#but i do know that they’d match each other’s freak

[just-a-creep-babe]

Hello! How would Jeff, laughing Jack and Masky be with a reader just as crazy as them? Thank you!

Flashing gif trigger warning!!

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

Jeff the Killer

When he first meets them and realizes they match his freak, he’s actually not too happy

Between his deeply rooted narcissism and insecurity, he immediately sees them as a threat

Like,,, what do you mean some random newbie is similar to him? He’s supposed to be the specialist boy ever!!

He doesn’t want to lose his place, so he tries to talk them down or get rid of them to eliminate the competition

Only once it becomes clear they’re there to stay does he finally *somewhat* chill out about it

Like, when he realizes they aren’t a threat to his place in the mansion, only then will he start to take more of an interest

He’ll try to test them to see if they’re the real deal or if they’re just some poser

And the more they pass his little tests, the more they can prove themselves to him, the more he’ll develop an appreciation toward them

If they truly match his freak, chances are, the relationship will initially start as a friends-with-benefits kind of deal

And as he progressively becomes more attached, he’ll increasingly become more possessive

There might not be an official title to their relationship, but it eventually becomes clear that they’re exclusive

(They have his extremely possessive jealousy to thank for that)

And from that point on, they’ll become unstoppable

Crazy obsessive and dangerously explosive, they’ll quickly develop a reputation as being a couple you do not fuck with

And they’ll become absolutely inseparable

Because, although extremely rare, when Jeff finds someone he genuinely likes and trusts, he becomes loyal like a dog

Assuming his partner shares the same sentiment, the two would—quite literally—die for another

It’s an unhealthy kind of love, but it’s the ideal scenario for both of them

Even despite this love-sick obsession, the two are likely to bicker and argue a lot because fighting is practically one of Jeff’s love languages

So it wouldn’t be the healthiest relationship out there, but either way, Jeff probably wouldn’t go back to a normal relationship after meeting his crazy s/o

After all, where's the fun in being normal?~

Masky

Masky’s biggest red flag is his lack of emotional regulation

If he’s not having an outburst of anger, he’s drowning his sorrows in some kind of substance abuse

Or he’s just full-on dissociating

So, again, a relationship with someone similar to him probably isn’t going to be the healthiest

Instead of uplifting one another and helping each other get better, the two are likely going to drag each other down

Especially if they’re both proxies dealing with the same kind of stressful work

Which means more substance abuse and a lot of fighting

It might get to the point where someone—probably Hoodie—will likely have to intervene

But even despite any friction in their relationship, they’re likely to always gravitate back to one another

They definitely develop toxic codependency

They'll also probably realize that their relationship isn’t the healthiest one out there

But at the same time, because they’re so similar, they find a lot of comfort within one another

And sometimes it feels like parting ways would leave them worse off anyways

So there’s definitely this kind of bitter-sweetness to their relationship

And, at the very least, if one of them ever manages to seek help, they could encourage the other to do the same

So they do still have a chance of saving each other

Like Jeff, Masky’s a very loyal person, so he’ll never give up on his s/o

And he’ll appreciate knowing they wouldn’t give up on him either

So, like I said, definitely bitter-sweet

But, hey, at least Masky will no longer feel like he’s alone in the world

Laughing Jack

On God—it would be mad intense for a human to be as crazy as LJ

They’d have to be super fucked up to compare to a literal monster like him

And, LJ, not being used to seeing a human with that kind of attitude, would be utterly enthralled

He’d think it’s hilarious

He’d make them do all kinds of fucked up things just for his own personal amusement

And every time they do as he says he’d fall more and more crazily obsessed over them—especially if they enjoy it too

I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this previously, but I don’t think LJ is capable of feeling love like a normal person

I think he can feel obsession, fascination, amusement, and joy, though—which is what would overall more closely resemble his sentiment toward his s/o

And the more they’d surpass his expectations of their limits and boundaries, the stronger these sentiments would manifest

His s/o would sort of become like his little human pet project

And he’ll be damn proud of the monster he’s created

Honestly, even despite his feelings toward them, I think there’s a chance he’ll derive pleasure from torturing them

And if they keep crawling back to him—even despite everything he does to them—he'll definitely have earned his respect

He might even go so far as to mark them—which will make him super possessive of them

Like, he actively won’t allow any other demons near them, and he might not even be too fond of humans coming into contact with them, either

He’ll see them as this kind of valuable possession he’s played a crucial role in crafting

Sure, they were already nuts to begin with, but he molded them perfectly to his liking—and now they belong to him and him only

Honestly, needless to say, but this definitely isn’t a healthy relationship

But, if his s/o truly is as crazy as him, it’s not like they'd care, anyways

If anything, it's the poor souls that have the misfortune of running into them that'll suffer the worst fate

[deanie-vee]

sicko freak husbands

[o-sachi]

Shidou Ryusei ‧₊˚ ⋅ Relationship Heacanons + Mini Scenario

ଳ character; shidou ryusei (blue lock) ଳ tags; sfw, gn reader, no y/n

— Slow burn? What’s that? Neither of you know the concept of it because once you found each other… there was just absolutely no letting go. I mean, you have to be the rarest catch ever to be able to match the freak of Shidou Ryusei. Everything between you happens fast.

— Fast as it is, he’ll never let you forget how much he loves you. He’s so aggressive with his loving too (good luck; you’ll need it). Frenzied kisses, hugs that squeeze the life outta you, and all the weirdly sweet compliments are some of the things you can expect from him.

— Not much of a surprise, but the love language that he likes to give and receive would be physical touch. And we know he’s freaky as hell, but the touches don’t always have to be sexual. In fact, he looooves it when you pat his head and massage his scalp. It’s literally the only time when he’s calm and quiet.

— He never takes you out on dates and you don’t complain. Well, he doesn’t take you out on the TYPICAL kinds of dates. Neither of you like dinner dates or movie nights; they’re too boring. You’d much rather go get takeout at 2 AM and eat it in the parking lot. If it’s not spontaneous, then it has to be something that leaves both of you out of breath—laser tag, amusement parks, and paintball to name a few.

— Despite being on the same wavelength, you still fight quite a lot. However, it’s never so serious that you start shouting and hurting each other emotionally. Actually… most of your quarrels are super childish. The last thing you fought about was whether or not Gege should bring Gojo back. Spoiler alert: he’s a Gojo hater.

— I can totally imagine him watching anime with you. He’s lowkey a weeb, trust. It’s actually one of the more calm moments you have with him. That is, if you consider him reacting to every little thing happening to be calm. Best believe he’s shouting at the screen at the most hype moments of the show. He Naruto runs unironically btw.

— He’s… shockingly the possessive type? Like I can imagine that it took him forever to find someone like you, so the prospect of losing you to someone else pisses him the fuck off. He won’t try to hide it too. He’ll still be all sweet with you, but when you look away—whoever tried to poach you will be facing his wrath.

— People are convinced the two of you can communicate telepathically. You can just give each other a look and you both already know what it means. Soooo many inside jokes that if someone else heard the two of you talk, they’d give you a weird look.

— People wouldn’t usually invite Shidou out, unless you would be tagging along. With you around, Shidou isn’t much of a menace. The two of you become the fun couple that livens up the gathering. In short, y’all some crazy fun.

ᯓ Dancing scenario

It was one of those lazy Sundays that the two of you would spend hanging out in your bedroom. It was unusually quiet as both of you were busy scrolling through your phones. A different audio blaring from each of your devices while you scrolled through several Tiktoks.

"Ryu, look at this one," you say, thrusting the phone into his face. "Let's do this dance."

It was one of the simpler dances you found. Everything else was too complicated for the both of you to do in synchrony. You gave him some time to watch it twice and he grins.

The way he hurriedly got off the bed was enough to let you know that he was up for it. You followed suit, preparing your phone to record the two of you dancing like idiots.

Shidou was already practicing on the side. "Heh, this is easy!" But, alas, he was doing it horribly wrong as he always did.

Finally getting the phone ready, you smirk at his silly attempt at the dance and approach him. "You got it all wrong!"

Of course, he insists that he was doing it flawlessly. But you still show him how to do it. About 15 minutes have passed before he became decent at the moves. It's not like you wanted perfection—the mediocrity of your moves makes it funnier anyway. But at the very least, you wanted him to be able to resemble the dance.

"Alright, alright, just hit the record button already. Don't be so fussy. I dance better than you do!"

You playfully glare at him. "Yeah, whatever you say."

Once the phone started recording, you hurriedly went to your place beside him. The music starts and you were able to hit the first few moves. But as you neared the end, Shidou did a different move.

"See? Who messed up first?"

He doesn't own up to it, of course. Shidou, instead, demands for a 2nd take...

then another...

then one more...

then another take...

then, you finally couldn't take it anymore because how is it possible that the more you do it—the more mistakes the both of you do? In the last take, unfortunately, you were the one who messed up.

He gave you that look and you already knew he was going to rub it in your face.

"Hah! Told you I'm the better dancer."

Oh... he did not just say that.

Without another thought, you pounced on him like a wild animal. He should be thankful that your bed caught him, otherwise he wouldn't be attending football practice tomorrow.

You were a self-proclaimed jiu-jitsu fighter when it came to playfighting with him. Well, you don't know the moves or even the name of the moves—but the point is that you have to make him tap out no matter what.

To some extent, this was your little way of showing cuteness aggression—more so the aggression part. Sometimes he just gets on your nerves and this is the only thing that appeases you.

The two of you roll around on the bed, trying to gain leverage over the other. At some point, both of you almost fell off the bed. But he caught the both of you fast enough and flung you back to the other side of the bed.

As he recovered from that, you slipped him into a chokehold. It was a light one, of course. It wasn't like you wanted him to actually pass out.

"What? Gonna tap out?"

He smirks back at your cocky expression and taps your thigh to let you know he was throwing in the towel. He gave up without much of a fight, but that was his own way of letting you know how whipped he is for you.

Shidou might not be good with words, but you fall for his actions nonetheless.

You smile triumphantly at him. "Guess that makes me the better fighter huh?"

A devilish grin stretches across his dark expression

"I demand a round 2."

ε( ε ˙³˙)ɜ ｡° ⚬ ｡ likes and reblogs are appreciated

pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

o-sachi © 2024

[dogwithrabies]

【★】 gn reader but described as afab, slight? sadomasochism themes, scara and reader match each other's freak somehow, not proofread I'll correct mistakes later (maybe)

【☆】 part 2 of this I will never settle on just one interpretation of scara i'm gonna keep flip flopping abt him…..

word count 3.7k

You made it out of the office.

It’s been a few weeks since the last encounter with the Balladeer, since he so kindly let you go with an invitation for next time. The walk back to your private headquarters wasn’t as humiliating as one would think, but the way your step had a little happy hop to it made a few heads turn.

Even the guards at the door's entrance shared a glance, it truly is unusual to make it out alive.

After your visit to his office, everything seemed easier, the amount of physical work you had to do greatly diminished, but all this newfound free time is somehow, always spent in the workplace. The moment you finished your tasks for the day you’d get called in his private headquarters. And most of the time you’d be doing nothing for the whole duration of your stay.

There was a couch next to his desk that you’d sit on and watch him work. Sometimes he’d even grace you with the opportunity to sit near him (he was surprised when you immediately decided to sit on the floor between his legs, but he doesn’t mind as long as you don’t hinder his work). Sometimes, people would walk in, completely clueless of your presence, which spooked you at first, but then quickly made way for other fantasies. You could suck him off in front of your fellow soldiers and they’d have no idea, and you wouldn’t mind even if they managed to catch you. But you’ve still got to figure out some things first.

As much as you’d love to throw yourself at him, the line between what he deems acceptable and not is still thin and almost invisible to you, it’s like walking around eggshells, constantly pushing your luck whenever you make a move or try something new. You’ve been scouting his boundaries and limits, and so far you’ve learned that:

He doesn’t mind physical touch when he initiates it (or when he feels like you’re revering him enough). Sitting at his feet and squishing his legs on the sides of your face also allowed you to feel his structure and constitution. His legs were as soft as you remember, but the skin around his kneecaps had a little dent, almost like the bones under it were disconnected, segmented. They also felt robust, like he could cave your face in with a single kick. And yet they were so dainty and looked so fragile, and thinking about it makes you go a bit crazy.

And lastly, he never takes off the bands around his wrists, even when he removes the armor there’s another layer of cloth covering them.

This isn’t much information, but he’s not keen on entertaining your questions when working (and you think he wouldn’t like the idea of having his whole being analyzed so clinically).

So you stick to keeping yourself entertained, whether it be catching up on lost hours of sleep on the couch or thirsting over his legs like an old perverted man.

You quickly start to realize that your stay in his office is a double edged sword, you got to overhear a lot of sensitive information you shouldn’t have access to. He doesn’t seem too bothered by it, he knows you know the consequences of any of this getting leaked. It’s almost like he’s pushing you even deeper in the dealings of the fatui, you had no plans to leave, but now, knowing what you know, it was completely impossible. The less logical part of your brain is almost tempted to try and escape, just to get him to punish you. But it probably wouldn’t stop at that, he’d have to ensure that what you heard in this room, stays in this room, and he’d probably have to put you out of commission, permanently. You imagine him choking you, he’d look so pretty above you, but it also would be too much work (not that you’d put up any resistance), he’d probably just shock you to death. It’s significantly less personal but you’d still take it.

You’re completely caged, and it’s all his doing. 

You huff against the skin of his leg. It sure is a bore, to be so close to what you want but unable to get it. Your hands slide under both his knees to squeeze his legs at the sides of your face.

Above, you can hear the sound of papers being moved around. So he’s still not done, you think to yourself as you wiggle out of the tight space under his desk and move to the couch. 

Why does he insist on keeping you around if he’s just going to ignore you?

You lay on your side and kick your shoes off (he scolded you last time you kept them on) and turn around to look at him.

He doesn’t even look at you, the loss of your presence is irrelevant and goes unnoticed.

He can feel your eyes boring holes through him, he knows you’re bored by how restless you’re acting. He has half a mind to reprimand you, you should be honored he’s allowing you to spend time in his presence, and yet you have the gall to act bored.

Can’t you see all the favors he’s doing you? Reliving you of your work, taking away most of your responsibilities so you can spend more time with him, you ought to be on your knees thanking him. He doesn’t dwell on the fact that he is also stripping you of your agency, he knows of humans’ fixation with being independent, they can be hard workers, he’ll give them that. This intrinsic feeling isn’t as different from his own need to be useful. The need to be needed. But it’s different, to him, he’s long abandoned his flimsy childish desire to become a human, he knows he is destined for things far greater than any human could ever stride for.

But alas, humans are simple minded creatures, truly inferior to him in any category, they could never hope to grasp the grandiosity of his divine being. 

So he shall give you a pass, and a treat to keep you entertained and docile.

So he puts away the stack of papers on his desk, the action catching your attention, eyeing him as he makes his way to you, as he sits next to you.

“My lord,” you address him as you push yourself up and make more room for him.

“Come here,” he motions with his hand, “Don’t waste my time,” he adds when he sees you hesitating.

You shuffle closer to him, it’s stupid to be this careful now when you’ve spent the last few days squishing yourself in his personal space. Maybe it’s the fact that this is new, he never prioritizes you over his work, only indulging you after he’s done.

 So you feel like a fish out of water.

But if one could read minds- you could have sensed the shift in his energy, or perhaps at least brace yourself for the moment his hand roughly grabs at your hair, bringing you closer to him and exposing your pristine neck.

He lets out an amused huff, and it’s all the warning you get before he pulls you even closer, forcing you to awkwardly hoist yourself up over his lower body. His mouth is warm on your skin, but it’s not those soft lips that you so much adore that make contact, instead, it’s a wet, nasty bite like he’s trying to rip you apart, make you bleed, and some more. 

But he doesn’t linger on just one spot, letting his mouth wander, leaving a trail of what will surely darken and bloom into ugly sore marks. Every time his teeth sink in a yelp threatens to leave your lips- and he thinks it’s funny, the way your eyes squeeze and lips purse trying to silence yourself. 

But no matter how strong willed you are, he will find a way to break you, too.

And he gives you a moment of reprise, as he admires his work. Nothing that your uniform wouldn’t cover, but it’s his ego talking when he riles himself up with the thought that only he can mark you, not the other way around. 

You’re convinced he would’ve just straight up eaten you up had he spent just a few more minutes gnawing at your neck. A rational part of your brain is urging your muscles to move, do something, to get out of this situation, but it’s so quickly drowned by another flow of thoughts. You wouldn't mind if he chose to consume you, in any way he prefers.

He latches once again on your skin, the front of your neck this time, biting and sucking until the skin swells around the hard grip of his teeth. And this time, you don’t have it in you to stop yourself from whining, tears collecting at the corners of your eyes. And he finally seems satisfied by your reaction, pulling you closer to his face, admiring your distressed expression. 

The way your eyebrows furrow together, tears blocking your view as you try to squint them away, desperately trying to get a look at him. You’ve never been this close to him, face to face. He exhales and his breath fans over your face, and it just feels empty. Like an ordinary gust of wind, prive of any trace of the usual warmth any other human would possess.

But you’re not given any moment to dwell on the thought, his other hand grips your face and brings it closer to his, for a moment you expect the sting of another bite, but you’re met with a sensation that leaves your head swooning. The warmth of your tears is replaced by a soothing kiss, and another, and another, and soon the wet sensation is replaced by another equally wet feeling, the pressure of his tongue licking up the trails the tears left.

He doesn’t miss the very apparent blush creeping up your face, chuckling to himself before picking you up with an inhumane amount of strength and repositioning himself. Now he’s above you, again so so close, with wide eyes observing every inch of your face, drinking in your ruined expression.

The glutton that he is, looking is never enough and he can’t keep his hands to himself, off of pretty things. 

So he lunges forward, and your mind blanks the moment his lips cage yours. It’s everything but kind and soft, his teeth immediately nib at your lower lip, tongue forcing itself inside, licking at your mouth.

It takes you a second to register the new feeling, your body melts into it and you don’t have the will (nor want) to fight it. He’s so rough, not giving you a chance to get used to the rhythm, he seems so intent on letting you participate in whatever he is planning to do.

Something quickly dawns on you, sucking any sound you emit straight from the source, it’s filthy and messy and he doesn’t relent even when your hands desperately push him away, trying to put some distance between the two of you, trying to get even a gasp of air.

He laughs softly against you, sensing your struggle, but still not showing any sign of mercy, if anything it just spurs him on, grabbing the sides of your face to push you against him. He shifts his body, actively laying on you, caging you with his full weight.

He’s half hard in his shorts, you can feel his length throbbing with each slight movement of his hips, grinding himself on you. But still, his grip on you doesn’t relent, he can feel you slowing your movements, resisting less and less while still struggling for even a gasp of air.

You think he’d be content with smothering you with his lips (and what a way to go that would be), but then he suddenly pulls away, a wet string of saliva connecting your mouths. You’re panting under him, desperately trying to catch your breath as he busies himself with lapping away whatever glob of tears dares form in your eyes.

He stands unnaturally still above you, watching you gasp over and over until it slowly dies down and fades into a slightly more labored breathing. With a normal amount of oxygen flowing to your brain you also start to regain awareness of your position.

You can feel him twitching and grinding against you, despite all the layers of clothing. 

His gaze on you remains unwavering as his hands move to unclip all those annoying buttons, unclasping every single one until he can take off your coat, and you let him, body almost limp as he slides it off you.

“Don’t tell me you’re already gone, I was just starting to have fun,” he murmurs against your neck, gently nibbling on it this time.

All you can muster is a small mh-hm, it’s enough confirmation to asses that you are still conscious (and alive).

He makes you the favor of getting off your chest, moving your limbs out of the way so he can settle between your legs, ridding you of your remaining clothing. Despite being in his office, the air is still relatively chill, the moment you’re fully exposed a shiver runs down your spine as you adjust to the new temperature.

He, on the other hand, is busying himself with manhandling you, pushing you further up the side of the couch, and letting your head rest on the side arm. 

“You’re awfully wet,” he says once he’s satisfied with this new position, “a bit of kissing is enough to get you this turned on?” you can hear the grin in his voice as he speaks. You could say the same about him, his erection is VERY hard to ignore and he’s so hard it almost looks painful. You want to reach out and touch him, stroke him to completion as he comes undone over you, but he’s faster and you can just watch as he lowers his shorts just enough to free his dick.

“Surely you won’t mind if we skip preparations. You seem ready enough.” you immediately feel him nudging your folds, slowly rubbing himself, his tip bumping on your clit as he shifts higher.

“I don't mind-” he uses his finger to apply more pressure, “I want you inside me. Please.” “How bold, How can I say no to that?” His hands move to your hips as he holds you in position, his tip sinks into you and he wastes no time pushing in the rest, too.

You make a sound as you throw your head back, the sudden feeling of being so full overtakes you. You can feel him throbbing inside you and it’s driving you insane- alongside his little huffs above you- you could come just about now.

You feel him pull back slightly before pushing back in, slowly at first, and then picking up speed once he’s found a satisfying rhythm. The stretch is still a bit uncomfortable, but you’re so wet you’re leaking against his pelvis and the front of his shorts. 

“So tight,” he bends lower so his mouth is directly next to your ear, “it’s like you’re sucking me in.” All you can do is moan into his shoulder, sliding your arms under his so you can hold him closer to you. He takes it as an invitation, pushing himself impossibly close to you, picking up his ministrations on your neck again.

He’s not as heavy as you expected him to be, you can still comfortably breathe with his weight on you, and with how close he is to you, you can feel his pelvis rut against your clit with each shift of his hips.

His teeth sink into you again, he stills there and he sucks on the spot until it darkens. There isn’t a single spot he hasn’t sucked or bitten, the whole zone feels so raw.

“I knew it,” he mumbles into your neck, “You bruise so beautifully,” he says while looking at you.

It shouldn’t turn you on this much. That’s not a normal thing to say to anybody, however. He feels you clench on him as your hips roll into him, tiny mewls spilling from your lips as you chase your high. 

“F-fuck, fuck- please-” It’s muffled but he can still hear you and it only spurs him on. 

“Please what? Please fuck me faster? Harder?” He says in a mocking tone. You want to answer him but you don’t even know what you’re begging for. With every thrust, your brain melts a little, and you find yourself pathetically moaning under him.

Your grip tightens on his back as you grow rigid under him- it’s a surge of warmth that passes through your body so suddenly, leaving you gasping under him. It’s even wetter now, his dick is practically sliding out of you as he fucks you through your climax.

“How cute,” he muses. “That fast?” He stills his movements and lifts himself up once he feels you limp.

Your brain is buzzing as you recover, lust still clouding your mind. His cold hands a juxtaposition to your warm body, he pushes your legs up and higher, the angle making the back of your knees burn uncomfortably

“I hope you don’t think we are done yet, I intend to have my pleasure too.” 

He resumes his thrusts, harder this time. His tip reaching the deepest part of you, so rough it’s like he’s trying to push even deeper. He’s just using you for his pleasure now, fucking you like you’re just an object for his pleasure, a toy to fuck and fill up until he’s satisfied.

He applies more pressure to your knees, squashing them against your upper body. His cock catches against a spot, softer in texture than the rest, and you gasp.

“Good?” He asks, already knowing the answer, but he takes enjoyment in the way you mindlessly nod in response.

“A-again, please.” He twitches, and obliges your request, angling himself to hit that spot with every thrust, and his ears are immediately graced with the sound of your sweet whimpering.

Your hands flail around, before settling on gripping the cushions under you. You miss his back, his presence against you, the bits of hair tickling your hands whenever he lifted his head. But you’re not gonna complain, not when he’s pummeling into your cunt like he intends to break you. Matter of fact, you can hardly form any thought that isn’t just mindless blabbering.

He curses, as he moves one hand to shove his shorts lower, exposing more of himself, every time he pushes into you now there’s an audible plap of skin against skin contact. It’s impossible to ignore, and you’re sure whoever’s passing by his office must hear what’s going on inside (if your moaning didn’t give you away already).

But he doesn’t care, the way you clench against him every time he slides over that spot, the surge of liquid leaking on him as he fucks himself deeper inside you, it’s too good to stop. 

Your pleasure comes after his, but archons does he want more of you. He repositions you roughly, hoisting one of your legs up as his other hand busies itself with rubbing your clit.

It’s messy and he’s applying a bit too much pressure, but the effect is immediate and you couldn’t care less. Your stomach tightens as a burning feeling intensifies, he talks you through it and it only intensifies the feeling.

“Oh? Are you close again?” he taunts you, but it’s affecting him too and it shows in the way his movements get more desperate.

“Then do it, come for me, come for me again,” and it’s embarrassing how you can do nothing but obey him, clenching around him as you spasm and flutter around him. Your free leg squeezes his side,, your back arches and he huffs. But he doesn’t give you time to rest this time, he ruts in you, leaning on you, even as the pleasure turns into overstimulation.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He sounds raspier, almost winded. He’s close and the thought is almost enough to make you come again.

With one pointed thrust, he pushes himself impossibly deep and stays there. And then, it washes over him, as he fills you up in waves and waves of his seed.

He lets go of your leg and leans back, his cock slipping out of you.

You feel so empty without him, and the feeling of his come slipping out of you doesn’t help. He watches your fingers as they make their way to collect whatever spilled out of you to push it back in, slightly shivering everytime you brush up against a sensitive spot.

Are you trying to rile him up again? He laughs at the thought.

“So insatiable,” his voice catches your attention, “let me help you,” he says.

There truly is no end to his greed, all he knows is to take. And it’s what he’s planning to do now, too.

You want to question him but the thought quickly dies on your tongue when you feel him penetrating you again. Your insides accommodate him with no resistance this time, but you can’t help but notice that he’s still hard.

“...no refractory period?” you think out loud. He hums in amusement.

“So you do have a brain, here I was thinking all you could do is think about my dick.”

You bite the side of your cheek, “Well, you’re not wrong. But…”

He twitches at your admission.

“I couldn’t help but notice some things.” 

“Like?”

“You just seem so different.”, his gaze hardens for a moment and you hurry the next part of the sentence out, “Not in a bad way! It’s just… you’re stronger, faster, and prettier than anyone I've ever met”.

He doesn’t respond, inviting you to elaborate.

You don’t mention the rumors going around, not that they’re reliable, coming from another Harbinger’s subordinates, but every lie has a base of truth to it.

“There are other details, but the whole picture got me thinking…” Your voice dies down as you momentarily sink back into your thoughts.

“So what, you want an answer from me?” You don’t respond, focusing on how his tone has shifted into something more malicious, and how his hips started slowly moving again.

“Too cock-drunk to think?” He muses to himself. “That’s fine. Maybe you’ll figure it out one day.”

His cock rolls into your walls, pushing little gasps out of you.

“But for now, I’m gonna make good use of you.”

[littlemisshehe]

And I’ll hold your hands when I say this: my favorite trope has to be Theo Nott x russian girl. I believe the Italian bf and russian gf pairing is the hottest pairing possible.

I imagine them going to Moscow every winter break, to visit her family and spend the most fairytale-like winter there, walking the streets, buying her a new fur coat, dressing up for a night out in the Bolshoy Theatre, partying with her russian friends (and do believe me Russians know how to party), maybe inviting the whole slytherin gang too.

They’d then take a 3 day trip to St. Petersburg to see the art exhibition at the Hermitage museum (I just know they both are massive art enjoyers) and maybe do some sightseeing and walking along the streets of the old city center.

Now thinking of how they met…

Theo turned into a puddle the first time he saw her, some animalistic urge - to get this woman to be his - gnawing at him. He yearned, in fact. It didn’t help that she was straightforward, confident, HOT and so so feminine, it’s like she carried a bag of pheromones with her. Her Russian background, though, and her formidable father kept the guys at bay. Not Theodore though. My boy was cooked the day he heard her swear in russian.

As tough as she may have seemed, she couldn’t resist his Italian charm (can’t blame her). Some pining on both sides and one angry love confession after they became inseparable. And trust me when I say they matched each others freak perfectly.

[moonflowerdamie]

rating yellowjackets ships (lowest to highest!) because i am bored and also because i want people to know just how insane i am for some of the pairings in this show‼️ LETSGOOOOO

•travnat—3/10•

they’re…ok i guess? like. i don’t actively hate them, but i really don’t ship them. and yeah i get that they clung to each other and bonded over dad trauma and stuff, but a) i don’t like travis (PLS DONT ATTACK ME HE’S JUST NOT FOR ME AND I COULDNT GET OVER THE MISOGYNY) and b) i fully believe natalie scatorccio is AT LEAST bisexual and deserves a lady lover!!! so yeah. not for me.

•mistynat—4/10•

ok. OK. hear me out PLEASE bc i know some people are gonna be mad i’ve put them this low. i just don’t really see it? like i fully believe that it’s possible misty had a crush on nat in the teen timeline and i’m pretty convinced adult misty was definitely infatuated/obsessed with adult nat BUT i don’t think nat ever reciprocated? and i can’t see her ever feeling that way about misty IM SORRY. i don’t hate the ship by any means, it’s just not my favourite!!!

•jackielot—5/10•

they’re both pretty femme lesbians and i think maybe they should smooch (and then smooch ME MY GAWD PLS ONE CHANCE😫🙏🏻). that’s all i have to say about that.

•shaunanat—5/10•

i just know the rivalry in s3 is gonna HIT and maybe they should kiss and make up about it (AND THEN KISS ME TOO MY FUCKING LORD I NEED THEM BOTH SO BAD🫦). but fr i mean like a cute idea in another world yk? they would SO bully the shit out of each other and then fuck nasty about it🤝.

•crystal x misty (crusty😭)—6/10•

they were cute!!! they matched each other’s freak🥹 until misty freaked a little too hard 😔 no but actually they could’ve been cute musical theatre gfs and i would’ve been here for it!!!

•taishauna—6/10•

i LOVE their friendship in both timelines and i do prefer them platonically BUT i see the potential. i think they soften each other, and allow the other to process and feel their emotions, and also help to rationalise them. LOVE the friendship and if i didn’t prefer their other ships i could defo see myself getting into them!

•lottielee—7/10•

the disciple and the prophet??? uhhh YEAH. i mean laura lee literally haunts lottie for 25 YEARS. that bitch NEVER got over what they had. are they my favourite ship? no. do i wish they’d kissed in that lake? YES YES YES YES YES. the yearning, the religious symbolism/guilt, the TENDERNESS. i am IN.

•lottieshauna—8/10•

BRRSKLLAKSKS just yes. YES. THE PROPHET AND HER BUTCHER😫. their relationship is so complicated and beautiful but i think they could be very special, specifically in the teen timeline. they’re so fiercely protective of each other but would never admit it. they hate each other. they admire each other. they resent each other. THEY LOVE EACH OTHER. i wholeheartedly believe lottie was shauna’s bi awakening when they were like 13 and shauna never really stopped thinking lottie was gorgeous. just. THEM.

•jackienat—8/10•

i am a SUCKER for the popular x loser trope and even more so when they’re LESBIANS😁 like lottie was shauna’s awakening, nat was jackie’s. ONE MILLION PERCENT they were childhood besties and one day they kissed ‘to practice’ when they were like 11 and jackie was like ‘OH😨’ and knew then and THERE she was a lesbian. i love them your honour. like shaunanat, i think they’d bully each other, but i also think they’d be so soft with each other. OH and nat would SO tease jackie for being popular and rich and preppy and call her ‘princess’ in jest but would for real treat her like a princess and would beat up anyone who said a bad word about her. yes PLEASEEEEE.

•taivan—10/10•

THEEE IT COUPLE! they are just *mwah* chef’s kiss. especially in the teen timeline! they just balance each other so perfectly, like they were LITCHRALLY made for each other🥹. van is goofy and silly and a dreamer, tai is serious, intense; a realist. they just so clearly love each other so so much and i ADORE THEM. ‘happy wife happy life’ YYYYEEEAHHHHH. i’m gonna be so devastated when they eventually break up in the teen timeline and DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED on if/when van dies in the adult timeline☹️. not even thinking about it actually. just them and their soft tender gay love🤗.

•lottienat—1000000/10•

i genuinely will start tweaking if i think about these two for too long. they just make me so ASKSHSLSLSJSJ😫. i don’t even think i can articulate how much i love them. the rich girl and the burnout. the hunter and the prophet. THEY ARE SO PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER. the bath scene????? DIED DEAD ON THE FLOOR. ‘is that what we are’ GONE REQUIRING CPR. lottie kissing nat’s hands for so long after giving up her leadership, the last thing she had left? SIX FEET FUCKING UNDER😨. nah but fr, i NEEEED them to kiss. they would be so good for each other. the potential is…UNFUCKINGLIMITED (i am choosing to ignore the fact that nat’s dead thank you xoxo). just…the tenderness. the pining. they’re narrative foils. they’re enemies. they’re friends. they’re something more. YELLOWJACKETS…DROP A LOTTIENAT KISS IN S3 AND MY LIFE IS YOURS🙏🏻.

and finally…my fucking roman empire…

•jackieshauna—9999999999999/10•

there is a hole in my heart in the shape of these two. they’re…EVERYTHING. god they just loved each other so much but life and the wilderness and jeff and their own self-destruction got in the way. jackie loved shauna so much it killed her. shauna loved jackie so much she ATE her. they were completely undefinable—best friends, rivals, soulmates. entirely devoted. i just ache when i think about what they could have had. the tragedy of them is life-altering. shauna will miss jackie for longer than she knew her and that fact makes me want TO OFF MYSELF. they are intertwined forever, not knowing where one ends and the other begins. i wholeheartedly believe they were in love with each other but didn’t know how to say it. because of jeff, because it was 1996, because love couldn’t even possibly cover what it was they felt for each other. in my head, they’re together. in my head, they ran away together and lived a long and happy life. and it kills me to know that’s not what happened. they actually make me fucking insane and i’ll never get over them.

now have some memes bc i’m silly like that🤭

[carniferous]

i need the dil bartylus thesis NOOOOWWW

bartylus is the failmarriage of ALL time to me i’ve spoken about this before but to me they contrast jegulus in that jegulus is a relationship with clear beginnings and ends. its tumultuous for sure but its tumultuous in a very defined way. jegulus cant be a failmarriage bc they’d get divorced. they’re too obsessed with defining what they are to each other bc they want it to be real and meaningful and it can’t be anything less than that

bartylus on the other hand…. they couldn’t define what they are to each other if they tried. they’re like the definition of settling for less but ‘less’ in this case is someone who understands you on a very a deep and fundamental level. perhaps better than anyone in the world. perhaps better than you understand yourself!! i wouldn’t say they’re ‘recognition of self in the other’ bc barty and regulus aren’t even other to each other…. they are each others homes and i mean in this context that both of these characters have the most fraught relationship with their respective homes imaginable. they want each other the way they want to go home (not at all — but also desperately). their relationship is inextricable from childhood. they hate to be reminded of their childhoods

and yet they’re not…. toxic per se! they’re obviously not healthy but they love each other in a way that’s very earnest (childlike). barty dreams of running away with regulus. he is the white knight rescuing the princess from the tower (he’s exactly like james in this respect). but unlike james barty doesn’t see running away as leading to a potentially better life for them….. he has no desire for freedom or salvation. barty just wants to do what he thinks will make regulus happier. and bc of this they will NEVER run away together bc regulus does want freedom. he does want salvation. he will never leave everything he knows unless he has the promise of something better, and barty can’t give that to him (and barty would see dishonesty about that as the greatest betrayal imaginable). so they never leave! they’re trapped together forever! stagnation! rotting! being seen this clearly is love but it’s also unbearable! there’s no mystery there’s no intrigue there’s just the cold acceptance of their fate and the comfort that at least they’ll bear it together except it’s no comfort at all because they COULD have escaped. just not with each other

and don’t even get me STARTED on brotherhusband barty…. there are like some obvioussss barty/sirius parallels and we’d be fools to think regulus doesn’t see them. to think regulus doesn’t want barty explicitly because “this person is like my brother if my brother wanted me” ?? regulus is someone who has lived his entire life wanting to be wanted come on…. he fucks barty because barty is like if regulus could somehow make sirius stay. and barty thinks this is sooooo sweet he indulges it he’s like “yeah reggie why would i ever leave you we’ve known each other since we were toddlers… we’re practically bro—” and then 5 minutes later regulus is sucking his dick and he’s like. wow look at regulus self-soothing! i’m such a good friend :)

in a modern setting they’re a category 5 situationship of unprecedented magnitude. like the picture you paint of regulus crying in his car after their 34th screaming-match breakup of the MONTH (how does this even happen. months only have 31 days max. were they timing it by the hour) is so perfect. ppl tell reg to see a therapist and he graciously does and after explaining it the therapist is like “do you think this might have anything to do with your childhood?” and regulus like “no?” and then proceeds to ghost said therapist bc on the way home from the appointment barty called and apologized and invited regulus over. regulus was like “okay but we’re not going to fuck” and barty is like “ofc not do you think i’m some kind of freak that i would be horny right now—“ cut to barty with regulus’s calves on his shoulders

[trybeforeyoudeny]

“C’mon Ed’s, there’s gotta be someone here that catches your eye.”

Nancy had dragged her best friend all the way to Indy with the promise of finding him a suitable match- much to Eddie’s dismay. He didn’t want to find a match. He knows he’s not exactly the type of guy people are interested in, even at the gay bar they’re currently drinking at.

What’s worse is the thought of actually finding someone that he’s interested in here just to go back to Hawkins once the weekend is over and wallow in his own self-pity.

“Nope, no one,” he replies dryly before downing the rest of his beer.

“Hmph,” she lets out an irritated noise before raising her glass to her lips, peaking over the top to scope out the crowd. “What about him?” She juts her chin out.

“Who are you… him? Are you serious?” He scowls when his eyes land on the man she’s looking at. He’s practically a ken doll in real life with slicked-back blonde hair and icy blue eyes that are cutting through him from across the bar.

“What? Not into the pretty boy type?” She raises a brow at him and continues her search.

“Obviously not! What about me says that’s my-”he pauses mid-sentence, jaw slacked as he looks past the ken doll and sees the most beautiful man he’s ever laid eyes on.

“What were you saying about that not being your type?” She smirks.

“What? I- oh, shut up!” He groans, not taking his eyes off the brunette on the dance floor.

“Wait, he looks familiar. Eddie, is that-“

“Steve Harrington?!” His eyes widen and his heart drops.

It’s been nearly a decade since graduation but the constellation of moles on his neck and body- Jesus H. Christ, that crop top is doing things to him- and those honeyed brown eyes are all he needs to confirm it’s him, king Steve. But what the hell is he doing here?

“He’s certainly caught your eye,” Nancy snorts from beside him, nudging him up off his seat.

“What the hell are you doing?” He nearly shrieks as she pushes him in the direction of the dance floor.

“What do you think I’m doing? Go talk to him!”

“I can’t just go talk to Steve Harrington, Nance. He’s probably not even gay! He’s gotta be here with someone else playing as their wingman,” he scours the mess of sweaty bodies, searching for anyone else he may know.

“Ha! See? Buckleys here as well! He must be with her,” he smiles proudly but it drops quickly when he feels himself still being ushered away.

“Just go Ed, you don’t have to shove your tongue down his throat, just make conversation,” she urges him, pleading at him with her eyes to give it a chance. To let someone in.

“Fine, whatever. I won’t say I told you so when I’m back here in two minutes with a bruised eye and an even more bruised ego,” he rolls his eyes and shuffles his way towards the crowd, twisting and turning his way around people until he’s stood right in front of the jock himself.

Eddie had always hated Steve in high school- at least that’s what he told himself to hide the embarrassingly huge crush he had on him growing up.

Towards the end of his final senior year, they ran in very similar circles yet hardly interacted face to face. He hated the way the kids absolutely raved about him and his jealousy got in the way of ever giving him a fair chance even when they ended up at the same events as one another. There had been birthdays, graduations, Joyce and hoppers wedding- and though they’d be in close proximity they hardly acknowledged each other.

Eventually, he had heard that he and Robin moved to Indie and had accepted the fact that they would never get the chance to grow their relationship past anything more than reluctant acquaintances.

Standing in front of him now he’s seeing a much different side of Steve. The Steve he knew was a ladies man- a polo-wearing jock who was the captain of the swim team and floated through school without as much as a turned-up nose in his direction while Eddie was the Satan worshipping freak, a name given to him by his lovely classmates.

The Steve standing in front of him now was a completely different person. He’s wearing denim shorts and a cropped top, remnants of glitter scattered across his cheeks like kisses. Eddie has to stop himself from chuckling at the idea of Robin pinning Steve down to apply it, and… eyeliner?!

Eddie feels like he’s about to pass away on the spot and he forgets how to breathe.

“Hello?”

Oh. Oh shit. Right. He’s supposed to be saying something right now, not gawking at him.

“Um, hi?” It comes out like a question and he wants to slap a hand against his forehead. Why did he let Nancy drag him into this situation?

Before he can come up with anything to say Steve’s leaning in oh so close with a smirk on his face, brushing a loose strand of hair behind Eddie’s ear before whispering into it, “do you come here often? I haven’t seen you here before and I’d definitely remember you.”

Eddie nearly scoffs at that because clearly, Steve isn’t remembering him.

“It’s my first time, big boy,” he responds swiftly, a sideways grin painted on his face.

There’s a flash of something in Steve’s eyes when the nickname leaves his lips and Eddie is beginning to realize that Steve may not be as straight as he previously assumed. And well… he doesn’t know what to do with that information.

“What’s your name, handsome?” Steve purrs while twirling one of Eddie’s loose curls around his finger.

“Eddie,” he deadpans, waiting to see if anything clicks for Steve.

It does.

Steve freezes, dropping Eddie’s curl before taking a step back and looking him up and down.

“Eddie,” Steve echoes, big doe eyes widening at the realization.

Eddie looks different now but he’s still the same Eddie he crushed on in the eighties. His hair is cut slightly shorter now and is pulled up into a wild bun with loose curls flying free around his face. His style has toned down since high school but it’s still so Eddie.

He’s still got his dark ripped jeans but his battle vest is traded in for a black shirt with the sleeves cut off, the arm holes dipping low enough to show off the new tattoos covering his ribs. He wants to reach out and touch them.

“So you do remember me, Harrington!” Eddie teases, setting Steve on fire.

“I-yes, of course I do Eddie. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you at first… I think I’ve had too many of those fruity cocktails,” he admits.

“I suppose I’ll forgive you just this once,” Eddie chides, “if you’ll buy my next drink.”

“That I can do,” Steve smiles and oh… oh god his smile. Was it always this breathtaking?

The pair head back to the bar where they find Robin and Nancy deep in conversation, both of them leaning in close and giggling way too much for this to be a casual chat so they sneak past them and don’t interrupt.

Steve orders them both a colourful drink with a little umbrella sticking out of it, something Eddie would never have ordered for himself but he’s delightfully surprised when he takes a sip of the fruity concoction.

“What brings you to Indy?” Steve questions with a tilt of his head.

“Uhh,” he rubs the back of his head nervously. “Honestly, Nance dragged me out here to try to meet some guys. Hawkins isn’t exactly the best place to meet other gay men, y’know?”

“Oh I definitely know,” Steve nods and Eddie feels a weight lift off his chest at the response. “Part of the reason Rob and I moved out here was to be apart of a better community. Although it was hard to leave the kids, Joyce, hop… you.”

“Me?” Eddie’s eyes widen and he jolts back a bit as if he’s been electrocuted. “We weren’t… I mean, we were never close…”

“Yeah but I still had a big stupid crush on you,” Steve admits out loud, so causally that Eddie thinks he must have misheard him until he looks up and sees the nervous look on Steve's face as he awaits some sort of response.

“I… you had a crush on me?” He points between them for emphasis as he speaks.

“Mhm, a giant one. You were kinda my bi-awakening dude,” Steve laughs nervously, hiding his blush behind his drink.

Eddie short circuits.

He can’t believe what he’s hearing but Steve sounds so genuine he has no choice but to believe every word he says.

Had he been blind? Were there signs of Steve’s feelings that he hadn’t noticed? He thinks back to the late summer barbecues in the Hoppers back yard, how Steve always seemed to sit next to him at the picnic tables even when there were other places to sit. How Steve was always quick to offer up his house for the D&D campaigns when he didn’t have to, how he’d driven him back and forth to work for a week straight in 1987 when his van broke down even though the two of them had never spent time alone before that.

He always assumed the little things steve did was because of the kids, because of Dustin. That he was trying to be kind to Eddie because the party cared about them both and he wanted harmony within the group.

Looking back he feels like an idiot.

“Well, between you and me,” Eddie leans in close and Steve leans into it. “You were my gay awakening back in like, middle school man.”

“Middle school?” Steve pulls away with wide eyes.

“Mhm,” Eddie nods, finishing off the rest of his drink to get some liquid courage before continuing. “Eight grade, swim team,” Eddie whistles, leaning back in his seat. “Let’s just say I had no interest in swimming.”

Steve lets out a bark of laughter, cheeks hurting from smiling so wide.

“So why didn’t you talk to me?”

“Are you kidding? I don’t think eighth-grade Harrington would have taken well to the freak having a crush on him.”

Steve winces and Eddie immediately regrets what he said, albeit it is the truth.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he nods slowly. “I’m sorry. I was an asshole back then.”

“You were a kid,” Eddie shrugs. “Clearly you’ve changed. I should have noticed that you were different all those years ago… before you moved away.” But I didn’t want to, he wants to add but doesn’t dare say it aloud.

“Still-“

“Ah ah! Nope, it’s in the past,” he cuts him off before Steve has the chance to spiral. “But now that we’re here, I’d like to get to know the real you more,” he hope he doesn’t sound too forward or worse, desperate.

“I’d like to get the real you as well,” Steve blushes back and Eddie feels as though he might combust. “Why don’t we get out of here? Go somewhere quieter?”

“I’d love to,” Eddie replies, looking down at his lap to hide the heat raising in his own cheeks.

Steve extends his hand to help Eddie down from the tall stool and they make their way out of the bar, giggling and leaning into each other's space, hopeful and excited.

[daydreams-after-dark]

Fem!han x non specified gender y/n // House party smut.

MDNI // 18 + content below

Ref: this Han

So I’ve been thinking about fem!Hannie a lot this week (as you probably know) and this filthy little scenario came to mind. Remember fem!Hannie is a little freak whom I adore so much.

Unhinged level 🤡🤡🤡

MDNI

A/n: if fem skz isn’t your thing please don’t read and just scroll past 😘

CW/ below

CW/ double pen dildo fucking in front of ppl at a house party. Squirting.

…..

It’s not long after you arrive at fem!Channie’s house party that you and fem!Hannie find yourselves making out on the couch. Your little babygirl is dressed in one of her signature crop tees (no bra) and a plaid print little wrap around netball skirt. Her look is finished off with black combat boots, her hair up in two little pig tails (the rest of her hair loose), and a painted love heart on her cheek. Cute.

She straddled you about ten minutes ago, grinding on you like no one’s watching. Actually, she was grinding like everyone was watching because she’s a little exhibitionist.

And people were watching. They couldn’t look away. Your sloppy, messy makeout session looked fucking wild. Fem!hannie loved it when dribble was involved, running down your chins.

Your hands slid up to squeeze her little tits and pinch her nipples hard enough to make her yelp. Then you pushed her top up enough to latch onto her nipple. You loved her tits. You loved how they’d harden against your tongue. You especially loved to make her squirm and try to get out of your grasp, but you would bite down harder, forcing her to take it. You could be so mean sometimes.

After you’d given her tits enough attention, you popped your mouth off, leaving them wet with your saliva. Then you ran your hands up her petite thighs, squeezing them as you nipped her lip with your tongue. You wondered if she was wearing anything under her skirt? She was known for going sans panties sometimes. Your thumb reached the juncture of her thighs to brush against a bit of mesh fabric. You knew which one it was. Her white mesh thong. The one that goes even more see through when she’s wet. Which is practically all the time. The needy little thing.

“Fuck, you’re wet, babygirl.” You whispered and slip your thumb underneath the mesh so you could feel her arousal directly on your skin. “Want me to fuck you with my fingers?”

She shook her head. “I’ve brought something” she giggled and reached across to open her little metallic gold backpack and pulled out her extra thick dildo. The “realistic” one that was skin coloured with veins.

“Babygirl, people can see.”

“Shhh… no one’s looking.”

They were looking and she knew it.

“Hold it between your thighs for me.” She instructed and lifted off you so she could pull her panties to the side and line it up with her entrance.

“Did you bring lube?” You whispered. She just grinned and sunk down on the dildo.

“Not for this one.” She laughed as she started to bounce up and down.

Not for this one? You peeked into her backpack to see she brought her matching dildo, the same as the the one inside her pussy right now, except a little smaller. This was the one she used for her ass.

Your head snapped up to her. Fucking slut. So fucking hot.

“Do you want me to prep you baby, then we can find a room upstairs?”

She bit her bottom lip mischievously and grabbed your hands, pulling them around to her ass. Your fingers were met with a little metal handle. Her butt plug.

“Fuck babygirl. No wonder you’re so horny.” You pulled her face down to yours, initiating another sloppy make out session. You gripped the plug and began to gently tug on it. She moaned in your mouth and started to fuck herself harder.

You pulled away from the kiss to gauge the room. People were looking, and they were getting horny it seemed. Some people were just watching, others were palming their erections. Girls were grinding on each other or fingering themselves. And in the far corner of the room, two people were actually fucking, and a few guys were getting blow jobs.

You knew your little Hannie. She’d want to outdo everyone.

“Okay, babygirl. Over my lap now.” You growled.

With the dildo still deep in her cunt, she laid across your lap on all fours. Her pretty little ass in the air. You lifted her skirt up, peeled off her panties and exposed her filled holes to the room.

You started the show by slowly fucking her with the dildo whilst at the the same time pulling the plug halfway out of her ass, stopping at the widest part of the plug so her little hole was stretched. So perfect. Then you’d push it back in, watching her hole shrink back around the slimmest part of the plug.

She was doing so well to stay as still as possible, but you knew she was close to tears. She’d be so ready to cum right now. Poor needy little thing.

You repeated this a few times, sometimes pulling the plug out entirely to watch her hole gape for a moment, then pushed it back in before it clenched around nothing.

“Actually, babygirl. Let’s move you a little so everyone can watch.” You smacked her ass, and repositioned her so she was leaning on the back of the couch with her ass in the air for the whole room to see.

You kneeled next to her so you could reach over and fuck her pussy for a little while. Leaving the dildo lodged deep in her cunt, you reached into her bag to retrieve her other dildo and quickly lubed it up.

All eyes were on the two of you. You gently pulled on the plug until it slipped out of her, and lined up the dildo. You pressed it inside an inch, eliciting a collective gasp/groan from the onlookers.

You slowly worked the dildo into her ass. Each time you withdrew the dildo from her pussy, you’d push the one in her ass a little deeper.

The poor little thing’s legs were trembling when you finally had both dildos deep inside of her. Then you fucked her by alternating your thrusts. Eventually, you fucked her by withdrawing both dildos simultaneously, almost the whole way out, then push them both in as far as they’d go.

After that, you just fucked her hard and fast. She whimpered and moaned in a way that indicated she was close.

“Play with yourself babygirl. Show them how you can squirt.”

She brought her fingers between her legs and rubbed her delectable little clit at the same time you kept furiously fucking her holes.

Everyone was on the edge of their seats, eyes glued to your baby’s sweet pussy. And then she exploded, shaking uncontrollably and squirting her juices all over the couch beneath her.

A collective cheer erupted at the achievement and a lot of cursing under breathes.

You slowly removed the two dildos and tossed them to the side and with your hands spread her cheeks so everyone could see her holes relax back to their natural state. There was cream smeared around the entrance to her cunt and the fluid from her ejaculation running down her legs.

Fem!hannie collapsed and you pulled her into your lap. You cupped her face. “You did so good babygirl.” You wiped the tears that were running down her cheeks. Her little love heart was smudged.

“Did it feel good?” You checked in with her. She nodded.

“Fucking incredible, honey.” She laughed gleefully. “I love you.” She gazed at you.

“I love you too babygirl.”

You pulled her into a deep kiss.

…..

@noellllslut @wolfennracha

[somestorythoughts]

Eldritch Echo

So. I haven't seen the Bad Batch and don't really intend to, but I have read some fics (please do not take that as me saying that's the same as understanding the story) and between that and my thoughts of eldritch stuff in Star Wars and a cool art piece I came across that I think was referencing something I don't have the context for, I started wondering what it'd look like if of the Bad Batch, Echo was the only eldritch/cryptid/vampire/otherwise not human one. NOT because of the Techno Union, but because of something that happened sooner OR he'd always been like that. And I might put a bit of that in my vampire clones thing but I was thinking eldritch and I ended up writing a thing. So. Enjoy:

***********

Crosshair’s willing to admit he doesn’t dislike Echo. He respects the guy’s resilience and his willingness to go with the flow, which is necessary for someone working with their team, even as he rolls his eyes at Echo’s tendency to twitch at the state of their ship and his reluctance to drop the “sir” when talking to Hunter. More than that Echo has zero qualms about sassing him if Crosshair picks a fight and it’s a lot of fun to rile him up.

That said. Echo is also really freaking weird.

Crosshair is very observant, between his eyesight, his role on the team, and his training he had to be and either something’s very off about Echo or he’s started hallucinating because he keeps seeing things that don’t make sense. Not for a reg and not for a cyborg.

He explains this the Hunter once, trying to see if he’s noticed anything, and Hunter frowns. “Can you give me an example?”

“His eyes for one.”

Hunter blinked. “What?”

“We all know what most trooper’s eyes look like. And we’ve seen some variations. But they don’t change color. I’ve seen his eyes go golden or violet, and it wasn’t the lighting.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes I’m sure what do you take me for?” Crosshair snapped. “Look. Next time we’re on a sunny planet. Take a look at his shadow. It doesn’t match him at all. I’ve seen it prowling around him like a tooka without him or a light source moving. It doesn’t look like him either. And remember that time we were sparring and he panicked and bit me? I asked Tech, the Techno Union didn’t do anything to his teeth, but I know what bitemarks look like and that was not it.”

Hunter sighed. “I’ll pay attention but-” He paused. “Huh.”

“What?”

“It might not be anything.” He replies and only knowing that he’s getting to the point keeps Crosshair from interrupting. “But remember how I told you guys that people smell like animals? They’re distinct from each other, and you know I can’t describe it cause I tried to describe you guys, but it’s not like they smell like flowers or old books or whatever people like to think they’d smell like unless they’re wearing a scent. Echo, he doesn’t smell like a trooper. I just never thought about it for some reason.”

“And what does he smell like?”

Hunter frowned as he tried to find the words. “Well. He does smell a bit like a trooper and a bit metallic. But he also smells like, what’s was the spice in that cake you liked so much? The one we found on that mission with the weird vultures?”

Crosshair hummed. That had been a really freaking good cake. “The lady said it was a cardamon cream cake. So he smells like cardamon?”

“Cardamon and lilies and wet dirt is the best way I can describe it and I know it’s not his soap cause he uses the same stuff as the rest of us. So yeah. I guess I’ll pay attention.”

Two days later Crosshair gets confirmation that something’s up in a way he did not expect.

Because walking around in the dark in the middle of the night is his job so it’s already odd to find Echo leaning against the cabinet in their ship’s tiny kitchen in the pitch dark. “You’re going to trip reg.” Crosshair says and leans over to get the lights when Echo looks up.

And twelve pairs of golden violet eyes meet Crosshair’s.

He staggers back, trips over something, falls. “Crosshair!” Echo grabs his hand, pulling him up, then scrambles for the lights as if he forgot they might be necessary and Crosshair yelps as the light hits his eyes.

He blames that and the shock for blurting out; “What the hell are you Echo?”

Echo blinks, looking hurt. “I’m a trooper. Like you all.”

“Troopers don’t have twenty-four freaking eyes.” Crosshair hissed. They aren’t there now, he’s got 2 brown eyes in the exact same shade of brown nearly every trooper has, but Crosshair knows what he saw. He knows what he’s been seeing.

Echo tilts his head. And he grins. It’s a smile Crosshair’s seen before, whenever Echo’s about to respond to his taunts with something cutting and clever, part “take that” and part inviting him to share the joke. There’s nothing off about that smile save for that it’s mirrored in Echo’s shadow, splayed against the cabinets behind him too dark for their lights.

“The Bad Batch.” Echo muses, like there’s a joke Crosshair hasn’t caught yet, and he’s never had a reason to call Echo dangerous even when he didn’t trust him, but he’s starting to feel cornered even though Echo hasn’t moved. “You think you’re the only strange ones. ‘Don’t worry Rex, we know how to handle a reg.’ Never mind that Torrent was always a little crazy, or it used to be. Never mind that I was an ARC and a damn good one, and we’re all more than competent. And I appreciate what you all did, in welcoming me into the squad, I appreciate it more than I can say, and I do really like you guys, but you are so freaking cocky. So certain you can handle anything. And to be fair you’re damn good at your job, but sometimes it’s annoying. So.” He grins that taunting grin again. “You want to know what the reg’s deal is? Figure it out.”

He leaves. His grinning shadow lingers a moment before following. Crosshair stares.

And then decides that a glass of water isn’t gonna cut it and goes for the stash of moonshine.

[naussensei]

Prejudice

-

“Sensei…” Said Gojo all of a sudden.

“Hm?” Yaga did not look away from his report, but from the corner of his eye he could see him drawing circles with his fingers on the table.

“Why did you bring that normie here?”

It took Yaga a moment to realize who he was talking about.

“Oh, you mean Geto?” Yaga’s hand stopped scribbling to put the pen down and look at him. “He’s not a ‘normie’, he’s a sorcerer, just like you and Shoko.”

“He’s nothing like us!” 

“What about him?” Yaga raised an eyebrow in intrigue seeing Satoru so worked up. He’d been waiting to see how the two would get along, confident they’d be a great match. But perhaps he had been wrong. “Do you not like Geto?”

Satoru’s forehead banged softly on the table, pulling his own hair with a muffled, “I don’t know,” in agony.

It was the first time he’d seen him so troubled. Yaga couldn’t help a chuckle. 

“He’s good at basketball, though, I saw you two playing the other day.” Yaga lowered his head to meet the boy’s eyes. “And I heard from Kusakabe that his martial arts are superior. Have you not been wishing for a proper sparring partner?”

“Yeah,” he whined, covering his face with his hands. “Yeah, he really is that good…”

Yaga sat back up, arms folded. “Then what is the problem?”

“I don’t know!” Satoru’s fists banged on the table as he rose on his feet. “He gets on my nerves. He’s always doing everything right. You never yell at him like you yell at me, and Shoko is always glued to him now like they’re freaking twins. Utahime and MeiMei act like dogs in heat around him. And he’s always acting nice to me, like, ‘Satoru’ this, ‘Satoru’ that, acting like he knows me, and he’s always, always following me around everywhere!” 

His nose seemed like it would fume. He brought a hand in front of his face and closed it into a fist. “And he always has that— that smile. And those… eyes. And that face. His face is so… so— ugh! It makes me want to—!”

Yaga let out a thunderous laugh, he had to hold his stomach with his hands to keep from falling forward. 

“Why are you laughing!? It’s not funny! Can’t you see I'm miserable here? Sensei, you’re absolutely evil!”

“Sorry, Ok,” he wiped the tears of joy off his eyes. “I see what’s going on here.” 

“Huh?”

It was really no wonder Satoru’s behavior had worsened since Geto’s arrival. 

Gojo Satoru, the golden child of one of the most powerful clans, nurtured with praise and showered with undivided attention. Of course he would not know how to handle sharing said attention. Even more so when Geto, who was unfamiliar with the sorcery world’s rules and history, seemed so unbothered by Gojo’s name.

“Satoru,” Yaga spoke in the most gentle voice he could find within himself without laughing. “You need to learn to share the spotlight. You have some good qualities, and Geto has others, you just need to find a way to compliment each other.”

“Good qualities?! What’s so good about him?” He said, only half-heartedly. “...other than his hair… maybe.”

Yaga shook his head. “Just so you know, Geto probably acts the way he does because he just wants to be your friend. He wants to stand out because he wants your attention.”

He squinted at him, reluctant. “ My attention?”

“You think he’s up against you and wants to steal the attention from you, but really all he wants is to be your friend. So why don’t you give him a chance? Try to get to know him?”

One eyebrow raised at him with skepticism, but then lowered again as he considered. “I don’t know. You think too highly of him. He’s an asshole.”

“If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell Geto I told you?”

“What? That I’m your favourite student?” He elbowed him with a suggestive smile and winked at him. “Don’t worry your secret's safe with me.”

“Not in a million years.” Yaga's iron grip latched onto his arm, and twisted it softly until Satoru let out a moan in pain to yield. “You’re so full of yourself,” he scoffed, yet laughed to himself nonetheless, because as much as he tried to hide it, and as much as he hated to admit, Satoru was right, and they both knew it. But Yaga would rather die than tell that to the little prick. 

“Anyway, listen. Geto grew up in a place where no other sorcerers were around, with no one to guide him. He was always beaten and punished for things he didn’t do, all because he was different. And all his parents did was to move from school to school and house to house to avoid the problem, because they refused to accept it. I was the first sorcerer he ever talked to, and you and Shoko are the first sorcerers his age he’s ever met. Of course he wants to be your friend, because for the first time, he feels there are other people like him, that he’s not alone.”

The words must have resonated with him, because Satoru had now gone quiet again. He could see the shock slowly morphing on his face, eyes widening and a frown forming in his forehead, confusion written all over him. 

“Wait, they beat him just because he’s a sorcerer? But that— that doesn’t make any sense. Sorcerers are there to protect non-sorcerers.”

Yaga shook his head with regret. “When I found him, he was all beaten up on the street, and had been arrested, just because he was trying to exorcise a curse that was killing people. He was blamed for it.”

“But… why?” The boy shook his head eagerly in utter confusion, his breath quickening. He huffed a laugh in disbelief. “That— that doesn’t make any sense. He was trying to help. I don’t understand.”

“Satoru, you’ve lived among sorcerers all your life, praised for being a sorcerer. Out there, being a sorcerer is frowned upon. There is a reason we go out of our way to keep the sorcery world hidden, it’s complicated. And that is why I insist you need to learn how to conjure a veil.” The boy crumpled in his seat at this, and Masamichi knew exactly why. But he wouldn’t touch on that subject now and lose his train of thought, so he continued his speech instead. “Look, I don’t expect you to understand, but I do want you to know… this is the kind of person that Geto is. He could’ve killed that policeman, but he didn’t. And he saved many villagers, even when he was punished and bullied for it. So next time you think that he’s being fake just because he’s being nice to you, maybe think again.”

“I—” Gojo’s gaze remained low, thoughtful. “I didn’t know…”

“And you couldn’t have. Actually, you’re not supposed to.” Yaga brought a hand to his face and sighed into it. “He asked me not to tell anyone about his life before coming here, because he wanted to start from zero. His parents disowned him and cut all ties with him when I told them he was a sorcerer.”

Gojo dropped on his chair again, running a hand through his troubled face. “Oh, shit…”

“Satoru, language.”

“I’m sorry, I just— I feel stupid. I said something awful,” he brought both palms over his eyes now in shame. “Oh, god, I told him to ‘go home to his mommy’... and so many nasty things like that…” he looked up at him, eyes glazed with guilt, his eyebrows furrowed. “ Sensei , I really didn’t know…”

“Promise me you won’t say anything.”

“But I want to say sorry—”

“Promise me, Satoru.”

“Ugh. Fine.” He lowered his hands and breathed deeply. “I promise.”

“Alright.” Yaga said, grabbing his pen again. “You may go now.”

“What, now? What about detention?”

Yaga relaxed back into his chair with an audible sigh. “I think you already learned your lesson today.”

The boy’s gaze remained low. He sat there in silence for another moment before he moved to the door, and just as silently he took his leave.

“Satoru,” Yaga called just as he exited the office, the boy stopped, but he did not turn. “We all make mistakes. Don’t overthink it.”

From: Our Last Summer by Naus on A03

[ayyy-pee]

Chapter 11 - In Between

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Pairing: Suguru Geto x Female Reader

Summary: Things are looking up for you and Suguru, but the looming deadline of graduation has unlocked a new fear.

Also Utahime.

Genre:**College AU**

Story Warning: Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Oral (Female Receiving), Toxic Behavior, Jealousy, Jealous Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Lesbian Sex (oral), Profanity

Suguru Art by: Ilameys

Soft gasps echo throughout the empty stairwell, lewd smacking noises following close behind each breath. If anyone were to enter this space, they’d surely know what was happening. And yet, as you glanced down at the head of long raven hair pulled back in a ponytail settled between your thighs, you couldn’t bring yourself to give a single shit.

Especially when Suguru flattens his tongue against your clit just before he wraps his lips around the sensitive nub and sucks gently. The action has your knees shaking. You hook your fingers through the hair tie just barely holding those beautiful locks up before you pull it off, watching as the tresses cascade down Suguru’s back, around his shoulders. You run your fingers through the strands, tilting your head back against the wall. Suguru lifts one of your legs to hook over his shoulder, moving deeper between your legs. You can't stop the loud moan that rushes past your lips.

“Oh fuck, we sh-should make bets like this all the time if it’s always gonna end up like this,” you sigh, legs trembling as you inch closer to your impending release. 

Suguru runs a hand along your thigh, mumbling a muffled, “please shut up”. 

You peer down at the dark haired man between your thighs, unable to keep the shit eating grin off your face. You throw your head back and laugh, not caring that it carries through the empty space. “No way. You should’ve seen your stupid – ohhh shit, right there – ah, you should’ve seen your stupid face when Professor handed back the tests.” 

You giggle, remembering the way Suguru’s entire face contorted when you’d compared grades after getting your tests back. He damn near blew the roof off the building when he saw you’d scored two points higher on the exam than he did. 

This wouldn’t have meant anything normally, but the last time you’d had sex with each other, you somehow got in an argument about grades. Spent the entire time shit talking each other as Suguru bent you over the bed and absolutely destroyed you from behind. Afterwards, Suguru initiated a bet that he would score higher on the next exam than you. No studying together, no seeing each other until the test unless in class. Loser does whatever the winner wants. 

And that’s how you ended up here with Suguru on his knees and face buried in your cunt. 

“It’s so funny – ah – watching you spiral when I get a better grade than you. You look so fucking du–”

You yelp when you feel Suguru nip your inner thigh hard and your eyes drift down to the quickly swelling spot that darkens by the second with a bruise. Your gaze then drifts back to the man kneeling before you. His golden eyes glare up at you, scowling pink lips glistening with your arousal. “Do you ever shut the fuck up?” He snarls.

Of course he’s throwing a tantrum, the sore fucking loser.

Your lips curl down with a frown, brows knitting together. You comb your fingers gently through Suguru’s dark locks before you tighten your grip as hard as you can, making him inhale sharply at the sudden pain. You yank his head back roughly so he’s forced to look at you and you could swear you see his cock jump within the confines of his shorts. He’s such a freak. You smirk down at him despite the matching glare you give him right back. “How about you shut the fuck up, stop being a sore loser and hold up your end of the bet, monkey?”

You force him forward, burying his face in your pussy, his thick tongue immediately darting out to lick through your folds until he finds your clit. He wraps his lips around the swollen bud and sucks, pulling a loud gasp from you. You lean your head back against the wall again, rolling your hips forward to ride Suguru’s face.

Since you and Suguru had confessed your feelings and fully given yourselves to each other, you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. It started off as gentle trysts with each other in one of your bedrooms and soon became Suguru bending you over wherever he could, his hand pressed against your head as he held you down, slamming into you at a relentless pace. 

He had to have you always. And you had to have him.

“God, when you make your mouth useful, it’s so much better.”

You roll your hips forward, moaning loudly when Suguru meets the movement with his tongue, running it flat over your clit. You’re so close, breaths coming hard and fast. Suguru’s hands find your ass, squeezing the soft flesh as he groans into your core. And it’s enough to push you over the edge, your head falling back as your mouth opens to cry out your release.

It echoes through the hall for a split second before Suguru presses his mouth to yours, quickly standing to swallow every moan as he slips two fingers into your pulsing cunt, using them to fuck you through your release. Your tongues collide, and you gasp into his mouth when you taste yourself on his tongue. The kiss is messy, all slick and saliva mingling between you and it makes you sigh into Suguru’s mouth with how erotic this feels. It’s all still new to you. Suguru has been your first for everything. Every experience is brand new with him, taking you to new heights.

“You’re so damn loud all the time,” Suguru chides quietly, though his voice holds no irritation. He’s grinning as he leans down to pick your panties up from off the floor, pocketing them quickly as he stands. You adjust your skirt, clearing your throat.

“I saw that, creep,” you tell him, fixing him with a deadpan stare as you hold your hand out to him.

Suguru rolls his eyes, reaching into his pocket to fish out your panties before he slaps them into your palm.

“And maybe I wouldn’t be so loud if you weren’t so…” You try to gather your thoughts, not wanting to give Suguru a bigger fucking ego than he already has. “Weren’t so…”

Suguru smirks smugly. “So…what, stupid? Soooo good at eating you out?”

“No!” You shriek, face heating as your voice echoes through the stairwell once again.

“Sooooo good at fucking you?” Suguru offers, his brow quirking up suggestively. You shove him back, stepping away from the wall and descending the stairs to leave.

“I don’t have any experience to compare you to, anyway,” you grumble and you hear Suguru mutter a hushed “good” behind you. “I fucking hate you.”

Suguru is next to you in a few seconds, arm slinging over your shoulders and pulling you into his side. “No, you fucking love me. You said it yourself.”

You can’t fight back the tug of your lips as you roll your eyes, your racing heart having little to do with the intense climax you just had mere minutes ago. It’s true. You loved Suguru. Some part of you thinks it was some bizarre love at first sight thing that happened when you’d met. Now that you can openly acknowledge your feelings, it’s freeing.

........

Suguru walks you home, kissing you sweetly a million times before he finally lets you go inside. You swear he’s obsessed with you. You’d be lying if you said the feeling isn't mutual. You love your monkey man. You set your things down in your room, taking out materials to study. Finals are rapidly approaching and you need to keep your GPA as high as possible to keep the valedictorian title within your grasp.

It hits you then. You and Suguru are at the top of your class as far as you can remember, still gunning for the top spot above all other students. Honestly, the last few weeks of the semester have been such a whirlwind, you haven’t kept up much with your current academic standing at all. Your initial relationship began because of both your desires to be at the top of the class. Now that the finish line was in view, you wondered what it would mean for you both if either of you won over the other.

It would be very fucking immature of either of you to be upset enough to end your relationship over the valedictorian title, right?

You rub your eyes, biting back an annoyed groan because you and Suguru are very fucking immature when it comes to your academics. You don’t want to lose him over you winning. Or what if he won? That asshole would never let you live it down!

Ugh. You can’t think about this right now. You open your laptop as you take a seat at your desk. When the screen loads, the first thing that pops up is an email from your academic advisor requesting to schedule a meeting next week regarding your graduation. You accept the invite, quickly logging the meeting on the calendar on your phone. You set your phone face down on your desk, then move on to pulling up your study materials.

About an hour into your study session, your phone buzzes. You ignore it, wanting to stay focused on the task at hand. It’s likely Suguru and he knows you’re studying. He’ll usually send a text and when he doesn’t get a response, he’ll just wait for you to get back to him. It’s nice having a boyfriend who’s so understanding and now that you’re no longer dating Satoru, Suguru has tucked his crazy away and no longer blows your phone up when you don’t reply in .25 seconds.

You keep your attention glued to your computer screen, absorbing the information and making notes. You’re about to move on to your next subject when you hear the door to your apartment slam shut. Utahime must be home.

Things with you and Utahime have definitely been less tense in the past few weeks. Now that you’d sat down and really talked out the whole Suguru situation, Utahime confessed that she was more mad at herself than you for being so stupidly blind to your obvious attraction to each other. She admitted she was just being stubborn and holding a grudge, but that she was over it. She was happy if you were happy.

You’d also spoken to Satoru, who told you he only wanted the best for you and his best friend. He was hurt that the both of you had hidden your feelings for each other from him, but ultimately just wanted you both to be happy.

“And hey if…you know, you guys ever find yourselves wanting to spice it up in the bedroom…gimme a call,” Satoru offered with a wink after your conversation. You thought he was joking, but with the way he held your gaze, you weren’t too sure. Suguru however, didn’t appreciate the joke and threatened to kick his ass if he made a move again. This only prompted a raucous laugh from Satoru and an “as if you could” in response. Aside from the tension that followed between the boys for days after (Suguru really wanted to kill Satoru), all was good between your ex and your roomie. 

You find a good stopping point shortly after the door closes, setting your pen down and stretching. You want to catch up with Utahime. Given finals approaching and Utahime’s extracurriculars, you didn’t even get your morning jogs in together anymore. You rise from your seat and lift your arms, stretching your back until it pops. Your body is so stiff. It’ll be good to move around and take a break for a bit.

You grab your phone from your desk as you make your way to the door. But as you reach for the doorknob, you hear labored breathing, small pants and gasps coming from the living room. There’s a loud thud, an indication that something hit the floor and your heart beats with panic. 

Is Utahime home? You don’t want to leave your room in case it’s not her. Oh fuck, what if it’s an intruder? A home break in? What do you do? 

You turn on your phone, seeing messages from both Utahime and Suguru. 

Utahime: Are you home? Should be there soon

Utahime: Ten minutes and no answer, so I’ll just assume you’re out. See you tonight

These were sent over an hour ago and she’s just now getting home? That’s a little unlike her, but you breathe a sigh of relief realizing it is just Utahime. Though you’re not sure what all the noise is about. She usually comes in pretty quietly, so it surprised you to hear all the commotion. It’s getting louder now, muffled, but still loud enough for you to hear all the way in your room. 

You turn the doorknob and move down the hall towards the living room. If Utahime is here, you hope she’s alright. Maybe she injured herself at her track practice and she’s in pain. If that’s the case, you can just grab her some ice. You round the corner at the end of the hall.

“Hey, Hime! Sorry I didn’t see your texts. I was studying and–”

A soft moan cuts through the air and as you enter the living room, the sight before you makes you gasp with surprise.

“SHIT!” Utahime shrieks from her seat on the couch and you see her scrambling to cover herself up…as well as the woman between her legs. Your mouth falls open, taking in the scene unfolding before you; Utahime with a couch cushion covering her lower half and a very tired brunette woman lifting herself out from beneath the pillow Utahime is practically suffocating her with to sit back on her knees on the floor. 

“Oh– um…I–...” you stumble over your words, turning your head from the scene in front of you. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Hime! I–”

“I asked if you were home!” Utahime cries, face red with embarrassment.

“I know!”

“You didn’t answer!”

“I know!”

“Hey,” the woman on the floor chimes in and you turn your head to look at her again, taking care not to make eye contact with Utahime. The woman’s long brown hair sticks to her face with sweat and…you’re sure other bodily fluids. She’s pretty, her tired brown eyes accentuated by deep purple bags beneath them and a pretty mole sitting high on her cheek. “I’m Shoko.”

“H-hey, Shoko. Nice to meet you.”

Utahime groans from the couch. “Do you mind?” She grits out, motioning between herself and Shoko.

“Yep! Sorry, I’ll just fuck right off. I mean–. I’m just…gonna make myself scarce. Head over to Suguru’s.”

Utahime nods and Shoko only mildly perks up. “Suguru Geto?” She asks from her seat on the floor between Utahime’s legs. You nod stiffly. “Tell him and that idiot Satoru I said hi then.”

Again, you give her another stiff nod, turning quickly on your heel to get to your room.

You throw all of your study materials and your laptop into your bag before you head into your closet to grab a set of clothes for tomorrow. Suguru already keeps your bathroom essentials at his place, so you don’t have to worry about those.

You tiptoe down the hallway, carefully peeking around the corner to find the couch back in order. Utahime and her new friend are nowhere to be seen. You assume they may have gone to Utahime’s room. Without wasting another moment, you shuffle across the livingroom and out the front door of the apartment. You lock the door quickly before you pull out your phone, calling Suguru immediately as you make your way to his apartment across campus.

He answers on the first ring.

“Hey, stupid,” he greets you as normal. “How was stud–”

“Shhhh shut the fuck up,” you whisper frantically, though you’re outside and there’s no one around. You rush through the courtyard, Suguru’s apartment building within your view. “Suguru, you won’t fucking believe what I just saw.”

Tags: @nekonanamii @sacvh @watyousayin @nothisispatrick300 @sukunasseventhfinger @nobody289x @getousbabymama @gloomiigloom @xocreedvo

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[prettyflyshyguy]

He's a monster, and he's hungry.

Wrote this over a few days because I'm. Not ok about this. It's on AO3, and under the cut cause it's a short one. Not super edited, just got desperate for more content exploring when Dean was a vampire and when I found none I was like "well alright. Guess I'll make it then."

“I can’t believe it.”

Dean paced the length of the hotel room, passing back and forth by the table where his brother sat, prowling like an animal in captivity.

“You just stood there and watched that freak turn me!”

He stared at Sam, hoping for a change in his reaction, a look of sympathy, an admission of guilt, some form of recognition that something fucked up happened in the alley. Sam’s face was blank, his heartbeat steady, and frankly he just didn’t seem to care. In fact, he hadn’t seemed to care about much recently. He was a cold, lifeless, empty husk and Dean was tired of it. His usual quips brought no frustrated response, no snappy replies, he was simply brushed off. There was no banter, no anger, simply complete and utter apathy no matter what he said. Sam had his moments, everyone did. Dean knew he had a tendency to push his luck, many people had told him this. But Sam was different, they were siblings. Sam putting up with him being an ass was just how things were, and would always be. At least it's how it should be. After everything they’d seen and done together… If Sam held any resentment, he’d have made it clear by this stage. He was a good liar, but Dean could always tell. They both knew each other too well. If he had any doubt something was off about Sam, it was quickly disintegrating as he stalked the room, watching him blankly staring up at him from the small table. Not even fidgeting in the slightest. 

They’d been pushed to their limits before, and Sam was always the first to speak up when something was wrong. 

“Dean.”

His lip curled at the sound of his name. It was so hollow. So static. It reminded him of school, when his teacher would check the roll call. It was an obligation and a requirement, not something done out of genuine care. 

He decided to push a little harder.

“I mean what the hell was that all about Sam? Revenge? To get me back?” he growled. 

“You know you’ve talked so much shit about me taking risks, is this all just some master plan to show me the error of my ways? A jab back at how you still, somehow deep down, think I’m Dad’s perfect son?”

He stood still, observing for a change in reaction. Dean desperately wanted to find a tiny shift in body language, a subtle twitch in his eyes or mouth, that sad glint in his eyes.

He breathed out slowly as Sam once again stared back with soulless eyes and a steady heart.

Not enough, Ok, he thought. He was an expert at this. Maybe Sam had steeled up after all these years. 

It wasn’t a completely unreasonable possibility. 

“I almost hurt Lisa and Ben, Sam! I came so close, I could have killed them and no one would have been there to stop me, but you were!”

He took a step towards Sam as he spoke, the venom of the accusation lingering in the air.

Sam breathed out and shuffled in his seat. Finally, a response. 

“Dean, you need to calm down.”

You calm down.

He took another step closer, noting the slight increase in pace of Sam’s heart. Progress, hell yeah. A smile tugged at the edges of his lips though Dean’s eyes were as cold as Sam’s.

“Oh, that's rich coming from you! That’s easy for you to say when you’re not being assaulted by noise like you went to the movies and an intern did the mixing.”

He took another step closer. 

The thrumming beat increased in speed once more. 

“Dean.”

“S’matter of fact,” Dean slid his fingers across the tabletop, tracing the grooves in the rough wooden surface, “you’re exceptionally calm given I’m now stuck doing a bad David Boreanaz impression for an indefinite period of time, with no guarantee this Campbell special will even work.”

He looked up from where his hand slid along the table to match Sam’s unwavering gaze. His brother tilted his head to look up at him as Dean hovered above, adjusting in his seat. Sam slipped his left arm over the backrest of the chair. 

Dean’s expression turned cold once more.

“And I’ve been thinking, Sammy. It’s ironic. Between that creep, you just standing there and watching, and…” jabbing his thumb back towards himself he gestured “... me…” 

Dean slammed his hand back down on the table, leaning in closer. The headlights of a car flickered through the slim gap in the middle of the window curtains drawn behind them. It reflected off of Dean’s eyes for a split second, making Sam flinch. It reminded him of the animals on the side of the highway, peering at them through the bushes before darting away when they drove late at night.

“Begs the question,” Dean continued. “Which one of us is the real monster?”

Sam swallowed. The first real visible sign of him showing some nerves. He’d finally cracked him.

“Since you can hear my heartbeat,” Sam spoke slowly, “what does it say about me now?” 

His tone was outwardly calm, but Dean could hear through him. 

“It says you’re shit scared, Sammy.”

Sam waited for a few seconds before opening his mouth to respond. Whatever he said, Dean didn’t seem to notice, as his gaze began to shift from Sam’s face down to where the light of the window caught the curve of his exposed bare neck. A pang of hunger swelled in the pit of his chest as the noise and light and intensity of the room faded away until all that was left was the steady sound of the beating, beating, beating. 

A sharp, intense pain stung the side of Dean’s neck breaking him free of the trance as he collapsed to the ground groaning and twitching in pain. Through fading vision he looked up to see Sam still sitting on the chair, slouching back, but holding a syringe in his left hand. The contents empty. 

“You… sonof-abich…” his words formed a slurry as his body went limp.

-

“Nice of you to join us Samuel.”

“What the hell is going on here?”

“Sam’s showing me what all those years of boy scout training taught him to do.”

Dean sat on a chair, his legs, arms and chest bound with thick twine rope. Smiling at Samuel for a moment, he motioned with what little mobility he had in his hands to indicate. Samuel glanced at his brother with a questioning look.

“You did this?”

“He shot me full of dead man’s blood, and I gotta say, that’s one hell of a drug.” 

Dean’s tone was dry and unimpressed. Samuel assessed the room, looking as though he wanted to ask more questions, but decided against it. 

“Anyway you said you were getting something to help?” Dean’s voice broke the silence.

“This is help.”

Samuel pulled a glass jar out of a brown paper bag, setting it on the table. The contents was dark and viscous. It had sloshed around in transit, coating the airgap at the top of the jar. The light pierced through the clear glass and bright red light danced across the varnished wood tabletop.

“Wh- what is that?” 

“Cows blood.” Samuel said curtly.

“That’s help?”

“It’ll keep you alive.”

As he twisted the lid open Dean’s eyes flicked between the jar and the two men.

“Well can you at least untie me first?” he pleaded, his voice straining. 

The rope dug into his wrists and the thought of being spoon fed cows blood was sending his mind to a dark and violent place.

“Dean, it's just a precaution.” Samuel attempted to be reassuring. 

Dean clenched his jaw. Precaution for what. You weren’t even here to see Sam attack me.

“Oh cut the bullcrap!” Dean spat, pulling against the rope binding his arms and legs. “C three P O over here was a bit too cautious back in the alley and look where it got us!”

Samuel stared at him tensely. Dean winced as a spike of sound ringed in his head from a car horn outside. 

“Look I’m fine, Samuel. Really. Just untie me.”

The older man hesitated.

“Please?” Dean cracked a smile that usually got him whatever he wanted.

Usually.

Samuel watched him carefully while he placed the jar lid on the table. The unmistakable smell of iron, meat and death began to waft through the room. He leaned into the scent as he realised just how hungry he was. How dry his throat was. How much the deep, dark red called out to him.

“Samuel I will kill you if you try and hand feed that shit to me.”

The older man raised an eyebrow in response, unimpressed, and picked up the jar.

“Wait!” 

Dean grimaced and hissed through gritted teeth as Sam called out from the other side of the table.

“One drop of human blood is enough, are we sure that cow’s blood is clean?”

“Oh you gotta be fucking kidding me Sammy…” Dean groaned.

Samuel paused, running it through his mind, blinking a few times, he contemplated the risk and the chance. Looking back, Sam shrugged silently.

“Sam has a point. If any human blood, from a cut or a scratch, got into this at the abattoir, you’re done.”

Dean ignored him and glared at Sam.

“God I can’t listen to you right now.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Sam blurted in frustration. 

“Your fucking heartbeat man! It's so loud, it's so monotonous it’s killing me! Look, Samuel, just cut this fuckin rope and hand me the fuckin jar.”

Reluctantly, and cautiously, he pulled out a hunting knife from a holster on his belt. Staying as far from Dean as possible, he nicked part of the rope on Dean’s right arm just enough for him to wiggle it loose. Waving it in the air and stretching the fingers, Dean looked back to the two who were eyeing him off.

“See that wasn’t so bad now was it.” Dean’s tone was sarcastic and he tapped the armrest with his index finger.

“C’mon guys don’t look so nervous.  You can just drug me up again, it’s not like that's off the cards is it Sammy.”

Sam glanced away at the mention of his name, Samuel grunted in frustration as he reached for the jar and took a step towards the chair. In an instant the background thrum of his heart filled Dean’s mind, it was faster, full of nerves and fear compared to Sam’s horribly persistent flat tone. As he approached holding the jar out, Dean felt something shift under his lip.

“NO.”

His voice boomed as he jerked back in his seat, the legs scraping against the floor. Breathing sharply, he tilted his head down avoiding the stares of his associates. 

“Get away from me.”

Grunting and breathing through gritted, sharpened teeth, he glanced up. 

“Sammy, drop the machete.”

They’d both instinctively reached for their weapons. Brandishing them high, already poised for a clean decapitating swing. Dean growled and heaved deep breaths of air, flexing the remaining restraints. He could break free, if he wanted to. With one arm loose, he could easily rip the remaining rope off. He contemplated the thought, reveling in how powerful it made him feel. 

“Dean?”

Samuel’s voice snapped him back to reality. He’d placed his machete back on the table, Sam had lowered his but still gripped it. 

Dean extended his free arm out and flicked his hand towards the table.

“Just hand me the fuckin jar already.”

Samuel was quick to oblige, and quicker to back away once Dean had it in his grip. He tried to not dwell on the way his companions looked at his mouth instead of his face. He could feel the second set of teeth against his lips, his tongue. The smell of blood was suffocating him now, a mixture of alluring coppery tones and the stench of raw stale flesh. He wasn’t sure which was making him feel more ill. The pungent aroma or the fact he liked something in it.

“So you two just gonna watch like this is some sort of peep show or what?”

Neither responded, still fixated on his every move. Pulling a face, Dean limply held the jar up as it to toast before bringing it to his lips. Taking a tentative sip, he recoiled as blood spilt down his chin. Groaning and sputtering he violently spat it out.

“Augh, god this tastes disgusting–”

“I promised you help, I didn’t promise it’d taste nice. Now drink it.”

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Project Christmas Match Up

Summary: Penelope insists on setting up Spencer and Derek's latest home improvement client for the holidays. Afterall, she's convinced they are soulmates.

Word Count: 2.5K

CW: Alcohol use & making out ( fem reader)

Note: here’s the second fic! hope you enjoy let me know what you think in my inbox. Ahh I'm so excited for this one! Thanks to Grecy for reading early and telling that it was not awful :) Also this self-insert is very self-centered with the librarian reader and the cats named after literary figures and the peach perfume so I apologize for that...

Project Christmas Match Up

“Honestly, Derek, you need to add some kind of decorations for her. Maybe a Christmas tree or offer to hang up Christmas lights. This is my favorite client of yours and I rather not lose her,” Penelope said. She held a glass of white wine in one had and gestured wildly with the other hand.

Derek sighed. He had his feet resting on the coffee table as Penelope talked eagerly. She was dressed in Christmas pajamas and went the extra mile of convincing him to match her as well. Spencer, when he walked in, smirked knowingly when he clocked their matching outfits.

“Pen, I’m not going to hound the client. She bought the house and was gracious enough to invite us over for dinner there. I love you, my love, but that doesn’t mean we have to be friends with every client that I get.”

Penelope rolled her eyes, throwing Spencer a look akin to a life raft. “He’ll agree with me,” she said, pointing at Spencer. He held his glass of brandy in his right hand and a jar of trail mix in the other. “He always agrees with me.”

“I do,” Spencer said sheepishly, dodging the popcorn that Derek threw at him playfully, “Hey! I mean, it’s Penny, Derek. Besides, who’s this client that she wants you to bring a Christmas tree to?”

“Oh, Spencer,” Penelope said with a twinkle in her eye, “She’s absolutely perfect. She’s a librarian. Bought the house specifically because there’s this little porch to the side that’s almost all windows. She said it’s perfect for reading all day on the weekends. Oh! And she has cats. They are the absolute cutest things in the world.”

“As you can see,” Derek said, “My wife has a crush on my client.” He said with a chuckle that turned into an exaggerated groan when Penelope elbowed him in his side.

“She sounds great.” Spencer said, “Uh, what library does she work at?” He asked, tossing a couple pieces of trail mix into his mouth.

“The Westfield Public Library,” Penelope said, “You know the one that you bring Henry to all the time for storytime and those STEM workshops.” She smirked as Derek rolled his eyes.

“You’re so smooth,” Derek joked, giving Penelope a side glance. “Penelope seems to think that you and Y/N would be, in her words, ‘totally perfect, totally soulmates, so in love that it makes everyone look like they hate each other.’ She’s rather confident in her abilities,” Derek finished. Penelope slipped into his side comfortably as she sipped on her wine.

“Y/N?” Spencer bit his lip nervously. “She’s the children’s librarian who runs storytime and…”

“STEM workshops?” Penelope finished, a gleam in her eye revealing she was hiding more than she knew, “Come on, Spence. She’s perfect for you. She named her freaking cats after literary characters. Her book collections, if her being totally adorable and pretty and smart and kind isn’t enough for you to love her then that’s totally going to make you crumble.”

“So she’s talked about me?” Spencer said, a blush peppering his cheeks. If Penelope or Derek called it out, he would have to blame the brandy. Because the alternative would be too much to bear. “Like just randomly, out of the blue?”

“So you do like her,” Penelope giggled, “See, Der. I told you they’d be perfect. I mean, tell him how she gushed about him the other day when the inspector came over. She made him mini freaking tarts, Spence. You have a sweet tooth! See that’s another reason why you two are just perfect for each other. Tell him, baby.” Penelope prodded as Derek held his hands up in protest.

Derek stood up much to Penelope’s annoyance and Spencer’s alarm. “I’ve decided to stay out of my wife’s matchmaking. But I will say that Spencer’s ears are turning red, which means he’s got a crush.”

Spencer’s face morphed into shock and embarrassment. His cheeks tinged further red and any attempt at hiding his feelings about Y/N proved to be futile. Spencer sipped his brandy, desperately hoping he would be able to cling to some level of calmness as his friends discussed his love life at length.

“She’s nice, I suppose. I mean she’s really good with the kids at storytime. And she knits sweaters for Virginia Woolf and Emily Dickinson.” Spencer continued, turning his head to the side as Derek and Penelope casted him looks of confusion. “She, uh, smells nice too. Like peaches and mango.”

“Those are her cats. The cats that are named after literary figures.”

Penelope slapped Derek playfully on his well-defined arm, “He knows the names of her cats. They’ve talked about knitting cat sweaters. He thinks about her being good with kids. He thinks she smells nice. Like freaking peaches. Peaches, Der! Come on, Derek. It’s all I want for Christmas. My metaphorical baby brother deserves the best person in the world. And that’s Y/N.”

“We both know that’s not the only present you want, angel face.” Derek told Penelope. “Dude,” Derek said, turning to Penelope“I get you’re scared or whatever that you’re not enough for her. Or anyone,” he continued, “But she’ll be the lucky one if you ask me.”

Spencer’s lips turned upward in a hesitant smile. “I’m going to have to disagree with that one.” He drank the rest of his brandy, “And I’m going to need another one of these before I fully agree with Penelope’s scheming.”

Penelope told him what to wear. 

Spencer reluctantly agreed, knowing his friend well enough to understand that it wasn’t worth the wrath of Penelope Garcia. He tugged at his tie, a chocolatey brown argyle pattern with maroon accents. She instructed him to wear a light pink button down shirt and brown corduroy pants with it because it brought out his eyes. 

The winter chill seemed to go right through him. So even though Penelope didn’t tell him with a sweater or cardigan to wear it with, Spencer decided to pull out his coziest one. It was dark brown and complimented his pants, shirt, and tie without being too matchy. 

Spencer couldn’t remember a time when he paid so much attention to his appearance. He hardly got hit on when did frequent bars, especially if he tagged along with Derek. For a majority of his life, Spencer found himself indifferent to his appearance. But as he stood on Y/N’s porch stoop, he couldn’t think about anything but how his hair looked or if teeth were too crooked or if his tie looked like something an old widower would wear to bingo in the church basement. 

Luckily, the door opened, letting out the warmth and light from the house, before Spencer’s mind could spiral down more. 

“There you are,” Y/N said, “I was beginning to think that I got stood up completely.” She said with a smile. Y/N wiped her hands on the cloth napkin she held as she ushered Spencer inside. 

“Hi, Y/N.” Spencer smiled. “Here’s something for you. It’s small, but I saw it at Goode’s Used Books and thought about you.” 

“You thought about me, Dr. Reid,” Y/N whispered, taking the carefully wrapped package in her hands, “I have to say that’s quite the compliment coming from you. And your wrapping skills. I just might want to keep you around forever.” 

Spencer’s heart just about stopped. He felt it leap out of his chest and land directly into Y/N’s hands. He let her hold it, praying to whatever deity of love and passion that she’d hold it like a treasure. 

“Uh, wrapping presents is just basic math. It’s geometry.” Spencer explained. He held his coat over one arm as he watched Y/N open the present. She carefully ripped away the Christmas tree wrapping paper to reveal the gift. 

“Is this…Virigina Woolf’s illustrated biography?” She asked, “You didn’t, oh. Spencer.” 

Pridefully, Spencer smiled as he took in Y/N’s ridiculously happy expression. He nearly died of happiness himself as she tore open the book, flipping through page and page of colorful illustrations and carefully written text. 

Spencer felt Y/N’s arms wrap around his torso and the flatness of the book shoved into his chest as Y/N hugged him tightly. Unsure how to even breathe with her that close, Spencer decided that the best course of action would be to hug her back. He followed her, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s body and breathing her peachy, mango perfume. Spencer smelled it in her hair, he felt her heart beating as fast, if not faster than his. And for the first time in his life he felt light. 

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever gotten me,” Y/N said, pulling back from the embrace, “You’re going to make me cry.” 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer said, unsure what he was apologizing for exactly, “From now on I know presents make you cry.” He teased with a smirk. He wasn’t sure where the confidence came from, but was eager to see where it led. 

“Spence,” Y/N groaned, resting her forehead against his chest, seemingly not wanting to stop touching him, “Let me get you a drink so we can move from the foyer.” 

Spencer nodded, following Y/N into the kitchen. It was painted a warm yellow with daisies on the backsplash. He had yet to see the rest of the house, but already knew that it would perfectly fit Y/N. Spencer watched as Y/N poured him a glass of red wine. 

“Derek and Penelope on their way?” Spencer asked, hoping to keep the conversation going, “Penelope was pretty eager about your famous roast chicken and raspberry tarts all week at work.” 

Y/N gave Spencer a quizzical look, “Penelope called me three days ago and canceled. She said that Hank had the flu,” 

“Well Derek texted me a half hour ago that he was bringing a game for all of us to play. He said he was bringing something to pop culture so it's fair for everyone, besides me of course.” Spencer explained. 

Y/N handed Spencer his glass of wine, “Do you realize what happened,” Y/N said, “They set us up on a sort of blind date.” 

Spencer felt heat rush to his cheeks. He was unable to cast blame on the untouched alcohol in his glass. A sudden rush of embarrassment flooded Spencer as he realized exactly what Derek and Penelope bailing meant: he would be alone with the girl that he’s been pining after for a year and a half with enough wine to make him say things he kept buried deep inside. 

“Ah,” Spencer said, unsure what to say. He’s usually clueless in social situations that he’s familiar with, but he could confidently say that he’d never found himself getting hoodwinked into a blind date yet. “Well, we can just make the best of it, I suppose.” 

“Yes, I mean,” Y/N said, clearly attempting to not sound too eager, “A date with you sounds wonderful. I mean, if I had to get set up on a blind date or any date for that matter, I’d want it to be you.” 

“Really?” Spencer said, shocked. He sipped his wine and licked his lips tasting the leftover booze. “You mean that, Y/N?” His voice sounded deeper, more confident than the one he recognized as his own. 

“Of course I do.” She said, leaning in close to Spencer and placing her hand on his chest. “If you haven't realized yet, you’re pretty great and I’m kind of crazy about you.” She whispered, the mixture of sweet liquor and peaches clouding Spencer’s mind. He brought his hands to her waist, rubbing soft circles against her clothed hip. 

“I had a bet.” Spencer whispered back, setting the wine glass on the counter. “With myself, wondering how far I’d make it into this night before I needed to touch you, to kiss you, to feel your body against mine.” 

“And how far did you guess? Dessert? Coffee? Did you think about whisking me away from Penelope and Derek? Kissing me secretly, even though they knew exactly what was happening.” 

“In the car I finally decided on after dinner. Maybe the wine would help my confidence, but to tell the truth, Y/N it was when you opened the door.” 

“For me it was when I watched you walk up to the porch. You look really handsome in that jacket and cardigan.” Y/N confessed. 

The light flashed before Spencer’s eyes, and Y/N’s kiss on the top of his cheek burned a hole that instantly left him craving more. He’d let her draw any pattern she desired, as long as her kisses are the medium and he is her canvas. 

Spencer cupped her face, fingers craving the feel of her skin. He met her for a kiss and together they created something daringly beautiful and carefully passionate. Y/N kissed him back with the fervor and intensity that bubbled between them at least a year. Spencer grabbed Y/N’s wool sweater and slipped his hands underneath it as he pushed her against the counter. He smirked as he felt her mouth morph into a moan at the feeling of his coarse fingertips against her warm skin. 

Together, the pair of them formed a delicate bubble. It was fragile that Spencer knew any sudden movement would pop it. But it had the potential to build up into something strong, something beautiful, something made to last. 

“Spence,” Y/N says, her voice heady with desire and lips well bitten and colored from his kisses. “The oven…I want to do that again. I want to do that a lot, but the tart. I can’t let it burn.” She explained. 

Spencer chuckled, quickly kissing Y/N on her forehead as she slipped from his warm embrace to take the dessert out of the oven. Awkwardly, Spencer attempted to adjust his pants, hiding just how much the kiss affected him. 

“Hope you have a good appetite,” Y/N said, placing the tart on the oven to cool next to the roast chicken. “There’s enough food here for like five people. And it’s just us.” 

“And Virigina Woolf and Emily Dickinson.” Spencer mentioned, smiling as Y/N rolled her eyes teasingly, “You were too occupied with jumping my bones to introduce me to your cats, Y/N.” He teased her. 

“Spencer!” Y/N said, sounding aghast. She threw the kitchen towel at him laughing as he failed to catch it. “Well, you should meet them now, you know while we’re not occupied by the other things” She said, the flirtatious smirk on her well kissed lips making Spencer blush at the plethora of possibilities at hand.

taglist

@reidsbookclub @reidslovely @coldbrewat3am @fightingdragonswithwho @hotchandspencearedilfs @sadgirlml @goldentournesol @spencerslibrary @foxy-eva @paperbackprettyboy @reidselle @alexxavicry @justlivinginadaydream @reidsmilf @givemeth @reidslibrarybook @mrs-dr-reid @spencerreidsmommy @spencer-reid-wonderland @radiant-reid bb

[devnmon]

A Little Twisted

Summary: The Winchester's take a case you've put the file together for, and despite the opinion of your mother, Ellen Harvelle, you chase their tail to help them on the hunt. [Based on 2.06 of SPN, aka No Exit.]

Word count: 3.8k

A/n: Listen I know we all love Jo but wouldn't it be fun to imagine us in her place instead? Clearly under the gaze of Dean Winchester, as well?? I've got just the fic for you :] (also this is just a little fic I finished and wanted to post as a way to clean up my wips. I'm still on hiatus, but I hope you all take this as a little parting gift. love u all <3)

You’d spent the morning arguing with your mother, Ellen Harvelle, over whether or not you were “allowed” to leave the roadhouse and go out on your own to hunt. You for one, were fed up with her obvious disregard for how old you actually were, 21 years old, a grown woman. You should be able to go out on your own, especially for something like this. The disagreement quickly turned to a yelling match between the two of you, throat burning as you continue to defend yourself.

“You can’t keep me here!”

“Oh don’t you bet on that, sweetie.”

You bet on a lot of things in life, but this you were sure you knew you wanted- this you were sure you needed.

“What are you gonna do? Are you gonna chain me up in the basement?”

“You know what? You’ve had worse ideas than that recently. Hey, you don’t wanna stay? Don’t stay. Go back to school!”

School. College. The place every single person side eyed you for your interests and style of clothing. You couldn't go back. Not after almost making a stab victim out of a man who'd been harassing you nonstop. To prevent being suspended or worse, you dropped out.

“I didn’t belong there! I was a freak with a knife collection!”

She didn't understand. She would never understand.

“Yeah but getting yourself killed on some dusty backroad- that’s where you belong?!”

It was then your eyes faltered from your mother’s expression to the two men that had walked into their bar. It seemed the tension finally broke as she whipped her head around at them. The Winchesters.

“Guys, bad time.”

"Yes ma'am." Sam took the tension in the room as a sign, considering they had walked in on an argument, ones you assumed they'd had multiple times with each other.

"Yeah, we rarely drink before 10, anyway." Dean followed, not wanting to agitate your mother any more than you already had.

The Winchesters just happened to butt into the argument at the most convenient time for you. Dean and Sam’s rushed apology for interrupting sends them turning toward the door again, until you catch their attention.

“Wait. I wanna know what they think about this.” Huffing, you walk over to the countertop with the file thrown on top of it.

“I don’t care what they think!” She retorted once again, wanting to keep it between you two.

They’re both staring awkwardly before the roadhouse phone rings, making you glare at it, the ringing repeating before your mother paused the argument to answer it.

Dean and Sam stayed out of the disagreement in fear of what your mother would say or do to them if they’d intervened.

But, with her back turned, you quickly grabbed the case file off the bartop and approached the brothers.

“Three weeks ago a young girl disappears from a Philadelphia apartment.”

Silence rang out as Dean just stared at you, holding the file out for him to grab.

“Take it, it won’t bite.” You said sarcastically, lifting it up to his face.

“No, but your mom might.” You tilted your head at Dean, knowing he couldn’t say no to you.

The green-eyed man's eyebrows dropped from their raised position as he finally grabbed the file from your hands. Relief washed over you in watching the brothers peek through the file.

“And this girl wasn’t the first. Over the past 80 years, six women have vanished. All from the same building, all young blondes.”

You explained the details of the case in more detail, glancing from Sam to Dean to see how they reacted to the information. You picked up on Sam’s genuine interest in it, while Dean only looked it over plainly until you finished going on about it.

“It only happens every decade or two, so cops never eyeball the pattern. So we’re either dealing with one very old serial killer or-“

Dean finally spoke.

“Who put this together? Ash?”

As if he thought a woman couldn't put a silly little case file together.

“I did it myself.” You admitted, proudly, noticing Dean’s face falter with what looked like genuine surprise.

He glanced between your face beaming with pride, and the file in his hands. Dean wouldn't admit it, but he was impressed with your extensive knowledge on the case, only giving you a look.

“Huh.”

“I gotta admit, we’ve hit the road for a lot less.” Sam spoke up again.

The sound of the phone being hung up was the last thing you heard before your mother spoke again.

“Good. If you like the case so much, you take it.” Ellen's voice sounded out again, having ended the phone call abruptly.

Turning to your mother again with more annoyance this time, your scowl intensified.

“Mom.”

Another desperate plea for you mother to treat you like the adult you factually were. Didn't matter if she didn't think you could do it, you believed in yourself enough for the both of them.

“Sweetheart, this family has lost enough. I won’t lose you too. I just won’t.”

With that, the brothers took the case file with them and drove off. As they'd hit the road, your plan to catch up with them wasn’t far behind.

You’d been eager to join the Winchesters for this specific hunt, one you put the case file together for. It was easier to let your mother cool off for a while, before even attempting to talk to her again.

You had fibbed to the hawk-like supervision of her that night by letting her know you’d gone to Vegas, far after the brothers had left. It was only a diversion from where you were really going, roping Ash into laying a credit card trail all the way to Nevada, after threatening him to keep your plans to himself.

You drove all the way to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, showing up to the apartment building Dean and Sam had already been looking around in.

“You did a really good job with this place,” your voice echoed down the hallway, in conversation with the landlord of the building.

Imagine your surprise when the slight turn of your head from down the hallway brought Sam and Dean into your view.

“The hell are you doing here?” Dean muttered, an idea for cover popping into your head.

Your eyes brightened up as you saw him, in a way that made Dean question what the hell you were doing, until you spoke.

“There you are, honey. This is my boyfriend, Dean, and his buddy Sam.”

Boyfriend? Dean thought.

“Good to meet you.” Dean shook the man’s hand, wanting to play along with your facade before actually asking you what was up.

”Quite a gal you got here.” The landlord replied, standing opposite the three of you now.

“Oh yeah, she’s a pistol!” Dean choked out, grabbing your waist quite tightly. His grip only tightened around you, relishing in the feeling of the older Winchester's hand a little too much for a split second.

“So, did you already check out the apartment? The one for rent?” You said, another fake laugh getting choked out.

“Yeah. Yes. Loved it. Great flow.”

Smooth, Winchester…

“How'd you get in?” The landlord questioned.

“It was open.”

Dean’s so good at covering his ass, it almost made you blush.

“Now, Ed, um, when did the last tenant move out?” Dean spoke again, still playing along with your rouse.

“About a month ago. Cut and run, too. Stiffed me for the rent.”

“Well, her loss, our gain. ‘Cause if Dean-o loves it, it’s good enough for me.” The fake smile you’d been putting on was starting to pain your cheeks, secretly hoping this more than awkward conversation would come to an end soon enough.

“Oh sweetie..” Dean jolted your body closer to him with his arm once again, aggravated at how you managed to lie to your mother and make it out here, not to mention put up such a convincing fib to the landlord's face.

“We’ll take it.” You stated, handing him the wad of cash in your purse.

“Ah. Okay.” The man took the money from you, in awe of it as he walked you to the apartment and handed you the key.

Time passed, and the brothers had been loading their guns on the table in the middle of the apartment, your hand shuffling through your bag for something as you looked over to the older Winchester.

“I’ll flip you for the sofa," you spoke, pulling your knife out of the bag.

“Does your mother even know you’re here?” Dean's tone held hints of annoyance, but you knew he was glad to see you. Even if he didn't show it.

“Told her I was going to Vegas.”

“You think she’s gonna buy that?”

Dean knew your mother, Ellen wasn't shy of stupid, by a long shot. He knew if he didn't give you up, your mother would have him by the balls otherwise.

“I’m not an idiot. I got Ash to lay a credit card trail all the way to the casinos.” You smirked, proud of yourself but still feeling like Dean was upset with you.

“You know, you shouldn’t lie to your mom. You shouldn't be here, either.”

You glance over to Sam, who’s inspecting the gun in his hand with a different look on his face.

“Well, I am. So untwist your boxers and deal with it.”

“Where’d you get all that money from, anyways?” Sam spoke for the first time since your back and forth with Dean.

“Working, at the Roadhouse.”

“Hunters don’t tip that well.” Dean started again.

“Well, they aren’t that good at poker, either.”

You had the skill to hustle other hunters in poker? You? A Harvelle? And Dean hadn’t found this out till now?

Silence fills the air as Dean’s cell starts to ring, picking it up and pausing his bickering.

You continued looking through your bag for your knife, until Dean answered the phone. Pausing, you listened in to Dean’s conversation.

If that’s my mother…

“Yeah? Oh hi, Ellen.”

Shit.

You swiftly walked towards Dean, frantically whisper yelling in his face, your mother on the other side of the phone call.

Your voices overlapped in chaotic whispers as Dean hesitated telling your mother you’d lied to her.

“Don’t you tell her. I’ll kill you if you do. Don’t you do it.”

“Oh, I’m telling her. You’re not even supposed to be here-”

And then with some will-power he still had, Dean decided to keep your secret.

“I haven’t seen her. Yeah, I’m- I’m sure. Absolutely.”

The annoyed look on Dean’s face as he hung the phone up only made you grin from ear to ear.

The three of you sat in the middle of the apartment still, flipping the knife in your hand, as you went over the history of the building to rule out any causes of of these women going missing.

“Would you sit down please?” You said to the older, broad-shouldered Winchester. Dean was pacing behind you, inducing your worry about the case further. He only shared a look with you, before sitting down and continuing on about different reports and evidence of past cases.

“So, have you checked the police reports, uh, county death records…”

You knew the older Winchester had a problem with you showing up while him and Sam were on this hunt. Though, you were the one that gave them the case, to begin with. You spent ten more minutes trying to convince Dean that you knew what you were doing on this hunt. The sources you referenced, spewing out of your brain one after another in an attempt to show them both how serious you were taking this.

It seemed like no matter how much you proved yourself to Dean, he always shot back with another point as to why you shouldn't be there.

"Obituaries, mortuary reports, and seven other sources. I know what I'm doing."

“I think the jury’s still out on that one.” You continued flipping the blade in your hand until Dean said, “Would you put the knife down?”

You placed the knife on the table with a smug look on your face.

“Okay. So, uh, it’s something else then. Maybe some kind of cursed object that brought a spirit with it.” Sam spoke, trying to move their investigation along to find out more about what it is they’re hunting.

“We gotta scan the whole building, everywhere we can get to, right?” It was the fastest way to find a possible lead.

“Right. So, you and me will take the top two floors.” Dean butted in, standing up from his chair.

“We’d move faster if we split up.” You also rose from where you sat, only wanting to move the investigation along quicker.

“Oh, this isn’t negotiable.” The look on Dean’s face said he didn't want to argue anymore and that you’d just have to face the fact that he'd be accompanying you.

“Fine.”

The two of you made it to the top floor of the apartment complex, EMF detectors in hand as you began roaming the hallways side by side. Truth was you enjoyed Dean’s presence, when he wasn’t being a complete ass. You could sense a spark between the two of you, but you'd just have to wait for the right moment to make your move on it.

Plus it was fun to tease him about it in the meantime.

“So, you gonna buy me dinner?”

Dean glanced over to you, then back to his EMF detector while scanning the apartment hallway.

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s just- if you’re gonna ride me this close, it’s only decent you buy me dinner.”

You were only half joking with him, though the idea of a date with Dean Winchester wasn’t completely terrible sounding. You knew your presence didn’t bother him as much as he’d let on to.

The first time he saw you working around the roadhouse, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

The obvious spark between you and Dean only burned brighter every time you were around him, tension thick enough to be cut with a knife.

“Oh, that’s hilarious. You know it’s bad enough I lied to your mom, but if you think I’m letting you out of my sight- I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re kind of the spirits type.”

“Exactly.”

That was the moment Dean realized why you were so avid about this hunt.

“You want to be bait?”

“Quickest way to draw it out and you know it.”

Dean only chuckled in response.

“What?”

“I’m so regretting this.” Dean’s tone was more aggravated now, like he had realized something that put you at risk.

Pausing, you decide that Dean’s attitude wasn’t something you wanted to deal with anymore.

“You know, I've had it up to here with your crap.”

He turned to you, somewhat taken back by what you’d just admitted to him.

“Excuse me?”

“Your chauvinist crap. You think women can’t do the job.”

That was the moment Dean had it with you. There was no way to express that he didn't want you putting yourself in danger without expressing how he felt about you, but he also knew you hadn't been hunting before, even if you put together a convincing case file.

“Sweetheart, this ain’t gender studies. Women can do the job fine. Amateurs can’t. You got no experience. What you do have is a bunch of half-baked romantic notions that some barfly has put in your head.”

“And now, you sound like my mother.”

“Oh, and that’s a bad thing? Because let me tell you-“

“What?” you shook your head at Dean’s hesitation with answering you and finishing his sentence.

“Forget it.”

“No, you started this.”

“Y/n, you got options. No one in their right mind chooses this life. My dad started me in this when I was so young, I wish I could do something else.”

“You love the job.”

“Yeah, but I’m a little twisted.”

“You don’t think I’m a little twisted, too?”

“You’ve got a mother that worries about you. Who wants something more for you. Those are good things. You don’t throw things like that away. They might be hard to find later.”

Dean started to walk away from you, until your hand pulls on his jacket, turning back to you.

“Dean, wait.”

“What?”

You paused, wanting to hold a serious conversation with Dean, the look on your face making him turn back fully and focus on you.

Shooting him a pointed look, you took a deep breath.

"Look, if you wanna hate me for lying to my mom or whatever, then fine. But let's realize that we're both here for the same reason: to hunt and kill whatever's in this building. I think it's cute and all that you want what's best for me, wanna protect me from whatever evil the world has to offer, but you're not taking me from this hunt. Not when I'm the one that put the damn case file together in the first place." Your finger poked Dean's chest argumentatively, swallowing down the realization of how firm it was under your touch.

Dean clenched his jaw awkwardly, noticing how your eyes shifted down from his to glance at his lips for a split second.

Or maybe he was imagining it, too caught up in your heated argument to notice. There had always been something between you and Dean, something too low to notice at first.

But where there was a spark, there was a flame.

"Are you gonna say anything? Or just let me talk my head off?" You shook your head as the older Winchester stayed silent, noticing his gaze shoot across your soft features ever so slightly.

"I-" He started to speak, but got cut off with your impatient tone.

"No. You know what? I'm done trying to tell you why I'm here. Do what you want, hate me if you want.. I don't care-"

Dean's lips were the only thing you felt before freezing in your stance for a slight moment at the contact.

It wasn't unwelcome, just unexpected.

Half a second passed before your lips melded with his, plump and soft against yours. His kiss softened, palm cupping your cheek now. The moment had stopped time, his lips against yours consuming all the thoughts and worries from the hunt washing away.

You swore you heard a groan from him as your hand pressed against his chest. It was only a moment later before Dean pulled away, looking down at you in a different way now.

The pink of Dean's tongue poked out to wet his lips, an action you couldn't help yourself from gawking at, before he decided to speak.

"I'm never gonna hate you. Matter of fact, that's the last thing I feel, sweetheart." The boyish chuckle that filled your ears only gravitated you towards him even more.

"Dean..." You breathed, noticing how the blush in his cheeks reddened when you spoke his name.

"No, look. I don't want you to put yourself in danger for the sake of the case, it ain't right." You pouted at his words, in which he held up a hand to halt you from saying anything, "But, if you think you're up for it, then I'm not gonna stand in your way. I just- your mom is gonna have my ass if something happens to you."

You shake your head vigorously, meeting the compassionate look in Dean's eyes with your own. "As much as you'd like to protect me, there's only so much you can do. If we're gonna finish this hunt, we have to take risks. I promise you I'll be fine. No matter what happens. Okay?"

Dean listened intently to every word you said, with a hint of worry and skepticism in his eyes. He knew you could handle yourself, you were a Harvelle, of course. But he would be damned if he didn't worry a shit ton about the beautiful woman in front of him. He'd already swore to himself that he would keep you safe, no matter what, and do anything and everything it took in order to return you back to the safety of your bed at night.

With a small nod, Dean's pretty green eyes lit up with hope.

"Dammit," Dean swore, lifting his head to you, "I swear to god if you aren't careful-"

"When am I not?" Your hands grabbed at his red shirt, rubbing up and down his chest ever so slightly, eyes flicking between his and his lips that sat perfectly under his nose.

"Just don't get reckless. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. Couldn't live with myself if I got you killed or worse before I even got the chance to-" He trailed off, thoughts running ramped behind that perfect head of his.

"Before what?" Tilting your head to the side, curious at what the Winchester suggested. It was Dean's turn to flick his eyes between yours and the soft lips he'd pressed against his just a moment before.

"Before... I did this," Dean's hands surrounded your waist, pulling you against his chest, close enough to feel his breath on your cheek, "And this.." he pressed his lips to your neck, tipping your chin up for more access to your skin, licking your skin ever so slightly with his tongue. It pulled a gasp from you, one of your hands reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

"Dean..." His name whimpered from your lips due to his mouth paying attention to a particular spot on the skin of your neck, "Kiss me again."

Your boldness pulled him from your neck, lust-blown eyes meeting yours again as that cheeky but sexy smile grew across his face.

"Gladly." One of his hands cupped your jaw, pressing his lips to yours again. The feeling stirred in your gut as his kisses filled you with enamor, one you didn't know was there until you pressed your lips further against his own. His fingers against your skin had goosebumps spreading across your skin like a wave.

"Now you really have to buy me that dinner..." you chuckled, Dean humming against your skin.

"Mmm... you're right. What kind of a man would I be if I didn't? Especially after kissing you in this hallway like a couple of teenagers.." Dean pulled away from your face, placing another kiss on your cheek. His palm cupped the same cheek he'd just kissed, the heat of your skin warming his hand.

"We will get through this hunt. And when it's over... it better be a damn good dinner."

You smiled at the green-eyed man before you, and when his eyes met yours, he smirked and nodded again.

"You bet it's gonna be. I am the classy type."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

As much as you wanted to stay pressed up against the older Winchester, making out like teenagers at a high school party, you pushed his chest off you and continued down the corridor in search of evidence.

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

[ace-of-fairytail]

Headcannons/thoughts

(Definitely spelling errors, try and work with me…)

Minerzajane,

I love how Mirajane and Minerva’s stories parallel eachother so well. It doesn’t seem intentional to be honest, but it’s done well.

They’re switching personalities every stage of their life, even Mirajanes satan souls and Neo Minerva. I feel like they’d have a different type of understanding of each other even though they’re in different steps of their healing journey.

Young Mirajane would’ve envied Minerva, going to see all the grand magic games matches, young Minerva would’ve looked up to Mirajane indefinitely. Not to mention how the two would’ve interacted the other way around, Minerva showing Mirajane her demon markings and hands to Mirajane who was insecure about hers. Mirajane doing Minerva’s hairs and basically being the only positive role model around her.

Plus the Erza rivalry, I always think about what type of kid a character was, and weather they’d be team Mirajane or team Erza. Minerva definitely would’ve been team Mira even though they were so different. I don’t even think she would’ve disliked Erza, actually they probably would’ve been good friends. I just don’t think young Minerva could’ve hated anyone yet.

They’re so cute, no interactions tho…?

Minerva is an amazing cook, while Mirajanes an amazing baker. Every week Minerva tries to create a new dish, and Mirajane will bake treats in case it turned out shit. Because of the towers of heaven, Erza’s eating habits will be forever fucked, but whenever she finds something she likes she can eat it over and over.

She had trouble trying Mirajanes baking for the first time when they were younger but she fell in love with the strawberry cheese cake she made, just like she had trouble trying Minerva’s cooking. But now she won’t eat food from anyone else, Minerva’s not mad at it but she doesn’t cook everyday, so she kind of feels bad.

There’s not much conflict in this house but shit just keeps on disappearing, everyone freaks out.

Minerva has a motorcycle, and she handy asf when it comes to anything that runs off an engine. If they ever had kids, she’d build a motorcycle with them, like her mom did with her. (I like to believe her mom was a mechanic, and spent a lot of time with Minerva before she passed)

Minerva gets upset because they’re so social, Erza litterally knows everyone to walk the planter earth, Mirajane is so close with everyone she meets it gets bothersome. Minerva sticks to her group, while a bunch of people always want to be around her gfs.

Mirajane and Erza really got close to her group, Sting and rogue got really close with Erza after the grand magic games because they were never good at holding a grudge. And yukino and Mirajane just keep getting closer and closer, it’s weird for her because she doesn’t know when any of them met.

Mirajane works at the guild so it’s extremely rare for her to go on quests. While Erza and Minerva are always out, to everyone else it seems like the don’t spend much time together but Minerva just doesn’t go to the guild after a quest and Erza will go to the guild long after she finishes a quest. Only team natsu will know when they’re all back in magnolia because they’re on the missions with Erza.

Minerva eventually grows to love Natsu like sting and rogue after watching him and Erza jump from topic to topic in the span of 20 minutes. They’ll talk about their hyper fixations all day, Erza almost never stops smiling, they’re in the own world when there together, Minerva likes to listen to them while doing any activity, she just zones out and it feels like less of a chore.

Whenever they realize they can be doing things while they talk they’ll get up and take over the cleaning and laundry and such. They’re very productive if no one interrupts them, if they’re not lost in conversation they lose every ounce of productivity.

Demons and dragons aren’t even supposed to get along because there were just differences between the two, but demons and dragons alike will chew on ice, dragons while teething, and demons to relive stress.

Dragons don’t realize they’re being messy because they’re can task a lot of things at once. They’re multitasking but their brains can remember things reguardless of how organized it is so most don’t waste time organizing, Mirajane is always right behind Erza picking up things as their put down. She doesnt mind, she just moves on auto pilot, she’s used to cleaning up after the guild and her two younger siblings. It’s actually a demon thing, she only noticed when she saw Minerva and grey do it.

Demons feel more comfortable when everything mimics the way it is in their mind. If they can’t envision where it’s supposed to be they might just throw it away on impulse. Usually when it happens Mirajane gives it to Lisa a or yukino depending on if she thinks she’ll ever want it back. It’s a good thing to have because it keeps their house clean, but if you envision things in weird places then it can ruin your house.

Sometimes Irene stops by? It’s weird because of everything that happened but her and Erza will just talk casually as if their old friends. She mostly comes if Erza and Wendy are both there, sometimes she’ll even bring heine and Juliette everyone else thinks it’s weird but they don’t really mind. Wendy was 100 percent convinced she was dead… (rip Irene)

Canvia

I’ve considered all kinds of Cana ships, but this is low key my favorite. Like Juvia throwing herself into greeds enchantments in front of Cana when she first joined the guild to “prove” herself. I feel like Cana is the same kind of person and plays it off through humor, and drinking.

Like that one episode where Lucy finds Cana passed out in the snow, and they have a really deep moment, then after the grand magic games it’s all fine again because guildarts wants to be a father.

Nope, Cana was one of the first to join the guild, she’s just always been there. Is her mother dead? Did she have any siblings? Who brought her to fairy tail? Howd she know her father was apart of fairy tail, and why’d she leave everything to be in the same guild as a man who doesn’t even know of her existence?

Mirajane mostly looked after her even since they were kids I feel like Cana would look after the younger Strauss siblings because she appreciated those times. I think Juvia would be the one of the only ones to notice how separated Cana feels for the guild.

They’d definitely live in a cozy one bedroom, one bathroom house near the guild. Juvia would have a bunch of plants and Cana would probably have a bird or something. Juvias not so good at taking care of things but camas is amazing at task management (nobody else in the guild knows this).

Grey visits a lot but natsu wasn’t allowed in from the jump because fire, plants, and animals don’t mix, and he’ll come and eat all their food. Erza’s not invited because she has a sweet tooth and Juvia will always bake if asked, Erza doesn’t stop asking.

There’s always a Strauss over, I feel like Mirajane Lisanna and elfman argue a lot, surprisingly. So lisanna of elfman are always sleeping on their couch, Mirajane hates it because she’d rather leave the house when their arguing. Low key Lisanna and elfman do it to piss her off and make her stop being mad faster. Plus they don’t even live with Mirajane anymore, they just have a house that they pay for just in case.

Evergreen visits a lot, and Cana and Juvia often babysit Aska for extra money here and there, because they hate being away from eachother for a long time and the lower class mission only pay so much.

+ Juvia helping Cana sober up. Just think about it…

(Cana x Lucy x Juvia x Lisanna)

I’m coming out of my budget a little here, but consider it. It’s mostly a ship that works all ways but they’re gfs. Lucy and Lisanna living together in a little flat near a bunch of antique shops so Lucy can pick up magic items and such as soon as they arrive, and Lisanna being close to a bunch of clothing shops because that’s what she gifts everyone on their birthdays, plus she likes to pick up small gifts of her guild mates and girlfriends.

They’re pretty far from the guild so they sleep at Cana and Juvias house most of the time, all of them cuddle up in a large bed, they don’t change sleeping order at all. Thayve made the perfect sleeping arrangement in order to garentee the most amount of sleep for each of them. Lucy made the sleeping order because she had to make one for team natsu too (idea by @mousecracker ) it would be prefect if they didn’t keep eachother up all night playing games. They usually decide if they’re not sleep by 3 am then they just get up and start their day.

Elfman usually asks if Lisanna and Lucy are staying with them when he’s mad at Mira and lis. They all hate when there is 6 people in the house, it’s one too many. There’s the four of them + one guest. No more. Because it gets too loud,

but they’re the same ones who start their day at 3 am, first thing they do is cook and clean. Sizzling pans, blenders, vacuums all on at the same time. And they all have to eat at the same time, so best believe you’re gonna hear ruckus at very orchestrated times during the day.

Lucy and Lisanna only go over to Cana and Juvias house because they have a lot of plants to take care of, Cana and juvia have to be very detailed with quests so they’re not gone from the plants for too long, and Lisanna was the one who named their pet bird. She names everything, his names Phoenix because he’s red and orange. Cana wouldn’t let her name the bird at first because she named happy. But when Cana and juvia are on missions, Lucy and Ali’s take phoenix’s to their house and water the plants every other day.

Happy is allowed to stay at Lucy and lisannas house but not Cana and Juvia, because anywhere Happy goes, natsu follows. Natsu allowed to stay at Lisanna and Lucy’s house all the time unless their not there, they lock their windows all the time. Camas house has a patio and they always open the window that the flowers are near and let the sunlight in.

Soltear (sorano x ultear)

Ultear said if they’re gonna tell yukino that their dating they have to tell grey right after because he’s like a baby brother to her. Lyon finds out years after they’re married when he walks into their apartment and sees wedding photos, (greys in them). He always thought when they were talking about their house, they meant they were roommates. He’s painfully oblivious, No one lets him in on these things.

When they move into an apartment Yukino, lector, and sting are always there, they aren’t dating or anything. They come over and talk about all the drama going on in the guild, far away from the guild, because rogue hates gossip. They’re always sitting on the kitchen counters talking about it and Ultear usually instigates it. Yukino really grows to love ultear, most people thought they wouldn’t get along much but it wasn’t true.

The most random interactions happen at the soltear house because you’ll walk in and see sting and jellal casually conversations like they’ve met before. All the exceed will be there sometimes, it’s like their meeting place.

Natsu would rather Ultear teach him transformation magic instead of Mirajane because ultear shows him how to transform into old creepy men, and Mirajane shows him the basics. So he knows how to transform into old creepy men but it doesn’t help him on missions because he can’t transform into anything else.

Ultear tells grey that if anyone should’ve replaced her it should’ve been him, he jokes that Ur would slap him for saying that, which she already did (ultear knows that)

Sorano is definitely a hoarder, yukino often comes around insults her on the fact, even though she comes and grocery shops in their house. “Wait is this the grand magic games prize from the magic council from 5 years ago?” *takes*

Yukino collects everything, she’s not really a hoarder because she often uses the things that she gets ahold of but she’ll have a vast collection of random collections that don’t mean anything to anyone else but she’d die for it. They rarely increase in value and anytime they do Minerva suggest she sells it, it pisses her off.

And Yukino and Sorano have split contracts with their keys meaning they can just give it to one another and use them as is. Yukino would kill Sorano if any of her keys get broken so Sorano does a lot less borrowing.

Ultear always calls Sorano angel unless she’s mad at her, then she just calls her by her name. If Sorano really wanted to piss ultear off she’d argue with her over something stupid, then when ultear give up, she says never mind. Ultear tries not to get roped into it but fails, every time it pisses her off so much.

She hates the word never mind in general, if you tell her something and she can’t hear then you say never mind it pisses her off. No one knows why, it’s because Ur was a young mom and didn’t know mental gymnastics would have a long lasting effect on children.

Greytsu (grey x natsu)

Grey doesn’t know how his name is spelled and he goes back and forth between grey and gray. It always comes back to brute him on legal paperwork and account logins. Natsu is his password for everything, Erza can litterally guess all of his passwords, sometimes he’ll have sticky notes laying around with his password and username because he can’t remember. He has too many and they’re all so similar.

They have two matresses pushed together because their body temperatures ruin each others sleep. When it gets to being too much, natsu will drag his bed away from greys. They both have body pillows for when they have to sleep separately.

Neither of them can cook so Natsu will always try to go get pick up but grey usually drags him over to Lucy and Lisannas to pick up whatever they’ve put together. Natsu hates it because usually it’s just what they didn’t end up eating so he never feels full.

Whenever natsus really mad at grey he walked up and turns the air condition all the way up at 3 am, grey turns it all the way down when he wakes up and it’s a never ending war until they forget about it. Happy usually stays with Lucy and Lis during their temperature wars.

They still argue in the guild all the time, when Cana says they argue like a married couple it still sets them off, but they have no response because Cana, juvia, Lucy, and lisanna are perfect for eachother.

Erza always pops up at their house at random times, they’ll be freshly waking up as she walks in to get something. They don’t know how she gets in but natsus doesn’t even care to ask, they store food at Erza, Mira, and Minerva’s so he’ll pop up when ever to get food too.

Minerva gets annoyed whenever she sees either of them in her kitchen, it bothers her so much. But it’s fine whenever sting and rogue randomly pop up. The Minerzajane house is the meeting sport for dragon slayers, mostly because it’s big but also because it’s betrayal ground. Even Erik pops up. The exceeds aren’t allowed, except Carla and lily. Carla will come to get away from the other exceeds half the time, while lily just enjoys being around the dragon slayers.

Actually lily pops up the most, he won’t admit it but he’s trying to get off of “levy duty” because levy is heavily pregnant and Gajeel freaks out and doesn’t know what to do, so panther lily has to help out. Actually Levy’s often invited to the dragon slayer meetings, everyone enjoys her being there. Everyone’s always upset that their so can’t come so sting and rogue make fun of them.

Wendy invites sherria when she wants, who’s gonna tell her other wise? It’s her big sisters house. Greys upset he’s not allowed to attend, sometimes it sounds like he’s the only significant other that’s not invited. He’s allowed to come any other time, just not the dragon slayer meeting, reasons because he’s not close to a dragon slayer like sherria and he’s not pregnant.

He invites Mirajane, and Cana and deinvites natsu to be petty. So natsu invites Erza and levy over too. It’s because they were team Erza and team mirajane as children. Cana and levy weren’t really apart of the rivalry at all. They were great friends. (+levy being the oldest and shortest head cannon)

Greytsu uses their insults as pet names.

Shendy (sherria x wendy)

They bought an apartment together when Wendy was 15 and sherria was 16, everyone was against it even Carla, but Erza gave them the thumbs up so they did it anyway. They don’t even stay in the same city so it’s mostly Wendy’s house while sherria visits, and stays there when she’s in magnolia since neither want to leave there guild.

They bought it in magnolia because everyone in fairy tail was starting to move in together and wendy didn’t want to third wheel anyone’s relationships, and because sherria has a room in the lamia scale guild while fairy tail hills doesn’t let you have anyone in your room past a certain time. And you could only sleep there if you’re apart of the fairytail guild.

Lyon is often in their apartment because he’s scared they’re doing bad stuff, slowly the numbers stack up one by one until a bunch of people are making sure there not doing bad stuff and Erza has to drag them all out.

The only reason that they ended up being allowed to get the apartment was because they got a two bedroom. Wendy and sherria sleep in one while Carla takes the other.

Carla was worried that Wendy wasn’t gonna be able to keep up with rent but she does and has a lot of extra money so she’ll go with lisanna to buy clothes and gifts.

Wendy had a hammock hanging up in her and sherrias bedroom so it looks like Carla sleeps in there, in all honesty Carla hates hammocks, so she’s glad she had her own room and bed. Sherria just keeps the stuff she leaves in the apartment in Carla’s room. It’s the perfect cover up, all they wanna do it cuddle.

Sherria has trouble sleeping at night so Wendy tells her about all the stuff her team gets into on missions, and even after sherria falls asleep wendy will continue talking until she can hear jar breathing slow down so she knows that she’s sleep.

Even though everyone’s worried about them do stuff now that they have an apartment, they often laugh about how they started dating and kissing while they were in lamia scale and no one knew.

Sherria always asks team natsu what she should get Wendy for a gift, while Wendy always asks sherry since they’ve always been close, she never asks Lyon because he freaks out and goes overboard with possibilities. But he’s really good with decorations so she asks him and Mira when sherrias birthday rolls around.

Sherria doesn’t like pink, Wendy’s a little off put by it but she doesn’t say anything. Her favorite colors are pink and white, sherria says that those colors are too bright.

Wendy asks Gajeel for relationship advice, he seemingly got the furthest and levy and sherria are a lot alike. Everyone thinks she’s praying for her downfall but usually levy gives her some tips, She and sherria are never on bad terms so she just asks Gajeel about small gestures he does for levy, often it’s good advice. Other times he tells her to make extreme declarations of love, she knows what to ignore.

Sherria found out that Wendy’s favorite jolly ranchers were blue, so she told her she didn’t like the blue ones so wendybhapily collects them out of the bag. Sherria doesn’t mind living without blue jolly ranchers while she’s in magnolia.

Whenever wendy is holding too many bags to carry Carla, sherria will take most of the bags because she knows they feel most comfortable with each other. Sherria buy wendy sweets all the time because she knows she’s a sweet tooth.

They’ll sit in the living room on the floor with a bunch of candies on the table, while they watch a movie. Carla often joins them staying up past 3 am

( + they definitely have a fireplace and mounted tv)