make Kia mad.

"I was just wasted, and he's a gentleman so he offered his bed to me so I could sleep and sober up a bit" the leader explained while looking at you all through the big mirror in front of you.

"Yeah, I am" a voice came over from the opening door and the seven of you bowed at Bang Chan.

Kia turned absolutely red.

"No need to be ashamed Kia, we remember it with laughs" Jisung joked and bowed back.

Your eyes were trying to be x-ray, trying to find your best friend in between all the people that were entering the place.

"Sweetie" Seungmin made his apparence and left you speachless.

"Kim Seungmin" You rushed towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he wrapping his around your waist "I missed you"

"I know, you were annoying me almost every day" he smiled, letting his brand new smile be seen. Wordless. "You're staring, weirdo" his sweet little laugh came out of his mouth

"I'm sorry" you blinked a few times, trying to organise your thoughts. "You didn't tell me you took your braces off"

"It was all over twitter, I thought you already knew" he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I haven't been using it for a while" —because you were all over my timeline and it made me miss you even more— you thought, but didn't say.

And again, when you looked around, realized that just like old times, you and Seungmin were lost in your own little world. The rest of the members from both groups were fooling around, screaming, running, singing, jumping, dancing.

Actually, you missed the eight of them.

What caught your eye was how sweety Lee Know was looking at Haneul when she was talking to him and Jeongin.

"Hey," you called Seungmin and made a movement with your head to make him see what your eyes were looking at.

"Yeah, but look over there" he pointed at Jisung and Manee being an absolute CHAOS.

"Looks like I was not the only one missing a Stray Kid." you smiled

"I missed you too" he rubbed your back from the side where he was standing. "And don't get used to it"

"Not at all" you made a disgusted face, just to see how his smile appeared again.

There was something about him now that was making you go insane. Like, after the time you guys had apart, he stopped being a rebellious teenager and became a man. You couldn't take his eyes off him.

"Okay, everyone, let's gather here." BangChan called all of you and you obeyed.

He and Kia started talking about the Collab stage that the groups had, talking about how they wanted it to go and asking for ideas too.

"I think, we could go in groups and showcase our positions. Like, dance line, rap line, voice line" Felix suggested

"Yah, you wanna kill this one" Seungmin pointed at you

"I might be in both my voice and dance line, but I'm not a rapper" you couldn't help but smile every time that man spoke to or about you.

"You are as much as a rapper as I am. And I'm a fucking great rapper" he let out a cocky smile

"Actually, Stay wants Seungmin on the rap line" Changbin joked

"She's a great rapper though" Ski smiled

"I hate to interrupt such a lovely discussion but we need to get back on subject" Kia stated, leaving the conversation out of mind.

April 23th, 2023.

"You did amazing, sweetie. You look gorgeous" Your friend smiled at you

"Thank you, Seungmin" you answered shyly and hid your face looking to the floor

"No, no. Don't hide" he took you by your chin and make you look at him "Those diamonds on top of your freckles look stunning"

"You're making me blush, asshole" You pushed him

"See? I can't be nice to you" he crossed his arms on top of his chest, making himself look taller than he was

"Just get married already" Minho said rolling his eyes while passing by with a bottle of water in his hands "Awesome job, Y/n. You were almost as good as me" he said with sarcasm and you laughed.

"He's unbearable" Seungmin denied with his head too

"Either are you" You teased him and you could see how a little smirk wanted to appear on his face, which he repressed.

"Little shit" he looked away, hiding his smile

"Hey, don't disrespect me. I'll make you call me noona"

"I'd call you noona anytime"

"You're being weird" You said, closing your eyes halfway.

"y/n-ssi, Seungmin-ssi sunbaenim" Yeonjun came by

"She's also your sunbaenim" Protective Seungmo was activated and he placed himself right by your side, looking at the other male

"Hey" you slightly blushed, trying to not make eye contact with the idol.

"I just wanted to congratulate you both"

"Thank you." Seungmin cutted the boy off.

Yeonjun bowed and left you alone again.

"You were kinda rude" You looked at him

"Oh, c'mon girl" He rolled his eyes "I just can't stand him"

"That's 'cause you're jealous" you smirked at the guy

"He took you away from him for a long amount of time. So, it's safe to say no, I do not like him."

"That face, Kim Seungmin" Hyunjin passed by and laughed at the expression in Seungmin's face "What's got you all mad?"

You just pointed at Yeonjun, a few meters away from the conversation.

"Trying to steal ya' girl again? Damn, gotta talk with Changbin hyung"

His girl? Again?

"He's friends with hyung." That's all he said. Hyunjin just laughed and left

"Sorry, what was that?" You asked

"That was nothing. Just Hyunjin annoying us" he answered fast

"You're blushed" You laughed "Seungmin... Do you like me?" You took his hand, making him look at them

"Of course I like you. You wouldn't be my friend if I didn't."

"Ok, fair" you sighted "Let me reform that... Do you have feelings for me?" he opened his mouth to talk and you cutted him off "And don't give me the same fucking answer 'cause I will hurt you, I swear to god Kim Seungmin" You added and he laughed

"So... Technically speaking... having like... romantic feelings?"

"Yes, he does. Kiss her, you fool!" Hyunjin came over again and pushed you both, making you crush into his chest.

You looked up at his eyes, as he looked down at yours.

"I kinda romatically like you, yes y/n" he took a few strands of your hair out of your face

"I kinda romantically like you too, Seungmin" You smiled back at him.

He slowly leaned down, making your lips meet for the first time in the five years that you've known eachother and been friends.

You placed your arms around his broad shoulders and his hands took place in your waist.

"FINALLY" you heard Ski scream from the top of her lungs.

"FATHER AND MOTHER GOD" Jeongin screamed at the same volume as Ski

"I took the most beautiful picture" said Hyunjin and he was... Sobbing?

"Yah, that's enough. You're disgusting" Minho came all the way here and separated you, making you both laugh

"You're jealous you can't kiss Haneul like this" You fired at him, and for the first time in ages, you left Lee Minho speachless.

"SHE'S RED!" Jenny jumped up and down while looking at your member be flustered.

"Y/n" Seungmin caught your attention again saying your name in the sweetest way ever "Do you wanna go out with me?" his sweet voice didn't change at all, making you melt inside

"Of couse I want" You got in your tip toes and kissed briefly his lips.

#Spotify #stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz #changbin #seungmin #han jisung #lee know #bang chan #lee felix #hyunjin #jeongin #skz jisung #kim seungmin x reader #seungmin x reader #kpop idol #idol

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inuhalfdemon · 2 months

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No One Can Know... (7/?)

Word Count: 1,384 Words

Chapter 7

"So much left unspoken, between the two of us..." - Halestorm

When Alastor was awake and ready to move, Lucifer helped him through the portal and back into the shower. It was still dark in the room, but Lucifer took his time to see that they were both showered.

He worried that Alastor would be touch averse again now that he was back to a calmer state, but the demon clung to him - still unsteady - as Lucifer took pangs to wash and inspect his body. Lucifer was a needy creature, and a favorite part of an intense sexual session – to him - was the intimacy of aftercare.

The cuts across Alastor's face had already healed. Apart from being both utterly mentally and physically exhausted; Alastor seemed no worse for wear. Lucifer summoned what was needed and began lathering Alastor's fur and hair in product. The sinner was bent close to him as hot water pelted his back, bringing relief to the aching muscles that throbbed and twitched beneath his skin. Lucifer adjusted Alastor's position; rinsing the product from his hair before finding a body wash he wanted. Taking care, Lucifer worked the soap across Alastor's skin in a busy way; purposely so that the movements were never slow, lingering, or sexual in nature.

When he was done and the soap was washed away from Alastor's body, Lucifer turned himself to begin washing his own hair with Alastor leaning heavily against him. Alastor moved and he pressed himself closer to the King's back, resting his head with eyes closed upon a low shoulder. Lucifer let him be as he continued to wash himself and when he was done with that; he dried them both off, gathered up their clothes and - using a portal - moved Alastor and himself to a large spare bedroom suite.

A small wave of the hand; and Lucifer had Alastor dressed in a dark red -with black trim - silk nightshirt and slacks; though he wasn't sure that the sinner had ever really truly noticed. Alastor dizzily had climbed into the bed; burrowing himself beneath the tucked back covers. Lucifer suspected he was asleep before he was ever properly settled.

Lucifer left him to his rest; going to replace the blown fuse to the fuse box and making himself a gin and tonic. He had manifested a pair of loose sweats for himself and nothing else. He was properly tired now...something that was rare for him these nights. He debated with himself, wanting to give Alastor his privacy but also not wanting to leave him alone without knowing what to expect when he awoke. Taking the gin with him; he returned to the room. Settling himself in a plush chair that sat against the wall; Lucifer sipped from his gin before letting his head fall back and falling asleep.

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

Hours later, Alastor was stirring. Lucifer groaned, getting up from the chair and stretching himself. Sleep had abandoned him only moments earlier; still, it was better than he could say for most nights...

"Uuuuuuuuggggghhhhhhh." Alastor groaned; sitting up and throwing the covers off of himself. "Why do I feel like I'm fucking hungover?"

Coherent and seemingly...himself. That's good.

"Probably because you are, you fucking lightweight." He smirked. Lucifer went to the bed, leaning against a bed post that ran up from the footboard.

"Uh...what time is it?" Alastor groaned again, swiping a clawed hand down his face. "How long have I been asleep?" He was blinking blurrily.

"Three days..." Lucifer told him, serious now.

"WHAT!?" Alastor sobered up; ears shooting up straight and his eyes snapping open.

Lucifer spat out a laugh. "Just fucking with you - it's only been a few hours."

Alastor huffed, clearly unamused.

"Do you remember anything that happened last night?" Lucifer asked, curious to know.

"No.....yes?" He was thinking, trying to remember, but was in a haze. "Maybe...we were -" He stiffened. "And, then..later...I-" His face flushed a soft red.

Lucifer snorted. "I'm flattered that that is what is so memorable to you but, I'm more wondering if you remember what happened between the antics we got up to in the shower…to you deciding to climb me."

"No, I -" Alastor's ears pulled back, uncomfortable. "I'm afraid that I don't."

"It's fine. I'm just curious, is all." Lucifer assured him.

"What did happen?" Alastor asked him, trying for nonchalance but delivering it rather poorly.

Fuck, he's really worried.

"Naturally, you tried to kill me." Lucifer told him. "But, I think we both were anticipating that. It was all easily managed; no harm done."

Turning his head, Alastor eyed him. "Cost of damages?"

"Oh, yes. You blew out a fuse to my fuse box before trying to kill me...so I suppose there's that."

Alastor pressed a palm to his forehead; eyes squinting tightly closed. "I need to get back to the hotel." He started pulling himself out from the covers.

"Whoa, already?" Lucifer moved to stop or help him - he wasn't sure which. "It's still early - it's not even light out yet."

"It's better that I return immediately so that no one wonders at my absence."

"You're sure?" Lucifer asked him.

"Yes. I'm usually up early anyway." Alastor slid himself from the bed, going to where Lucifer had his clothes hung and set aside for him.

"Because your...creep-piss-cular? Right?"

"Crepisscular." Alastor fumbled. Creepuscular..." trying again. "Crep-ah! Fuck you, nevermind....yes!"

Alastor unbuttoned the night shirt; slipping it off.

“If I leave now, there’ll still be time for me to have breakfast done and ready for everyone before they wake up.” He was saying – reaching for a hanger.

“Special occasion?” Lucifer asked.

“No, it’s something I do every morning.”

“Every morning?” Lucifer cocked an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because absolutely no one in that god damned establishment – save for Charlie and her ‘boo’ -knows how to make or enjoy a proper meal.” Alastor hissed; casually tossing in a new bit of the new slang he had learned.

“I...have so many questions.” Lucifer told him.

“Well, now’s not the time-“ Alastor was saying; untying and pulling down the pajama bottoms.

“Whoa, whoa, WHOA! What are you doing!?” Lucifer jerked back; looking away.

“I’m undressing.” Alastor ignored his dramatic outburst; thinking him to be acting purposely dramatic. “You’ve seen it all anyway, what’s the problem here?” He pulled his dress pants to him; carefully shaking them out.

Lucifer’s face was flushed, eyes still cast aside. “I just-I wasn’t expecting it.”

“You don’t have to humor me, your grace.” Alastor told him; slipping into his dress pants – tucking his tail in - and going for the shirt now. “I don’t really need it.”

“That’s not – “ He shifted his eyes back, seeing that Alastor had his shirt pulled on now and was working on the first button.

“Why are you even dressing yourself like that!?” He blurted.

“It’s habit!” Alastor bit back at him. “I don’t use my powers for every little thing.”

Letting it go, Lucifer asked, “So, is that it then. You all done with your rut?”

“Oh, if we could be so lucky…” Alastor sighed, pulling his jacket on now. “I don’t think so. But, I should manage on my own for a while.”

“But, you will c-“

“Yes, my King, I will call on you.” Alastor assured him.

Alastor’s ears were twitching; and he suddenly seemed to be even more in a rush to be leaving.

Ah…someone has certainly given him some trouble.

Quickly re-evaluating, Lucifer realized he was coming off much too…clingy. Which – really wasn’t his intent, but whatever; Lucifer fumbled social interactions all the time - Alastor could read into it as much as he wanted to or not. He wasn’t going to lose sleep over it; he already had enough to torment his nights.

Fully dressed; Alastor produced his microphone staff with a flourish.

Looking to his sleeve, Alastor pulled at it, absently straightening it out; as he said: “I…appreciate your…collaboration in ensuring that I can keep my end of things running smoothly. I will be in contact with you soon.” Alastor spun his staff; opening a green and swirling portal before promptly stepping through and disappearing entirely; the opening closing with a snap and a soft hiss.

“’Oh, yes…indeed….how terrifically splendid.’” Lucifer mockingly mimicked Alastor’s voice as he walked away, leaving the room. “’Please, let’s do it again sometime – teehee…’“

“The fucker…”

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

[Alastor taking efforts to make breakfast for everyone at the hotel is from a small but lovely fic idea I came across: here]

Chapter 8

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corpsebasil · 11 months

Note

Hiiiii! I was hoping you could write some Ethan angst. Please and thank you 💜💜💜

Yes yes

Summary: you don’t know if you can trust Chad’s hot roommate, but you sure want to

warnings: dark Ethan, some violence

You were so fucked up. Granted, the guy you were with, Chad’s roommate, was fucked up too, but god he was hot.

His hands were on your hips, keeping your ass against his front, your body pressed almost entirely against his. You both had alternated for what felt like an hour now of your arms around his neck, your mouths inches apart, before he’d turn you, his fingers bruising your hips and waist.

The music was so loud you could barely hear yourself think; the Halloween party had been stretching farther into the night, way past when Mindy and Anika had suggested you leave, and Tara had disappeared to find a drink. You’d forgotten the boy you were dancing with’s name already, and you knew you hadn’t given him yours. But right now, when you were turning into his chest, his fingers grasping your jaw, every rational thought left you.

“Ethan.” He murmured, voice so close it practically vibrated through you. “You called me Nathan a few minutes ago.” There was a grin in his voice and you opened your eyes in a half-lidded stare.

“Y/N.” You breathed back, against his lips, and he kissed you hard. The movement almost knocked you over, but he was holding you too close, mouth moving against yours in a way that made your head spin. “Wanna—” Gasp. “—get out of here?”

Ethan grinned against your mouth and pulled back to look at you. You were pretty sure his eyes were brown, but in this lighting you couldn’t be sure.

“And go where?” He asked and you tilted your ear towards him, indicating him to repeat himself. God, you were gonna have tinnitus after this party alone. “Where?”

“Wherever you want.” You laughed, drunk and high and whatever else, as you looped your arms around his neck. He was smiling down at you, amused, as he pressed his mouth to yours again. The kiss was slow and when you pulled back, breathless, he spoke against your lips.

“I don’t want you when you’re drunk.” He murmured, pushing his soft mouth to yours over and over. “I want you sober. So I can appreciate you.” His nose ran across your jaw, lips touching the skin of your neck, and your breath hitched.

“What makes you think I’d want you sober?”

“You wouldn’t?”

“I—”

“Hey, you two!” Chad interrupted, looping his arm around your waist and tugging you away from Ethan. You looked up at Chad; his eyes were wide, stunned, as he stared at his roommate. “I think it’s time to leave, yeah?”

Ethan shot you a look that said what the hell, and you giggled. Pushing Chad’s arm off you turned to him, crossing your arms.

“Why are you acting like a parent?”

“Nice lipstick.” He shot back. “It’s all over your face.” He gestured around his mouth wildly and you rolled your eyes, wiping the corners of your lips. “Come on. I had to get some creep off of Tara. We need to head out.”

“Shit,” you mumbled, touching your fingers to your temple. “is she okay?”

“Yeah, but you aren’t. Let’s walk.”

You followed, momentarily forgetting about Ethan until he reached out, hooking a finger through yours. You looked at him, surprised, but he only shot you a curious glance as the two of you moved with Chad through the party and out onto the sidewalk.

He dropped your hand once you caught up with the group.

The bunch of you walked home, splitting off between Tara’s apartment and your own. Though Chad was going with Tara, you and Ethan were left to walk alone, chattering mindlessly as the both of you sobered up. In the better lighting you realized just how cute he was, and you were relieved that you hadn’t been grinding all over and making out with someone you’d seen through rose-colored glasses.

“Chad and I’s place is this way.” Ethan said, pausing at a turn in the road. “Want me to walk with you to your apartment, or…?”

“You’re not gonna ask me to come over?” You interjected, raising a brow at him. His eyebrows lifted in return.

“Sorry, Y/N.” He said, a mischievous look crossing his face as he approached, reaching out to touch your waist and bring you closer to him. “Would you like to come home with me?” He asked, tilting his head, his thumbs rubbing tantalizing circles onto your waist.

In response, you kissed him.

You woke at in the middle of the night to feel Ethan slipping into bed beside you, his warm chest pressing to your bare back as he adjusted himself against your body. You mumbled something incoherent and reached for your phone: 03:56.

“Ethan?” You mumbled and he slid an arm around your waist, his forearm warm against your skin.

“Hmm?” He hummed.

“Where’d you go? It’s like, four in the morning.”

“Bathroom. It’s nothing.” He said, pressing a kiss to your neck, and you closed your eyes, drifting back to sleep.

That same morning, around eight, your day erupted into chaos, starting with an incessant buzzing beside your ear. You sat up slowly, stretching, and looked at your phone. Twenty-four missed calls, and texts from every one of your friends, each message more horrifying than the last. You shook Ethan’s shoulder quickly, rousing him from sleep.

“Ethan. Ethan, wake the fuck up.”

“What?” He groaned, dark hair brushing your bare hip as he curled into a semi-circle, his hand finding your calf. “Go back to sleep.” He mumbled, pressing a kiss to your thigh.

“Tara’s apartment was attacked. Someone was—some of our friends were hurt. Chad said to meet them there.” You looked at Ethan, fear clouding your mind as he sat up, taking your phone carefully from your hand as he scrolled through some texts.

“Okay.” He sighed, eyebrows furrowed. “I’ll drive us.”

Once the two of you were dressed—you had to wear one of his huge hoodies instead of the dress from the night before—you drove to meet the others. You and Ethan ducked under caution tape, moving towards the ambulance.

“Oh, my god.” Ethan gasped, looking over at the body bag on the ground in the alley beside Tara’s apartment complex. “Who?”

“Quinn.” Chad said, walking to meet the both of you. “And Anika.”

You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand. You hadn’t been very close to either girl but they were still part of your close circle. It was too close for comfort, especially if the Ghostface attacks were happening again. Chad pressed on, his expression grim.

“Did you guys see anything last night? You guys were safe, or—?”

“Everything was fine.” You sniffed, glancing over at Ethan. “I mean, um..we ended up both staying at you guys’ place.”

“You—” Chad started, then shook his head. “Okay. Cool. Glad you guys are alright.”

“We stuck together all night.” Ethan said, glancing at you, then back at Chad. “In case the cops need an alibi.”

“Yeah.” You agreed, but something in your brain twinged. Ethan climbing into bed early in the morning. Ethan’s skin being cold, like he’d been gone for a long time. “We did.”

The conversation continued, your brain working a mile a minute. A Ghostface attack… God not again. As if sensing your distress Ethan reached out to place a hand on your lower back, his fingertips pressed against your skin through his hoodie.

“Relax.” He said, glancing down at you. “No one’s gonna hurt you.”

You let out a breath, leaning into his touch a fraction further. And you trusted him. Even if your instincts told you not to.

It was like a sick version of the fight scene from Mr. and Mrs. Smith.

Ethan had a gash from brow to jaw, the blood drying on top of previous splatters. The bruises and shallow cuts that littered the rest of him caught the pale light of the kitchen where he had you pinned, your teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he groaned into your mouth.

“Stop fucking resisting.” He hissed, pushing further against you as you looped your legs around his waist. He had you shoved up against the kitchen cabinets of your apartment, perched on the counter, bruises on your own skin rising. “Do you even know what the fuck I’d do for you?”

“Kill for me?” You taunted, shoving at his chest. He grabbed your wrist, tugging you closer. “You already did that.”

And he had.

It started with your ex-boyfriend, a douchebag that had, unbeknownst to you, been gutted the night after the apartment attack. Then it was Chad, who had the audacity to accuse you of being involved in the Ghostface killings. Ethan had been furious when you’d come to him, crying and anxious, sure your friend group was turning against you. He’d wiped your tears, kissed you until you calmed down, and then left to get food.

But he’d made a detour.

Now you both were practically battling one another, the Ghostface mask half melted after you’d tried to burn it, and Ethan was insisting that he needed you. That he’d done it all for you—that his brother, Richie, the same one who’d attacked you and your friends last year, had wanted you spared. Had liked you.

“You’re a psychopath.” You whispered, feeling his mouth graze yours. “You’re gonna end up in jail.”

“I’ll go to a grave before prison.” He responded casually, tipping your head back with a large hand to press his lips to your neck. “You’d never let me go to prison, would you, baby?”

“I would.” You lied, eyes closing. “I would let you rot.”

“Yeah? For how long?”

“Forever.” Your breath hitched when he nipped at your skin. “Until you dropped dead. That’s unless you got the death penalty. Does New York do that?”

“Baby.” He groaned, dragging you closer by your hips. “Would you let me die?”

“Gladly.” You said, meeting his eyes when he pulled back a fraction to look at you. He smirked, tilting his head in a way that made your stomach twist.

“You’re so fucking hot when you lie to me.” He said, teeth flashing in a grin, before he kissed you.

and then you joined him and merked everyone the end

#dark ethan landry #ethan landry angst #Ethan landry #scream six

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luminecent-sky · 2 months

Note

Since you asked for it

I am curious what do you think about yandere Gallagher secretly being an eldritch monster or Cognito hazard.

oh my god... i had to take a day to think about it, like it could go so many ways??

Eldritch monster is an easy alley, esp with his connection to the 'death' in Penacony, and how he's made up of aspects of other family members. And a cognito hazard is also a viable option considering how he could've blended himself in after he took aspects of people and how Penaconys memory and thought altering aspects used by the memokeepers and by sunday himself, who says it's not possible.

this may have escaped my hands...

Your mind is hazy as you sit in the Dreamjolt Holstery, the alcohol makes your thoughts stir. It's surprisingly silent today, none of the dreamjolt troupe are here to cause a ruckus. But as always a familiar face is here to listen to your musings.

"Well, looks like you had too much to drink eh, doll?" Gallagher chuckles wiping a glass as your eyes focus onto him.

"..Maybe i have." a noncommittal hum escapes your throat, The alcohol is messing with you, his face is a blur, but most of the features you can make out, that brown hair, the stubble, the scars, but it feels wrong. Were the lights always this bright? Practically searing your eyes as you try and manage your tipsy mind, lest something foolish slips out of it.

"I should probably go now... or do you think Siobhan would let me crash here?" Laughter bubbles from him as he sets down the glass,

"Eh, maybe, but the real question is if you're gonna pay your tab tonight or tomorrow?"

"I think i'll pay tomorrow, you and i both know i'll be back here anyways." You stand, rubbing away the headache as you get to your feet, The world spins for a split second before you gets your wits about, walking out of the holstery and making your way to the connecting portal in the Reveries' lobby.

It's cold, chills creep onto your skin, the empty halls doing nothing to soothe the feeling. You feel the goosebumps on your skin, unnerving your tipsy mind as you avoid the more monster-infested areas of the hotel, hoping that the maintenance staff can finish faster just so the halls can be less empty than it is now.

To think that you'd miss the loud patrons, the smooth jazz and the clacking of shoes that would usually fill the hotel...

You're snapped to sobriety as you feel eyes dig themselves onto your skin, if the cold hadn't sobered you up earlier, this certainly did. Steeling your nerves. the walk continues, peering into halls, listening for the noise of the monsters that now litter the empty Reverie hotel, the gaze never leaves you, like a predator stalking it's prey.

You know that you haven't encountered any monsters, even with the alcohol in your system spotting them would be easy, bright colors and mechanical sounds, all tell-tale signs of their presence. A flash of purple and yellow moves in your peripheral, making you jump into a panic, ducking into the door leading to the main lobby.

There's a slight shakiness to your movements now, heart thumping in your ears as you reach the connecting pathway towards Golden hour. You take a few deep breaths, steadying your nerves before you enter the portal.

Those eyes remain gazing at your back, the faint pink light disappearing before your eyes can even register it.

#writings from the cosmos: star rail #honkai star rail #yandere gallagher #yandere gallagher x reader #whooo boy this brought me out of writters block #psyzel speaks #ik it's not all eldritch horror or cognito hazard #but i like to think that when reader was drinking he was fuckin with their mind #and with how paranoid you would reasonably be in a place crawling with monsters and fucked up room logic #it would be easy for you to write off being watched #void visitor: brosch

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gothushi · 1 month

Text

smother me

pairing: rob x fem!reader

warnings: smut, drunk!reader, everything is consensual, rob pulls out, he’s literally so in love with you

note: based on this request! i’m actually making a bot for this scenario rn using the opening paragraph and will have that posted/linked here as well :3 enjoy driving rob insane

word count: 6.6k

———————♡

Music pounds through your chest as you finish your drink, sat ontop of Rob’s lap in your bed. Your bed. You and your friends hosted a party but you’ve since abandoned the fun with the idea to do Rob’s makeup, and him being sober gladly agreed to your drunken antics.

Red plastic cup being tossed to the floor with a disapproving look from rob, you start digging around in your makeup bag, dumping the contents out, straddling him.

“This really what y’wanna be doing right now instead of being downstairs?” He muses softly, hands behind his head.

“Mmmm,” the lazy hum escapes you as you dig out a few different containers, blinking at Rob, trying to figure out where to start. His arms bulge with the position he’s in. “Definitely.” You mumble, grabbing a little pallet and opening it.

Rob grunts slightly as you adjust yourself ontop of him, sat on his lap. He knows you’re drunk and shouldn’t really be doing this. But he’s not one to stop, instead choosing to play along. “What’re you even doing? I don’t wear makeup.” He chuckles, reaching up with an arm to brush a loose tendril of hair out of your face.

“‘m g’na make you look pretty, shhh…” You wave his hand away, so far gone, leaning down with a brush and swiping some product over his cheekbone, staring quite hard as you focus. Wearing a cute little dress, it’s ridden up your thighs, heels on your feet still and the jewelry on your wrist jangles with the movements you make. Rob’s watching, curious but kinda annoyed. You don’t even know what you’re doing, and yet it’s working.

“I don’t need to be pretty.” he mumbles, both hands behind his head again, fingers pressing against his scalp to ignore that one part of him. “You’re pretty though.” The brush over his cheek almost makes him shudder as he lets an arm reach out and loop around your waist, hand flattening on your lower back to pull you closer.

“Shh, stop.” You scold in a whisper, smacking at his arm as it tugs you closer to him, sat on his navel. Your eyes are lidded, focusing as you swipe the brush over his other cheek, something sparkly on it. You own cheeks heat up under the blush you wear, because of his compliment or how drunk you are, you aren’t sure.

Rob sighs, his thumb rubbing on your back. He rolls his eyes and grumbles at you, but there’s a part of him that likes this.

“You’re such a pain in my ass,” his tone is clearly teasing, “Who’s gonna make me pretty?”

“Me!” You huff, seeming agitated to him as you pick up a different brush, a mess of them and little pallets and containers sliding in the dip of the bed against your knee. Another product on his cheek, a little lower, making yourself giggle at the sight.

He raises a brow but doesn’t say anything. The brush across his cheek is a little irritating, not as soft as the other, but the fact that you were doing this had him feeling something, a low burn of arousal that makes his cock jump in his boxers. “You goin’ all out for me?” He asks teasingly, reaching up with the same hand to flick hair from your face. It’s cute when you’re drunk - you’re more forward than normal.

And clumsy, because you drop the brush when he moves your hair back. You fumble with it, picking it back up and moving to the other cheek. “Yeah gotta-... do everything.” Mumbling, words a little slow like you’re thinking too hard.

Rob chuckles at that, biting his lip to stop himself from full on laughing. He takes a breath of air and clears his throat. “Do me a favor,” he muses, hand sliding to your back again, “put the brush down. And do the rest with your hands.”

“My hand- but I’ll get it all over ‘nd it won’ look good!” You mumble in defense, staring at him for a moment as you sit up more.

He rolls his eyes, looking up at you in amusement. Cute drunk. He can’t really complain. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He says it confidently, “Just try not to get too much on me, okay?” His hands slide to your thighs instead, at the junction of your hips to hold you steady.

You glare down at him, glossed lips in a pout as you sigh through your nose. Dropping the brush, you rub your finger in one of the colors, wiping it over the bridge of his nose with tense concentration. He can smell the drinks you’ve had, a sweet candy like perfume that has his mind going a bit dumb, your necklace dangling against his chest. He grumbles as he inhales, though he can’t really complain. Not when you’re the one doing this. Your finger wipes over the tip of his nose before he speaks, “Don’t do anymore.” He whispers, “I’m gonna regret this in the morning.”

“No ‘m no’ done.” You argue, words blending together and not fully pronounced, tilting to look for a different item. You find what you want, a pencil, popping the cap off. You lean back down, nearly just falling forward on him, inhaling deeply, “Mm, eyes. Close your eyes.”

His lips twitch into a smile with that little action, but he actually closes his eyes. The warmth breath on his face as you lean in close feels like an invitation, but he can’t actually act on this, right? Your hand holds his cheek, the other holding the pencil the way a child holds a crayon, swiping it over his eyelid just above his lashes. They twitch from the odd touch, and you being so close makes his cock start to swell, his grasp on your hips tightening just the slightest.

“Stop.” He finally whispers softly.

The pressure immediately lessens as you start to babble, words flowing together, “Did I hurt you? ‘m sorry I pressed too hard I didn’ mean to-” The hand holding his cheek pets over him quite obnoxiously.

His body relaxes a little, but the sensation of you nearly smacking his cheek makes him grin. This is the last thing I should be doing right now. His internal monologue says. Get a grip. He reaches up and grabs your hand, “No- no you didn’t hurt me sweetheart.”

Sitting up a bit straighter again, your fingers curl around his as you complain, “Well I gotta- y’gotta match! I have t’do the other one.” Waving the pencil around seems to solidify your words.

“Don’t.” he says firmly, his voice coming out a little shaky. He lets his hand tighten around yours, other sliding down to the top of your thigh. “I think you’ve put enough makeup on me for one night. I doubt I’m gonna look good.” He grumbles teasingly, smiling softly. But you give him that little look, and he huffs a sigh, “Oh fine. Go on.”

You squeal a little happy noise, leaning back down, finger making his eyelids close. Your wrist rests on his forehead like a damn armrest, coloring the charcoal pigmented pencil over his other eye, giggling a little. He has to resist the urge to arch his back, stomach tensing. The sight of you leaning over him in this position would make anyone melt. But he can’t let himself do that.

“Alright, you’re done.” He murmurs, “No more.”

His hands encircle your wrists, holding onto them. You push back albeit weakly, pencil fumbling from your hand as you whine, bouncing on him a little, “No ‘m not done Rob y’need lipstick and- mmm, glitter. Yeah.”

He chuckles softly, “You’re trying to put glitter on me.” He mutters, shaking his head, still holding your wrists and letting you push back and wave them around. He knows you’re drunk, and he wants to get you off his lap. Especially because this is not good for him. He could kiss you with the way you’re bouncing on him like that. “No glitter.” He says firmly, not even wanting to entertain the idea.

“But.” You whimper softly, makeup accentuated eyes batting down at him as you push at his grasp, “It’s pink! We’ll match.”

His grip tightens as you continue to wiggle, staring up at you as he groans, “Stop bouncin’, I ain’t wearing no damn glitter.”

The wiggling continues, making you slide dangerously close to his lap again, belt buckle nudging against the crotch of your panties, “Rooooob.” The whine makes a shudder of arousal go up his spine, your hands pushing at his back and forth.

He grunts. He wants to pull you closer, press his lips against yours, but part of him really wants you off him. “Stop,” he mumbles, trying to keep control as his heart beats a bit faster, “Don’t make me be mean.” You feel him squeeze your wrists.

You whine again, leaning forward, “Nooo, jus’. See. We’ll match! My eyes are pink, you’ll’s be pink,” even in his hold, you use a finger to point at your face then his face, rings glinting in the dim lamp light of your room.

Rob grunts, his grip shifting to something a little less firm. This is the worst idea.

“I don’t wanna match. I don’t wanna be sparkly.” He says, though his voice is a little shaky in the moment. He just wants to close the gap between you two.

The words though, literally seem to break your heart as you frown, hands going limp in his hold as your eyes shine, “Y’don’t wanna match with me?” You ask softly, absolutely torn apart by his statement.

“Stop that.” He whispers harshly, narrowing his blues at you. The little pout is enough to make his cock swell more, his heart pound in his chest, make him forget all the reasons why this is not something he should be doing.

“I-I just..” he starts, argument dying before he can even come up with it, his mouth dry, “just get the damn glitter.”

Another happy squeal leaves you as he lets go of your wrists, hands returning to your hips. Your own hands dig in the pile, finding the item you used hours ago. “Here, see! It isn’t pink pink it’s a softer pink so it won’ even show up really.” Rambling, leaning in after swiping your finger in the product and then over one of his eyelids.

He tenses as you lean in just as close as before. The smallest sensations make him tremble, and his back arches slightly. He shouldn’t be doing this, this is dangerous territory. But he doesn’t stop it. Instead, he lets you swipe away. “There,” he whispers.

“Other one,” You slur, so matter of factly, doing the other one with the pad of your ring finger. You begin giggling, fixing it a little as you wiggle happily ontop of him, “You look prettyyyy.”

“Shut up.” He manages to growl out. The way you act proves just how drunk you are, and it only makes his brain more fuzzy. He should’ve said stop, he should’ve gotten you off his lap the moment you clambereed onto him. But he hasn’t and isn’t doing any of those things.

“I’m not pretty, I’m a zoologist.”

Giggles galore, the pink pot of glitter tumbles down with the rest of the products as you use your hands on his chest for support as you sway, “Think the lady big cats will have a crush on youuu?”

“Doubt it. If they liked pretty, they’d be all over you.” He rolls his shoulders, trying his best to ignore the way your arms push your tits together. He’s pushing his limits here. “You’re really drunk, huh?”

You giggle at his words, his compliment, and when he asks that you just hum, leaning down to nuzzle your head into his neck with your fronts flush together, back arched, “Mmmmmm… yes.”

“You’re gonna have a hell of a hangover.” He murmurs, arms slipping around your waist and keeping you flush against him. You can feel how tense his muscles are, his belt buckle knocking into your crotch, cold through your panties and sending a shock up your spine that you don’t react to. He inhales, smelling the scent of your shampoo, something vanilla, mixing with the alcohol and makeup and perfume. He’s warm, your safe space always, even now.

He feels like he’s a teenager again, getting wrapped up in his first crush. This is so unhealthy. Yet he holds you tightly, feeling your legs on either side of his waist, body heat warm on his.

Suddenly you gasp, sitting up abruptly, looking at him as if he offended you. Your hands find his in a smushing grasp, “Lipstick.” You completely forgot to give him lipstick. You move, climbing off of him, off the bed, losing a heel in the process as you go to your vanity.

This is such a bad idea. His thoughts hammer through his head as he watches your drunken form moves, looking at your little stand of lipsticks. He fingers tense, curling against the duvet, jaw tensing. You find what you’re looking for and Jesus Christ, climb on the bed on your hands and knees, crawling up his body to straddle him again like you previously were. Popping the cap off the lipstick, he groans, it’s bright red.

“You are not putting that on me.” He manages to get out, his hands staying against the duvet next to your legs.

“Bu…” You huff, “You need it!”

“I-..” He starts to groan, trying to find a way out of this, without touching you. If he touches you, he’s done for. The second he lets his hands wander after the sight you just gave him, he won’t be able to resist. “Just… just stop, I don’t need lipstick.” His tone sounds frustrated, more angry at his hardening cock than you.

But the color matches yours, a deep pinky red covered in gloss. Whining again, wiggling, complaining, “I did-.. everything else,” You gesture with a wave of your hand, “it looks silly without lipstick.”

“Stop wigglin’ around on me like that.” He outright warns, voice throaty. But he doesn’t push you away, not even when your ass pushes against the growing bulge in his jeans. “I don’t need lipstick.” He tries again, tone firmer, “This is a stupid idea, don’t-”

“‘s no’ stupid.” Whimpering, sitting your weight fully on him. Your dress rides up your thighs a bit more, tormenting him. “Do you not like that color?” You whine, swaying a bit.

“I like the color, looks pretty on you.” He grumbles, the sight of your dress hitching up further nearly enough to break him. In fact, every little movement you make is nearly enough for him. You’re making it so hard and so easy for him at the same time, and he has no idea which side is winning. “Just stop moving for a second.” He hisses, cheeks warm under the blush you gave him earlier.

“‘m not!” You complain, fully convinced you’re right as you bounce, wiggle, swaying at you lean forward. His belt buckle knocks into your clit, making you whimper in complaint, hand on his chest. He can feel the heat, the weight over his cock. Your drunken state makes things that are already too damn unbearable absolutely impossible.

“Y/N-” He grunts.

“Y’ don’ like the color, just, admit it.” You keep whining, sitting upright fully, holding the lipstick in front of his face. You sway a little again, a little too much because you start wobbling to the right. His hands are already on your waist, catching you.

“Jesus-” He groans, heart skipping a beat, “Just stay still.” He can feel his breath quicken, hands firmly holding your waist.

You’re already giggling when you start to fall, his hands nice and warm tickling your sides. You wiggle to adjust, upright, eyes lidded as he barely has to use any strength to keep you still. “Jus’ be honest you don’ like the red! What about the pink, see?” You pucker your lips, leaning forward to show off your own lipstick.

It kills him how cute you look right now. The blushing, your nicely done makeup, the dress that’s way too revealing, it makes it difficult to be really mad at you. He feels his breath hitch. “Fine.” He mumbles, barely able to move his mouth at the sight of you puckering at him, “I.. I like it.”

Giggling again, hands falling flat on his chest, “I fixed it before we started,” words smoothing together as you keep going, “so it’s perfec’.” Your hands slap his cheeks, holding his head still as you lean down and press your lips hard to his.

He’s frozen, eyes widening in a stunned daze. His brain isn’t working at the moment. And then you’re pulling away, giggling at the imprint of lipstick on his own lips now, color smeared a little.

“Y/N!” He hisses out, voice breathless.

“What?” You keep giggling, before your face drops on your gasp and smack a hand on his chest, “I should’ve asked. Sorry.” God you’re so drunk, because you start giggling again, “Looks pretty.”

Rob swallows, “Yeah?” He can feel his heartbeat in his throat, mouth dry. The feeling of your hands on his cheeks lingers and the sticky lipgloss makes heat coil in his gut. “Are you.. are you drunk enough that, if I ask you something.. you won’t remember in the morning?”

“Mm. ‘m not drunk.” You wave off, but you’re leaning down to snuggle against his neck like before, legs stretching down along his, cock pressing against your navel. You’ll be lucky to remember this right now.

“You’re drunk.” He confirms for you, a hand moving to your back and another going to stroke over your hair. “You’re a damn lightweight.. just answer the question.”

You giggle against his collarbone, nuzzling close like a kitty getting pets, “Am not! Nuh uh.. mmm.” You then become aware of his question and shrug, “Mm, probably- not.” You yawn on the last word.

He groans, your soft movements against him making it difficult to think. His fingers slide over your hair, cradling your head, “If I ask you something you’d say no to, would you say yes because you’re drunk?”

You lift your head to try and look at him, back arching further as you crane up, hips pressing down against his denim. “Mmmm, how do you-” you plant a finger on his chin, “know I’ll say no.”

“Because I know you too damn well. Just answer the question.” He repeats.

“Not enouuugh.” You stretch your arms up a bit, laying your cheek back against his chest, “I do-.. anything y’ask me, doesn’t… matter if ‘m drunk.”

“You’re an idiot.” He mumbles into your hair, fighting back a smile.

You whine, tilting your head back up, chin on his chest, “Tha’s mean..” Pouting a little, you stare hard before planting your hands on his cheeks like before, “Can I kiss you? I’ve always wan’ed to kiss you.’ You blurt out of no where, also seemingly not remembering I did kiss him to transfer my lipstick.

He’s silent for a few moments. The words are a hit to his heart, and his cock. He wants you so badly. He grumbles in protest, but he doesn’t have the heart to push you away. All he can do is grit his teeth, “Don’t… don’t say that just because you’re drunk.”

“‘m noooot.” You defend, “I wanna. You’re pretty and I love you.” You shake his face back and forth, wiggling atop him.

“I know, I know,” He murmurs, not wanting to push you off even as you wiggle on him, swaying. He’s gotta compliment himself on his patience and will to not move because you’re nearly grinding onto him. “Just… just go to sleep, huh? I know you really wanna kiss me but.. you’re drunk.”

“I don’ wanna sleep,” It leaves you in a whine again, so whiny tonight, tits pressed flush to his chest, “Wanna… do y’no’ wanna kiss me?” Pouting, you seem hurt by the idea you think of.

Your pouty attitude is enough to melt whatever remaining resistance he has towards kissing you. You’re so drunk, so needy… so damn hot right now. He’s already in too deep, he just couldn’t push away if he tried.

Not unless he wanted you to be unhappy.

“Just… just one. Okay? Then I’ll put you to bed.”

An excited squeal leaves your lips, wiggling to get closer, but it just makes your hips grind down into him and you exhale with a puff of air through your nose. Hands still holding his face, you crowd into his personal space, leaning down and pressing your lips on his. Eyes fluttering closed, he groans, hands sliding onto your hips to keep you stable. Every movement of your hips make him shamelessly grunt now, heart beating in his throat.

He tries to keep it a short kiss, but your tongue licks over his lip, lipstick smearing over both your mouths as he caves and parts his own lips. Your tongues meet and it makes you whine softly, breathless, and a long, low moan comes from him. He easily takes dominance, one kiss becomes a bit of tongue becomes making out.

He seems to snap out of it, pulling back, panting softly, “Dammit, you..”

Except your lips are already trailing over his chin, down his neck, “Mmm, more.”

This is a terrible idea. “That’s enough.”

Panting against his neck, you whimper, a pouty noise, “But I wan’... want mooorre.” You plead sweetly, back arching as your hips press into him, dress hiking up over your hips with the effort. The harder part of denim covering his zipper rubs into your clit and you moan.

It’s like a flip switches for you and him, as you push your hips down again to meet his, craving that friction again. “Rob, mmm, please, more.”

A low rumbling groan reverberates in his chest, his cock straining in his boxers as he fights the urge to grind up into you. “You need-” he tries to say before he’s overtaken by your whiny moans, “Y/N.. god.”

Against his better judgment, he pulls you back, kissing you hard, his hands squeezing on your hips. Your hands grab at his face, his jaw, whining lewdly against his lips with the slick noise of your tongues meeting. “Rob- mmh!” Pleading, begging.

He doesn’t hesitate this time, his hands sliding over the flesh of your ass to roll your hips down into him, his knees bending a bit for leverage. His lips make a mess of yours, smearing color onto your chin and above your lips, panting between open mouthed kisses. With a moan of your name, he leans up a little, lips moving onto your neck feverishly. Lidded eyes, he can still see the smeared lipstick his own lips leave on your skin, making a shudder run up his spine. You’re arching, head tilting to the side as a hand curls into the hair at the nape of his neck. His hands work your hips down, fabric of your dress riding up higher around your waist as you draw your knees back up to properly straddle him, you need it, need him, more.

“Fuck,” He groans against your skin, letting you roll down onto him, his fingertips pressing into your ass so hard they turn white. His grip turns tighter sliding up to your hips as he tries to still you, God dammit he shouldn’t be doing this now.

“No- wan’ it,” You’re pleading so sweetly, trying to press down onto him with a gasping noise. Your panties are ruined, slick turning the fabric darker and sheer, his lips suckling at a spot on your neck that makes your eyes roll back with a whine, “Rob!”

He hums against your skin, “Just-” He can’t resist. He doesn’t want to. His one and only goal in this moment is to give you more. He knows he shouldn’t… but this is what you want right?

And he’d do anything for his favorite girl.

“C’mon,” he mumbles, easing your hips back down in a slow rhythm, teeth nipping at you in little bites, suckling over them to soothe the barely there pain. His hands shift up to your hips, expecting to find the bunched up hem of your dress but instead he feels the soft cotton, smooth lace waistband of your panties. It makes his cock ache, a groan leaving him as his big hands rub over the skin, thumbs catching on the lace but not pulling it down, sucking another hickey into your skin. “Y/N, you’re gonna kill me.”

You shift, tilting your head up, glossy lips finding his neck and leaving sticky pink residue on his tanned skin. His head falls back against the duvet, growling lowly as he breathes out. Another grateful moan leaves you as he cants his hips up against you, denim pushing against the slick fabric of your panties, and if the music downstairs and you’re own moans weren’t so loud he’d have heard the slick noise it made.

Rob rolls over, hand on your back as he lays you on your bed, hovering over you. Your legs drape over his lap, his knees digging into the bed as he grinds his hips down with a louder moan this time. He’s still fully clothed, rutting against you and causing you to cry out. The spaghetti strap of your dress is falling off your shoulder, back arching as you grab onto his biceps with a whine, “Rob, please, need- need it,” your dress is hiked up your waist now, and looking down he can see the cute panties you wear ruined by your slick.

“You want it huh?” He pants out, arms bulging as he holds himself up over you. A part of him hates how this is the only way he’s gotten you, but another part of him loves it, you’re so desperate, needy, begging so nicely for him. He grumbles something against your neck.

“Yes!” Your hands are trembling, shoving them between your bodies to try and undo his belt. You can’t get a good grip though, not with the way he keeps rutting his hips down, “Rob,” you whine, needing help.

He obliges, sitting up on his knees with a hand ghosting over your thigh, the other undoing his belt flawlessly. It clanks as his fingers twist to undo his button, “You want it that bad?” He mumbles, his own skin flushed down to his neck, zipper undone as he lets go of your thigh to push his jeans down his hips.

“Yes! Yes, ple- mm, pleeaase.”

The sight of you squirming like that has him moaning softly, pushing his boxers down a few inches to finally get his aching cock out. He leans over you for another kiss, sloppy, panting against each others mouths. His hands paw at you, pulling your panties to the side, fabric wet against his fingers. Your own hands find his hair, tugging at the hair tie that keeps it half up, getting rid of it. He breaks the kiss just to go biting at your neck again, one hand between your legs. A finger pushes into you almost immediately, both of you moaning, he just has to feel you. He presses the heel of his palm against your clit, skin sticky with slick as he pushes in deep.

“Please,” He pleads this time, “I need to-”

“Take it, ‘m begging, please Rob.” You interrupt, tangling your hands into his soft hair and tugging it back to keep it from falling in his face. His grasp tightens even more, and he already decided he can’t say no to you. He pulls his finger out, fisting over his cock to spread your mess before pushing in slow. It draws a loud groan from him against your neck, making your back arch as you practically wail, hugging him tightly.

“God- sweetheart, you’re so fuckin’-”

“Mmm! Rob, Rob,”

“Easy, y’feel good, fuck.” He soothes, hips flush to yours and his pubic bone grinding into your clit as he moves slow. His elbows dig into the bed as he moves a hand to the back of your head, cradling you close. “You’re so damn hot..” He breathes, a slight whine to his tone.

Your hands leave his hair, grasping at your dress to try and tug it up, pull it down, you don’t know. He helps, free hand slipping the other strap off your shoulder and tugging the neckline down to free your tits, no bra. He groans softly, instinctively leaning down to latch his mouth to one of your nipples.

“Rob-!” His tongue swirls around the peak, sucking hard, moaning against your boob as the other is massaged roughly by his hand.

“So good,” He mumbles, not willing to pull away fully as he suckles, hips speeding up as his knees spread further. He adjusts his position and lets loose, hips smacking into yours hard with a loud slap of skin each time. It has you jolting against the bed each time, weeping with moans and whines. He eventually swaps tits, sucking on the other and massaging the spit soaked one, lips straying from your nipple to mouth at your skin and leave hickies.

He sits up a little to take in the sight of you, and his cock throbs. Your covered in hickies on your neck and tits, nipples reddened and swollen, lipstick smeared on your neck and mouth. Even your eyes are shiny, starting to water and smear the eyeliner on your lash line as tears drip down into your hair. His hands find your face, cradling your cheeks, thumbs wiping at the mess and smoothing over your chin, “So messy sweetheart.”

As if you couldn’t get any hotter, you tilt your head down and capture his thumb in your mouth, sucking at it and it makes him growl, hips pounding into you harder. You’re both panting, he’s pulling all kinds of embarrassing noises from you, little squeals and whimpers. Reluctantly, he pulls away from you to grab his shirt hem, tugging it up and tossing it onto the floor.

Greedy hands find his chest, feeling his muscled form, scratching over onto his back as he cages you in with his arms again, hair falling in your face. A hand hikes your hips up further onto his lap before resuming the hard pace, and he whines out your name as his eyes flutter. The hand on your hip slides, trying to push your dress up and off you. You assist, arching your back to tug it up and over your head, leaving you in just your panties and a single heel.

Hands find his back again, “Hah- mmmph! Harder, Rob- please,” you can’t even string proper words together. He nearly snarls at the plea, giving you what you want as he pounds into you. Slick drips down your ass, making a mess of his cock, his jeans, the bed.

“You’re- fuck!” He pants, forehead dropping to your collarbones. He can’t even hear the music downstairs anymore, nor the people, just the pounding of his own heart in his ears and your sweet whiny noises. Your hands run along his back, scratching the skin, feeling the scar on his shoulder blade.

“I’m gon’- Rob! I can’t-” Tears roll into your hairline, sweat making your skin clammy.

“I know, it’s okay, fuck,” he growls, “Y’can cum.”

“Uh- huh-” The heat coils further and further, tighter, one of his hands slipping down to practically smack against your clit, rubbing with three big fingers in circles, fingers turning slippery.

The coil bursts, an orgasm ripping through you that has you sobbing against his hair, gasping for air as you tremble. You’d fear you’d have blacked out for a moment if it wasn’t for the way you heard him moan, cock slipping from your pussy to cover your stomach in cum, groaning your name low into your neck. He can feel you shuddering, trembling, aftershocks jolting through you and him. Your thighs pressing against his waist going limp, he bites at your neck, licking over sweaty skin with a satisfied noise.

You’re a mess. A good mess. Chest heaving as you pant, your eyes fall shut, makeup smeared at the corners. One of his hands moves to your cheek, cradling you so gently, thumb swiping under your eyes, leaning in to kiss your lips.

“Mmmmm.” You hum happily into the kiss, slow, soft, all muscles like jelly.

“God, you’re a mess..” He mutters once he pulls away, eyes staring at you like you’ve hung the stars. He kisses your cheek, brushing hair from your face, wiping more tears away, “Are you okay?”

You start giggling when he calls you a mess, weak hands grabbing at his biceps, “Mmm… mmhmm.” You hum lazily, exhausted.

A genuine smile spreads over his face, a laugh leaving him at your reaction. “How drunk are you? Y’gonna forget this?” He whispers, voice a bit raspy.

Another tear, body slowly calming down, giggling again, “‘m not drunk..” You defend, arms looping around him for a hug.

“Oh really?” He smiles, his own arms keeping you close as he hovers over you. He pulls out, a mess of slick coating his cock and dripping from your entrance, making his breath catch and a shock of arousal spread through him again. But you nuzzle into his neck, pulling him down onto you more.

“I love you.” You mumble. You say it just like you do before you hang up with him on the phone, when you two part ways after lunch, but you mean it.

He tenses, cradling you in his arms as he slides over onto his side, pulling you close. His grasp on you tightens, not intentionally, subconsciously not wanting to let you get away. “You love me?” He plays softly, chin resting on your head.

“Mmm..” This is different. “No’ like.. normal.. but.. I really do.” You nod, getting sleepy already.

He tilts his head and stares down at you, eyes a bit wide. Surely you’re joking, right? Before he can form words, you relax into his arms and mumble again, “Y’don’t have to… say it back. Jus’.. stay tonight.. please?”

Part of you fears he doesn’t feel the same, that this will be a nice dream before it all goes to shit in the morning.

He hears your words, his arms tightening around you. He wants to say that he loves you too. That he means it. That he’s felt this way for a long time. But the words are caught in his throat, lips barely able to form a whisper before you’re already asleep.

—

The noise of the party has died down over the past few hours, well into the early morning. You roll over, makeup products crunching under your weight and a stray arm still around you. The uncomfortable plastic makes you whine, blindly shoving at the items. Rob is still awake at this point, though he’s half asleep. Your whine makes him murmur, brows raising a little as he turns his head to you. Rather than speaking yet, he wraps his hand around your front and tugs you back against him.

“Mmm..” You grunt with the movement, turning to look up at him with bleary eyes, still a little drunk but some alcohol has worked its way out of your system.

He cracks a little smile down at you, “Hey..” he murmurs, hand brushing your hair back.

You giggle softly, leaning into his chest, “Hi.”

His chest vibrates with a chuckle at your drowsy state. He admires you silently, petting over your hair, the other hand on your bare waist. “I hope y’don’t hate me in the morning.”

A frown tugs at your lips, pushing into a pout, still not being very rational, “Why would I?” It leaves you in a little whine, latching onto him like a koala. One arm over his chest, leg thrown over his lap.

He laughs quietly at your whining, the way you cling to him, something he’s familiar with. “You don’t regret what we did?” It’s a genuine question, the worry in his voice clear that he’s concerned about you waking up in the morning and feeling shameful.

“Mm mm,” you shake your head, eyes so in love as you stare up at him, “Do… do you?”

“No.” The answer is immediate, “No I don’t.” His hand squeezes on your waist softly, though he wonders if you really understand the gravity of it right now.

Deep down you know. You’ve thought about this more times than you can count and it happening whilst you’re drunk might have been the only way you would’ve allowed it to come true, too fearful of ruining the entire friendship we’ve built over the years.

His response comforts your bleary mind as you nuzzle back into his neck, mumbling a content noise.

He doesn’t let a good moment be spoiled, holding you close to fall back asleep.

—

The morning after, he’s slipped downstairs to make some coffee. Luckily the house isn’t very trashed, just lots of garbage to take out and drinks to clean up, a living room to rearrange properly again. Footsteps on the hardwood catch his attention as you come into the kitchen. Hair messy, makeup smeared on your skin and eyes, picking at something in your eye, in his shirt.

The sight alone has him exhaling softly, he can’t stop himself from staring. “Morning..” He murmurs, trying to sound more put together than he is.

You shuffle over, blindly hugging him, arms looping around his bare waist. For a moment you just stand there, his hand finding your back, before you lift your head up with your chin on his chest. Despite the pounding headache you have, you start giggling at the sight of him, a hand reaching up to smear on his eyelid, “I didn’t do a bad job…” Commenting on his, backwards, sloppy makeup job you gave him.

You’re so adorable. He breathes out with a smile, shaking his head, “No you didn’t.” Kissing your forehead, he loops both arms around you. He doesn’t want to ever let go.

You let a few moments of silence linger, resting your cheek on his chest against as you think. You remember every moment from last night, every action that led to you two fucking. And you don’t regret it. But you also don’t want to dwell on it, make it some big conversation, that doesn’t feel right. So instead, you tilt your head up again, “Do you wanna take a bath together?”

He stares for a moment, as if expecting something else, “You mean, like, right now?”

“We are kinda… nasty.” You mutter, shrugging your shoulders. Smeared makeup on both your faces, necks, not having cleaned up from last night either. He huffs a small laugh at that, nodding in agreement.

“You want to?” Rob rubs his hands up over your back, smiling.

You seem to hesitate for a moment, staring up at him, before nodding. Not just in confirmation to the bath, but to this. The hesitance seems to make him understand a little better. You had said it wasn’t a regret, and now you’re acting normal, close to him, standing in his shirt with what he’s gonna assume a hangover headache.

This was intentional. A deliberate decision on your part. He grins, and hikes you up against him, hands under your thighs. You squeal out a noise, grabbing onto his shoulders so you don’t fall, “Rob!”

Not that he’d ever drop you.

———————♡

#neil newbon #neil newbon x reader #extinction rob #rob extinction #extinction rob x reader

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bringthekaos · 3 months

Note

Do you think is a little jealous that Viktor, as the Machine Herald, is closer to being a “wizard” than Jayce is as the Defender of Tomorrow? And he maybe doodles little Machine Heralds with a more traditional wizard garb like he did when he was a kid?

I think it probably started as jealousy… and the angry, not pretty kind. It was probably coupled with the grief of losing Viktor, the shock of finding out what he did to survive, and the fear of becoming his enemy. All of that kind of compounded, and Jayce just… let it overwhelm him. And then, because he couldn’t face all of those things or the part he played in causing all of it, he channeled it into “and to top it all off, he became what I always wanted to be, but he’s bastardized it!!”

But I think as time went on, as he faced Viktor on the battlefield and saw the wonders (albeit sometimes monstrous) he was capable of… he got curious. That’s the thing with Jayce, his curiosity will always win out, even over something as pervasive as jealousy. So the anger starts to slowly fizzle out the more he meets Viktor in battle, to be replaced with wonder and awe. He starts to study how Viktor moves, study how he uses the staff and the Hexcore like a true mage would. He hurries to the lab after every fight, often with blood running down his face or hands, to take notes on the new things he’s learned.

Sometimes it’s full pages of Viktor’s movements, the rune executions he used and how they were effective. Other times… he just sketches. The elegant curves of Viktor’s mask, his somehow delicate grip on the staff as he used it. And a couple of times, yes, after grief made him pop open a bottle, he drew Viktor in full wizard garb. Complete with little sparkles in the air around his head, and a long, looping scribble of Viktor above it like some kind of pathetic diary entry.

When he sobers up the next morning, he’s embarrassed by the drawing, but he can’t bring himself to throw it away. So he shoves it between the pages of his journal, occasionally pulling it out when he needs a smile.

#arcane #league of legends #jayvik #jayce talis #defender of tomorrow #defender Jayce #jayce giopara #I guess??#idk it’s divorce era at any rate #machine herald #machine herald viktor #viktor the machine herald #asks #ace answers

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avatar-anna · 2 years

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please may you do some blurbs on professor yn she's my fav !!

this had no business being as long as it is, but here we are. enjoy!

The Professor Series

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

“Tell me a secret.”

“A secret?”

“Yeah. Something no one else knows about you.”

You wracked your brain for something to say, searching for something that Harry didn’t already know about you. It was difficult, seeing as you shared everything with him.

“I’m not sure there’s anything you don—”

Harry understood your pause perfectly. “You found something, didn’t you?”

You shook your head, perhaps a bit too fervently to appear genuine. “I didn’t.”

“You did! What’s got you blushing so hard, love?” Harry asked, poking your reddened cheek with his index finger.

You curled into his chest and began to plant kisses along his skin, hoping to distract him. For a moment it worked. Harry held you there, his hand tracing patterns over your sleep shirt and humming contentedly. Eventually, though, he seemed to realize what you were doing.

“As good as this feels, now I’m really curious.”

Sighing, you resigned yourself to the fact that he wasn’t going to let this go. So instead of kissing his chest, you poked it. “You can’t tell anyone.”

Harry drew an X over his heart with his finger. “Promise. Now what has you so flustered?”

“My...favorite movie is Footloose, but the remake not the original.”

“That’s not embarrassing, is it?” Harry asked, looking perplexed. “I mean your movie taste is questionable, but I wouldn’t call it embarrassing.”

You leaned your forehead against his chest, astounded that you were about to unearth something you’d long buried into the recesses of your mind. Something that wasn’t an easy task for you.

“Give me your phone,” you said, sliding off the bed. You and Harry had been reading before going to sleep when he asked his question, and now here you were.

“Why?”

“There will be no evidence that this ever happened,” you said seriously.

He seemed to find your serious tone amusing, but when you pinned him with a stare, he sobered up. “Yes, ma’am.”

Harry handed over his phone, and you used it to queue up a song, skipping the first verse and going straight for the chorus, pausing once you found it.

“So, you know I’m from the South, and that I—I had a lot of time to myself growing up, and this was one of my favorite scenes, so I, um, I memorized it.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, darling, but don’t you memorize everything?”

“You’ll see what I mean,” you said, trying not to feel so nervous. This was Harry after all. You were pretty sure there was very little you could do to turn him off. And he wasn’t the type to judge either.

So before either of you could say anything else, you played the song and began to dance.

“Hey mister won’t you sell me a fake ID. There’s a band in the bar that I’m dying to see...”

You hadn’t line danced in ages, but the muscle memory came back to you like you’d done it last week, each movement easier than the last.

It was embarrassing how obsessed you were with this movie as a kid, but your dad loved country music, and the movie itself was like a small taste of home without actually having to go back. And the lead was cute, so there was that.

It was a fast paced dance and had a lot of complicated footwork. You’d always been terrible at sports and couldn’t actually dance. Except for this dance. You practiced it for hours and hours when you weren’t locked in a lecture hall doing marh. You had your own dorm at the university because you were so young, so you had no one but yourself to entertain you.

One night you even snuck out to a bar that had line dancing, just to see if you could keep up. It was much different than the movie, of course, but you ended up learning a couple steps before people noticed you were much too young to be in a bar.

That was it. Your deepest darkest secret. Not only could you line dance, but you weren’t half bad at it, either.

“Hey mister won’t you sell me a fake ID.”

You were quick to pause the song once the chorus was over. Chancing a look over at Harry, you saw that his expression was one of utter shock and disbelief. He was looking at you like you were a completely different person.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you said, quickly scrambling back to your side of the bed and pulling the covers over you completely.

“That was...” Harry started to say, but it seemed you had left him speechless.

“I said I don’t want to—”

“Hot.”

That made you peek your head out from beneath the covers. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘What?’ are you kidding? That was so fucking sexy I don’t even know where to begin.”

You frowned at him. “I looked ridiculous.”

Harry’s grin softened as he pulled you over so that your chests were flush against each other. As you inspected his face, you saw that his smile wasn’t one of teasing like you automatically assumed it would be. He was telling the truth. He actually liked your little dance.

“You, my love, looked anything but ridiculous. Almost got hard just now.”

“Harry!” you said, slapping his chest lightly.

You didn’t necessarily have a problem with your looks, but sometimes it was hard viewing yourself as sexy, or someone to be desired. You knew the stereotypes around “nerds” and inexperience and lack of inherent desirability, and you had your own track record to back that up. You’d had two boyfriends besides Harry, and even they only wanted to pick apart your brain, their compliments having to do with your intelligence rather than looks. It was fine, you supposed, but it would’ve been nice to be called beautiful or pretty or hot or something.

Harry was always more than eager to compliment every single thing about you, and he didn’t shy away from his obvious attraction to your body or your mind. But sometimes it was hard to believe him when he said things like that, to believe that you turned him on.

“I’m serious! Seeing you sway your hips in nothing but my t-shirt...” he said, trailing off as he replayed your little performance in his head. “I might need you to do that every night before bed.

“That will not be happening. I can’t even believe I did it just now.”

“Special occasions, then?” Harry asked, green eyes pleading with yours.

He looked too sweet to resist. Eyes wide, hair falling over his brow, freckles smattering across his nose. His hands had gone back to tracing mindless patterns on your back, but now they traveled lower and lower with each swirl and loop.

“Fine. But only on special occasions. It’s embarrassing enough as it is.”

“Deal,” Harry said, leaning up to seal it with a kiss.

It was easy to get lost in him when he’d already been tracing your back and slowly scrunching your shirt up. Your leg slotted between the two of his, your fingers finding purchase in the silky strands of his hair as he nibbled on your bottom lip before moving to kiss along his neck.

He giggled for a moment, the quick rise and fall of his chest making you pause and quirk a questioning brow.

“Sorry, I was just picturing you dancing in cowboy boots and denim shorts like they do in that movie. It’s my new fantasy now.”

“New fantasy?”

“Yeah, it used to be you lecturing me in your classroom, but that is now a close second,” he admitted.

“Oh,” you said. Harry went back to kissing you, taking the time to flip you over so that you were beneath him and spreading your legs nice and wide so he could fit comfortably between them.

For a moment, you got lost in him as he left sloppy kisses all over your chest, but then his confession hit you all of a sudden.

“Wait, what?”

“Shh. We’ll talk about my secrets after.”

You let him distract you knowing that you would remember to question him about his fantasies later.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“You’re ruining her, you know.”

Harry looked over to where your mother appeared at his shoulder. “Sorry?”

“You. You’re holding her back. She is one of a kind, has a gift that no one else has, but you have clipped her wings, and now she will never reach her full potential.”

It wasn’t Harry’s choice to visit your mother, but you begged him.

“She promised me she’s going to try to be better,” you told him, a hopeful look on your face. Harry wasn’t convinced, but he wanted to support you either way, so he agreed. A trip to the town where you grew up to meet your mother.

It had gone smoothly for about an hour.

“Keep your voice down,” Harry demanded, trying to quiet his own. You were cooking for him and your mom, and he didn’t want you to hear this conversation.

“You baby her. Coddled her so much that she probably doesn’t know left from right. Do you know how much I gave up so she could succeed, so that she could reach her full potential? And now you cart her around the world like a piece of arm candy, like a trophy you won.”

“That is not—” Harry didn’t even know where to start. Gave up? More like what she got. You told him early on in your friendship that your mother sent you off to some school, had been paid handsomely for it, yet your mother had the gall to act like it was some big sacrifice.

“I don’t cart her around. She works, she has a job that she loves, one she chose long before she met me. Why can’t that be enough for you?”

“That psychology nonsense? Anyone could do that. My daughter is an exceptional human being, but she prances around like everyone else when she is not. And you let her. Take responsibility and do what’s right for her, for all of us. She could be the thing that cures cancer, that—”

“See, that’s your problem,” Harry seethed, trying hard not to lose his temper. “Y/n is not a thing, she is a person, and the fact that you can’t differentiate that is disgusting.”

Your mom looked affronted, offended by Harry’s words and tone. “How dare you! This is my house and I will not allow you to—”

“It’s mine actually. I paid for it with the money I made from my nonsense job.”

Harry’s heart broke when he heard your voice. He hated that you had to hear what your mother said.

Even though he never liked the woman, he knew how optimistic you’d been about mending your relationship with your mom. It was clear now though that she’d had no change of heart.

“Y/n, is this the kind of man you bring into my house?” your mom said, completely disregarding what you said. “He is rude, he—”

“You were rude first. To Harry and to me,” you said, your voice painfully void of any emotion.

“You seem to think that because we’re dating, Harry controls what I do, but that is not the case. He supports me and I support him. I enjoy traveling with him and seeing the world, something I never got to do because you sent me away before I was old enough to get my own passport.

“And my work isn’t nonsense. I save lives, and I teach others how to do the same. Perhaps I could’ve been the person to cure cancer, but if there is anyone to blame for not doing so, it’s you,” you said, your voice breaking on the last word.

Harry wanted to reach out and hold your hand, but he knew he didn’t need to. Despite what your mother thought, you could stand on your own two feet just fine.

“It has taken me a long time to be happy, to rid myself of the belief that I was put on this earth to ruin myself trying to improve the lives of others, including yours. It’s time you learn the same. I suggest you start packing your things, because I’m kicking you out. You will no longer benefit from me or the work that I do, neither of which you have ever loved or supported.”

It was like a grenade had been thrown between the three of you. No one spoke for about five seconds, and then your mother erupted.

“You can’t kick me out! This is my home! I’m your mother, Y/n! Do not disrespect me like this!”

“You are no mother to me,” you said softly, and Harry could hear the wobble in your voice.

“You’d really kick me out? Onto the street? After everything I did for you? You never would’ve even met this man if it wasn’t for me!”

Now your mother was just spewing nonsense, doing anything she could to make you change your mind. She tried to reach out to you, but Harry was there to block her, shaking his head as a warning.

“If it was always true to say that it was or would be, it could not not be, or not be going to be. But if something cannot not happen, it is impossible for it not to happen; and what cannot not happen necessarily happens. Everything, then, that will be will be necessarily,” you said out of the blue. And when your mother looked at you confused, you continued.

“Are you not brushed up on your Aristotle? Let me explain. Things that happen in life are a necessity, that’s why they happen, but not every necessary or unnecessary event eventually plays out in actuality.

“I would’ve always met, Harry, I think. It’s a necessity. But how I got there,” you shrugged. “Not a necessity. You can watch the show Loki. It’s explained better there.”

You took Harry’s hand and led him out of the house. It wasn’t the one you grew up in, but he felt like you were leaving all those terrible memories behind you.

Silence filled the car as Harry drove to the nearest motel. You were supposed to stay at your mother’s house, but that was clearly not an option anymore.

Harry chanced a look at you as he drove down empty streets. You were staring ahead blankly, your hands folded nearly in your lap.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked. He wanted to rest a hand over yours, but you refrained, knowing you probably wouldn’t want that right now.

You shrugged, a very rare movement for you. “Disappointed, I guess? I don’t know why I thought she would be different.” You looked at him, but Harry had a hard time reading your expression. “I know you didn’t really want to come. I’m sorry for dragging you out here.”

“It’s not that I didn’t—I just didn’t want to see you get hurt,” he said turning into the motel parking lot.

“I can’t believe I actually thought she would change,” you said, looking down dejectedly at your hands. “I guess that’s why the saying is that a tiger can’t change its stripes, right?”

“Hey, look at me. Y/n, look at me,” Harry said.

Your lip was quivering and your eyes were lined with tears. When you sniffled, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours.

“You are a remarkable person, no matter what that woman thinks. If she can’t see that, then that’s on her.”

“But she was right, wasn’t she? I could be doing more—”

“Y/n, what you do is enough. You are enough. And if you don’t believe that, I’ll believe it for you until you do.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Now, what do you say to a hopping on the next red-eye out of here?”

“Back home?” you asked with a sniffle.

“Anywhere,” Harry said. “Let’s just go somewhere. You and me.”

His heart swelled when a smile flickered on her lips. You were hurting, but that pain wouldn’t last forever. Harry would make sure of that.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Y/n! Y/n! Over here!”

You looked over to where a couple of girls were calling out your name. It was a hard thing to get used to at first, people suddenly recognizing you, whether it was for your educational videos or dating a celebrity.

All your life you could count the number of friends and family you had on your hand, and now you had hundreds of thousands of followers on something called a “TikTok.” You didn’t really know how to manage it but your partner for making your videos did, so now you made short, one minute videos about whatever popped into your head, something you used to be bullied for growing up but were now praised for.

Hesitantly, you went over to the girls, clearly fans of Harry in their tour shirts and custom made merch. You’d been taking your cats for a walk, all three of them. Harry had gifted you a kitten for your birthday a few months ago, and you welcomed him with open arms into your home.

In a past life, someone calling out to you on the street would’ve made you run in the opposite direction, but now you just smiled and said, “Hello. How are you?”

“Where’s Harry?” one of the girls blurted, which made her eyes bug out with embarrassment. “Sorry, that was so rude! I’m just really nervous and I say stupid shit when I’m nervous, and obviously you guys are together, but you’re also your own people so you—”

“Jen, shut up!” one of the other girls hissed with a quick smack to the arm.

Your eyes were wide during the whole exchange, but you weren’t offended. You could tell this girl, Jen, meant well. And you also knew what it was like to nervously babble and blurt things.

“It’s okay. He’s actually in California right now,” you said, adding the last bit as an afterthought. He had business to take care of, and you had work at the university. Sometimes your schedules didn’t add up the way you and Harry didn’t like, but you made the most of your time and tried to see each other as much as possible.

“Oh. That’s—That’s so cool!” Jen’s friend said, looking a little disappointed.

Feeling bad for the girls, you slipped your phone from your pocket, telling them to wait one second.

Dialing Harry’s number, you waited for Harry to pick up. He usually only let it get to about two rings before he—”

“Darling!”

You blushed at the girls hearing Harry’s pet name for you, but you tried to ignore it and their giggles so you could respond. “Hello.”

“I was just thinking about you, actually,” he said.

Frowning, you replied, “You always say that.”

“Well, I’m always thinking about you.”

One of the girls couldn’t hold back and, “Aww,” which helped you remember why you called in the first place. “Hey, so I ran into some fans of yours, and I thought you would like to say hello to them.”

“I’d like nothing more!” Harry said.

You let the girls say their hellos, not really listening to their conversation until you heard, “She’s with the cats, isn’t she?”

Harry said goodbye to the girls soon after that, thanking them for listening to and enjoying his music, and once the call went dead, you quickly said your own goodbyes so you could be on your way.

As you left the fans behind, your phone buzzed again. “Hi, Harry.”

“I was so wrapped up in conversation, I forgot to talk to you! How was your day, love? How is Marcus Arugula?”

“Aurelius, Harry. How many times do I have to tell you?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

You let it go with a roll of your eyes, knowing this particular conversation could go on for a good long while.

“We’re all fine,” you said as you pushed your cat pram towards your townhouse. “I’m going to try out a new recipe and prep for the new semester.”

“A riveting evening indeed,” Harry said, and while he was joking, you knew he enjoyed a night in with you. “It was nice of you to call me so I could talk to those fans.”

“I’m a nice person,” you replied.

“You are,” Harry agreed. “But you’ve also never done that before.”

You hummed. “You know me, H. Sometimes conversation is hard. Especially if I’m not expecting it. Might as well let them talk to you instead of me.”

“I think you’re a great conversationalist.”

“I’m comfortable around you.”

“An honor I carry with me proudly.”

He was talking funny, or just not like himself. “What’s up with you?”

“Oh nothing, just waiting for you to get home so we can have dinner together.”

“How is that possible? You’re—Wait, did you fly home?”

“Got in ten minutes ago,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Come home, Y/n. I’ve missed you too much.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Y/n? Is that you?”

You turned around, wondering who could possibly be calling out to you, but when you saw his face, you immediately clammed up.

It was Peter. You went to high school together, though you weren’t even a preteen. He was one of the only kids at school who didn’t bully you and was very handsome. He still was.

“Peter. H—Hi.”

Why you were speechless after all these years was beyond you. But being here, at your high school reunion, brought it all back. Like the rest of your graduating class, he was older than you, but time had been kind to him, unlike some of your other classmates, who didn’t even recognize you.

“How are you?” he asked.

You felt like a kid again, blushing at his question. You weren’t into him, but it was like you’d been zapped back to the past, all of that kiddish admiration surging back.

“I’m good. And you?”

“Me? I’m good too, I guess. Surprised you came, though.”

“Me too, but, I don’t know. I thought I’d show everyone I’m not eleven years old anymore.”

Coming to your high school reunion was a last minute decision. You hadn’t been back in your hometown since you officially cut ties with your mother, which had been years ago. You were perfectly content and fulfilled, but when you received an invitation in your school mailbox, you didn’t what to think or how to feel.

“You actually do that?” Harry asked when you showed the invitation to him over facetime. “I thought that was just a thing in movies.”

“Oh, it’s real,” you said. “Is it bad that I want to show you off to all of my tormentors?”

“Not at all. I don’t mind being a trophy boyfriend.”

So here you were. Harry ran to the bathroom less than five minutes in, which was when Peter found you.

“It’s hard to look back and think that you were only eleven,” Peter said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Yeah, I suppose it’s—”

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, cutting you off.

Tilting your head to the side, you asked, “For what?”

“For the way you were treated at this school. It was awful, and I’ve felt guilty about it for years.”

“You didn’t do anything,” you said with a frown.

“Yeah, but I didn’t try to stop it either,” Peter said. “I—I have a daughter now, and to even think about the things that were said and done to you happening to my daughter just fills me with so much anger, and I just—I guess I’m just glad you were able to move on from it. From all of us. And I’m truly, truly sorry.”

You blinked, not sure what to say. You hadn’t really spoken to anyone else, but you couldn’t even fathom any of your former bullies apologizing. Yet here Peter was, apologizing for being a bystander.

“Thank you for saying that. It means a lot,” you finally said.

Peter nodded, realizing that the conversation was pretty much done. “Well, it was good seeing you, Y/n. Or Dr. Y/l/n. My daughter watches your videos all the time, so I know that much.”

You smiled, watching him walk away. When he disappeared into the throng of people, you remembered that you did not come to this reunion alone.

“Where’s my Harry?” you muttered you yourself as you walked out of the gym towards the hallway where the bathroom. You’d spent many hours in these halls. Not walking up or down them. No, you were actually stuffed in a locker on occasion until someone realized you were missing.

As you reached the end of the hallway where the boy’s bathrooms were, you saw Harry. “There you are!”

Harry looked up as he wiped his hands on his trousers, and you couldn’t help but shake your head at his outfit choice.

For one his shirt was see-through. A knitted long sleeve shirt that did very little to hide tan skin and tattoos underneath. And it was barely buttoned too, but when you asked him about it, all he said was that if he was going to be arm candy, he was going to choose what flavor.

“And what flavor are you supposed to be?”

“Boyfriend of a well respected professor, with just a hint of slutty. But just a hint,” he said, pinching his thumb and index finger together.

Sometimes you swore he said things just to see how you would react.

“Here I am,” he said. “Ready to—”

“Let’s get out of here,” you said suddenly, taking his hand in yours.

“Where?” Harry didn’t even question it, just trusted your desire to leave.

Where did you want to go? You thought for a moment, then pulled him along through your old school until you were outside and on the football field.

“People used to come out here and...do things,” you said, staring at the red and white hash marks on the turf.

“What kind of things?”

“Nothing I was supposed to know about at eleven.”

“Scandalous.”

“Very,” you agreed.

Time passed in silence, Harry content to just hold your hand while you gathered your thoughts. He was used to it by now, as you often took long pauses to think before speaking.

“I had a crush on this boy while I was at school here.”

“Cute, but...he didn’t have a crush on you...did he?”

You shook your head. “No, no, nothing like that. He was just cute and...nice to me, you know? He made my life here just a little less miserable. I never held anything against him, but he—he apologized to me.”

“When?”

“While you were in the bathroom.”

“Well...that was nice of him...Wasn’t it?” he asked, not sure where you were going with this.

“Yeah, I just—I don’t know, I just wasn’t expecting it. I didn’t blame him. I hardly even thought about him until today.”

Harry draped an arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side. You’d been through so much, and he didn’t even think you realized it.

But that was the marvelous thing about you. Despite everything, you were still happy, still living life how you wanted, and Harry couldn’t have been prouder. To know you, to watch you grow and flourish, to just be around someone incredible.

“Did you know that Greek philosophers believed that humans were originally made with four arms, four legs, and two faces?” he asked.

He knew you knew, but he wanted to be the one to share the knowledge about philosophy. Just this once. He read up on it just for you.

“I did, but tell me more,” you said, wanting to know his take on it.

“Well,” Harry said. “They were so powerful, that the gods separated them, and the two halves spent the rest of their lives searching for each other, and if they did, there was just this...this cosmic understanding that they were soulmates.”

Harry’s tale was a little bit more romanticized than the original, but you liked it better than way. “Are you saying we’re soulmates?”

“I’d like to think so, yes. Do you concur?”

You smiled at his use of the word “concur.” You affected each other in practically every way possible, and vocabulary was no different.

“I do concur. Your argument was very sound.”

“Why thank you, Doctor.”

You kissed him then, making him stumble with the force you used to lean into him. But Harry was always quick to catch you, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you tight, almost uncomfortably so. Almost.

Harry was usually the one to take the lead with these kinds of things, and you were more than happy to let him. Now, though, you were spurred on by nothing but the desire to let him know how much he meant to you.

You did all the things you knew he loved—sucking his lip between your own, rubbing your hands from the top of his head all the way down until they were sneaking beneath his shirt, tracing his tattoos with your fingertips, nibbling gently on his ear until his knees were so weak he had to sit down on the bleachers.

“Love you,” you mumbled against his neck, sucking a mark there for good measure. You were usually careful about giving Harry hickeys because he was constantly being photographed, but at the moment you didn’t care, and neither did he. Holding his face in your hands, you peppered it with delicate little kisses, all over his cheeks and nose and eyelids. “Love, love, love you.”

“Love you too, darling. With all my heart,” Harry panted, not even bothering to open his eyes. “But let’s go somewhere a little more private, shall we?”

Kissing him one last time for good measure, you said, “Lead the way.”

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