#hall of tortured souls

[bassboosted-moon-chao]

Ẇ̸̨̪̰̳͚̱̦̚͝E̸͉̖̰̖̺̫̼͉͗͊͜͠L̷̨̞͍̲̺̋͑̀̓͝͝͠C̸̝̔̋̉͜O̸̦̠̰͔̻̻̽͒̃̌́̋̈́̌͘M̸͔̯̎͐͆̿̇̈́̀͘̚͝Ȩ̶͎̻͚̠̝̉̀̿̆͋͗̑̋̒͜ͅ ̵̨̨̩̩͇̦̯́̓͗̅T̴̛̮̘͚̬̠̝̹͚̩̞O̶̪̪̤̫͙̞̻͛̈́̒́̓͝ ̶̢̡̡̼͕̯̤̿̔͆̽̈́̅T̵͚̊̾͛H̸̙̮͓̣̠̊̆̃͌̒͂͝͝͝͝ͅE̸̤̰̫͊̚̕ ̴̧͍̭͇̙̣̘̓̇̎̕͜͝H̵̦͖̻̤̖͖̩̊͆̍̂̆̆̈́́̍̄Ä̶̫̫̞̦͒́̈̐̎̏L̸̬͔̳̩̄̽͑͒Ļ̷̰̮͈̤̭̋̀̀,̷̻͆͛͂͐̈̉͂́͘͝ ̵̡̪͖̳̳̣͊̈̓̇͘͠C̸͇̱̯̍̎̑͆͊́͘͝Ȁ̶̲͖̼͕̬̻̰͛͊̇̂̀̇͘Ĩ̴̢̹̯͔͓͆̎̋̈͂̉͜N̵̛̹͓̪̽́̈́́͘E̴̛̼̩̺͂̾͐̿̔͠.̸̨̬̮̋

[peppino-where-he-shouldnt-be]

Peppino should be in the Hall of Tortured Souls from Microsoft Excel '95

[Image ID: Peppino standing in the Hall of Tortured Souls, a blocky room with blue pillars, grey tile walls, and green recesses in the floor. End ID]

// Image source

[sunsburns]

kiss of life (ii.)

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!daughter reader

part one

summary: i actually suck at writing summaries but basically this is part two of part one of that soulmate au fic i posted a week ago lol

—or: luke castellan is being haunted by kronos and... well, you.

word count: 6.42k

warnings: sorry for any spelling errors, i haven’t checked yet, suppperrr angsty, luke castellan pov as he's slowly being corrupted by kronos, long reading time, descriptive injuries, blood, pre-tlt, luke is stubborn and a dick, loser!luke, annabeth smacking some sense to luke, grover being an icon, reader is lowkey unreliable tbh... cliff hanger (again... lmfao sorry)

a/n: part two!!! thank you guys for all the love on the first part! i am so grateful for everything and i love reading all the comments and reblogs. i hope this one doesn't end up flopping lmfaooo. i honestly wanted this to be a short angsty fic but i got carried away and now i'm planning a whole multi-part fic for this, phew. anyways enjoyyy <;33

At eighteen, Luke was cursed with nightmares. 

They clawed at the edges of his mind, threatening to unravel the fragile front of peace that he had fought so hard to maintain. Each night, he would awaken drenched in a cold sweat, the echoes of his tortured dreams lingering in the corners of his mind like a haunting melody.

The Hermes cabin, once a sanctuary from the outside world, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in around him with each passing moment. The moon, a silent witness to his torment, cast its ethereal glow through the window, illuminating the slumbering forms of campers. Some were children of Hermes, like himself, bound by the tenuous ties of blood and kinship. Others, however, were unclaimed, their parentage shrouded in mystery and uncertainty.

And as Luke lay awake in the stillness of the night, a sense of loneliness washed over him like a tidal wave, drowning him in a sea of doubt. In the depths of his troubled sleep, he could feel the tendrils of darkness closing in around him, threatening to consume him whole. And try as he might to deny it, he knew that his nightmares held a deeper significance, a harbinger of events yet to unfold in the shadowy pits of fate.

His nightmares were callings. A taunting voice would echo through the corridors of his mind, its insidious whispers weaving a thought of deceit and manipulation. It masqueraded as a voice of reason, a beacon beckoning him towards a destiny that promised demigods everything.

At first, Luke dismissed it as nothing more than the ramblings of a tortured soul, the byproduct of his own restlessness. But as the whispers grew louder and more insistent, he could no longer ignore the chilling realization that they were something far more sinister—a call to arms, a summons to embrace his role as a harbinger of the new world.

The nights he wasn't shaking from night terrors, he was tossing and turning at the thought of you. And he didn’t know what was worse. He couldn't escape you. The haunting image of you lingered in his mind even during sleep — your lips, your eyes, your skin, your voice, and that shared scar and your demise.

But at least, you'd given up on him by then. Your persistent efforts to reach out to Luke gradually dwindled into nothingness. Though you were still everywhere, a shadow that seemed to torment his every move, you no longer gave him even a fraction of your attention.

Gone were the days of you seeking him out, your footsteps no longer echoing in the halls of Camp Half-Blood in search of him. You refrained from asking for Chris's help, no longer burdening him with questions on Luke's whereabouts. The notes you once left behind were now relics of a time long past, their words fading with each passing day.

And as the full moon rose once more over the waters of the lake, you no longer waited by its shores.

Luke turned in bed, his mind restless as he tried to shake the image of you. He pulled the covers tighter around himself, seeking comfort in the warmth they provided, but the chill of unease still lingered in the air.

His gaze drifted across the row of beds, each a testament to the diverse personalities that inhabited the Hermes cabin. The floor was strewn with a chaotic array of sleeping bags, toys, and discarded clothing, while a collection of rocks adorned one corner near the closets, and drawings adorned the walls.

Despite the usual chaos that reigned during the day, the cabin now lay quiet and still. The children of Hermes, along with the unclaimed children and the ones of minor gods, had finally settled into the embrace of sleep. 

But amidst the calm, a sense of unease gnawed at Luke's consciousness. He couldn't shake the feeling that had settled over him after he noticed the empty bed and the slightly ajar door. 

Luke pushed back the covers and rose from his bed. His footsteps echoed softly as he made his way toward the empty bottom bunk, hoping not to wake anyone. The sight of an old penguin stuffed animal discarded at the foot of the bed made him edgy. His eyes trailed to the traces of blood splattered on the hardwood floor, stark against the dim light filtering through the cabin windows.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Luke picked up the toy, its soft white and black material now stained with crimson. Clutching it tightly in his hand, he made his way out of the cabin, the urgency of his steps echoing in the stillness of the night.

He knew all too well who the missing camper was – five-year-old Penelope, one of the newest arrivals to Camp Half-Blood and possibly one of the youngest campers. Found wandering alone in the woods near the camp hill just a week ago, she had been brought to safety by a group of fellow demigods on a quest. Luke couldn't shake the resemblance she bore to a younger Annabeth, with her wide eyes and insatiable thirst for knowledge. He wouldn't be surprised if Athena claimed her as her own one day–that is if he ever found her.

Luke's worry for Penelope weighed heavily on his mind, a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest as he combed through every inch of camp. The traces of blood he discovered fueled his unease, each droplet a stark reminder of the dangers lurking just beyond the safety of the camp's borders.

In his search, Luke traversed familiar paths and hidden corners, his footsteps echoing in the quiet stillness of the night. He scoured the armour, the climbing wall, and the camp store.

Luke had known all about campers disappearing, whether it be on a quest or to escape and try to live a normal life with humans that never really lasted long enough as monsters would dwell within the shadows outside of camp. 

It was in the dim glow of the kitchen lights that Luke finally caught a glimpse of Penelope, perched on the counter in her pyjamas, her hair adorned with two loose pigtails. A sense of relief washed over him at the sight of her safe and sound, yet it was short-lived as he noticed she wasn't alone.

His hand hovered over the door, hesitating as he listened to the soft murmur of conversation from within. With a steady breath, Luke pushed the door open ever so slightly, peering through the crack to catch a glimpse of Penelope. And you.

You, who looked older than when you first met in the infirmary. There was an air of maturity about you, a gracefulness that hadn't been there before. Your features seemed more refined, your presence commanding attention in a way that spoke of inner strength and resilience. Luke couldn't help but notice how your beauty had blossomed, surpassing the standards of mere mortal allure. It was a beauty that seemed to defy classification, uniquely yours yet undeniably captivating.

Despite this, Luke sensed a shift in your demeanour—a resignation, perhaps, to the reality of his ignorance. You had lost any hope you once harboured for him. His guarded nature would forever keep you at arm's length. And while part of him knew that this was for the best, a small, almost imperceptible part of him couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret.

For in the crossroads of his heart, amidst the shadows that threatened to consume him, there lingered a faint glimmer of longing. The thought of being intertwined with someone who could offer solace in his darkest moments, who could bring light to the depths of his despair, held an undeniable appeal. And as much as he tried to deny it, the chance of you approaching him once more tugged at the fringes of his resolve, tempting him to let down his guard and allow you closer than he ever dared to imagine.

"So, you wanna tell me what you're doing up this late?" You approached Penelope with a gentle smile, a cookie in your hand as a peace offering. 

Your words hung in the air, gentle and coaxing, as you tried to draw Penelope out of her shell. Luke watched from the shadows, his gaze flickering between you and the young camper, a sense of admiration stirring at how you spoke to Penelope.

Penelope hesitated, her gaze shifting between the cookie in her hand and you. 

"You don't know?" You persisted, your voice a soft murmur that carried a hint of playfulness. You settled beside Penelope on the counter, your posture was relaxed as you leaned in closer to her. "Is it... a secret?" you whispered.

Luke noted the subtle change in your demeanour, the way you seemed to adapt effortlessly to Penelope's shy nature. It was a side of you he hadn't seen before, one that resonated deeply with him.

As Penelope nodded in response to your question, you continued, your tone gentle and reassuring. "Let me tell you a secret," you offered, holding up your pinky finger as a symbol of trust. "I am the best secret keeper in this camp. I pinky promise."

After a moment's hesitation, Penelope tentatively reached out, her tiny finger linking with yours in a hesitant pinky promise. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

Penelope murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I got hurt."

"What?" You gasped in genuine concern, your eyes widening as you shifted your attention to the young camper. "Can I see?"

Penelope nodded silently, her arm outstretched towards you. Luke observed from his vantage point, his heart twisting with worry as he noted the faint hint of red near Penelope's elbow.

You took Penelope's arm into your hands gently, your touch tender and reassuring as you rolled up the sleeves of her pale pink pyjamas. Luke couldn't help but notice the familiarity of those pyjamas, a subtle reminder of Annabeth's kindness and resourcefulness in making Penelope feel at home.

"Oh, wow, that looks like it hurts," You remarked softly, your brows furrowing in sympathy as you retrieved a first aid kit from the nearby cabinets. "You're handling it very well," you praised Penelope, your tone gentle and encouraging. "So brave of you."

Penelope watched you attentively as you began to clean her wound, her small frame tense with discomfort. "I don't feel brave," she admitted quietly.

"No?" You glanced up at her, "why not?"

"I miss my mommy."

Her words were tinged with a sense of longing that struck a chord with both you and Luke.

Luke chewed on the inside of his cheek, his thoughts drifting to his own longing for his mother. Penelope's admission resonated with him deeply, reminding him of the ache that never truly faded, no matter how many years passed, no matter how deep he tried to bury it. 

It was a sentiment shared by every demigod at camp, a silent ache that echoed through the cabins and training grounds. Yet, it was a pain rarely spoken aloud as if verbalizing it would make it all too real, too unbearable.

The yearning for a parent, for someone to fill the void left by their absence, weighed heavily on each camper's shoulders. It was a burden they carried silently, masking their vulnerability with bravado and determination. But for Penelope, the longing was raw in its innocence.

At just five years old, she was too young to fully comprehend the extent of her emotions. She couldn't grasp the complexities of her situation, the world of gods and monsters that surrounded her. All she knew was the absence of a mother's embrace, the absence of a comforting presence to soothe her fears and wipe away her tears.

It was a pain she didn't deserve, a burden too heavy for such a young soul to bear. The gods, in their arrogance and indifference, seemed oblivious to the lives they had shattered, and the pain they had inflicted upon their own children.

"Yeah?" You responded gently, "How much do you miss her?"

"This much," Penelope replied, her small hands spreading wide.

"Wow! That's a lot," you remarked, a sombre note underlying your tone as you processed Penelope's words. After a beat of silence, you shook off the heaviness of the moment and mustered a smile for her. "There we go. All cleaned up," you announced cheerfully, pressing a bandaid onto her elbow.

Penelope's smile widened in response, a glimmer of gratitude shining in her eyes as she kicked her feet. In a quiet voice barely above a whisper, she murmured her thanks to you.

"So, you wanna tell me how you got hurt?"

"I don't know." This had been the most Luke had ever seen Penelope talk, and while her voice was still timid, the words slipping out hesitantly, she seemed to confide in you. "I woke up because my arm hurt."

"The cut was just there?" You asked, and when she nodded, you hummed sympathetically. "...I get those too, you know."

Penelope's eyes widened, "You do?"

"Yes," you affirmed with a soft chuckle. "A lot of people do. You get them from your soulmate. Did your mom ever tell you about soulmates?"

"Sometimes."

"Well, a long time ago, humans used to have four arms, four legs, and two faces," You explained.

"What?"

"I know, right? Super freaky. So freaky that Zeus decided to split them in half. So, now we have two arms, two legs, and one face."

"What happened to the other half?"

"That's our soulmate. Our other half. And Aphrodite gave us a gift to help us find our soulmate." The smile that had adorned your face slowly waned, "Every time you get hurt, your soulmate gets hurt too."

"Is that why you have a cut on your face?"

The question lingered, hanging in the air like a whispered secret. Luke held his breath, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for your response. But instead of answering, you reached out to Penelope, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips as you guided her off the counter.

"Let's get you back to your cabin."

Your words were gentle, a soft reassurance for Penelope's sake, but Luke could sense the undercurrent of sadness that ran beneath them. As you led Penelope away, Luke's heart ached in a way that felt so familiar yet foreign at the same time. It burned the same way it did when he returned from the quest when he hated the world and everyone in it, but this time, the only person he could find himself hating was himself.

He retreated from the door, clutching the stuffed animal in his hands. He felt a fleeting reminder of the times he would hide from the monsters with Thalia.

Luke's mind swirled with discordant emotions, each thought a whirlwind of uncertainty. He knew he didn't deserve your answer, didn't deserve the solace of your words. He had made it clear too many times to count that he never wanted a soulmate, never wanted you.

But despite his protests, despite the walls he had built around his heart, Luke couldn't deny the tug that pulled him to you, the hunger in his soul that refused to be ignored. It was a longing he couldn't shake, a yearning that whispered of a connection he dared not embrace. Knowing that keeping you away was the only way to protect you from the darkness that lurked within him was what kept him sane.

"Luke?"

The sound of his name tore Luke out of his thoughts like a violent gust of wind. He spun around, finding you standing on the porch to the kitchens, Penelope at your side. She held your hand, a small beacon of warmth and light in the dimness of the night. 

It seemed too perfect, too surreal, and Luke couldn't help but feel a pang of disbelief. Were you trying to kill him? It had been too long since the last time he spoke to you, let alone stood so close to you, and here you were, the epitome of what a demigod should be, even if you were still in the dreaded bright orange camp shirt.

"Hey," he managed to say.

You continued to descend the stairs, each step cautious and deliberate. "What- uh, what are you doing up?"

"I was actually looking for Penelope." Luke motioned to the girl hiding behind your legs. When he caught her eye, Penelope grinned and let go of your hand, darting over to Luke and jumping into his arms. He lifted her easily, a small smile tugging at his lips as he handed her the stuffed toy she had left behind. 

"Oh." You hummed, "I didn't know you're a Hermes kid?"

"I'm unclaimed," Penelope chimed.

"For now," Luke's voice was gentle as he held Penelope in his arms. "And what were you doing up?"

"I was looking for a bandaid. I got lost." Penelope's words were punctuated by a soft yawn, and she nestled her head against Luke's shoulder, her exhaustion evident in every movement.

You hesitated, your gaze shifting to meet Luke's. "I found her by the canoes... near the dock."

The silence that settled between you felt heavy, suffocating almost as if it threatened to engulf you both. Luke found himself wandering back to the memories of you waiting for him at the dock during the summer nights and the regret that weighed heavily on his heart for never approaching you. He remembered the countless times he stood among the trees, watching you from afar, paralyzed by his own insecurities and fears.

Were you waiting for him there tonight? 

No, you couldn't have.

Guilt gnawed at him, threatening to consume him whole. "Listen, I-"

"I'm gonna go." You cut him off abruptly, your voice carrying a hint of tension. "Counsellor duties and all. I've got cabin checks in the morning so... you know, I gotta print papers... and stuff..."

Luke frowned at your lame excuse. "It's midnight."

"It's never too early to start now." You huffed defensively. "Bye, Penelope."

"Bye," Penelope mumbled sleepily, her hand lazily waving in your direction as you walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the night and the trail leading to the Aphrodite cabin.

As they made their way back to the Hermes cabin, Luke held onto Penelope tightly, feeling the weight of her small body in his arms. The night air was cool against his skin, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of shame for the unease he noticed in you earlier. He wanted to say something, to bridge the gap that seemed to have formed between you, but the words remained trapped in his throat.

Once they returned to the warmth of their cabin, Luke moved with a careful grace, mindful not to disturb the sleeping campers around them. He gently placed Penelope back on her bed and tucked her in. But as he began to step away, her small hand shot out, wrapping around two of his fingers. Luke froze, eyes wide with surprise.

"Luke?" Penelope's voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the silence of the cabin like a knife.

"Yeah?" Luke's voice was equally quiet.

"I think your soulmate is really cool." 

Penelope's words hung in the air, a simple statement that carried more weight than he could have ever anticipated.

Seven hours later, the memory of your face lingered in Luke's mind like an unshakeable ghost. Tossing back and forth in his bed, he tried to rid himself of the image, but it clung to him like a shadow. Each time he closed his eyes, your face flashed before him, haunting his thoughts. Even when he turned away, the spectre of Kronos lurked in the depths of his subconscious, a reminder of the choice that still loomed over him.

As morning broke over Camp Half-Blood, Luke found himself seated at the breakfast table, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of his fellow campers. Annabeth's presence brought a brief distraction.

She slid into the seat in front of him during breakfast and gave him a strange look, slightly out of breath from the morning rush, a half-eaten apple in hand.

"Hey," she greeted him, her voice carrying a note of concern. Pausing to tie back her braids, she studied him intently. "Who you looking for?"

Luke's response came too quickly, "No one," he replied, his voice strained. Thankfully, Chris had left earlier because he was in charge of the climbing wall in the morning, he wasn't there to tell Annabeth that Luke had been looking for you. His eyes scanned the sea of faces in the dining hall, a futile attempt to catch sight of you amidst the crowd. He felt pathetic. "What's up with you?"

Annabeth raised her brows. "Archery? Together? Remember? Or did you forget?"

"No. I didn't forget."

She only stared at him, skeptical.

"What?" he asked, "why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Oh, I get it," Annabeth's smirk hinted at a newfound understanding, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the dining hall, as she shook her head and rested her chin on her hand. "How long are you planning to keep this up for?"

Luke frowned, confused.

"This entire act you have with... you know," She didn't need to say your name for him to catch on. "It's getting out of hand, no?"

"I..." Caught off guard by her directness, Luke hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Choosing to play dumb, he feigned innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right." Annabeth's knowing look pierced through his facade. She was always too perceptive for her own good. Fixing him with a narrowed gaze, she gave him a playful kick under the table, the impact enough to draw a startled reaction from Luke. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she took another bite of her apple before teasing him further. "Well, Grover said you're killing yourself."

"What?" He blinked at her, taken aback, "I'm not killing myself. Grover's just being dramatic."

"I don't think so." She said, slowly, carefully forming her words. "I mean, if I had a soulmate..."

Luke's defences bristled at the mention of soulmates, a topic he preferred to avoid. "Is this all you wanted to talk about?" 

"I'm allowed to worry, "Annabeth reminded him, her words tinged with a gentle insistence. "Family, remember?"

The word 'family' carried weight, a reminder of their shared history and the bond they had forged over the years. It was a phrase Annabeth often employed to coax Luke out of his shell, to encourage him to confide in her. When they were younger, 'family' meant everything to Luke, thanks in no small part to Annabeth's influence.

"You don't need to worry," Luke assured her, though uncertainty gnawed at the edges of his resolve. "I know what I'm doing." But did he? Luke longed for the simplicity of a time before he met you when the idea of having a soulmate seemed like a distant fantasy. Now, every decision he made, every scar he bore, carried weight, knowing it could impact you in ways he couldn't comprehend.

"The least you can do is get to know her before she leaves."

Her words struck a chord within him, prompting Luke to cast a discreet glance around the dining hall, searching for you amidst the bustling crowd again.

"She's leaving?"

"Not forever, "Annabeth clarified with a chuckle, "Just on a quest. Search and rescue. Nothing fancy."

"...How do you know this?" he said after a moment.

"Chiron told me," Annabeth shrugged nonchalantly. "He also told me to tell you that the ceremony is tonight. I hope that doesn't kill you."

It did kill him a bit. At least, it felt like it did. Luke Castellan moved through camp with a sense of urgency, his strides purposeful yet tinged with a hint of apprehension. His fingers, calloused from years of wielding weapons, throbbed with a dull ache with the burn from the bow and arrow. 

Shoulders tense, skin prickling under the relentless glare of the sun, he scanned the bustling campgrounds.

The weight of his bow rested heavily on his shoulder, the familiar weight offering a semblance of comfort amidst the chaos. With practiced precision, he counted the arrows in his quiver, his movements fluid and sure. 

Then, he heard it—the sound that drew him like a siren's call. Your voice, lilting and laughter-filled, cut through the clamour of the camp, pulling him toward you like a magnet. There you stood, leaning against the doorway of the Hephaestus cabin, a clipboard clutched to your chest as you exchanged banter with Atticus, the skilled swordsmith whose craftsmanship had forged Luke's sword.

There was something different about you today, something delicate, more approachable than he had ever seen before. Last night, with Penelope, you had worn a similar expression—gentle, caring—but it was a side of you that Luke had never been privileged to witness. With him, you had always been guarded, reserved, as though afraid that he would cut or maim you.

As you scribbled something onto your clipboard, Luke found himself intrigued by the way your smile softened. It was a stark contrast to the confident facade you often wore, and for a moment, Luke felt a pang of guilt for pushing you away so soon.

Unbeknownst to you, you were drawing closer to Luke with each step, your path inexorably leading you toward him. Part of him craved to reach out, while another part hesitated, unsure of how to talk to you after all this time.

"Hey," Luke finally managed to utter as you drew near, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You paused, a hint of surprise flickering across your features as you registered his presence. "Hi?" Your response was tentative, laced with a hint of confusion. After a moment's hesitation, you glanced down at your clipboard, "I'm not changing my rank on your cabin. I know three is low, but I was being generous."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Luke's lips. He was all too familiar with the chaotic nature of Cabin Eleven, where overcrowding was the norm and taking turns on the sleeping bags was treated as a game. "No, no. I just..." He trailed off, suddenly realizing he hadn't thought through the purpose of seeking you out. "I think we need to talk."

The confusion in your expression mirrored his own, and for a moment, there was a palpable sense of uncertainty hanging between you. "Talk?" you echoed.

Luke nodded, his gaze meeting yours earnestly. "Yes."

"You want to talk...? To me?" 

"I hope it's not that bizzare."

He tried to smile for you, but it felt wrong. Luke couldn't shake the weight of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew all too well that he hadn't been the embodiment of an ideal soulmate. In his mind, there lingered a pervasive belief that you harboured nothing but hatred towards him, something that you made obvious with every interaction between you two.

He wondered if this was the way you felt during the days he avoided you. 

Luke had noticed the shift. There was a calculated recklessness to your actions, a deliberate disregard for your own well-being that bordered on self-destructive. You stubbed your toe on roots and table legs, tugged too hard at your hair, and scraped your knees. You started to pull your punches while sparring with Clarisse, just enough to ensure that he felt the sting of every blow. You never blocked a hit in the face, a twisted satisfaction in the knowledge that your pain mirrored his own. Together, you would limp into the infirmary, bloodied and bruised where you'd be grinning far too wide, barely offering an ounce of guilt when Luke held ice to his face.

You lowered the clipboard from your chest, letting it rest against your side as you faced Luke. The warm rays of the sun filtered through the dense foliage above, casting dappled shadows that danced across your features and forced you to squint against the brightness. The noise of children's laughter and the sound of feet pounding against the earth filled the air.

Your voice cut through the noise, "You've made it pretty clear that you want nothing to do with me, Luke," you began, your words carrying the weight of unspoken hurt. "You can't blame me for being surprised."

As you began to walk toward the next cabin, Luke fell into step beside you, "Can you just give me a chance—" 

"I think you're too late for that."

"I know, I just—" Luke's words faltered, his thoughts tumbling over one another in a desperate attempt to articulate his feelings.

"I have nothing to say to you," you declared abruptly, stopping in your tracks and turning to face him. Luke skidded to a stop just in time, his gaze meeting yours as you regarded him with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Seriously. I understand, okay? Did I come on too strong? Maybe. Yeah, I'll admit that" you acknowledged, your expression softening slightly. "Maybe coming to you hours after your shit quest was stupid, but I gave you space when you asked—"

"I just wanted to wish you luck on your quest," Luke interrupted, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of remorse.

With a quiet "Oh," you stepped back, your eyes momentarily averting his gaze. Were you embarrassed? Were you disappointed? Did you want to fight? 

"Sorry," you mumbled, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Thanks. I'm, uh, I'm seeing the Oracle after this. So... not technically a quest yet."

"It's your first one, right?" Luke's voice softened, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

"If you're worried about getting another scar, don't worry, I doubt it's anything dangerous," you reassured him, though your words held a hint of hesitation. There was a fleeting moment where your gaze lingered on him as if expecting a sudden change in his demeanour, but Luke remained still, his expression unreadable. "I just need to find Eros and go from there."

"Eros?" Luke's pace slowed, curiosity dancing in his eyes as he raised his brows in interest. Yet beneath the surface, a seed of annoyance sprouted, tendrils of jealousy winding their way through his thoughts. Your quest sounded far more intriguing than his own, and a bitter brew of envy churned in the depths of his stomach. Despite his inner turmoil, he attempted to play it off with a forced chuckle. "Has Cupid gone missing?"

"Apparently," you muttered bitterly under your breath, the resentment palpable in your tone. Luke sensed the edge to your words, though he pretended not to notice.

You sighed, "Is this conversation going anywhere? I really need to finish these cabin checks. I'm busy enough as it is."

Your words held an unspoken plea for him to leave, and though Luke understood, a pang of disappointment nagged at him. He couldn't entirely blame you; after all, he'd been an ass for months.

Both of you hesitated just outside the door to cabin eight, and Luke could feel your eyes on him. When you began to step away, his hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. You froze, eyes wide with surprise.

“I also wanted to thank you,” He said, words rushing off his tongue.

“For what?” you asked.

“For last night.” He wasn't sure why he brought it up, why he felt like he needed you to know. "With Penelope."

"It was nothing," you said, voice barely audible. "We gotta look out for each other, right?"

Then, you left, you hurried up the short staircase to the cabin door, barely sparing him a glance before knocking. From his place, Luke could hear someone welcoming you into Artemis's cabin. He watched you until the door was shut behind you, vanishing you from his sight.

As the ceremony approached, the hues of twilight painted Camp Half-Blood in a golden glow, a serene yet foreboding atmosphere enveloping the surroundings. Luke's unease mounted with the setting sun, casting stretched-out shadows that seemed to carry something unnoticed. He couldn't shake the image of the figure from his nightmares, its monstrous visage haunting his thoughts with each passing moment. Yet, amidst the creeping darkness, there was an allure to the unknown, a temptation that beckoned him; its words, its promise of seeing the truth.

His gaze remained fixed on the white marble archway, half-expecting the nightmare to materialize at any moment, its twisted form emerging from the shadows with outstretched fingers. However, it was you who appeared, ascending the steps with graceful determination. Your presence seemed to dispel the shadows, bathing the surroundings in a radiant glow that eclipsed the fears that had once gripped Luke's heart. You were a blinding vice.

"Didn't think I'd see you here."

A sudden jab to his side sent him recoiling, a sharp pain shooting through his ribs. Luke winced, his gaze flickering to you as you flinched, subtly reaching for your own side. Quickly diverting his attention, he focused on the girl who had spoken.

Clarisse arched a brow at Luke, a smirk dancing on her lips. "Jumpy."

"Give him a break," Chris interjected, joining Luke's side and draping an arm over his shoulder. "Luke had a rough night, he lost a kid."

"Is that so?" Clarisse's grin widened. "And Chiron doesn't know? I'm assuming he doesn't otherwise, he wouldn't have picked you for this."

Luke scoffed and crossed his arms, "I'm the best swordsman at camp."

Clarisse's sarcasm was palpable. "Oh, I don't doubt it. The most humble, too," she retorted, unfazed by his glare. "But let's face it, a search and rescue isn't exaclty your thing anymore. You're more of an action kind of guy. You live off the glory of victory. Chiron knows that."

She was right, Chiron did know that. Which was why he rarely requested Luke to stand in unless there was a catch. Then, the flames in the torches flickered to life, and silence enveloped the candidates. Each demigod chosen by Chiron swiftly took their place, standing tall and resolute by a marble pillar, eager to showcase themselves as the prime choice for the quest. Anything for Kleos. Anything for glory.

Chiron nodded, his gesture sharp and decisive, as he placed a firm hand on your shoulder before addressing the assembly. 

"The Oracle has confirmed that this quest is a search and rescue," he stated, casting a brief, confident glance in your direction. "One where you will use all your best efforts to bring Eros back to the safety of Mount Olympus and restore the lost balance. I'm sure you know where to find him." His gaze then shifted to the rest of the candidates. "Here, I have selected some of our most compelling candidates from which you will choose one to join you on your quest, ensuring your success. Annabeth Chase, Atticus Brang, Chris Rodrigues, Clarisse La-"

As Chiron listed the candidates, you carefully evaluated your options, your eyes calculating. In the dim torchlight, Luke could just discern the thin line etched across your face, stretching from the end of your brow to your-

"I choose Luke."

The ensuing silence felt like something they could all drown in, leaving everyone stunned. Even Annabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise, though there was a glint of amusement in her eyes as she spotted Luke's bewilderment. Surely, he must have misheard. There couldn't possibly be any way you had chosen him, could there?

Chiron turned to you, his tone measured. "Are you sure?"

You never shifted your gaze from Luke, who refused to meet your eyes as he stared fixedly at the pillar across from him. Yet, the clenching of his jaw, whether from anger or annoyance or something else, was enough to elicit a satisfied smile from you.

"I'm sure," you affirmed.

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[eddiesxangel]

If you ever felt like it, would you be cool writing reader and Eddie; their best friends and they both perv for each other but never show it and she was invited to DND and she needs to rush to the bathroom to literally rub one out and Eddie silently makes his way to see what you’re up to

Just Friends |Perv!EddieMunsonX Perv!bestie reader

AN: I made it modern just to make it more pervy! hope you enjoy :) ps. If you see any typos no you didn’t 🤫

WC: 3.2k

It’s been almost a year since you and Eddie became friends, you’ve been inseparable since. You and Eddie first met when you were sleeping over at Nancy’s and Eddie was over for a DND session. You had literally run into Eddie, you smacked your face into his chest as you rounded the corner, in your pyjamas no less. You gave an awkward giggle and introduced yourself. You didn’t really recognize him, your lunch periods weren’t the same and he wasn’t in any of your classes. But fate swooped in, and due to that fated night everything changed. 

Eddie was struck by you the second you crashed into his chest. He had seen you occasionally with Nancy in the halls but never could come up with a good excuse to approach you. He thought you were cute, like really fucking cute. So cute to the point that when you did actually touch him (by accident) he popped a boner the second your sparkling eyes looked into his for the first time. Lame, he knows. He couldn’t believe you had this visceral reaction over his body, but all he could think about was your lips, how they moved when you spoke his name and how you smiled at him. Eddie was absolutely screwed, and he had to do something about it he just didn’t know how. So when you finally approached him at Mike’s one day he seized his one opportunity. Turns out you were really fucking cool, on top of being really fucking cute. 

Eddie wanted to spend the most amount of time with you that he could. He was always asking to hang out one on one. His favourite would be when you would ask him over to your house. He loved being able to have access to all things you. The first time he was invited over he couldn’t believe his luck. In the midst of your hang out, you had to take a phone call in the hallway and you left him alone in your room. Eddie felt like a creep the first time but he had to know. He found your underwear drawer, it was filled with soft cotton and lace. His eyes almost popped out of his head when his hands found your red lacy thong. Pocketing it and slamming your drawer ship when he heard you giggle goodbye. 

The second time Eddie was left in your room you told him you were going to take a quick shower, leaving him to his own devices for a least ten minutes, he saw your book on your nightstand, it had a cutesy little cartoon cover, very girly, he was planning on mocking you when you got back in because who reads romance novels? He opened up to where your bookmark was, and his eyes bulged open when he saw what exactly it was you were reading

His strong hands gripped my bare hips as he pinned me down to the bed. His fingers travelled down to my soaked pussy, slowly and agonizingly circling my sensitive clit. I begged for more but he only laughed, "Only good girls get what they want" he whispered and I ground my hips up into him the best I could, but his hold was too much. "Please' I begged. "Please Sir I will do anything, I want your cock so bad, I promise I'll be a good girl." I cried. He was torturing me...

Eddie could not believe his eyes, he had no idea you were so dirty. His best friend had another side to her that he had yet to see, that he would literally sell his soul to see. Oh to hear you say those dirty words to him that he had just read. He popped a boner just thinking about it. He hadn't time to fix it so he grabbed your cow squishmallow to put on his lap when you re-entered the room in nothing but your pink bath towel. You were literally going to be the death of him. 

You loved when Eddie would come over, but you also loved being in Eddie’s space. Being consumed by all things Eddie, the decor, the smell, the comfort of being surrounded by him. Eddie let you into his home anytime and all the time, it didn’t matter if he wasn’t home yet, you knew where the spare key was, he texted you he would be home in 40 minutes so you let yourself in and hung out until he got back. 

You walked into Eddie’s room and the urge to snoop was growing. You didn’t know what you were looking for until you found it. Stashed under his mess of clothing was Eddie's laptop. Your hands couldn’t move fast enough to the search history. Luckily for you, he was dumb enough to be logged into everything automatically. You didn’t care that this was wrong, yet you wanted to know if he had been talking to anyone. You hadn’t seen him romantically attached to anyone in the almost year you’ve been just friends. You're sure he would tell you. However, the jealousy gremlin was nipping at your ear; telling you to keep going. 

After being unsuccessful at finding any dirt you continued through the search of his laptop and found a particularly interesting bookmark. You knew this was so wrong and he probably would never forgive you if he found out but you had to know what Eddie was into. 

You clicked on the link and a porn website opened. The video was of a woman solo touching herself, and using very racy language about what she would do to the watcher. It was much different than what you consumed when you were to indulge yourself, but it was starting to turn you on as you examined the naked woman spread out in front of you. Thinking about Eddie and what he would be doing while watching this…in this bed you were sitting on, naked, touching himself to her sexy words. You thought about how big he would be, how those delicious fingers would grip himself. You often found yourself dazing out while staring at his thick ring-clad fingers. Especially when he would practice guitar, and how quickly he could move them without missing a note. Your mind drifted and you found yourself lying down in Eddie’s bed. 

Trailing your hands down underneath the waistband of your jeans, you brought a worn t-shirt that was thrown on the bed up to your nose, it smelled so strongly of Eddie. Your fingers teased your clit edging yourself as you pretended they were your best friends. You thought of how it would be to have him on top of you, how it would feel to have his cock slip past your entrance. You hummed his name quietly over and over until the slam of the screen door made you jump and you snapped out of your bliss. You quickly exited the screen and slid the laptop under the pile of clothes that rested atop the bed before Eddie entered his room. 

A bright smile struck his face when he saw you there sitting in his bed. He was oblivious to what you had been doing seconds earlier. Eddie's mind spun with the scenarios he imagined the both of you in, preferably naked. He never divulged these fantasies, of course, he couldn’t have you finding out about what a perv he was for you, or else you would never let him near you again. 

Tonight Eddie invited you to watch in on Hellfire because you told him Nancy had a date and you had nothing to do this Friday night. You’d never attended before, you were always busy with Nancy. So when you showed up to game night you didn’t know what to expect. Eddie tried so many times to explain the game to you but you never really understood, there were too many rules and you’d always zone out as you watched his plump lips at work. Day dreaming of them on your lips, or on your neck, or on your pussy.

You walked up the the Wheeler household feeling a bit strange that you weren't here to see Nancy. You were let in by Mrs. Wheeler who was on her way out with Mr. Wheeler for a very rare date night.

"Hey guys" you greeted the group as you made your way down to the basement. 

“Hey, cutie" Eddie greeted back with the biggest smile on his face. 

It truly was a mystery to the others how the both of you weren't picking up one another's signals. You saw Mike roll his eyes after Eddie spoke but you took it like he didn't was his annoying sister's friend here to ruin their ritual. Little moments between you two were clear as day to any onlooker but to the both of you, you were oblivious. Too blind to see the signs because you’ve convinced yourselves that the other one would never share the same feelings. 

You had settled in sitting on the couch behind the DND table so you could give them space without crowding around. Eddie was directly facing you so you could see everything but still do your own thing.

As the night progressed you’d been so turned on by Eddie’s performance. The passion that filled him, the way he deepened his voice, the gaze in his eyes as he described the frightening scenes that played out for the club members. Everything that you lusted for from Eddie was heightened by 100 tonight. Eddie had such a hold over you that he didn't even know about. 

You crossed your legs trying to focus on the tiktoks you tried distracting yourself with however they were not helping because it had been a bunch of thirst traps and sexy excerpts from romance novels. Yes, you were on Booktok and no you were not ashamed of being an avid smut reader. 

Since the distractions were not working and the throbbing between your legs was becoming unbearable you needed to excuse yourself, and quickly. You barely mumbled that you needed the washroom before sprinting to the main floor to find some peace in the powder room. 

You shut the door so quickly you may have accidentally slammed it which altered Eddie's even more. He was worried about you. You'd been squirming on the couch looking very uncomfortable, and then you ran out of there like a bat out of hell. He knew he needed to see if you were okay, maybe you had gotten your period or something? 

Eddie walked up the steps and called out your name but there was no answer. As he rounded the corner he noticed the light coming from under the closed bathroom door. He walked closer and heard your muffled voice but couldn't make out the words. As he approached the door he almost knocked but froze halfway when he heard your voice loud and clear.

"Eddie please" you moaned. Eddie couldn't believe his ears because there was no way this was happening...until you did it again.

"Fuck me please, Eddie right there!" you gasped. Your clit had been throbbing the whole time you’d been downstairs you couldn’t help but relieve it. You were silently watching the secret video you had taken of Eddie while he was commanding the game. It has turned you on so much, and watching it back was even better. Eddie didn’t know what to do. But he had to think quickly because his time was limited. He hesitantly knocked on the door and cleared his throat before he spoke. “ uhhh are you alright right in there?” he stuttered out his words. The knock on the door scared you. You let out a small scream as you ripped your hands away from yourself and up to your chest feeling your heart pounding. How much had Eddie heard? How much does he know you don’t think you’re being that loud? Where are you? Oh shit, maybe you were? 

“Uhhh I’m-I’m fine Ed’s” you managed to stutter. Oh my god, you were mortified. The handle of the door giggled like Eddie was trying to come in. “Come on sweetheart open the door I really need to come in,” he continued on jiggling the door until you unlocked it. Eddie needed to seize this moment. He was never going to have another opportunity like this.

“Eddie I-” You didn’t finish your sentence because Eddie had cut you off with a kiss as he cupped your face while backing you into the opposite wall. “You’re such a little pervert. I know what you think about now when you want to touch yourself, do you think about me and what my fingers can do to you huh?” Eddie broke away from the kiss and started kissing down your neck. All of this was so sudden. You had no idea that this was going to happen when you had left the basement. “I’m not a pervert!” You defend yourself. “No baby? So if I took your hand and sniffed these fingers I wouldn’t smell your pussy all over them?” he cocked his brow. “And I didn’t hear you moan my name twice just now?” He hummed. You had never heard Eddie speak like this, not even in your wildest dreams did you think he had such a filthy mouth. “You want me, baby? I heard you and your dirty words through the door. Do you want Eddie to make you feel good? Can’t get off without me? That's it huh?” Eddie’s cockiness was only making you wetter. “Fuck Eddie I need you I have needed you for so long. Please touch me.” You gasped as his plump lips sucked the delicate skin of your neck.

“Could have just asked baby, I would give you the world” His hand grazed up your leg to the open zipper of your jeans until his calloused fingers found the waistband of your baby pink panties. Your breath hitched as he found his way into your pants, brushing over the short hair of your mound to your slick wet slit. “Oh oh oh baby,” he chuckled darkly “you’ve been hiding this from me? I don’t think you deserve me to touch you, you’ve been very naughty. Tell me, baby, you always get this wet for me? What other dirty things do you do when I’m not around?” Your mind was numb with pleasure as Eddie slowly made contact with your pussy lips. He was being so mean like he was punishing you, grazing everywhere but your clit. “Fuck. Eddie please” you beg girding your hips up into his fingers to get some relief.

“I don’t think so sweetheart” you’ve been a very bad girl. “Have I? You try to spit back. “I recall you stealing my favourite pair of panties. Don’t play innocent Munson. I found them in your room yesterday.” You chide.

Eddie kissed you to shut you up. His tongue pushed its way into your mouth as you moaned in pleasure. Your slippery slick coated Eddie’s fingers as they prodded their way up into your tight hole. “Oh, Eddie!” You sighed. “Fuck say my name again” he growled.

“Eddie!” You moaned throwing your head against the wall. His fingers were so thick. He really knows how to work his fingers. “That’s it scream my name” his cocky smirk hasn’t left his face. All disregarding everyone downstairs, you didn’t try and keep quiet. Eddie watched your chest heave as your breasts raised and fell. His free hand scaled up your shirt over your bra. His hands explored your breasts and he pulled down the cup to free you. His hands worked your nipple and your clit. The way his fingers felt exploring your body only made the feeling in your core build and build. Eddie dipped his head to take your perked nipple in his mouth. You arched your back into him and his warm tongue latched onto you. A soft “Eddie baby” slipped from your lips as you were washed away with the feeling of everything Eddie. You were getting so close so fast, you had already warmed yourself up and Eddie was here to take all of the credit. Not that you’re complaining but the coil in your core was being wound up so tightly you need for it to snap. “I'm so close! please don’t stop.” 

“Oh, so you are a good girl who knows her manners, go on then, on cum for me baby” 

Eddie kissed the sweet spot on your neck while playing with your nipple with one hand and your pussy with the other. Your senses were on overdrive and you were bumming from his words. Your body shook and your release dripped down Eddie’s fingers. A few seconds later after you come down from your high you realize that he was having all the fun and you haven’t touched him yet. You graze your hand down his stomach, to the button of his black jeans. You quickly moved your fingers to unbutton and unzip his pants. You slide down the bathroom wall and get on your knees in front of Eddie. He gathered your hair in his hands and you pulled out his cock. “You’re complaining about me hiding from you when you’ve been holding out on me this whole time?” You don't hesitate. You start making out with the base of his cock moving your way up to the tip. You coddle his balls in one hand and use the other to tease the tip of his red cock. “Fuck” Eddie sucks in a breath. You continue to worship his cock. How could you not? It was so pretty, long and thick, and slightly curved to the right. Hearing Eddie whimpering above you was music to your ears. You loved the feel of the weight of him on your tongue. You swirled your tongue on his tip taking in the taste of his precum before sliding down his length to the hilt. His pubs tickled your nose but you ignored that as you hummed onto his cock. You bobbed your head up and down. It was messy and it was loud. 

“Baby fuck fuck fuck if you keep going like that I’m-” Eddie couldn’t finish his sentence before he came down your throat. The hot thick liquid ran hot down your throat. “Shit I’m sorry I’m sorry” he panted as you continued to suck him dry. Humming in satisfaction. Eddie finally loosened the grip of your hair as you pulled back and opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue to show him you’d swallowed it all. Eddie’s eyes went wide, he hadn’t expected you to be so filthy, just for him. He pulled you back up by your hair to stick his tongue down your throat. A giggle left your mouth and he pulled away. 

“We are so doing that again” he breathed. 

A pounding on the bathroom door made you both jump. 

“We get it you guys are disgusting! Let's get back to the game please!” The sound of Lucas’s angry voice came from the other side of the door. You could practically hear his eye-roll. Eddie and you burst out laughing “Come on baby, the Dungeon Master needs to finish up and then I will be seeing you later for more” Eddie left you in the bathroom, flushed and more than satisfied. You couldn’t wait for him to finish that sexy little game. 

[kun-diman]

jjk men yandere

jjk men as yandere/obsessive type, they found their new addiction and it feels so right.

content warning: kidnapping, dub-con, non-con, somnophilia, murder, knife play, stalking, extreme yandere behavior, jealousy, dead dove do not eat, read at your own risk

tags: heian era!sukuna x reader, yuta x reader, satoru x reader, yandere x reader, jjk men x reader, afab reader, jjk smut

Sukuna

“Gonna tear out your heart, it'll always be mine.”

After Sukuna burned your village to the ground, you were selected to join his harem. On your first night Sukuna was feeling “generous”, he made you run for your life with the condition that if you escaped his palace you would be freed, but if not, you'll never escape his side ever again.

“Run little human, run.” was the last thing he said before you run and run and run and run until you blacked out.

Your head was pounding as if something or rather someone had hit you.

“What did I tell you little human?”

That chilling voice brought you back to your scary reality. You failed to escape.

He liked to play with you, physically and mentally. Some days he liked to torture you with pleasure, some days he liked making you jealous to death with his other concubines. You're sick of it. Wishing for a lighting to just randomly strike you down to your most awaited death.

But then a neighboring kingdom paid to visit for matters of politics, stuff you're too uninterested to know about fearing for your life everyday inside these cold eerie halls.

The crowned prince from the said neighboring kingdom took an interest on you. The two of you started interacting more and more. You grew fond of him, but you knew better than to let anyone know that.

Let's just say that Sukuna didn't like that.

So here you are, pressed down on the hard walls of his chambers with his big hands on your neck sucking the life out of you.

“You like that fucker, huh? You foolish little human.”

You feel as if every second you're trapped in his powerful hands is questionably considered as mercy. You're lucky he hasn't twisted your head off your body.

“What do I do to remind you you're mine?” He said as his grips starts to loosen but still keeping you firmly in front of him.

“Should I tear you out limb by limb? If I tear out your heart you'll see that it beats for me. You, your soul, your body, your heart, it'll always be mine.” was the last thing you heard as he slams his lips on yours, completely loosing his grip on your neck, and now sucking the life out of you through your mouth.

Maybe this time you should run for your life again.

Yuta

“Say you'll love me to death 'cause I will.”

Yuta is in anyway NOT a religious man, but here he was, confessing his sin inside a small box with a small transparent wall dividing him, the sinner, and the priest.

When he first laid his eyes on you, he thought he'll be easy to get you out of his mind. He thought his old habits have been long gone by now, now that he's a jujutsu sorcerer. He thought he's a changed man for good, but clearly not. Because if he was, he wouldn't have to bury the body of a man that tried to get close to you days ago.

He wasn't always like that. Possessive and toxic, no. Infact he was a gentleman. But with a cursed spirit stuck with him since childhood, he couldn't help but take away some of its characteristics. His first love, rather a victim, was a lovely girl like you. But she was too resisting, and Yuta didn't like that. That's how she ended up 6ft below. Yuta's more on the obedient nice girls. After that, he regretted his decision for awhile because of boredom so, he decided to focus on his studies and curses. It's been years since that awful “accident” but then he met you.

To Yuta, you have that submissive eyes that he fucking likes. Oh, you're perfect. Obedient, model student, kind. He just had to have you, no matter what.

It's been days since you heard from your classmate, you've been nervous because he's your partner in a group work. He hasn't been showing up in class and doesn't pick up your call. But then your school held a search-rescue mission after school for your said classmate. Your thoughts and prayers are with his family so, you decided to join the search-rescue mission.

Everyone was given a flashlight after your classmate's parents held a speech outside. It was dark and eerie in this forest. You didn't stray far away from the main group, so why are you in the verge of death inside a man-made hole?

Screaming for help, no one seemed to really hear you. You're hyperventilating from fear and anxiety. You're stuck with nowhere else to go. With your last attempt for help, you screamed really loud.

It seemed like all hope was lost after that. But then a pair of bright intense eyes stared at you.

“Need help?”

Looking up, it was your neighbor Yuta. Thank heavens he was here right? Wrong.

After he pulled you out of the man-made hole, Yuta “accidentally” slipped inside and pulled your arms with him, bringing you down with him inside. Now the both of you are stuck. That's just great!

He asked if you were alright. But before you could answer your vision turned black.

You woke up inside an unknown place, probably underground. You're placed laying in a bed with ropes around your body restraining you from moving.

You didn't know how long you were inside that place. All you know was Yuta was the last person with you.

“What the fuck.” You said as you tried twisting your arms and legs to move.

A faint sound of a key opening a door was heard not far from where you were.

Looking from where it was, you saw a pair of dark pants going down the stairs.

“Finally awake?” Fuck. It was Yuta.

“What do you want from me?” You asked scared.

“You. I want you.” He said, dead serious.

After that encounter with Yuta, you stayed in that place for what seemed like years to you. Yuta haven't harmed or touched you in anyway so you were relieved in some way. But that until one night.

Yuta couldn't wait anymore. He's been patient enough.

Slamming his hips with yours, he moaned faintly.

“Fuuuckkk.”

If there was heaven, Yuta knew this was close to it. Your warm and wet pussy is driving him to another dimension. It's a miracle you haven't woken up yet.

He sucked on your neck harshly enough to wake you up.

You woke up with a strange sensation down your body, and a wet feeling on your neck. Trying to gasp what's happening, you saw Yuta.

“No. No. No. This is not happening!” You thought.

You couldn't say or scream something because of the absurdity of the scene. Only whimpers and moans escaped your lips.

When you got back to your senses you tried resisting, which Yuta didn't like.

“Stop. Stop resisting. You don't want to end up like the first one.”

You have no idea what or who he was talking about.

He tried to calm you down for quite some time but still keeping his hard cock inside of you.

But patience isn't something Yuta is a master at.

While you were making a futile attempt at resisting, Yuta took out a hand knife and pointed it side wards to cover your neck.

You were scared. Is he going to kill you?

“I have been patient. Soo patient to have you. I'm not letting you go to waste, pretty girl.”

“You're insane! Go to hell!” You screamed angrily.

“I'll go anywhere with you, even if it's hell.” Yuta said eerily calm.

“Kill yourself!” You glared at him.

“I love you. Please, say you love me back.” Yuta looked at you with pleading lustful eyes.

“No! I'd rather die than be with you!” You looked at him disgustingly.

“Say you'll love me to death, 'cause I will.” Yuta smiled creepily.

Till death does the two of you part.

Satoru

“Say you'll always be there 'cause I will.”

Satoru was your ex. He was fun, charming, and handsome. But he was also a controlling freak.

At first you thought he was just protecting and caring for you when he started asking about where you're going, who you're going with. But then he started restricting your action. Always making you feel trapped in his mansion. It even got to the point where he'll gaslight you into thinking you're neglecting him by visiting your family whom you haven't seen in months because of him.

You grew sick and tired of it. You broke up with him, but it wasn't easy.

It took you multiple attempts to escape your relationship with him. But Satoru's pride got the best of him, and he let you go.

That was a mistake in Satoru's part. Because now he's looking for you relentlessly. Ever since you left him, he was looking for you in every girl he met.

He wanted you back.

He turned into a complete stalker. He knew your address, your workplace, your number, basically everything about you.

He was always watching. Always.

You didn't knew it but he installed cameras into your apartment. You thought you were free. But a pair of preying eyes are always watching your every move.

You went to sleep earlier than usual thanks to work. And that gave Satoru a chance to spent time with you longer. And by that he meant breaking in to your apartment.

He stared at your sleeping peaceful figure.

“Oh, how I missed you, my dear.” He whispered in your cheeks as he puts his cheeks in yours, feeling your warmth as he could.

As he was about to stand up, he accidentally knocked down your lampshade, waking you up.

“Huh? Who are you?!” You said alarmed as you saw a tall figure beside you.

“Shhh, no need to worry, sweet cheeks.” Satoru tried to calm you down.

But you can't exactly calm down. Not when he's pinning you in your bed.

“I'm always here. Always here for you.”

“I thought you went to Shibuya?” You asked confused.

“Oh! How did you know that?” Satoru was startled and surprised.

“Were you always watching me like I did?” He asked eagerly.

“No! I'm not a creep like you.” You denied definitely.

“Oh, don't be shy to admit the truth. Say you'll always be there, 'cause I will. And I am.” Satoru said after mysteriously lulling you to sleep.

And stay he did. Permanently.

© kun-diman 2024, all rights reserved.

a/n: Thank you so much for reading! I had this fic on my notes since May lol. Originally, I was going to include Suguru but I couldn't write an exact scenario with the lyric I paired him with.

[fangsandfeels]

The vagueness of Astarion sleeping mechanics drives me mad sometimes

So, the game says that elves don't sleep - to the point where it's ironically stated that the only way for them to experience sleeping is to either drink a potion of Angelic Slumber or "get hit really hard with a chair".

Instead, they enter a semi-aware meditative state (Revery) where they experience memories from their past lives (usually most positive and emotional parts). Or they just sorting through their current memories.

Now, we've seen Astarion meditating if his way of lying on a bedroll is anything to go by. He is also immune to sleeping spells. We could also see him sleeping (in a Durge run). I know that devs technically recycle the same sleeping pose for all romanced companions, but still. Also, Astarion has nightmares, which is not typical for elves.

Of course, when I was going through the lore, I scratched the surface, but from what I understood, Revery is supposed to be a controlled state, and nightmares aren't exactly controlled.

But, I've found a very interesting bit that (so far) is still considered part of the official canon:

Elves can sleep and dream just like any human, but almost all surface elves avoid doing so. Dreams, as humans know them, are strange and confusing to elves. Unlike the actual memories of one’s primal soul, present life, or past lives, dreams are uncontrolled products of the subconscious, and perhaps the subconscious minds of those past lives or primal souls as well. An elf who dreams must always wonder whose mind these thoughts first arose from, and why. Priests of Sehanine Moonbow are an exception: they sleep and dream to receive signs from their god, and elves consult such priests to interpret their own dreams."

From: Mordenkainrn's Tome Of Foes, Chapter 2: Elves

And not only does this little bit explain a lot, but it also provides some food for your fic writing purposes.

Now, I'm entering the headcanon territory, so be warned.

Astarion's access to Revery got horribly fucked up after he had been Turned. Not only does he no longer have access to his previous lives since he is technically dead and plucked from the cycle, but he also can't even have his happy or good memories before he became a spawn. Even if they are still there, somewhere in the memory palace, getting to them requires going through the catalog of traumatic and painful memories he acquired after being enslaved by Cazador. It's like running through a burning house trying to rescue your family photo - and the hall gets longer each time. So, entering a trance means confronting the worst memories of his life over and over because there is nothing else there.

Due to this Astarion may resort to sleeping, which elves don't usually do. Elves don't like dreams because dreams are subconscious, and they can't be controlled, which scares them. For Astarion, however, it means there is a chance of him subconsciously dreaming of something nice or just being blissfully empty. However, it doesn't safeguard him from nightmares which (because they are the product of his unconsciousness) get even more twisted than simple memories.

Additionally, there can be a possibility that after becoming a spawn he got cut off from meditation and trances completely, relying on sleeping only: at least, the cut spawn epilogue by Withers mentions how while Astarion needs to sleep again, he doesn't sleep alone. While we don't know what that means exactly (and whether it will ever be implemented in the game), I assume that the tadpole gave him the ability to meditate back, but it was a small improvement because his memory headspace no longer holds happy memories capable of offering solace or refuge.

So, my personal headcanon is that he switches between meditating and sleeping depending on how aware he needs to be, and whatever option feels less torturous at the moment.

For instance, in his Origin run, when he remembers the moment of Cazador carving scars into him, he is in a trance. Which is why the memory is so horribly vivid, as if he is reliving it anew.

However, when he has a nightmare where Cazador finds him, he is sleeping and experiencing a memory affected by his subconsciousness. Which is why he jolts himself awake and desperate to know the limits of his freedom.

So, yes, the man literally can't catch a break.

On a happier note (and for your hurt/comfort fanfiction purposes), once Astarion starts traveling with Tav and the group, his memory bank gets updated with memories that are actually fun and nice, so he has something to linger upon when he is meditating. Sleeping gradually becomes a bit more pleasant experience because his subconsciousness got more material to work with, so the quality of his non-controlled dreams has to gradually improve.

[housetargaryenloyalist]

Summer loving

Pairing: Benjicot Blackwood x Tully!reader

Synopsis: It seems that the boy you knew ten summers ago has turned into a man

Wordcount: 2.9k

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, pure fluff.

Author's note: A little Benji fic sparked by the summer heat. Little disclaimer that this is my first time writing for Benjicot so he will not be perfect, I tried my best and I hope you can sense that. If you have any remarks, don't hesitatie to share them, but please remember to be kind. I'm a sensitive little soul ❤️

English is not my first language, apologies for any mistakes.

Happy reading <3

‎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ♡Masterlist♡ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

*:･ﾟ✧Let me know what you think✧*:･ﾟ

The summer of your ten and eight nameday was a sweltering one, sun beaming relentlessly in the sky, nary a cloud in sight allowing the sun to have free reign. It was simply torturous.

Your dress spun of summer wool clung to your skin, your body covered in a thin layer of glossy sweat, making you seem aglow. No matter how many times you fanned yourself with your makeshift fan of paper it had no lasting effect, for as soon as you stopped to regain strength, the heat came back with vengeance.

This summer the Gods were surely intent on killing you muttered as you sat in your family’s carriage, windows open yet they offered little reprieve.

Unlike the Targaryens who were blessed with the dragon bonds, and the ability to traverse through the air, you were earthbound to a hobbling, suffocating carriage.

Landscapes passed you by in a soft blur, the colour green dominating your vision. Your brothers sat in front of you in the vehicle, their tunic partly undone.and although they were better in the heat than you were, they were not invincible.

Their cheeks had turned rosy from heat and their curls were dark and stuck to their forehead. They were most excited for this journey, as it was a visit to Raventree Hall, ancestral home of their close friend Benjicot Blackwood.

You, on the other hand, did not share in their excitement, for you there would not be a merry reunion of old friendship. You were sent there with the sole purpose of securing a marriage alliance.

For as a Tully, it was your duty to marry well and it was equally your duty to strengthen your family’s ties. Your father and grandsire desired you to wed the young Blackwood heir to ensure you would do both. In their eyes there was much to be gained from such an alliance, for one the Blackwoods possessed a large army, with many skilled warriors. Additionally, they ruled over extensive domains with fertile ground.

If all went well, the Blackwoods would be tied to the Tully’s for a few generations and peace would prevail in the Riverlands. It was heavy burden to bare, yet you bore it well. The only upside was that you had known the Blackwood boy in your youth and he had not seemed too terrible of a husband then. You could only pray he had grown up just as well as people rumoured.

Ten summers ago you had been here once before, a young girl unburdened by duty, you remember playing in the mud with the boys. You remember climbing trees and ripping your dress, much to the anger and frustration of your mother.

It had been a summer spent watching your brothers try to beat their new friend in combat and failing miserably.

They had gotten close quite a few times, yet Benjicot Blackwood remained superior, however at age eight the clanging of swords had frightened you. No matter how often you heard it. The sharp sound hurting your still young ears. During one particular duel between your other brother, Oscar and Benjicot, you had even cried.

Hot, heavy tears of fear and anxiety had rolled down your cheeks and into your sleeves as you tried to keep them abay. The pair had quickly stopped their little match, and Oscar rushed to comfort you, turning from knight into dutiful older brother.

The Blackwood heir had looked perplexed at the scene, not expecting your brother to forfeit by prioritising you. In that moment he had seemed odd to you, even mean, for how he stood there. Not even the slightest inquiry into your wellbeing, but he was soon forgotten as Oscar guided you to a small flower patch.

His young hands were rough from sword fighting, calluses forming where there used to be soft baby skin, despite the hardness, he still managed to pluck the flowers and weave them gently into a flower crown. He told you a story of valiant knights as he did so, distracting you from tears.

At dinner later that evening you had worn the crown proudly, a bright grin on your face as you were seated. Your mother was partly frustrated by the lack of decorum but could not resist the loveliness, you were only young for so long she had whispered to your lord father.

Your father had less of a stringent nature to him, had a temper like that of a river, a true Tully. He was in possession of a calm disposition yet had a force within him that could destroy much. Your brothers were much like him you observed, same Tully hair, same Tully manners.

You, on the other hand, were much more like your mother. An uncanny resemblance your Septa had once said, yet she had also remarked you to be much wilder than her, “a rumbustious little girl,” she often called you.

Seated in a chair too tall for your feet to reach the ground, you were shocked when the young Blackwood boy entered the great hall with his hair a mess and a bouquet of wildflowers in his hand.

Some flowers had lost the majority of their petals, others had been bent and lost their uprightness, others were simply wilted yet you remembered it as the most beautiful bouquet you had ever seen. He had walked towards you, the flower arrangement held tightly in his young hands.

Once he reached where you were seated he held out the bouquet and practically shoved them into your face. “For you my lady,” he said, smiling a proud smile and you noticed he was missing one of front teeth.

You were admittedly a bit stupefied to receive such a gift so suddenly but accepted it with glee, you had always had a particular fondness for flowers. You laid the flowers in front of you and reached for your flower crown.

Gently you placed it on the black curls of Benjicot Blackwood, whose smile widened at your action, “thank you,” you said and brought the flowers back into your lap.

That night was the first night rumours of an engagement swept through the Riverlands.

Now you were here once again, sitting in that very same Great Hall, once again waiting for dinner. This time, however, you had no flower crown perched upon your head.

The Tully travelling party had arrived later in the day than expected, leaving little time for you all to wander around the castle before you were rushed into your seats.

“A guest must never go without food,” your interim host, Alysanne Blackwood had declared. Your brothers had been slightly disappointed not to be received by their childhood compatriot, yet their disappointment was soon subdued when they learned he had simply gone out to hunt. Alysanne assured them that he would be there to greet them at the welcoming feast.

It was not long after that Benjicot Blackwood made his entrance. You remembered him as a shy boy, with a gap in his front teeth from where a baby tooth had fallen out, and soft black curls.

Even though he was good with a sword, he had never been good with words.

In the short weeks you had spent at Raventree Hall, he rarely spoke directly to you and those rare times he did, he found it hard to look you in the eyes.

Now, at age twenty, it seemed his boyish shyness had gone and in its place stood a strong, confident man, lord of Raventree Hall. Your breathing increased as you continued to observe him, he had grown large, perhaps larger than Kermit, which you knew would irk him greatly considering he was older than the young Blackwood lord.

Benjicot Blackwood was surely to draw the attention of many ladies high- and lowborn, the notion of which sparked a small bout of jealousy to cross over your mind. The seeds of jealousy could not blossom however for as he entered further into the Great Hall you noticed what he held in his hands.

A bouquet of wildflowers.

You bit your lip to try in vain to stop a smile from spreading. Perhaps it was a tad conceited to imagine that bouquet to be meant for you, there had been nary any contact between the two of you.

Your respective duties busying you and decorum frowned on correspondence between a man and woman who shared neither blood or marital bond. You knew that your brothers had exchanged ravens with him throughout the years, yet knew not much of what they contained.

You assumed that it contained mention of new fighting techniques they learned, and perhaps complaints of their lessons from the Maester.

Whatever the contents might have been, you weren’t too sure if you wanted to know. You stopped your musing as you watched Benjicot walk towards you, getting closer and closer.

Before long you had hurried out from your chair, in order to curtsy before him as propriety demanded. Your Speta would have been proud, and your mother even proude,r.

Benjicot laughed as he saw you, “There is no need for such a thing amongst old friends my lady,” came his warm voice, you nodded and smiled as you met his gaze. “How good it is to see you Lady Tully,” he extended the bouquet towards you, much gentler than when he did it at age ten, “a small gift to welcome you to Raventree Hall.”

You smiled even brighter as you took the flowers into your hands, bringing them close to your face and inhaling the flowers' sweet scent. The bouquet was large, yet had seemed quite small in his hands, now that it was in your possession it could not fit in one hand alone.

You looked back up, feeling the heat of a blush creep up your cheeks. “Thank you my lord,” you said in a tone so soft, you heard your brothers giggle behind you. 

He looked slightly abashed as he took in your adult form, gone were the scraped up knees and torn up dresses, your hair so messy it took your maids a great deal of effort to detangle it.

Now before him, however, stood a woman grown. A woman with a soft smile, perfectly done up hair and who was wearing a dress that perfectly complimented her eyes.

He could feel his heartbeat speed up as he committed her to his memory, she would not leave his mind any day soon, perhaps not ever.

He cleared his throat, “ I recalled that you had a fondness for flowers when you were younger,” he scratched the back of his head, causing his hair to tangle even more, “I’m pleased to see that you are still as fond.” You smiled at him, noticing a blush much like yours dusting his cheeks, “Indeed I am my lord."

A week passed by swiftly, the bouquet Benjicot had given you had been placed into a beautiful pot on your nightstand, they were there when you closed your eyes and when you opened them. You cared not that they had begun to wilt, you could not bear to part from them.

They were a daily reminder of Benji, as he so sheepishly asked you to call him that night of the feast. He had started to consume your every waking moment, and even in sleep he managed to haunt you.

During the day he would accompany you on walks through Raventree Hall and its surrounding terrain, he would sit next to you at dinner, converse with you through bites of lamb and sips of wine.

Your brothers had complained nearly the whole week of how often Benjicot’s attention had been on you, and how they have seemingly been abandoned by their old friend. You paid them no heed, content to spend every moment of your time with the raven haired boy. 

It was a cooler summer day when you once again ventured into the gardens accompanied by Benji, his hands softly grazing against yours with every step you took. It took a great deal of strength for you not to grasp his hand and intertwine it with yours, to end this torture.

Yet it was not you who took the first step, his hand tentatively reached over to yours and held it in a weak grasp. You looked at him with wide eyes, and you were met with a bashful smile, “I hope this is alright,” he said as he tightened his grasp, “your hand seemed lonely.”

At that you giggled, for it had to be one of the silliest things you had ever heard, “it is quite alright Benji,” you looked to the side as you continued, “my hand was indeed feeling lonely.”

Now it was his turn to let out a soft laugh. The two of you ventured deeper, down a soft brown gravel path, surrounded by colourful flowers of various heights. It was like walking through an oasis of colours, a vision only the best painters could bring to life.

“Do you like them?” the man next to you asked, and you cocked your head in slight confusion, “the flowers, I mean. Do you like them?” You looked at him and nodded, “I like them a great deal.” An immense smile covered his face, he looked radiant like this. “I am glad, I had them planted for you.”

At that you stopped, your face the very definition of shocked. “You did what?” you asked, thinking him ridiculous for saying that. His unoccupied hand, went to scratch the back of his head, something you had noticed him doing often whenever he felt nervous or shy.

“Are you serious Benji?” You stepped closer to him, as you whispered, not wishing to draw attention from the others. He smiled at you in a way that would be the death of you, “Yes I am, I asked the gardeners to plant them after you were here ten summers ago”

You took a deep breath and looked around at the sea of colour. All this wonder and beauty for you?  You could have never imagined, not even in your boldest of dreams.

“Are you not happy?” He asked, a slight furrow forming in his eyebrows, worry clouding in his eyes and his smile disappearing. “No, no,” you shook your head, “I'm incredibly happy” 

You looked to him with a fond smile as an idea sprung forward in your mind. You brought his hand intertwined with yours close to you and gave the back of his a soft kiss. An action that would be considered incredibly forward, the very definition of improper, yet you pressed all those thoughts away to the back of your mind.

“Thank you Benji,” you let his hand fall back to the space between you, “I love them.” His eyes were wide, pupils blown and eyebrows raised, even his mouth stood open slightly, shock evident to all who would behold him.

You thanked The Seven that it seemed that only you were able to do so. Soon however, the shock faded, a mischievous smile crossing his face instead. He released your hand, which made you furrow your brows, yet your brows did not remain that way for long.

Large hands encircled your waist, and with one strong tug you were chest to chest with him.He looked at you, foreheads almost touching, smiling the softest smile you had ever seen.

You could see the freckles dusting his skin, and you could even press your lips into his. Your chests rose and fell in tandem, the purest sense of tranquillity falling over you.

He looked into your eyes with unbridled affection, it almost overwhelmed you too much to continue looking into them.

“Will you marry me?” he whispered, the words floating between you both. You knew, you knew before he even asked.

“Yes,” you whispered back, not hesitating for a moment. He smiled, and let his forehead touch against yours, eyes closed and posture at east. The scent of wildflowers filled your nose as he did.

That night, for the second time, rumours of an engagement swept through the Riverlands.

[the-fiction-witch]

Little Bump P2

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - Y/n Velaryon (Pregnant Wife) Rating - Sweet AF Word Count - 2957

Warning - childbirth / gore / horror elements

Jacaerys goes out with Daemon for the afternoon, the two go out and climb the jagged and impressive cliffs and valleys of the hot volcanic island, all to fetch a dragon egg for him and Y/n's baby. The two chatted and had some real conversations, the likes of which he hadn't really ever, had as stepson and stepdad. However, when they returned to the castle a sweet bright blue Dragon Egg selected a maid and rushed down the hall towards them,

"Prince Jacaerys!" The maid yelled, "Prince Jacaerys!"

Jacaerys' head turns sharply confused as to why this maid was running to them, "Yes, what is it?"

"it's Y/n -" the maid gasps,

Jacaerys' stomach drops to his feet at these words, but he forces himself to remain calm. "What has happened to my wife?" he demanded an answer,

"She has begun her labours Prince Jacaerys," The maid said,

Jacaerys' heart skips a beat as if he suddenly cannot breathe. He forces himself to remain calm, even if he feels like punching the wall, or throwing up, or any number of other things. "How long ago did this begin?"

"A meer our after you left," the maid said.

Jacaerys feels his heart drop at this news, suddenly feeling a deep sense of shame that he had been gone so long in this crucial time. If something had gone wrong... He shakes the thought out of his head and forces himself to remain calm. "Who has been with her, this whole time?"

"the maester. And maids. And the queen" The maid explained

Jacaerys nods and begins racing through the halls as quickly as he can, He keeps walking with Daemon and the maid, trying his best to hold a serious face and not let his tears flood. Y/n was in good hands, but he still desired to be there and see their son being born. His heart still races within his chest, however, flooded with adrenaline from the situation.

finally, they reach his and Y/n's chambers both the maid and daemon rush inside without a second thought but for a moment Jacaerys stops in the doorway, the sound of muted screams from within the chambers causing his heart to race even quicker. He grips his hands, nervous to step inside the chambers. He knows he should enter, but the thought of it terrifies him. He has to go in. He has to be there, for his wife. He steps inside.

Their bed is crowded with maids, the maester, his mother with Daemon at her side all of them arguing and debating the methods to be used. But all of it is mere background noise as all Jacaerys can focus on is his wife.

Y/n sits with her back against the headboard her knees on the bed so she's almost crouching on it, her sky blue nightie around her drenched in blood and sweat, her hair a matted sweaty mess, her eyes full of tears, her mouth hung open to scream, her hands ball up her nightie clawing at her own thighs in her agony. The sounds she made were enough to chill his very soul, they reminded him of the cries in violent pain that a dragon screams out when hurt and she seemed just as vicious and dangerous

"Where is my husband!" She screams,

Jacaerys cannot believe what he is seeing. He runs towards his wife's side, and stares at her with a mix of horror and concern. He cannot help but notice the blood, the sweat, in the state she is in. His first reaction is to reach out for her, to comfort his love, hold her, comfort her, to hold her close. But... her pain is immense, and her cries of agony are almost violent. Jacaerys feels like he is watching her being tortured. Jacaerys feels as if this statement cuts him deeper than any sword. " I... I'm here, my love..."

she grabbed him by the hand her grip tight and yet weak at the same time proving her exhaustion. "Jace... They wouldn't tell me where you were, they wouldn't find you, they wouldn't let me see you... I was so worried something might have happened to you" she cried hysterically

Jacaerys' heart was struck a blow. She had been concerned for his well-being. After the hours and hours she had been through, she was still thinking of him, his well-being. He couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at her words. He squeezes her hand tightly. "I am here now, my love. Nothing could stop me. I am okay, do not worry about me. I am so glad to be with you now..."

"I ask one thing of you, my love"

Jacaerys looks into her eyes, kissing her hand and meeting her gaze nervously. "Anything."

"get. These. People. Out! Of! Our chambers!"

"Are you sure? All of them know more than we do."

"NOW!" she screamed, 

Jacaerys nods instantly. He would do anything to ensure his wife's comfort, and to see her pain end as quickly as possible, "Everyone out. Leave my wife to me,"

"Jacaerys-" His mother began,

"Now. She wants you gone just go." He demanded, 

the room clears of everyone but Y/n and jacaerys, which calms her slightly she kneels on the bed still gripping her thighs as she gasps

Jacaerys takes a seat next to her on the bed. He reaches out and places his hands on her shoulders, stroking her carefully. “Calm yourself, my love. This too shall pass. Do not worry about the pain. What you are experiencing is a natural part of life, my sweet. There is no need to fear it…” Jace smiles, hoping to comfort her, even though he knew well how difficult childbirth could be. He was only trying to ease her mind.

"I am so frightened... I'm am so so scared" she muttered between her tears

Jacaerys rubs her back gently, trying to comfort her. “I promise you, my love, nothing bad will happen to you. I have never seen a stronger woman than you, and I know, deep in my heart, that you can do this. You are going to be a mother.” Jace smiles, and squeezes her hands. Nothing bad will happen. “I am here, for you.”

she grabs his shirt as another contraction forces it's way through her and she screams loudly her voice echoing off the stone walls of Dragonstone

Jacaerys grips her hands, squeezing them tightly as he watches her suffer this pain. He fights the urge to call someone in, as he knew that more people would be of no help at all. But... he feels so useless, watching her writhe in pain. He wants to help. He wants it to stop. He wants his son to be born, too, but he hates seeing Y/n suffer like this.

"Jace... It's happening. It's happening the baby!" She screamed tears flooding down her face as she clawed as her thighs and her body shaking as she goes though this intense pain she screams louder then anything he has ever heard cursing and swearing at the child inside her as it forces her body to conform. She grabs Jace by the hair and puts her forehead to his as she cries and screams violently

Jacaerys grits his teeth, trying his best to remain strong for his wife. He squeezes her hands, tries to calm her, but cannot find the words. Her screams fill him with fear and worry. He doesn't want her to suffer like this, but he has no way to take away the pain. It is worse, by far, than anything he could have ever imagined for her with childbirth. He is almost helpless as he pulls her head down against his chest, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her tight.

she screamed and leaned back clawing her thighs as she pulls up her nightie and as she does he sees the strange both beautiful and deeply horrifying sight of the birth of his child. Jace had only briefly seen the birth of his younger brothers but this moment was never something he had witnessed, he knew of course how children were born of course but he supposed in his mind he always imagined just crying, screaming and then being handed his beautiful baby, his idea was this was a beautiful and magical moment and in some ways it was but... It was also the sight of his wife convulsing with pain, screaming, clawing her thighs to the point of blood, as the blood and fluid covered head of Thier child ripped her open

Jacaerys stares as his wife experiences the worst pain he could imagine. A beautiful moment, indeed, but one filled with pain and a mess of blood and fluids. His face contorts as he watches this process, the screams of his lover filling his ears. He is filled with fear, seeing the woman he loves in so much pain. Jace looks away, but cannot help but look back at the process. It is almost like a horrific wreck, where you must watch. A mixture of beauty and horror, something that has no equal.

she is unable to stop now even if her body is tired even if she can't handle any more her body is physically unable to stop now, leaving her to cry hysterically and scream out a long scream that took her whole breath, she demanded Jace to take a blanket which he did as it was sudden. The baby's head appeared then it's neck, then it's shoulders and once past the shoulders the baby dropped out like an apple from a tree have quickly picked up the baby in the blanket wrapping it up,

Jace’s entire body is filled with shock and relief as he sees his child born, wrapped in the blanket. A surge of relief washes over him, and he breathes a sigh of gratitude to every god above, thankful that his wife and his son are both well. He stares, amazed, at the sight of the child. It is a mixture of awe and fear, the tiny life which he brought forth with Y/n. The baby moves in the blanket, still covered in fluid and blood. Jacaerys takes a step back, almost mesmerized and overwhelmed by emotions.

the baby whined and coughed bringing the first little cry

Jacaerys cannot help but smile at the first noises from the baby. The sounds are weak and hoarse at first, but begin to get stronger with every moment. He wants nothing more in that moment than to hold the tiny life that he helped bring to this world in his arms. However, he is too fearful to go any closer towards the child, as the fluid and blood which still cover him are not an inviting sight. He is unsure now which emotion is winning inside him: fear or relief.

Y/n doesn't even have time to react to their child as the process of the after birth strikes her but luckily given the agony she just went through this pain felt to her like nothing more then a stomach cramp and luckily goes off without a hitch, the after birth is quickly delivered and she flops on her back on the bed covered in her own blood and sweat as she holds her stomach "Is he okay..."

Jacaerys lets out a sigh as the afterbirth is delivered, The sounds of the baby’s cries grow stronger with each moment. Jacaerys turns to face his wife, still nervous by the sight of her covered in blood and bodily fluids, but he forces himself to focus on the positive. He cannot hold back a smile, one filled with relief and gratitude, “Yes, my love. He is okay. He is beautiful, and I cannot even describe how much I love his cry.” Jacaerys tries to look past the blood on her body, instead focusing on her face and looking for a smile. He wants to see her joy, her happiness at having given birth, to see that she is okay. His hands clench into fists as he looks at her, wanting so badly to hold her close but not wanting to make things worse by coming too near.

she smiled and opened her arms wanting to hold their baby

Jacaerys smiles in response, and watches as his wife reaches out her limbs towards their child. His heart flutters, as he realizes how much she is already loving the baby. He walks closer, and gently pulls the blanket away so she can hold him in her arms. Jacaerys also can finally take a good look at the small life he helped to create, his son, Lucaerys, which is now lying safely in Y/n’s arms.

Y/n holds the baby against her bare skin, the widest smile on her lips, she cares so life the blood and fluids that coat the both of them she kisses the head of baby Lucaerys and lets a tear slip as he cries

Jacaerys smiles wide at the scene of his wife with his baby in her arms. The tears of joy, the gentle, protective kisses she is placing on Lucaerys’ head... it is almost enough to make him cry as well. As the baby cries, Jacaarys comes forward again, and wraps his hands around Y/n, holding her tightly against him once more, wanting to comfort her, protect her, and comfort himself. He wants to be there for her, and their son. He wants to comfort them both.

"he's perfect. So very perfect." She muttered "our little boy, I praise all the gods in this universe for him"

“He's beautiful, Y/n. So beautiful.” Jace smiles softly as the baby cries. “Our little Lucaerys... he even has your eyes, I think.” Jace strokes his hands over her hair slightly, taking her in and realizing that he too was filled with that same sense of relief from seeing that she was well.

"he's perfect. So very perfect." She muttered "our little boy, I praise all the gods in this universe for him"

He wraps his arms around her again, pulling her and the baby into him, embracing his family. She smiled and laid her head on Jaces shoulder as she made sure they could both cradle baby Luke. Jace smiled, enjoying the sweet feeling of all three of them sharing that special, beautiful moment. He held her close, caressed her head once more, then looked down at their baby boy. The boy had calmed somewhat. He was still crying, but not as frantic as before. Jacaerys felt the most content he had ever been in his life, as he sat there, holding his wife and his son against himself.

The two share kisses and sweet words cooing over their baby for hours Y/n rests on the bed and jacaerys paces the room bouncing baby Luke in his arms as he once saw his father do to his brother's

Jace bounces the baby, trying his best to soothe him. He speaks kindly to him, uses a voice that he hopes would be calming and sweet. He whispers to him with words of encouragement, hoping that the child would be soothed. Eventually, his efforts pay off as the baby grows quieter. The baby stops crying, and only his light breathing could now be heard. Jace feels a rush of relief wash over him as he continues to bounce and hum to the baby, not wanting to put him back into Y/n's arms just yet.

"ohh ‘he's’ tired. I feel somewhat offended" Y/n chuckled as she noticed Luke fell asleep in jaces arms

Jace laughs at her comment, amused at her reaction. “The audacity of him,” He joked and He continues to hold Luke, not wanting to give him up just yet. There is something about holding your own child that is so precious and special. Jace knows he must return him to Y/n soon, but he cannot help but enjoy this time with little Lucaerys. He continues to hum songs quietly to the baby, holding him close to his chest.

"you have to put him in his crib sometime, Jace" she teased him

Jace rolls his eyes, chuckling. “Yes, my love. I suppose that is true. Though... I enjoy holding him. I have not let him go at all since he arrived. I wish I could carry him everywhere.” Jace laughed, holding him close.

"umm my boys, my sweet boys" she cooed at them enjoying the sight of her husband and son together, "come on, let me have a cuddle" she cooed opening her arms

Jace’s face flushes red slightly, as he knows he cannot deny that request. He looks to Lucaerys for a moment, then smiles and hands him over to Y/n. He loves to see her with their son.

"ohh hello little man, yes hello. Your daddy is giving you all the attention today. I get the feeling he shall spoil you" she cooed to baby Luke

Jace chuckles, watching her love their baby with such intensity. He knows she is going to provide him with the most love and attention, and he could not ask for a more perfect mother for his child. Jace takes a seat next to her, watching her with the baby, as she speaks. He does not want to break her focus from the child, but he also wants to be close to them both.

"You were so much trouble. So much trouble for such a little boy" she chuckled "worth it though. A thousand times over"

Jace laughed, his chest filling with warmth when he heard that. What was this feeling within him? Pure joy, mixed with the pride of being a father to such a beautiful child. He was proud of Y/n, for what she had gone through, for how well she handled it all. All of his previous fears had evaporated. “He was worth everything in this world, my love.”

This was not a moment to be afraid, but rather to celebrate the miracle of birth.

[vintagebunnies]

i just thiiiiiiink that when simon gets home from deployment he is completely insufferable.

being away from you for so long was torturous. not being able to be near his sweet little wife? absolutely dreadful. so when he finally gets home to you, he makes it his own personal mission to thoroughly imprint himself on and in you.

he comes through the door of the quant house out in the far countryside that you two share, completely devoid of danger out here. he feels more than relieved to see you padding down the hallway to greet him, a saccharine grin on your face. you’re smiling so wide to see your husband that your cheeks are sore.

simon seems to have this thing of delightedly ruining perfect things. so he wants nothing more than to see you—beautifully put together and smiling—in utter shambles just from his rough touch.

he doesn’t even take the chance to properly remove his gear, just sauntering over to you and ushering you into the bedroom back down the hall where you had come from. his lips against your own was nothing short of vicious. he was like a wild dog with how aggressive he was being, looking to take you over; mind, body, and soul.

simon’s sharp teeth bit right into the soft plushness of your lips, causing a small dot of blood to dribble out. he didn’t even pull away, just licked your wounds and continued on. your nails were digging into his thick, clothed biceps. with the layers of his gear, he couldn’t feel a thing.

time passes and clothes are practically torn off, ripped fabric of your pajamas strewn across the bedroom floor. he had you on your knees with your hands restrained at your lower back, face squished into the soft pillow that was now soaking wet with your spit. your brain was leaking out through both your pussy and mouth, simon’s cock leaving you confidently dumb.

his length was slowly being thrusted into your overused hole, the unhurried speed causing your body to quiver. he was doing this on purpose. wanting to see you lose your mind entirely, responses becoming only moans and gasps.

“yeah sweet thing? ‘ya missed me, or my cock?”

you had half the mind to respond, not cognitive enough to give a sensible answer. you just murmured, hoping it sounded like something. simon retaliated in grabbing you by the jaw with his big, calloused hands, and pulled your face up from the pillow and causing your back to painfully arch. the hand that was restricting your hands from moving now resting on the mattress next to your pliant body.

“too dumb to speak? huh?”

your response to his question was a squeal, the speed of his hips slamming into yours gradually speeding up.

“don’t worry, we’ve got all night darlin’.”

(he sticks to his word and continues it all night. and when you get too tuckered out, he makes sure that you guys pick up right where you left off in the morning!)

[murmishhy]

I had this headcanon that Orin makes these bloodthirsty remarks to Gortash because that's how Durge used to talk to him. She is trying to torture Gortash with the same lines Durge used on him, hoping to break him, but since Durge is gone, Gortash rarely loses control. The same lines that used to provoke him now make him want to throw up. Gortash is still a tyrant, and the loss of his dearest probably upsets him. However, he was alone but fine before them, so he will be fine after them, again. He's so close to triumph that he probably isn't considering his plans could even fail. A rogue true soul? He thinks they are just a hindrance, but once that true soul shows up at his door, he's doomed. He can work alone and achieve his goals, but once Durge enters Wyrm's Rock Castle, he remembers how much he doesn't want to be alone anymore. How much he wants to share the triumph with his equal, his nearest, his dearest. He doesn't care if they remember; he doesn't care if they want to stop him. He still wants them by his side, even though all their actions are against the Absolute. He still offers them a share in his victory. Like, my dude, your lovely assassin just killed Ketheric, an immortal general who is Myrkul's Chosen. They don't care about your plan; they're coming for you next. Plus, Durge is one hell of a charmer; they singlehandedly convinced all their enemies to kill themselves. Gortash must know how they can deceive their enemies, yet he still chooses to trust they’ll work with him. He's definitely lost control at this point. He's no longer fine with Orin usurping Durge's place. He's no longer fine with Orin being alive. He doesn't even see that his equal isn't looking at him the same way they used to. He doesn't realize that his equal's eyes turn to one of their companions, seeking comfort and advice when he offers to be partners again. He doesn't pick up on hints he normally would because once Durge, the only one he considers his equal, enters the hall, he's no longer Bane's Chosen, the terrifying tyrant, or the brilliant inventor. He's the child abandoned by his parents, the child who craves love and appreciation, the child who blindly trusts the adults in his life. Gortash thrives when he's alone; he uses people, makes plans, and follows through. That's his coping mechanism; he was always alone, and he doesn't trust others as a result. But Durge changes something in him, something he's not even aware is there. He trusts them, almost childishly, to be by his side, just like a child believes their parents will always be there for them. Deep down, Gortash is still the same child who's terrified of being alone. He's still the same child who thinks his parents actually loved him, hoping they would come back and take him away from Raphael. Just like his parents never came to save him, Durge, too, won't save him, ever again. Gortash isn't offering Durge an agreement to use them or to replace the unpredictable Orin; he offers them a place by his side because he needs them. Because he's lost control and because he's still the same child who wants to be loved. Just like how Durge once lost control and with it, their life, Gortash is doomed to follow in their footsteps. They are just children who were not loved and who were used. One broke free of the cycle. One healed, was forgiven, and even found a healthier love. But the other wasn't given a choice. The other didn't have a chance to change and be forgiven. The other had to die alone and suffer for eternity, just as he suffered his whole life.

And now I'm crying.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Deity: Dispater, Lord of those Below

No Kings Beyond Death

A god of riches and horrors beneath the earth, protector and jailer of the departed souls, grim Dispater rules many realms with a stern hand and an iron will. Often cursed and seldom praised by mortals, it is this god's cosmic lot to keep order in the underworld, where the caverns of the mortal plane intersect with the labyrinths of the underdark and the shadowed halls of the dead.

While his worship overlaps with many other gods of death, few pray to Dispater as his heart is thought to be as cold and unmoving as stone, hardened by the grim work of keeping the domains to which psycopomps and other terminal forces deliver souls, ensuring that they neither have the chance to escape nor that they are picked off by fiends or other malign spirits.

Judges and other arbiters sometimes swear by him, especially when handling matters of life and death, as do miners, bankers, and others who work in precious metals or stones, as Dispater has a connection to caverns and other buried places. His clergy collects tribute in the form of those soft, perishable things that cannot be found below the earth: grain and livestock, flowers and wine. Their sacrifices of these things are said to pass on to the dead themselves, after their lord has taken his due tithe.

Adventure Hooks:

A monstrous bat haunts the countryside, endlessly harrying a graverobber who pilfered from a cemetery consecrated in Dispater's name. The exhausted scoundrel just so happens to have taken refuge in the same country inn as the party, passing himself off as a peddler who was shaken down by bandits. When the bat attacks that night (as he knows it will) he hopes to use the chaos to shift some of his plunder into the heroes' packs, diverting the creature and the divine wrath it represents.

Rumour is, if you find a trail of archaic coins scattered along the road, following it will lead you to one of the mysterious grey merchants, traders from the underworld who deal in memories and mementos cast off by the dead. Woe to anyone who attempts to harry or cheat the merchant though, as they travel under the protection of the lord below.

Shortly after a resurrection of a partymember (that may or may not have gone wrong), the heroes are approached by a dour devil in clerk's garb who insists that they need to follow her into the underworld to help clear up some post-mortality paperwork, or else their friend's soul might be held in litigation for a literal eternity. "Clearing up" in this case involves helping to clear out a field office somewhere in the shadowfell overtaken by the unquiet dead, fending off hostile spirits while the devil and the deceased do a lightninground of signatures on the relevant forms.

Behind the scenes: Hades has fascinated me since I started learning a mythology, and that fascination has only grown as I've traced the idea of him through history and popculture.

Like all the other Greek gods, Hades gets a roman makeover in Pluto; god of earth, the underworld, and wealth. One of his titles "Dis Pater" literally means " Father of Riches", as the earth contains both mineral wealth and the wealth of good harvests.

Because of his association with the underworld Pluto/Dis Pater starts to get adapted into emerging Christian Mythology as the devil, as his realm of of Tartarus (and its punishments reserved for the most wicked) likewise becomes Hell (which exists to torture anyone who sins and doesn't believe).

Fast forward about a millennia and a half and you have the creators of d&d making all the different names for the devil into a rogue's gallery of different fiends. With Dispater's connection to greek mythology completely forgotten he gets sectioned off as the extra schemey member of hell's boyband, at once brilliantly adept at making plans and driven mad with his own paranoia. While this makes him a little more interesting than some of the other devils, it just wasn't enough for me in the end, so a revamp had to ensue.

I wanted to take things full circle and use Dispater's name to bring my own Hades analog into my game's mythology, a god not of death but specifically the underworld, fully drawing on the connotations of both afterlife and underground. Playing with motifs of kingship and a "death and taxes" sort of legalism also makes for unique themes when it comes to the subjectmatter of mortality: Dispater as death is owed tribute by natural and divine law, but that relationship also grants protections to the tributary. Imagine a paladin of Dispater saving someone's life from unlawful execution because they are owed a righteous death.

Thanks as always to @5ecardaday for the monster stats

Artsource

[starry-eyes-love]

Love Never Fails:  A New Year’s Eve Kiss

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Pairing:  Joel Miller x F!Reader AU (no outbreak)

Summary | You have had a crush on Joel Miller, you know your father’s best friend, for a long time.  You’re now 20 (and Joel’s 35) and you’re home for the holidays. Tonight is New Year’s Eve and you decided to go to Bill and Frank’s New Year’s Eve party wearing a sexy black dress. You have one goal in mind, you want to kiss the man that you’ve had a crush on since you were 16. And you finally get your New Year’s kiss at midnight. Happy New Year!

Warnings | 18+, Minors DNI. Language, fluff, sexual tension, references to sexual encounters, slight grinding up against a wall, kissing, alcohol consumption…that’s it.

Word Count: 2.0K

A/N:  Welcome to my new series titled Love Never Fails, this one is the origin story of how the couple seen in my other series titled Marriage Dynamics became a couple. Enjoy and Happy New Year!

His hands were shaking and he felt his heart race. This is a bad fucking idea man, ya need to stop this before it goes too far, Joel thought. But the truth was, he wanted it to go too far. He wanted an excuse to taste you, to feel your soft lips against his. You were every forbidden fantasy from his goddamn dreams, sent from Heaven and Hell together to test him. You were like a siren, someone who called to him, to his soul. And he knew that with just one kiss you’d be his forever. So that's why he needed to stop this before it went any further.

It was New Year's Eve, and you were at a New Year's Eve party that was hosted by Frank and Bill, two of your father’s closest friends. Frank and Bill always had a tradition of giving you a small gift each time they threw parties. Your father always fussed and stated that you didn’t deserve any type of gift from them, but Frank didn’t care, he gave you a gift anyways.  Tonight was no exception. This time though the gift came early during Christmas. Frank had wrapped up and gave you a form fitting black dress that accented and hugged your curves just right. When you opened it in front of your father you almost gave your father a heart attack at seeing what the dress looked like. Frank encouraged you to try the dress on and when you came out to show everyone, Joel almost choked on his drink at the sight of seeing you wear it. When you asked Joel in private if he liked the dress, all he said was “fuck woman” and then excused himself to the bathroom. Frank bought the dress knowing what type of effect it would have on Joel, considering that Frank knew you had the biggest crush on Joel Miller. The only problem was that Joel was your father’s best friend, and you had babysat Joel’s daughter, Sarah, from the time you were 12 until you graduated high school two years ago.

Now tonight you were back in the dress over at Frank and Bill’s party, with your hair done up nicely, and a small amount of natural looking makeup on your face.  As you slowly approached Joel upstairs alone, he considered leaving and not sticking around to talk with you. Joel was trying to stay clear of you all night, unsure of how he would be able to keep his hands off of you.  Joel, being your father’s best friend, was seriously struggling in not fucking his best friend’s 20 year old daughter up against the wall tonight. God, this was torture for him, especially seeing you slowly saunter down the hall towards him, holding out a glass of alcohol for him to take. Seeing you like this tonight, in that tight dress with your hair done up nicely, made him feel like he had died and had gone to heaven. Or more like probably going to Hell considering all of the dirty thoughts that he was having tonight of what he wanted to do with you while you were wearing that dress.

“Evenin’ darlin,’” Joel said in a low Southern drawl as you approached him. 

“Hi, Mr. Miller” you said, smiling ever so slightly, handing him a glass of champagne.

Joel accepted the glass graciously from you while also gently brushing up against your fingers as he took it from you. He saw the slight blush that instantly hit your cheeks at the feeling of touching him. After a moment of holding his glass, and slowly looking you up and down, he said, “How many times do I have to tell ya to call me Joel?”

“I was always taught to be respectful to men, Mr. Miller. Don’t want you getting the wrong idea that I’m not a good girl or anything” you answered him in a sultry tone.

Yeah right. Ya ain’t a good girl wearing something like that, swaying that nice tight ass back and forth. God, how I’d love to grab that ass of yours and---Jesus Joel, get it together man, Joel scolded himself internally for thinking those dirty thoughts about his best friend’s daughter.  But when he glanced at your face he noticed that you also must have been having some dirty thoughts of your own because now you were pressing your thighs closely together, shifting your weight slightly back and forth in an attempt to relieve an ache deep inside of your core. Joel also watched you slowly look him up and down, and then stare at the prominent bulge that was forming in his pants at the thought of pushing you up against the wall. “If ya knew what calling me Mr. Miller did to me darlin’, ya wouldn't think it was respectful” he said to you.

Your breath hitched in your throat at his admission. Joel looked wrecked right now, and you assumed you looked no better. All night the electricity or sexual tension between the two of you was intense. You didn’t know what you wanted fully from this man before you tonight, you just knew that you craved him, and wanted to kiss him.  That was why you wore the dress that you did, you were hoping to ignite something primal in him that maybe with the mixture of a little alcohol would get him to relax and open up to you more, or at least open up to the possibility of kissing you at midnight. You were so lost in your own head that you didn’t realize that your back was now up against the wall behind you, and that one of Joel’s arms was now resting on the wall beside your head.  Joel was so impossibly close that you could smell the whiskey on his breath and the spicy hint of cinnamon flavor gum that he was chewing. 

“Ya know, that’s a pretty dress. But why’d you wear it tonight?” Joel asked while slowly nudging his leg in between your legs, looking you up and down with hungry eyes.

“It’s New Years” you said, swallowing hard at your reasoning.

“New Years” he repeated to you and tsked at the same time, not believing the reasoning you were giving him. “Darlin’, that dress ain’t something that should be worn to a party of your dad’s friends. What are ya doin’, trying to give Bill another heart attack?”

“No,” you said, breathless. 

Joel shifted his weight a little closer as he slowly ran his nose up the side of your cheek while he whispered in your ear “then tell me darlin’, who’s attention are you tryin’ to get in that dress?”

“F-fuck, y-you,” you said. “I’m tryin’ to get your attention.”  You found yourself giving out a soft moan when Joel slowly nipped your pulse point on your neck, a sensitive spot you had that usually turned you on even more.  

“Well, ya got my attention darlin’. I can’t fucking think straight with you in that dress. So distracting” he said, switching to the other side of your neck and giving that side the same attention as the previous one. 

“Joel, how much alcohol have you had tonight?” you said, not wanting him to stop. But you needed to make sure that he wasn’t totally intoxicated where he wouldn’t remember what he was doing, or who he was doing it with.

Joel paused and pulled back to look at you intently.  He tsked once again and said, “aw, look at you darlin’. All grown up and asking a grown man how much he’s had to drink-”

“I just want to make sure you’re not too drunk where you won’t remember this or who I am in the morning” you said, looking him stern in the eyes.   

Joel downed the glass of champagne that you had handed him and placed it on the table next to you.  He then placed both of his hands on the wall, one on each side of your head, while slotting his hips tight against your core. “Well, for your information, I’ve only had a total of 2 drinks all night, that includes counting the one I just downed. For the record little girl, I can clearly see who the fuck is in front of me” he growled while slowly grinding his hips into you.

“Ah-well Mr. Miller, I- shit- I’m- I’m just t-trying to be a good, ahh, a good girl and make sure you- fuck” you said as you felt Joel grab your hips and rotate them slightly, snapping his hips forward where you could feel that prominent bulge in his jeans grind deliciously against your core. God it felt good to feel him there, you thought.

Joel wasn’t a good man, that was for sure. A good man wouldn’t have his best friend’s daughter pinned up against the wall and grinding himself hard into her.  He kept trying to slow his heart rate down, and stop his actions that he was doing. Joel tried closing his eyes to will his body to calm down, but as soon as he heard you let out the softest moan, it caused him to grip your hips harder. He wasn’t drunk, hell he didn’t even feel tipsy. Yet here he was, grinding into you like he was a horny teenager who was two seconds away from unzipping himself and fucking you hard against the wall. You were trouble, with a capital T.  And the worst thing about it, you both knew it.

As you both stood there in silence, just enjoying the feel of one another, you heard people begin the last minute countdown to midnight downstairs. You pushed your head back against the wall with a little thud and said “shit” out loud. Joel slowly opened his eyes at hearing this and stared at you after stopping his movement. He was trying to figure out what you wanted, what you needed from him. After a moment you looked him in the eyes and whispered “please Joel.”  You wanted Joel to kiss you so bad, and for him to continue what he was doing, but you didn’t know how to ask him for it.  

Joel kept staring at you after you gave him that quiet plea. When 30 seconds was left of the countdown, he gently cupped your cheek and then said “please what honey? Come on, use your words f’me.” 

With a shaky breath you closed your eyes as you heard the countdown downstairs go from “5,4,3,2,1.” When you heard people say “Happy New Year” you softly whispered “kiss me Joel, please. I wanna feel you.” 

With that admittance you felt Joel crash his lips onto yours to finally give you what you both needed. You two have been teasing each other over the phone for the last few weeks leading up to Christmas, and then continuing that teasing for the week you’ve been here. Joel had no intention of deepening the kiss with you tonight, but when he felt you gently skim his lower lip with your tongue, caution went completely out the window and he granted you access into his mouth.  The next thing he knew his hand was in your hair and your legs were wrapped around his waist as he was slowly grinding and rocking his hips back and forth into you while you both made out with each other, with your back tightly placed against the wall. 

The two of you heard cheering below as you both softly moaned into each other’s mouths from the friction of your hips, and the intensity of your kiss. A lot has happened in the past year of your life, most of it being the dramatic change with the relationship you had with your family, along with your feelings for Joel. You didn’t know what the future would bring with you two, and honestly right now you didn’t care.  All you knew was for the first time in a long time you felt safe in the arms of a man who was 15 years older than you. A man who was also your father’s best friend, and someone you were finally able to kiss after all these years of secretly wanting him. Truly, this was going to be the best New Year possible, and one that you’d never forget.

Happy New Years!

Taglist: @punkshort @shotgun-shelby @strawbunnyx @orcasoul @pedritoferg @chiogarza @jesfreedark @untamedheart81 @rainbow12346 @nandan11 @swiftpascal @eliza-8 @joeldjarin @vickie5446 @nastiasnow @staywildflowahchild @ratoonstown @l3laze @its-always-420-on-the-moon @kirsteng42 

[suuuupernovaaa]

Summary: Azriel thought his love was dead.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, torture, blood.

Alive, his shadows whisper to him. She’s alive.

His wings cannot carry him there fast enough. Snow and ice tear at his skin as he flies over Velaris, and sweeps in through Rhysand and Feyre’s front door.

His chest heaves with strangled breaths as he lands in the foyer. “Where is she?” he demands, rough and loud, even though he can’t see anyone. He hears them upstairs, rushing around and whispering.

“Your room, come,” Feyre says, appearing at the top of the stairs, her eyes frantic and her dress bloodied. He clears the large staircase in three bounds, and follows passes Feyre in the hall.

His feet come to a halt at the entrance to his room, and he takes in the sight of her lying on the bed. Two healers attend to her, one on each side.

Her hair, normally so gold it nearly glows, is matted and dark with dirt and blood. There are wounds everywhere, cuts and scrapes on her pale face, exposed neck and arms, and her dress, the same one she was wearing when she disappeared two weeks ago, is dirty and torn.

She’s missing fingernails, part of her right ear is cut clean off, and blood drips from her nose.

Her chest rises and falls - alive, but asleep. He falls to his knees at the end of the bed, and weeps.

—

As I drift slowly towards consciousness, I expect to wake up in the same place that I have been since I was taken. A dungeon, cold and wet, strapped to stone table that is soaked with my blood and the blood of the poor souls before me.

Soon after I wake, he’ll return, with knives and chains and instruments of torture, and he’ll remain until I drift off again.

As the light begins to fill my eyes, I brace myself for his footsteps.

But they don’t come.

Beneath me is not unyielding stone, but a soft bed. Gone is the scent of blood, and I hear no screams.

I smell home. I smell him.

My eyes open slowly, and I’m so tired I can barely do it, but I need to see if it’s true.

He whispers my name when my eyes finally open, and I slowly turn my head to see him there, sitting next to our bed.

For two weeks, I did not cry. I endured in silence, unwilling to give my captors the satisfaction, picturing the very golden eyes that stare into mine now when it got very hard to stay still.

One look at the devastation in my mate’s eyes is my undoing, and I let out a choked sob as the tears begin to flow.

He’s upon me then, pulling me gently into his arms, and I grip him as tightly as I can.

“You’re safe. You’re safe with me, with us now,” he whispers to me, and I feel his shadows enveloping us, as if to hide me from any further danger. Welcome back, they seem to whisper.

It takes a long time before I stop crying and take inventory of my injuries. “How long have I been out?”

“Two days.”

My body feels okay. Sore, very tired, but I don’t feel anything broken beyond repair. At least, physically.

I reach up to touch my right ear, missing its pointed tip. “Ouch,” I hiss as my fingers brush the bandage.

“I’m so sorry. I’m… so sorry,” Azriel says, and I shush him in an instant.

“Absolutely not. I’ll never blame you and I won’t be able to heal if you’re blaming yourself. Do you hear me?” I glare at him, and he glances over my body once, pain deep in his eyes. “Do you?”

He meets my eyes and nods. “Yes.”

“Good. Now please, help me stand up.”

He makes to protest, and I lift my hand.

“I was not allowed to walk or even stand the entire time. I’ll walk now. Just for a moment.”

He supports me then, a grim expression on his face as he helps me into a sitting position, then standing. It hurts, but also feels so good to use my muscles this way. I groan, leaning on Azriel’s strong form for support.

Through the bond, I can feel how scared and exhausted he is. I want to tell him to lay down, to rest, but I’ve known my mate long enough to know he won’t.

We emerge from his room out into the hall, and I gesture towards the library down the hall. It has a large balcony where I can breathe fresh air, and it’s a short walk.

My legs feel stronger with every step, and when the cool night air hits me, I take in a deep breath, savoring the freshness of it. I close my eyes and let my chest fill with it over and over.

“The air in the dungeon was so stale. It smelled rotten, of piss and death. If you’d let me, I’d sleep on this balcony tonight.” I look over at Azriel, whose face is hardened.

“You need to heal, in a soft bed,” he replies.

I smile. “I know. Maybe camping, when I feel better.”

He nods curtly, and I lean my head on his shoulder. I feel his guilt then, deep and painful, as his shadows creep out to wrap around me as if to offer support.

“You need to process your feelings, Azriel. Work through them and release them. You are not to blame for what happened to me, and I need your help to heal myself.”

He looks down at me, almost startled by my words, and a shadow crosses his expression once more.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he replies simply, his voice thick with emotion.

I reach up and cup his cheek, trying not to grimace at the missing fingernails on my hand. They’ll grow back.

“I was not ready to leave you. They could have broken me, if I hadn’t had you to return to. Thinking of being with you again is all that kept me going. Without even being there, you saved me.”

He closes his eyes and presses his cheek into my palm, and a single tear escapes and slides down his golden-brown cheek.

I press a soft kiss to his lips, and he sweeps me up into his arms bridal style, and carries me back to bed.

Tomorrow, I’ll greet everyone else. I’ll thank them for saving me. I’ll cry and hug my family.

Tonight, I’ll sleep safely in the arms of my mate, wrapped in warm shadows.

[lovelynim]

More than he gambled for

Honkai: Star Rail - Sunday x Dr. Ratio x Aventurine

Collab with @ticklystuff

A/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. I'm so excited to publish this. Thanks friend ( @ticklystuff ) for bearing me for 2 months, most people would've quitted in the first 48h, but you stayed there.

I had a blast writing this with you and enjoyed every one of our talks during breaks.

ahem, this all started with us thinking about aventurine getting obliterated by two handsome men and here we are. i hope you all like it as well

Summary: What happens in Penacony, stays in Penacony.

Word count: 5208 words

Warnings: N$FW, minor bondage

“Agh,” Aventurine gritted his teeth, using some of his strength to sit back up without using his arms - not that he had an option anyway. “Couldn’t you be a little more gentle, doc?” With mischievous eyes, he looked at the man standing in front of him and, then, to the one a couple steps behind. He wasn’t sure what those two agreed behind his back, but Aventurine knew Ratio was up for something.

Arms restrained behind his back, all the doors that led to the Dreammaster Hall locked and not a soul if not theirs in sight. If this wasn’t Penacony’s dreamscape, Aventurine would dare to say this was some sort of murder attempt. He chuckled, making the other men exchange a confused look - who was he trying to kid? This could be a murder attempt, and how oh-so-exciting it would be if it was actually one. “Please, you’re not going to give me the silent treatment, are you?”

Ratio rolled his eyes, sighing as he had anything but patient to waste on that damned gambler. “You-”

“You’re so confident, Mr. Aventurine. I envy this trait of yours,” Sunday spoke gently, taking a step forward and standing by Ratio’s side. With one hand behind his back, he gestured with the other, continuing his speech. “I was just telling Mr. Ratio about how very appealing you were after your arrival in Penacony. I can’t grant that the Great One would approve your methods, but you sure knew what to do.”

Aventurine’s jaw dropped slightly. A pinch of embarrassment mixed with apprehension and doubt. It was hard to believe that Sunday would actually share the word about their private negotiation, especially with someone like Ratio. But above that, what was even more improbable was the fact that the doctor would bother to hear it. Unless… “Doc, you’re not about to say you got jealous, right?” Aventurine teased despite his position, watching the man keep his serious facade.

Humming a chuckle at the short bickering, Sunday gestured with his free hand as he continued his speech. “It happened to me, Mr. Aventurine, that Mr. Ratio would find it hard to believe just how convincing you can be at certain times. So, I imagined it would be a good idea to show him it.”

…What?

Of all things that crossed his mind when he was first dragged into that room, this was not one of them. A interrogation, a torture session, a stealth assassination - anything! But… “a threesome?” Aventurine chuckled, leaning back into the soft cushions. He definitely did not expect things to come to this.

“But who said anything about having sexual intercourse?” Sunday feigned, tilting his head slightly while Ratio cringed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “But as you said to me a couple system-hours after our meeting in the Reviere, ‘this is Penacony, for the Amber Lord’s sake, land of dreams. Is it a crime to fuck?’, right?”

Did he say that? Well, the line certainly did sound like something that would slip out of his mouth, Aventurine wouldn’t deny. Yet more perplexing was the fact that this specific comment was what stuck with Sunday all this time, imprinting on the Halovian’s mind. Truth be told, there was a bit of purpose to the question. Why not make the most of his stay? Penacony, land of dreams, a place most sought, yet only accessible to the elite. It would be disingenuous to deny that many individuals here possessed an illustrious charm to their person and, if given the chance, Aventurine wouldn’t turn down a bit of fun. And yet, somehow, by the grace of the Amber Lord maybe, he found himself locked in this very room with what were possibly the two most.. delectable men Penacony had to offer. Apprehension turned thrill, Aventurine licked his lips; perhaps lady luck truly favored him after all.

“Speak, gambler.” Ratio’s voice effortlessly resounded off the walls of the hall, filling the dimly lit room with his presence. The authority behind his voice was something Aventurine had grown accustomed to over time, for better or worse, yet there was a noticeable difference that made its mark, sending a tingle of excitement through Aventurine’s body. “Or has the situation before you rendered that tongue of yours impotent for once?”

Aventurine chuckled, a half-attempt of a shrug with his snugly bound wrists. “Oh please, you know me better than that, Doc,” his voice softer than intended, eyes flitting as the imposing figures glowered over him, “but I’m not sure I’m in the position to say anything, to be quite frank.”

“An astute observation,” Ratio nodded with the usual condescending smile, turning to Sunday. “Mr. Sunday, may I suggest we now show the guest of honor why he’s in this position in the first place? I’m aware of your growing impatience.”

“Oh, but of course,” Sunday said, gesturing one hand to Aventurine’s seated figure. “After you, Dr. Ratio.”

Confidence can oftentimes be described as a double-edged sword: effective at fooling not just others, but oneself as well, and as Aventurine watched the two men take their place by his helpless frame that it dawned on him that perhaps there was something more in store, something underneath that smile Sunday wore well. He could only feign his own weakly, the act he put together quite well crumbling ever so slowly with each passing second, observing as Sunday and Ratio seemingly communicated with their eyes. What he wouldn’t give to hear their thoughts.. or on second thought, perhaps the dark was for the best.

“Poor thing, are you nervous?” Sunday cooed, almost in a lullaby-like tone, while he sat himself by Aventurine's right side. Before the gambler had a chance to voice another smart remark, Sunday gently held his chin, turning Aventurine’s face towards his. Barely inches away from each other, it was nearly impossible for the blonde to stop blood from rushing to his cheeks. “Worry not, for you have nothing but good moments awaiting ahead.”

“S-sure…” Aventurine muttered, hoping the small crack on his confident facade would go unnoticed by the other two. As Sunday’s lips hovered above his, Aventurine closed his eyes, letting his face be guided into a short kiss. For someone as “pure, righteous and collected” as Sunday, the head of the Oak Family was surprisingly skilled with his mouth. This was the second time this thought crossed Aventurine’s mind - with the first being during his first private encounter with Sunday - but he couldn’t help but be just as impressed.

It didn’t take long for the gambler to feel a shift in the cushions by his other side. With no doubts that Ratio had joined the scene, Aventurine tried to relax and let the other man work on him as he pleased. Opening the buttons of his coat, Aventurine felt Ratio’s hands trailing up his torso, adjusting his posture so he would lean his back on Sunday while having his legs resting on Ratio’s lap. “Don’t be shy, doc,” the gambler teased, resting his head on Sunday’s shoulder, feeling his wing gently resting against his jawline. “If anything, you should make mr. Sunday impressed.”

If he was about to get fucked, he might as well let himself enjoy the ride, Aventurine thought. Kicking off his shoes, he kept Ratio between his legs by wrapping one of them around the doctor’s waist. The only thing stopping Aventurine from hugging Sunday by his neck being the cuffs that kept his hands together, the gambler let out a pleased sigh, allowing a smirk to take place in his lips. “You already know the drill, doc, come on. ~”

Behind him, Sunday couldn’t help but to look up to the doctor, as if waiting for an answer after such provocations. The scholar, however, scoffed quietly and towered over the gambler, a wicked grin playing in his lips while his hands pushed Aventurine’s clothes out of his way, getting a hold on the blonde’s bare waist. “You should have held your tongue, gambler.”

Finding himself trapped between the two men, Aventurine clenched his hands - that, thankfully, were out of their sight. He looked down, watching Sunday slide one of his hands down his chest and Ratio rest his palms over his hip bones. The texture of their gloves were different, which added a touch of… uniqueness to each of them. While Sunday’s hands were covered in a delicate fabric, smooth and soft as silk, the contrast between Ratio’s bare fingers and covered palms would constantly capture Aventurine’s attention and interest.

But… Aventurine didn’t expect the other two to be touchy. Not this touchy, at least. “H-hngh… hey, c-can you two be a little less… g-gentle?” Aventurine gasped through gritted teeth, sinking his teeth in his lower lip as Ratio rubbed small circles with his thumbs. “T-this kinda- agh, t-tickles, heh…”

“Mmm, interesting,” Sunday chuckled lowly, the wisp of his breath grazing Aventurine’s skin ever so slightly, sending a trickle down his spine. This in tandem with the incessant caress of Sunday’s fingers, from the curve of his waist to the edge of his pecs, made it difficult to focus on the task at hand and Aventurine would open his mouth to fuss about the excessive display of touchiness, but would curl his lips shut soon after, fighting the unique sensation bubbling at the back of his throat. As if to knowingly further coax the feeling, Sunday’s hand slipped underneath the tight shirt still clad around Aventurine’s torso, repeating the same motion from before, threatening to pop the buttons of his top from below. Sunday’s delicate fingers intricately imprinted on his bare skin, a hint that this was a familiar game he played, and with the slight brush of his gloved hand along Aventurine’s nipple released a shiver through the blond’s body, cascading into a ragged arch of his back that accompanied a mewl Aventurine fought to suppress. 

Had it been Sunday alone, perhaps the ordeal would have been manageable, but there was still Ratio and his own set of hands to contend with. Despite the certain familiarity behind those hands, the subtle differences were all too difficult to ignore. It was almost like Ratio had taken a page out of Sunday’s book, mimicking the gentle strokes that Sunday used to mark all over Aventurine’s torso, a stark contrast from the rougher treatment Aventurine had grown accustomed to. His legs quivered with each passing second, anticipating the Ratio he knew so well to pick up the pace, yet even the doctor seemed caught in the moment, kneading his fingers into Aventurine’s hips, forcing a sharp gasp from the blond as he involuntarily jutted his hips.

“S-Stop th— this nonsense,” his voice wobbled in his throat, pushing back the laughter that only grew the more their hands claimed inches of skin. “It tickles— stop, I-I said it tickles..”

“Ah, our dear peacock seems to be quite the… sensitive one.” The tone in Sunday’s voice, the way in which he emphasized that word— it all pointed to one thing and Aventurine didn’t like that. This wasn’t what he expected, their plaything in such a manner, and Aventurine discovered the more he squirmed, the more he attempted to retract his legs, the closer their bodies pressed into him—

And yet, there existed a distinct kind of tension, a faint presence rooted at the pit of his stomach. Under normal circumstances, this would be no more than a passing thought, a mere blip in his system, yet the feeling budded ever so slightly, nourished by the stimuli plaguing his body, to the point that Aventurine could ignore no longer. For all his efforts, the feeling continued to flower, invoked by the heat of his surroundings, unfurling its petals to propagate through his limbs, his system, an unfamiliar sensation knotting throughout him, yearning to be touched.

And yet, he still fought.

“Perhaps we should’ve taken care to restrain his legs as well,” Ratio expressed irritatedly as Aventurine’s legs continued to jerk, contrasting the subtle whines that escaped the blond’s mouth with each touch.

“And here I thought you’d prefer a bit of a challenge,” Sunday tutted, resting his chin atop Aventurine’s shoulder, as if he wasn’t struggling in his grasp, searching for reprieve from those damned hands. “And to think, we haven’t even really started.”

A death sentence wouldn’t have evoked as much fear as those words did. Aventurine’s jaw opened slightly, struck by realization. Just when he was about to turn his head to look over his shoulder and face Sunday, Aventurine was forced to look back forward by a firm grip on his chin. 

“Is there something troubling you, gambler?” Unlike Sunday’s, Ratio’s voice was firm, demanding, almost as if he was scolding Aventurine. The blonde opened his mouth to retort - his body moving faster than his thoughts - but instead of words, something he had been fighting so hard to repress came out: a giggle.

Distracted by Ratio’s sudden approach, Aventurine failed to notice Sunday’s hands slipping further inside his shirt, reaching for the soft skin of his sides and prodding at those spots - on both sides, at the same time. And as he was caught off guard, a short, breathy laugh escaped his lips.

“Oh?” Sunday mused, arching his eyebrows in a pleasant - at least, for him - surprise. “Did you hear that, mr. Ratio?”

No, no, no, no, no!

A million thoughts rushed through Aventurine’s mind, as if he and the other two were all frozen in time at that moment. The gambler looked up to see the doctor’s face and felt his heart sink inside his chest when he noticed those amber eyes he knew oh-so-well weren’t looking at him, but rather past him.

“R-Ratio,” Aventurine wheezed, with a dozen of other words stuck at the back of his throat, “don’t even think about tha-AHAT!” His body jerked violently, arching his spine when Sunday dug his fingers just below his lowest rib again.

“I beg your pardon, mr. Aventurine, but I was talking to mr. Ratio,” Sunday cooed into his ear, making the blonde grit his teeth. Aventurine felt frustrated, humiliated even, but also… thrilled.

“Yes, I did,” Ratio scoffed, roughly yanking his hand down Aventurine’s torso, ripping off all the buttons of his expensive shirt that were in the way. “But I can’t say I’m anywhere near impressed, mr. Sunday. He has always been ticklish. Awfully ticklish, if you ask me. So this reaction is anything but unexpected.”

Aventurine groaned quietly, feeling a faint heat spread across his face after being exposed, both physically and verbally, like that. He slightly scrunched up his shoulders, as if trying to sink into his own body. If he was a little more flexible, he would have pulled his leg back just to land a kick on Ratio’s handsome face. That bastard, how could he be handing such a valuable, classified intel like that?

“I see,” Sunday chirped content, sliding his hands up and towards the middle of Aventurine’s torso, palming at the underside of his chest. “He seems to know you really well, mr. Aventurine. I bet you two get along well,” he teased, humming a chuckle while his fingers tapped at the top of his abs, making the blonde tremble with anticipation.

“N-no such thi- ah! W-wahahit! R-Ratio, ahAHAh, n-nohoh!!”

“I would appreciate it if you could spare me of your monologues, mr. Sunday,” Ratio snapped, planting his hands back at Aventurine’s waist and drawing both men’s attention back to him. Thumbs dug just above where Aventurine’s bones would be while the rest of Ratio’s fingers prodded and vibrated against his lower sides and back. 

“You already have plenty on your hands, no?” The scholar continued, casually ignoring Aventurine’s loud, panicked pleas between his laughter.

Sunday clicked his lips, pondering about what would be a proper response. “By the Great One, doctor, it seems that I struck not just mr. Aventurine’s nerves, but yours too,” he teased, grinning at the sight of Ratio frowning.

Still, he couldn’t really deny that he, indeed, had plenty in his hands already. Sunday clawed at Aventurine’s sides, slowly working his way up the blonde’s ribs and, much to the gambler’s horror, managing to worm his fingers under Aventurine’s arms.

“H-hey, hehey!!” Aventurine whined, throwing his head back into Sunday’s shoulder and kicking one of the nearby cushions as he squirmed. “F-fucking stahahap this shihihit!” Aeons, it tickled. It tickled so bad it made him want to crawl out of his skin. It tickled so bad that he… wanted more? 

“Mr. Sunday,” Ratio tutted, “bear in mind that I do not entertain lowly provocations, especially from beings such as yourself,” his voice chided the other, working his hands over Aventurine’s thighs at the same time, “though, if it humors that pigeon brain of yours, my most recent observations confirm that you perhaps possess an inkling of expertise when handling our gambler here.”

“I presume a compliment from you is but a rare occurrence, which explains mr. Aventurine’s display of lonely behavior the other day,” Sunday commented with a hint of playfulness, but full of second intentions. His voice, however, barely audible over Aventurine’s laughter, just loud enough to make his message clear to the scholar, “but I am no man to refuse such courtesy— I humbly accept the praise, mr. Ratio.”

Throughout all this, Aventurine’s pleas fell on deaf ears, begging to be granted even a shred of mercy from the hands that were seemingly everywhere. And yet, if one could take a bird’s eye view of the situation, one would be able to observe the way Aventurine sunk into Sunday’s hold, his legs clinging tighter to Ratio’s body, head lolling to the side, body twitching to the source of the sensations, seemingly begging for more, unbeknownst to Aventurine himself. Each poke, each prod, each pinch, invoked a string of pleasure, wringing together into a jumbled mess that brought both confusion and.. excitement.

“Waihah- stop! Stahahap, I-I can’t—!”

“Yes, you can. Yes.. you can,” Sunday cooed smoothly, his breath warm against the tip of Aventurine’s ear. His hands traveled the length of Aventurine’s torso freely, no longer restricted by the tight shirt from before, taking liberties in how he tormented the blond. Digs to his ribs, a squeeze to his side, learning Aventurine’s body with his hands. A yelp escaped his lips right when Sunday’s hand reached for his exposed nipple and Sunday’s intrigued ‘ah’ that followed made Aventurine want to curl up if he could. Having caught his interest, Sunday’s fingers continued to roll what seemed like his new favorite spot in between his thumb and index finger and Aventurine shifted and squirmed underneath his touch, almost as if Sunday had complete control of his body with one simple movement, all while still digging into Aventurine’s underarm. 

And Ratio.. his damned hands at his thighs, digging into them ravishingly. He looked upwards to face the doctor, mouth agape with laughter, hoping his eyes could convey that he just needed this to fucking stop, yet the slight grin that crossed Ratio’s face was enough for Aventurine’s stomach to sink. The man clearly found amusement in Aventurine’s reactions, squeezing harder with each shriek, keeping the slim legs apart whenever Aventurine would attempt to protect the sensitive inner regions, all while keeping that delighted gaze locked with Aventurine’s own helpless one.

“R-Ratio, pleHEHEase! Stop! Just— staHAHap!” The fingers at his thighs combined with Sunday’s special attention to his pecs was too much, past the point of overstimulation. His body felt weightless, head fuzzy from the high coursing through his veins. His struggles withered away, slumped back in their hold as the tickling continued on, and on, and on..

Until it didn’t.

“...Oh.”

It took a moment for Aventurine’s brain to register that the hands had come to a gradual halt— first were the ones at his thighs, then Sunday’s hands at his upper-body. He laid there, eyes glazed over, aimlessly following the blurred stars dance across the ceiling. Although the tickling had stopped moments ago, light giggles still flowed from his mouth, thinning out into the occasional heavy intake of breath as Aventurine took in his break.

“You seem perplexed, doctor,” mused Sunday. “Is something the matter?”

Through half-lidded eyes, Aventurine took in Ratio’s inquisitive gaze, almost like he was focusing on Aventurine, yet not. “Mr. Sunday, it appears that our gambler here has something to share with the two of us.”

Spent of energy, all Aventurine could manage in response was a half head-tilt, rolling the back of his head along the lining of Sunday’s chest, head too hazy to follow along, though it soon became clear what Ratio was referring to. Aventurine’s eyes jolted open and a choked gasp filled the air following the feeling of Ratio’s hand grazing his crotch…. or rather, what was there. 

“W-Wait, Ratio, no.. no, don’t, pleas- hAH!” Aventurine’s legs twitched as Ratio’s palm began methodical rubs against the tented pants, gentle pressure to stimulate his already hardened member. Sharp intakes of breath were all that Aventurine could cling to in an attempt to control himself with the rising heat overtaking his body. His eyes once again locked with Ratio’s own, shaking his head in plea, yet the scholar carried on, using his free hand to keep Aventurine’s thighs from clasping together, while the other continued to feel.. touch.

“Ah, I see, I see,” Aventurine could make out a chuckle from behind him, before fingers made their way to the base of his chin, turning his head to face Sunday’s amused smile once more. “What a turn of events— I suppose the course of action is clear.” Breathy whines filled the air as Sunday’s own free hand came into play, palming Aventurine along with Ratio, as if the two men were competing for his attention. “Doctor, if you’d care to do the honors.”

“Gladly.”

It all happened so quickly– first his belt and thigh strap tossed to the side, followed by the graze of fabric shifting against his skin. Despite his earlier demeanor, Ratio was surprisingly gentle throughout the whole process, slowly stripping Aventurine’s legs with care, bending and straightening his limbs with delicacy as he worked away at his pants. While one hand tugged at the fabric, the other would trail along, feeling along the newly bare skin, akin to a merchant threading his fingers through the finest silk, continuing until Aventurine’s feet had slid through his pants, socks discarded in the process. 

All the while, Sunday’s fingers treaded the outline of his boxers, toying with the elastic, before burrowing underneath. A short whimper slipped through Aventurine’s mouth the moment he felt Sunday’s thin fingers wrap around his cock. “Hmmm~” Sunday hummed, contrasting the series of frantic breaths that only grew in beat with each passing second. His body jerked with each complete circle that Sunday teased along the head, as if the other man had complete control over Aventurine’s body through a singular rhythm. Even as Ratio’s own fingers hooked around the hem of Aventurine’s boxers, Sunday’s hand never left ownership, keeping Aventurine his plaything till the last layer discarded.

“...s-stop staring,” Aventurine sobbed quietly, his chin pressing down at the middle of his chest as if it was somehow hiding him from the other two - that only seemed to grow more amused at his reactions. His dick, however, stood up proudly, contrasting its owner. It clearly enjoyed the attention it was getting and, of course, it craved for more. Aventurine felt his body burning under the two piercing gazes that surrounded him and, to the death of the last bits of his pride, he didn’t even need to look at Ratio’s or Sunday’s faces to know where they were looking.

He wanted to close his legs shut, kick the doctor in the face and punch the family’s head as he ran away. He wanted to want to fight back, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. As much as he would rather die than admit he got hard because he was tickled, Aventurine knew that his body - that had already betrayed him - would never miss such a chance.

Before these thoughts could occupy any more room inside his head, the feeling of another hand joining Sunday’s around his cock brought him back to reality. Aventurine bit his lower lip, his pupils quickly moving up to Ratio’s face and down to his own erection. “Is something troubling you, gambler?”

“I assume there must be a lot crossing mr. Aventurine’s mind right now,” Sunday answered, humming a chuckle sweetly as he pressed his cheeks against the blonde’s. “Should we help him release some?”

Aventurine wished he could snap back at that, say something and prove Sunday wrong, but, again, he didn’t. Barely any sound came from his gaping mouth and, taking his silence for an answer, the men continued to toy with him.

Sunday closed his palm around the tip of Aventurine’s dick, carefully rubbing circles over the spot as he massaged it, almost fluttering his digits over the skin of the blonde’s length. Ratio, in the meantime, wrapped his fingers around the hard cock - tight enough to force a whimper out of Aventurine’s mouth - and began to stroke it, up and down and up and down, methodic like the man himself.

A sweet, but restrained moan poured from Aventurine’s lips. A shiver ran up his spine, carrying enough pleasure to make his back arch and his toes curl. 

“It must be heavenly, no?” Sunday cooed, his free hand resting over Aventurine’s stomach while the other worked nonstop to please him. “The attention, the care, the pleasure… I know you’re fond of those, mr. Aventurine,” he continued, making Aventurine feel safe, reassured, validated. Despite all the warnings and recommendations regarding Sunday’s figure before his current mission, here he was, leaning into his touch and giving himself to the fullest.

Still, something was missing. Something of ultimate importance for his pleasure and that, until not long ago, made itself present during his engagement with the other two. With teary, half-opened eyes, Aventurine stared at Ratio, hoping this would be enough to deliver the message. “D-doc, h-hah… ple-ehease…”

The scholar sighed. Should his and Sunday’s places switch, Aventurine’s needy mumbling wouldn’t carry as much meaning as they did. Ratio moved his other, hooking it under one of the blonde’s legs before caressing the smooth, tender skin. “Is this what you want, isn’t it, gambler?”

Not giving Aventurine the chance to even nod at his question, Ratio squeezed the back of his thigh, pinching and digging in a way that made Aventurine’s head spin and his lips curl into a smile. 

“N-nohot so h-hahard, hhngh… doctor, b-be nihihice, ahh…”

Sunday, left out of their conversation, couldn’t help but to allow a slight smile to take place on his lips. “Yes, mr. Ratio,” he added to Aventurine’s pleas, beginning to trace circles and tickle around the blonde's navel while pre-cum slowly soaked the palm of his glove, “mr. Aventurine demands quite the care when dealing with him, isn't that right?”

“H-hehey, don't- ahhgh… S-Suhunday- s-low dohohown! ThaHAHahat's t-too muhuhuch!”

“Peculiar that he still holds himself to a position of authority,” Ratio scoffed, addressing only Sunday, yet his eyes stayed honed on Aventurine, as if scrutinizing the sorry state he found himself reduced to, “though I suppose a modicum of reprieve can be permitted.”

“I believe we are in agreement, then,” Sunday mused, and Aventurine could feel a shift as Sunday leaned in, murmuring against the tip of his ear once more. “You hear that, peacock? We’re almost there…”

“I- hah-hahaaAAH! Pl-please.. m-mm,” Aventurine stuttered, his teeth sinking into his lower lip in a vain attempt of holding the little dignity he had left at that point. He circled his lips, thrusting his dick into Sunday and Ratio’s hands, nearly demanding more.

Protests morphed to pleas, Aventurine’s own voice was foreign to him as he traversed the unfamiliar form of pleasure, steadily losing himself in the ripples. The hands were seemingly everywhere, intricately driving a string of sensations that pooled at the base of his crotch, constantly feeding attention to his shaft that craved for more. Even the slightest of touches were enough to set Aventurine off, evident by the way his body desperately pushed into those hands, seeking relief in what once brought him torment. Helpless whimpers spilled past his lips, unrestrained in nature as the seconds passed. Just.. a little longer…

Tickles and strokes, teases and squeezes. Aventurine's head spun under all that attention, losing track of what made sense and what didn’t. All he could feel was that heat swirling in his lower stomach, underneath the fingers seeing those electric sensations that made him smile and moan like an idiot. 

He could feel it, it was right there.

“A-hAHAh, I-I’m c-cumming! I- hnngh! Ahh!!”

A sharp gasp struck through the air as Aventurine screwed his eyes shut, the dam reaching its collapse. Waves of pleasure began pouring through his body as he arrived at his climax, seeping into his nerves like sweet honey, rendering all other stimuli null. Shots of seed dirtied his chest and the hands that adored him so, finally acquiring what they sought. Aventurine relaxed back into Sunday’s hold, dots of color popping into his vision as his eyes stared listlessly into the ceiling of the hall. His legs trembled ever so slightly, recovering from the aftermath that he was finally free from.

Or so he thought. 

“W-Wait.. stop! Stop it! Please- aH! A-AhahaHAHAHA! NOHOHO!”

A moment of respite and nothing more, the hands were at full vigor even more than before. Contrary to the previous bout of tickling, there seemed to be a silent agreement between Ratio and Sunday, as if both simultaneously came to the conclusion that play time was over.

What used to be light teases and subtle jabs became rougher digs and squeezes into the delicate skin. Each press against the surface created their own butterfly effect, setting a ripple that spread through his nerves, igniting each one so that the next could be set in greater ablaze. Compounded with the post-orgasm sensitivity, Aventurine’s body felt like it was on fire, absorbing every touch from the fingers that seared him, as if the sensations melted past his skin and coursed through his body to send him into sensory overload. Even the cool air of the hall was enough to make his body tingle.

“P-PLEASE!” Aventurine whined, overwhelmed. “N-no mOHOhore! I-it’s too m-much! AHAahah, f-fuck!” He tried to squirm, but each of limbs felt like they weighed ten times more. It tickled too much, it felt too good.

“You should know best between the three of us that there’s always a price to pay,” Ratio answered as he routinely pressed his calloused thumbs into the divet of Aventurine’s bare hips, speaking with a sadistic grin that made things all the worse. “I mean, this is what you wanted, right, gambler?”

“Besides,” Sunday spoke, licking the shell of his ear while his cum-soaked palm continued to rub Aventurine senseless, “mr. Ratio and I were only working for your pleasure. It’s time you do your share for us, right?” He chuckled, making Aventurine’s eyes roll inside his skull.

“Hold still, little peacock. For the night is still too short…”

[maelialuv]

oh my god. can i pretty please get a part two to Call It What You Want (steve harrington)? steve fails to disregard his feelings towards the reader after sleeping together, but how long can he go until he breaks after seeing she’s completely neglected his existence. smut! (rough sex, but very passionate cause why not lol, perv!steve, jealous!steve and pls add anything if you’d like! thank you love :’)

So It Goes, Steve Harrington .

(part two to Call It What You Want)

Sumarry: Hooking up with your old bully was never on the cards. But Steve Harrington has a habit of getting in the way of plans.

Warnings: SMUT! this is FILTHY! slowburn! breeding kink! perv!steve (a teeny bit), angst! steve is hopeless with women, fluffy ending <3

Word count: 9.5K (ohmygod)

It had been one week since you'd done it. One week since you'd done the most reckless thing in your whole life. Seven days since you'd lost your head and slept with your old bully. Seven days since you'd slept with your, supposed, best friend's ex-boyfriend. Just seven days since you'd slept with Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High.

The morning after replayed in your mind like a broken tape, in torturous clarity thanks to not having a hangover. The way you ran from the Harrington residence played behind your eyes without end. The walk home, unkindly long and silent with nothing but your thoughts - memories of him, and the way he touched you- to keep you company. The way you ran to your bathroom, stripping down and tossing his clothes in your hamper as if they were toxic waste, and the way you scrubbed your body in the shower as if the soap would somehow remove the feeling of his hands on you from your head. You didn't know if you were more disgusted with yourself for doing it. or for the fact that somewhere inside, you wanted it to happen again.

You felt different, like someone else, as you got ready in the mirror each day that proceeded the party. Felt guilty as you looked at the arch of your neck, the feeling of Steve’s lips there still as strong as they were that night. You felt a pit in your stomach as you looked at your nose, remembering the way Steve had placed a delicate kiss there , feather light, as he washed your skin in the shower. You now saw yourself as a reckless idiot, driven by some unknown desire for what? Closure? Or was it power that your subconscious so desperately wanted?

You only hoped your mindless scrubbing in the shower, skin red as you zoned out, would tell you the answers. You found no solace in the space between the tiles, only lime build up.

You wouldn't tell a soul. Your parents were none the wiser, as were your friends, to the battle your brain was at with your heart.

An aggression had settled over you, a dark looming cloud any time he was mentioned. You became snippy, unjustifiably short. Chrissy assumed you were pissed off about the party, still reeling from the belittling interaction with Carol and Tommy, as well as Steve.

She had apologised relentlessly in the days following. On and on, despite your reassurance, Chrissy swore she would never let "the redheaded witch and her flying monkey" talk to to you ever again.

The week had gone that way, Chrissy sending you an apologetic glance any time Harrington, the party or anything relating to them was mentioned. You felt guilty that she felt guilty, but you could never tell her what happened. You already felt like a massive hypocrite, you couldn't bear to have another person know it too.

You'd been stood by your locker, thankful for the lack of a certain basketball player in the halls, having had been able to avoid him for the full school week, when Chrissy bounded over to you. Without a word, she grabbed your hand and - with surprising strength- dragged you into the nearest bathroom.

"Did you hear?" she said, voice a mix of shock and curiosity. Immediately paranoia spread over you like hives, certain that Chrissy was doing damage control. "Steve and Nancy broke up at the party on Saturday." Her voice was even, no hint of suspicion or knowledge or anything, or anyone, that you had done.

"Woah," you said, hoping only you heard the waver in your voice as you tried your best to keep your face void of guilt, "what happened?" you asked, knowing that any account you heard would never be as accurate to the front row seat you had to the argument.

You hardly heard Chrissy as she spoke, her animated words falling on deaf ears as you realised that nearly every person was going to be talking about Nancy and Steve. The It Couple, King and Queen of the school, had fallen apart. Every girl was going to be fawning over Steve again- not that Nancy had stopped them, now they would be more overt- and Nancy would be the One that Got Away. You felt angry when Chrissy mention there were whispers that Steve was holed up in his house, heartbroken over the split. You felt even worse when she told you that Nancy was already dealing with a rehash of last years cheating rumours.

Nancy had to hold you back from ripping Steve's head off last fall over the, now, infamous 'Nancy 'The Slut' Wheeler' graffiti.

This wasn't part of your plan. You'd made such good friends, come out of your shell, cemented yourself as a somebody. Nancy was happy, you were happy and everything was fine just the way it was.

And Steve Harrington was messing it all up.

Your first classes went by in blurry seconds, your attention focused on the cracks in your desk or the clouds outside as you thought about the whole nuclear explosion of a situation. You wished you'd never agreed to go to the stupid party. You wished you'd just shrugged out of Harrington's grip and run downstairs and gone home. You wished you hadn't kissed Steve back when he leaned in, wished you'd pushed him off instead of tugging him closer.

You wished you could rewind time and not allow him to touch you, make time stop and slap yourself for loving it so much. You hoped you would forget how he made you feel; the white hot burning on your skin as his lips travelled across your stomach, the gentle touch of his hands as he dried your hair and dressed you in his clothes.

You hoped you would forget everything about Steve Harington.

Deciding on a healthy dose of ditching, you made your way out to the school's parking lot, intent on walking home and enjoying the empty house whilst your parents worked.

Then you saw him sat on the hood of his car, a cigarette dangling from his lip as he brushed a frustrated hand through his hair. Your feet felt as though they were glued to the floor as his eyes met yours, unable to move like his gaze willed you to stay there. It was the first time you'd seen him since then. It was only when he raised the carton to you - a peace offering- that you were able to move your limbs and walk over to Steve. He was wearing a blue sweatshirt and jeans, and your mind was cast back to the sweatshirt sitting in your hamper getting buried under clothes like that would make it disappear. When you took a cigarette, Steve held the lighter out and lit it for you. An entirely too flirtatious gesture given the gossipy climate.

"You took off on Sunday," he said, a statement and not a question. His voice was indifferent, but his brows furrowed as he spoke. "Left your clothes behind."

"Yeah, I did." You took long drags, hoping the edge in your voice was a clear enough message to Steve that you didn't need to talk about that. He scooted over on the hood, an invitation to sit. You remained standing, and Steve pursed his lips.

You didn't need to be told to relive the awkwardness you felt when you'd woken up. The way Steve was already awake , tall silhouette in the doorway as he brushed his teeth in the bathroom. The room was suddenly too small, Steve's clothes suddenly suffocating. You heard the shower turn on, sensing time for escape. You'd thrown on your shoes, crept out of the room and booked it out of the Harrington house. Steve had watched as you disappeared down the street from the bathroom window. You'd caught a glimpse of his figure as you threw a nervous glance over your shoulder, fearful of prying eyes seeing you do a walk - or run- of shame from the house.

"Been looking for you, you know." He said, almost shy as he squinted into the sun.

"Not very hard, clearly." you scoffed. When Steve just looked at you, eyes soft, you went on. "Why?"

"Why do you think," it was Steve's turn to laugh, though his was not mocking. It was sincere, too kind. Real. "I want to talk to you."

Knots formed in your stomach, and your brows knit together in a tight line. "What is there to talk about?" you said harshly, feeling a pang of guilt as Steve recoiled, "we slept together, Steve. It happened, cool. End of story." You said, turning to walk away when Steve reached for your elbow.

"Well, hang on there a second," Steve said, stubbing his cigarette out and standing, hands on his hips, "I think there's some stuff to talk about." He looked around, nervous for prying eyes. "Like the fact that that," he said, astounded, "was the best I've ever had." He took a step closer to you. You shrugged him off when he rested a hand on your arm. "There's clearly something between us, here."

You hated to admit it, or agree with him in any way, but Steve was right. You'd had your share of guys, but Steve was unlike any of them. The sex was incredible, as was the chemistry. You'd had to re-live it, in excruciating detail, most nights since the party. But Steve was not a good guy to get involved with, and not someone you could forgive yourself for forgiving. So you remained stand offish, cold, to the boy.

"Sex is sex , Steve, you'll find another 'best' in a month." You dismissed, wishing you'd ignored him and gone straight home. His face was pleading, and it made him look younger, like a lost child looking for their mother. “Look, it was a one time thing. Go back to Tommy and Carol, and forget it ever happened. Got it?”

Steve’s face contorted, a mix of frustration and confusion and a little bit of anger. This wasn’t how it was meant to go. He was meant to find you the day after, be there at your door with a speech prepared about how truly sorry he was for how things went. But he was so taken a back by your escape, the only proof that you had been there being your clothes strewn about across his bedroom floor, that he just sat by his pool staring into space. He was meant to call you, convince you to come over so you could talk it out. But then he couldn’t find your number - and god forbid he call Nancy to get it.

Steve was conflicted. He was heartbroken about his breakup with Nancy. He loved her , or thought he loved her, with everything he had. But this part of him, this nagging part that wouldn’t shut up, was more hurt by you leaving. Upset that he couldn't drive you home or kiss you goodbye or convince you to stay just a little longer. He regretted not saying more in the moment, because maybe then you wouldn't have skipped out on him. If he'd just talked more, maybe stood up for you a little, then perhaps you would have stayed.

"Can we just go somewhere and talk?" he said, eyes pleading and a little desperate. "Please?"

His begging made your stomach churn. You had to get away from him, before whatever magnetic bullshit he had on you went into full effect and you threw yourself into his arms and agreed to hear him out. You stubbed your cigarette out with your shoe.

"I'm going home, Steve."

You hoped that your curtness would deter him. A nagging part of you felt bad, worrying that maybe - just maybe- you should have heard Steve out, that you were robbing yourself of some kind of closure both for your past and for that night. The other, more logical, half felt firm and strong. Finally, finally, it was you making Steve Harrington feel defeated. For once it was him feeling wronged.

You threw his clothes in the laundry when you got home.

It was seven thirty when Chrissy called you, and you were laid back on your bed. Her sudden excitement caught you off guard. "Woah, Chris, slow down," you said, "in English please."

"We're going to a pool party tomorrow!" she all but yelled, and you could imagine her riffling through her dresser for swim suit options. "And before you say no, it's the last pool party of the season before it gets so cold that we have to look like artic explorers for the next three months." There was a clunk, and then Chrissy let out a euphoric squeal. "Found it!"

You rolled over on to your side, twirling the phone cord in your hand as you laughed at your friend. "Okay, okay, I'll go. Who's throwing a pool party this close to Halloween?" you asked, face screwed up at the thought of the late October breeze on bare legs.

"It's Steve Harrington!"

You sat right up in bed, almost dropping the phone off the side of the bed. Of course, of course, he was throwing another party. And of course, you'd already agreed to go. "Oh," was all you could say.

"Look, I know Saturday was pretty intense," Chrissy argued, not realising just how correct her statement was, "but you can just stick with me, and even Eddie is going so he'll be there if you feel the urge to kick Harrington into the pool."

The knowledge that Munson - a long time friend and supplier of party materials for you and Chrissy- would be in attendance made the nausea somewhat subside. But the thought of going back to the Harrington residence, the thought of seeing Steve there again after the way today had gone, made bile rise in your throat. "Okay," you said to Chrissy, knowing you would be able to show your face for twenty minutes before convincing Eddie to let you smoke in the back of his van before getting a ride home, "I'll see you tomorrow."

You fell back on the bed, wishing the mattress would swallow you. It was like you were an alcoholic going into a bar, or rather a masochist for allowing yourself to relive what had caused you significant pain. You didn't even know if you had swimsuit still.

Digging through your dresser, finding sparkly denim from middle school, you thought your search was over. But then, in the very back of the bottom draw, you found your old prized possession.

The red sports illustrated bikini from 10th grade.

You'd bought it as a joke on a hot summer's day in 1983, a mall trip with Nancy on one of the many days you spent together attached at the hip. The poster next to the rack of bikinis had Brooke Shields, posed flirtatiously on a rocky beach, in the red suit. "You should get this for the pool!" Nancy had suggested, picking up the material and holding it to your chest. "It would look amazing!"

Your eyes practically bulged out of your head as you looked at it in Nancy's hands. "Are you kidding?", you exclaimed, holding the flimsy bikini in your hands, "it looks like an eye patch!" You fought with Nancy over it, citing that your mother would have a heart attack if she saw you wearing it. In the end, Nancy bought it for you, told you that you should save it for "knocking boys dead in college." At the time, you agreed with her. Looking back, it was a put down.

Nancy was an expert at the accidental back handed compliment.

Holding the suit in your hands, your senior body much more equipped for the top than your 10th grade self, a sly smirk etched its way on to your lips. You were going to knock the boys dead, after all.

You had arranged with Eddie that he would pick you up the next night at 7:30, parked down the street near the pay phone. The Munson boy called you at 7:25, letting you know he was on the corner of your cul-de-sac, ready to roll. When you walked to his car, Eddie rolled down the passenger side window with a slack jaw. He looked you up and down without shame, eyes wide. You were wearing a pair of denim shorts, the red bikini top and a denim jacket.

"How much for a ride around the block, sweetheart?" he smiled wolfishly, fishing his wallet out of his jeans.

You smacked his shoulder as you buckled your seatbelt, though you knew he was being tame. "Careful , Munson, before my mother hears you from the house." Eddie let out a hysterical chuckle.

"Oh, I think we both know you can drop the innocent act, sweetheart. Let's not forget I've seen you dance on bars after some Special K." He started the engine, music blaring through the speakers. Turning the corner of your street, he looked at you. "You're not fooling anyone."

You hoped you would fool some people, as the ride to Steve's house seemed impossibly shorter than the week prior. You gripped the seat next to you as Eddie found a spot on the street to park. You felt worse than last Saturday, entirely out of your depth and swallowed by nerves. Eddie cut the engine, a worried knit in his brow. "You good?" he asked, waving a hand in front of your eyes.

"Eds," you said, worried waver in your voice. "What...have you got on you now?" You said, eyes speaking the words the nausea prevented you from saying. "I think I need a boost."

The crinkle between his brows deepened. In the years that Eddie had known you - both loner and in your party days- you had never asked him for supplies before a party. There was a small, but concerned, frown on his face. "What's going on man?", he asked, turning completely toward you, "you freaked or something?"

You wracked your brain for any excuse other than the obvious. You'd known Eddie a long time. If anyone was going to let you spew your guts, without judgement, it was Eddie Munson.

"Listen," you started, " I did something really stupid at that party last week. Like, catastrophically stupid." When Eddie stayed silent, you went on. "I'm going to tell you something, and you have to swear you won't tell anyone."

"Who am I gonna tell?" He laughed, cutting himself short when you face hardened. "Okay," he said, "I swear. Girl's Scouts honour."

You told him everything. From the interaction with Carol and Tommy, to hearing Steve and Nancy break up. You told him about the kiss, the bathroom counter.....the shower. You told him how you'd run the next morning, how you'd been so sick from guilt. You told him every last excruciating detail. Eddie's eyes were wide, in an unreadable mix of shock, confusion and almost pride.

"What....the fuck," he whispered, a teasing smile on his face. "That's intense, and I'm not judging, but," he leaned in close, whispering to you. You leaned in as well. "You let Steve Harrington shoot his load in you?"

The way he said it, unforgiving and entirely true - making you realise just how reckless the entire thing was- made you cringe inward, hiding your face in your hands. "Eddie!"

"Hey, no judgement....," he grimaced a little, another laugh causing him to smile, "except maybe a little judgement here, the dude's a tool!" When you continued to hide your face, Eddie pulled a small bag out of his pocket. "Just a little alright? Lord knows I'd need it if I were you."

That's how you ended up doing a few bumps off a Motley Crue CD in the passenger seat of Eddie's van. You were raring to go, the nausea lurking back into its hiding place as you went through the side gate to Steve Harrington's back yard. You called Chrissy's name from the pool steps when you saw her playing chicken with Jason and a few of the other cheerleaders. The moment Chrissy locked eyes with you across the pool, her own jaw went slack.

"HOLY SHIT."

Her exclamation made almost every head turn your way. You'd taken off the jacket, giving Eddie the job of holding your things - which he begrudgingly excepted-, your red bikini top now on full display. Several eyes on you at once, the buzz of Eddie's special K and the continuous thrum of the music made you feel exceedingly alive. What's more, you felt a certain someone staring daggers into the side of your head, having noticed him in the corner of the pool the very second you stepped foot into his back yard. You kept your eyes forward, looking anywhere but at him.

This was a party.

Chrissy jumped off of Jason's shoulders, sending him flailing back into the water as she swam over to you on the side. Hoisting herself up, she enveloped you in a dripping wet hug. "Just where have they been hiding, huh?" she said, eyes darting to your chest and back again. You laughed at her candour, her inability to hide her every thought. "Don't just stand there, come get a drink! Mind if I steal her, Eddie? Promise I'll give her back." She said with a giggle, swaying your connected hands between the two of you.

"She knows where I'll be," he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Come find me if you need me, alright?" He said. You smiled at him, thankful that he had been there for you. You felt tons lighter now that someone else knew your secret.

Chrissy dragged you to the make shift bar on a table by the grass, coolers of beer and the notorious punch bowl calling your names. She grabbed you a glass, giving you a generous ladle full of punch that was so strong it had a resemblance to the smell of paint thinner. "So," she said, getting herself a drink, "what's going on with you and Eddie?" You nearly choked at her words.

"Me and Eddie, no way," you said, turning to look at the boy. He was wearing dark swim trunks and his guitar pic necklace. His chest full of tattoos was on full display, earning him the attention of several girls. "There's nothing going on there." Chrissy was watching you intently, the way your eyes travelled down Eddie's toned chest, lingering on the ink closest to his hip bones, pool lights accentuating their v shape. "No way."

"His eyes are up there, babe." She said, giggling as you turned back to her with a face the same colour as the red solo cup in your hand.

Eddie and you had been friends for too long, seen each other in every awkward phase, to be anything more than close friends. Sure, you both found each other attractive. That much was clear from the occasional oggling you each gave each other. You had even kissed once in 9th grade, the memory of said interaction haunting you both so much that any thought of being anything other than each other's friend sent a ghostly shiver up your spines. You'd been denying dating accusations from your mother and Eddie's Uncle Wayne for years. Uncle Wayne still had his suspicions, citing that no two teenagers needed to spend that much time in Eddie's room with a locked door. He just didn't know you were doing Special K and not each other.

"No way," you said again, taking a large swig of your drink, "way too much history there." Beside you, Chrissy smirked. With a quirked brow, she looked from you to the Munson boy, then back to you.

"Whatever you say," she said , tone full of disbelief. She bumped your shoulder with her own, prodding a teasing finger into your still flushed cheeks. "But I've got a radar for these things."

You held back a laugh, self deprecating and and entirely inappropriate, as you thought of how off Chrissy's radar was last weekend, how you and a certain brown eyed boy had completely forgone her so called sixth sense.

The party was in full swing by the time someone suggested a Keg Stand. You were in the pool with Chrissy and the other cheerleaders, laughing as the boys - including Eddie, which made you smile as he'd never gotten along with Jason and the basket ball players- relentlessly splashed you. All the while, you continued to feel a pair of eyes on the back of your head. You hadn't spared him a glance , enjoying the water and the company and the drinks without the reminder of the pit in your stomach. A circle was gathering round the edges of the pool as Tommy was picking his contenders for the Keg Stand, always too much of a coward to attempt and embarrass himself. "Jason, my man! Come on, show us how its done!"

Jason rolled his eyes at Tommy's antics. "I don't know man, someone's gotta be a designated driver."

"Come on, don't be such a pussy, Jase."

A serge of confidence - maybe down to the heat of the moment, or maybe the two bumps in Eddie's van- made you raise a high hand.

"I'll do it. I'm not driving." You were already hoisting yourself over the edge of the pool as Tommy stuttered over his words, trying to find a reason to say no, or a way to put you down. It was every guys fantasy - a girl in a dripping wet bikini on a keg. You may as well have been the sports illustrated cover you bought the swimsuit from.

"Alright, then. Steve!" Tommy called, and a cold jolt rain through you, "we found you a competitor!"

You felt him stand next to you, felt the heat of his body radiating toward you. You didn't dare look at him. An awkwardness threatened the air, looming. You risked a word.

"May the best man win."

You were hoisted up on to your keg by Jason, the rest of the basketball players gathered round and cheering you on. Steve was thrown on by Tommy, Carol next to him, and a gaggle of girls had come to watch. "Alright, " Tommy began, "two minutes for the whole keg. No breaks. Loser has to leave the party."

"It's my party, dip shit." Steve barked, frustration clear through his gritted teeth.'

"Guess you better win then, Harrington."

Your hands tightened on the side of the keg, knuckles going white with nerves. Tommy counted down from three, blowing a whistle to mark the start of your time. You were never a beer girl, but in the face of loosing to Steve Harrington in front of a crowd of people it could have been mistaken for your favourite drink. You chugged the cheap booze like you were a desert explorer stumbling on an oasis. The cheers of the crowd were silent on deaf ears, your only focus being the tube in your mouth and your grip on the keg. Your eyes were closed, the world drowned out. You were definitely going to puke, and you were definitely going to loose. Your brows scrunched in anger at the thought of the humiliation. Steve Harrington, getting the glory again. It made your eyes burn with the threat of angry, embarrassed tears. It made you question why you'd even agreed to come tonight.

The tug on your legs brought you back to earth, jovial cheers from both Chrissy and basketball teams as they pulled you down before lifting you on to Eddie's shoulders being the first indicators to your short circuiting brain. You'd finished your keg in one minute and thirty two seconds. The pool was alive with celebratory splashing. The crowd around the kegs began chanting your name, following Eddie's lead as he cupped his hands and heckled.

"All hail the new Queen of Hawkins!"

You caught Steve's eye as he glared at the scene unfolding around him. He tossed his cup on the ground - you had to hold back a laugh at his childish antics- as he stormed off, disappearing inside the open door at the edge of the house. A smug grin stretched from one ear to another as Eddie let you down to the ground. "You showed him who's boss, that's for sure," he chuckled, eyes following Steve's retreating figure. "Who knew he was such a sore loser."

"Maybe I should go and talk to him." You said, the beer telling you it was a fantastic idea. The devious smile on Eddie's face told you otherwise. "Oh yeah, because there'd be so much talking going on," he said, making an O shape with his hand before shaking it, "so much to talk about, isn't there."

You nearly ripped his arm off. The look on your face was murderous, and Eddie's laughter only grew louder.

"I'll be back in ten minutes."

"Ouch!", Eddie cried, devilish grin driving you nuts, "Lucky boy!"

You made your way to the kitchen of the Harrington house, which was the last place you saw Steve go. He wasn't there, no body was. The whole lower floor was desolate, every room a ghost town of empty cups and discarded shoes. You braved a peek up the stairs, craning your neck to see if he was lingering on the landing, to no avail. You crept up the stairs, foot steps leaving damp spots on the carpet and creaking on the old wood. Just as the rest of the house was, it was deserted.

All doors were shut tight. Harrington clearly did not want to be found. You would allow him space to wallow in his loss, already missing the glory and attention of the pool. You were reaching for the banister when a warm hand grabbed your shoulder and dragged you back into a linen closet.

With a yank of a light, Steve's face was illuminated. His face was stony, annoyed, eyes dark. It would have been scary, had you not just seen him throw a tantrum like a toddler.

Your hair dripping water on to the floor of the closet was the only sound other than the both of you breathing ragged, laboured breaths. There was a long silence before either one of you spoke.

"You sure have a flare for the dramatic," you said, gesturing to the light and the confines of the closet. "You couldn't fit in the pantry?"

Steve just looked at you, jaw set in a tight line. His eyes, however, darted all over your face; your eyes, lips, nose, cheeks. Bored of his silence, you tried for the door. He stepped in front of you., You got a dreadful sense of deja vu. "Okay, we're not doing this again."

"Hell yes we are," Steve finally said voice gruff. He had a brooding stare in his face, eyes frustrated and a little desperate - fearful. It looked as if he were worried you'd skip out on him again.

You glared up at him, irritated beyond measure.

"I came up here to see if you were okay after your little outburst out there, but you're acting like a real entitled douche here, Harrington." You pushed his shoulder - a little harder than you intended, only meaning to move him. He stumbled back a bit, the stacks of towels on the shelves cushioning his back. "Get out of my way."

He finally stepped to the side.

You were twisting the door knob when he spoke, barely above a whisper and muffled by the sounds of the party. "I cannot, and I mean cannot - as hard as I try- stop thinking about you."

Your head was screaming at you to go. To run down the stairs, say goodbye to Chrissy and find Eddie to drive you home. Every part of you was telling you to go. The door was open a crack, you could hear the voices of people outside more clearly now.

"You're all I can think about," Steve continued.

'Move', you thought. 'Move, god damn it.'

You felt Steve behind you. You could feel the warmth of his skin brushing against yours, feather light in touch, as he stepped closer to you. When you didn't move away, not an inch - part of you electrified at the scene unfolding before you- Steve's arm came over yours, hand resting on top of your own. "Close the door," he said, lips against the shell of year as he spoke. You shivered as his breath tickled your skin. With deliberate slowness, his hand on yours closed the crack in the door, shrouding the space in the warm glow of the singular lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

It was as though your whole body was on fire. Every nerve in your body on full throttle, tingling with anticipation.

"I tried to stop," Steve began, "thinking about you, I mean." His voice was quiet, soft. Ridiculously alluring. "Tried going back to how it was before. Tried to hate you again." He looked down at this feet, as if the words he was so desperately trying to say would be written in the carpet. "But I just couldn't stop thinking about it. Us."

"Steve-"

"Then you show up here with Munson? Of all people, to what, rub it in my face a little? Make me feel worse?" He raised his voice a little, his sudden and overt jealousy making your stomach flip. "Felt like my chest was gonna explode, I was so pissed." He sighed, crossing his arms and leaning on the wall. "Munson, of course." He muttered.

"There's nothing going on with Eddie, Steve."

"Oh, spare me," he said, "I saw you two together. The way he touched your shoulder? Earlier, by the pool?"

"Oh god, not my shoulder." You said, voice mocking.

"Come on, I see the way you guys watch each other." Steve argued, arm waving up in annoyance. "He looks at you like you're his girl!"

"And that bothers you because?"

Steve was silent after that, unable to speak the words he really wanted to without sounding like a jealous lunatic.

You took a step closer to him. His eyes met yours, frustrated and wide and even a little tormented. In a strange way, you liked it, that he was so beaten up over you. It made you feel a little better about being so haunted by the encounter, as well. Another part of you was revelling in the knowledge that Steve Harrington was hung up on you, after only one night. With a gentle hand, you grabbed Steve's wrist. "Steve," you said in a low voice, "there's nothing going on between Eddie and I. Okay?"

"How do I know that for sure?" he whispered, insecure.

You lifted his hand, eyes on his, and placed it on your shoulder. When you let go, his hand remained there. "Because," you said, " a shoulder means absolutely nothing."

Steve visibly relaxed, his shoulders became less hunched and he took a big sigh of relief. All the while, his hand remained on your shoulder.

You took another step toward Steve then, brain screaming at you to run, but the fire in your stomach telling you to stay, stay, stay. You leaned up on your tip toes, lips an inch away from his ear. "Besides," you said, "my shoulder is reserved just for you."

Steve sucked in a ragged, deep breath.

"You really shouldn't have said that." His voice was hoarse, gruff. It fanned the flames in your stomach to a blaze.

"And why's that?" you taunted, head cocked to the side as you looked up at Steve. A wicked, wolfish grin had stretched across his lips. He backed you into the wall, almost no space between you as his nose brushed against the shell of your ear. "Because," his lips grazed over your temple, "if you thought before was good," his hand grabbed your chin, making you look him in the eyes. "We're just getting started."

It was as if a switch flipped inside him as Steve crashed his lips to yours. While he was passionate before, now he was animalistic. He was all teeth as he kissed you, nipping your bottom lip in a way that said 'this is something only I get to do', and it made you groan aloud. Your hands crept up to his hair, only for him to grip your wrists and pin them above your head.

"Uh uh," he said, teasing and with entirely too much enjoyment. "Those stay right there."

You panted, out of breath, staring into Steve's lust blown eyes. You were completely shocked by this side of him. It was, quite possibly, the hottest thing you'd ever witnessed. In the brief pause, the quiet catching of breath, Steve's face came closer to yours.

"Is this okay?" He said, concern on his face, realising he may have been too intense. His brows were knit together in a soft V shape. You nodded, slow and sure. You were perfectly content to have Steve do anything he wanted to you. "Yeah, it's okay." You whispered. The teasing smile crept back on to his face. "Alright then."

And then he was kissing your neck, most definitely leaving marks as he sucked and nipped the skin on the hollow of your throat. You bit your lip at the thought of having to hide them, of being marked by him, thankful for the approaching cold season and the invention of turtle necks. One hand on your wrists, Steve's free one crept up your sides and found purchase on your hips, gripping them tightly. "God," he groaned, "do you have any idea," - a particularly hard bite on your collar bone- "how much I've thought about you this week?" His grip on your waist was impossibly tighter in the moment, pulling your hips into his own. Your only response was a breathy moan as he bucked into you.

He loosened the grip he had on your wrists, allowing your arms to slide down the wall and into his hair - he fell apart at the way you touched him, having thought about it all week. "I thought about you," he dropped down to your chest, placing kisses there. "Every," - a kiss to your torso- "single"- one to your stomach- "night." He sank down to his knees, staring up at you with swollen lips and blown out eyes. "It's like I was haunted by you. Couldn't get you out of my head." He kissed his way back up to your lips, his fingers tugging on your bottom lip with a twisted smile. "Thought about you so much, had to throw out your panties."

"You pervert." You said against his mouth, but the thought of Steve, bent over in pleasure, as he jacked off into your panties made you throb.

His hands toyed with the strings on your bikini bottoms, the flimsy material begging to be ripped off. He raised an eyebrow at you - a silent ask- and you nodded hurriedly. He pulled the knot free at an agonizingly slow pace, taunting you as your chest heaved in anticipation. He was torturous. Devilish, even. You loved it. He ripped the other knot open off hastily, making you gasp. Your lower half was completely exposed. "Do you want me?" he asked, and though his voice was hoarse and undeniably confident, his eyes wavered as he looked into your own with the slightest hint of uncertainty. You nodded, breathless and a little desperate. Steve tilted your head with his hand, thumb resting on the column of your throat, mocking smile on his lips. "I'm not touching you 'til you say it."

"Yes, God yes, I want you Steve."

"How much?" He was getting cocky then, and as much as it irritated you, it turned you on immensely. "Tell me how much."

"I thought about you, too," you said, breath hitching as he trailed a finger up and down your leg. "Couldn't help myself." That same wicked smile was on Steve's face as you spoke. "Couldn't get the feeling right again, tried so hard."

"Show me."

When your eyes darted to his, you could hardly see his irises. His eyes were practically black with lust, mouth agape as he took you in. When you didn't move, half embarrassed and half in disbelief, he guided your hand to your centre. "Show me how you touched yourself," he pushed your hand down, thumb swiping your clit. You gasped, desperate for any friction as the ache in your stomach flared. "He placed a kiss right under your belly button, eyes boring into yours. "Show me."

You felt the heat of embarrassment creep up your neck and on to your cheeks, thankful for the dim light. You sank you hand down, closing your eyes to save some semblance of your dignity. Steve Had other ideas. "Uh, uh, uh," he said, taunting. "Eyes on me."

You opened your eyes to see a completely, utterly hypnotised Steve. Every twitch, every half-movement was caught by his eager eyes. Knowing that you had so much power over him gave you a power trip, a major boost of confidence. The sight before you - a wild haired, wide eyed, practically drooling Steve Harrington- drove you crazy.

You dropped your hand down your stomach, fingers tracing the skin as they got ever closer to where you needed them most. You thought back to the nights after the party, the way you'd arched your back off your mattress pretending it was Steve's fingers getting you there, that it was Steve making your legs tremble.

You grazed your clit with your index finger, sighing as you made small circles there. You moaned, your pace picking up as you grew more impatient that Steve wasn't the one touching you and more embarrassed as time went on. You rested your head against the wall, gazing at Steve across the small space. He was shifting the front of his swim trunks around, growing impossibly more aroused every second he looked at you. Your chest began to tighten with short breaths as your hand grew quicker, the band in your stomach on the brink of snapping. You were sent over the edge at the sight of Steve palming himself, mouth in a silent 'O' shape as he watched you fall apart. The small closet felt like a sauna as you caught your breath.

"Jesus Christ," Steve said, a hoarse whisper as though his throat was bone dry - which it was. He'd never seen anything so hot in his life. "Get over here."

You launched yourself at him, throwing your arms around his neck as his own caught your waist. Your lips met in a brawl of need, smothering yourselves in one another. Steve gripped your face with a strong hand, guiding your chin so that his tongue could slip into your mouth with ease. He backed you against the wall, hands roaming all over your skin. You may as well have been on another planet, the raging party below having no influence on either one you letting out loud moans and groans. You felt on fire, sure that if you opened your eyes and looked down your body would be a scorched mess. Your core ached, desperate for any friction as Steve's clothed front rubbed against your centre.

"Steve," you whined against his lips, loud and high pitched. He was pressing into you now, and you felt you were going to go crazy if you weren't thrown on a bed in that very second. "Let's go somewhere else." When he pulled away to look at you, he quirked a brow cheekily.

"Aye aye, Captain."

Stuffing your bottoms in his pocket, Steve cracked the door ajar and peaked out. The coast was clear. He threw you - naked from the chest down- over his shoulder, and ran to the bedroom closest to the closet. It was his own, thank god. The door closed with a slam, and then you were against it, head cushioned by the coats and towels hanging from the hook.

"If you don't do something in the next thirty seconds," you said, voice desperate as Steve kissed your neck whilst his hands trailed up and down your bare back - fingers fiddling with the draw string of your bikini-, "I'm outta here, Harrington."

"Oh yeah," Steve challenged smugly, "to do what?"

You felt like pushing his buttons, testing him. His dominance displayed in the closet made you unbelievably wet, and you were hoping it was going to reappear. "Well," you began, voice full of mock innocence, "not what, rather who." Steve's arm tensed up around your body. His head whipped toward you, eyes darkening with lust and annoyance. "Who knows, maybe Eddie can help me out-"

You didn't even have to finish your sentence before Steve was scooping you up in his arms, limbs wrapped tightly around your middle as you both crashed on to the mattress. He was hovering above you with the most addictive expression on his face - a look that said "I need you, I crave you,"- and you wished that every time you closed your eyes you would see that look. Steve ripped off his shorts in a flash, stroking himself as he leaned down to you.

"You think it's funny, huh? To tease?" he said, voice wracked with desire as he watched you. You'd begun to slowly peel off your bikini top. He pulled the strap back and let it snap against your skin, grinning when you yelped. "You're in for it, babe."

The nickname had your stomach swirling with arousal, and you were sure you were leaking on to Steve's sheets from how turned on you were. He made his way between you, knee up against your clit as he ground in to you. When you bit your lip, he smiled. He sat up on his knees, stroking himself as he looked down at you. A rosy glow had donned your cheeks, both from the heat of the room and the heat of having a very attractive man tease himself in front of you. A sheen had begun to cling to your hair line. You looked entirely wrecked, and Steve had hardly touched you. His stomach flipped at the sight. He pushed your legs apart with his knee, pressing the head of his cock through your folds , delighting in the whiny pleas you let out.

"Say something for me," Steve asked, hissing as his head brushed your clit as he bucked into you.

"Anything, god, please, Steve." You would recite a whole Shakespeare play in that moment if it meant that he would fuck you. "Anything."

"Say you forgive me."

You suddenly weren't miles away. You were now hyper aware that you were in Steve's bed, in Steve's house, with Steve. Steve, who had ruined your life for so many years. Steve, who had stood by people and watched as they hurt you. Steve, who had taken your best friend from you. Steve, who had bared a piece of himself to you. Steve, who had wanted you. Steve, who had shown you who he really was. Steve, who you also desperately wanted, despite your complicated feelings about the past you both shared. The room was silent for a nano-second, before you grabbed his face in your hands.

"I forgive you."

In the midst of a very heated moment, Steve leaned down and pressed a very gentle kiss to your lips. "Thank you" he said.

Then he pushed into you, all the way, without warning and your choked moans filled the room. The stretch, while slightly painful, was glorious. Steve filled you up entirely, and you felt as though you were being split open while simultaneously feeling whole. With both hands beside you head as he hovered over you, Steve panted ragged breaths. "Oh my god, you feel amazing," he groaned. His face contorted in pleasure as you clenched around him. "God, can I move? Please, baby, can I?"

"Yes, god, move." Was all you could stutter out before Steve was rocking into you , pace wild and hard. The head board of his bed clanged against the wall, and you were thankful for the thrum of music outside. You held back screams as Steve hit that spot inside you with every single thrust.

Your legs felt like jelly as Steve grabbed your thighs, pulling himself into you with vigour. "Fuck," he moaned, unapologetically loud and undeniably hot, "fuck, I'm not gonna last long." You hands were gripping the sheets, hardly aware that he was talking as his stomach grazed your clit with every movement.

"Let me on top then," you said, and Steve wasn't a religious man, but he swore that was the moment he died and went to heaven. Steve flipped the two of you over, his back against the head board with your chest in his face. 'Heaven,' he thought as you swung your legs over his and grabbed him in your hands, sinking down on until he was all the way inside of you. "Oh my god." You said breathlessly, the feeling entirely different and absolutely better than before.

You used Steve's shoulder for leverage as you moved up and down on him, whining out high pitched moans as he thrusted up to meet you, gripping your hips tightly. You felt the coil building in your stomach. You looked down at Steve, his eyes drawn to where your bodies connected. "That's the hottest thing I've ever fucking seen," he said, eyes dilated and face red. He was right, it was unusually hypnotic to watch as your aching centre swallowed Steve's cock with every movement.

Steve's brows were knit together, determined to last but the reality that the two of you were going to come undone was fast approaching. "I wanna fill you up, wanna see my cum drip out of you. Can I cum inside you, baby?" he panted into your hair, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around your torso as he sat up, thrusting even harder up into you.

"Yes, yes yes, please Steve," you cried as his fingers crept down and began fast, tight circles on your clit. "Cum inside me, fill me up, god, please please please."

Steve let go the second you did, one final - particularly deep- thrust sending you over the edge and into Steve's chest. You felt as hot ropes of his cum shot deep into you, felt as it began to drip out o you and down your thighs. You panted into Steve's ear, chest heaving as you both came down from your highs. His hand, still between your legs, swiped up your centre, gathering the mixture of your arousals. He ran the same finger across your lips. "Open, " he said, grinning wickedly as you sucked his finger clean. "Dirty, dirty girl."

You hopped off of Steve, legs numb as you collapsed next to him on the bed. You didn't bother to cover up, the two of you no longer shy. There was a brief pause, and you felt like the prickly stickiness of sweat- and other things- on your skin. You mustered the strength to stand, stretching as you did, and made you way to the bathroom connected to Steve's. When Steve remained in bed, you turned over your shoulder as you stood in the door way. "You coming?"

Steve moved faster than you'd ever seen, practically tripping over himself, to meet you in the bathroom. Gazing at the shower, you opted to run the taps of the bath instead. The room quickly filled with steam, the mirrors fogging up. Once the tub was full, you hopped in and sat down, sighing as the warm water covered your sore legs. Steve sank down behind you, legs coming to rest beside your own, and you didn't move when his arms wrapped round your waist. Instead, you leaned back and rested your head on his shoulder.

Steve's hands ran soap up and down your arms gently, rinsing and repeating with mindless softness. he just wanted the excuse to hold you longer, feel you against him more. When his hand came down your arm again, you caught it. You fiddled with his fingers, a shyness washing over you slightly. Steve just intertwined your hands, and continued to rinse the soap off of your skin.

"What is this now?"

Steve's question hung in the warm air like the steam clung to the mirror glass. It was like you could see it in front of you, floating in a taunting cloud. It was the thing neither one of you wanted to ask, perfectly content to stay in the bath and ignore every nagging though that urged both of you to ask the other 'do you want me outside of these walls?'

You sucked in a deep breath, turning to look at Steve from where your head rested on his shoulder. "I don't know." You admitted. You didn't want to say the wrong thing and ruin the moment. "We can talk about that, though."

Steve smiled gently, resting his head on top of yours. "What do you want it to be?" He asked softly, your hand still in his.

"Is this your very long winded way of asking to be fuck buddies?"

"No," Steve chuckled to himself, "no, it's not." He sat up slightly, facing you more. "I'm saying that," he paused, struggling for the right words. "I know how I felt when I thought you and Munson were, whatever I thought you were." He said, eyes soft as he looked at you. "I know how much I missed you being round after you left."

You dropped your gaze , ashamed of your behaviour. Steve's hand moved your chin to meet his eye again, smiling that stupidly attractive smile. "I know I want you."

"I want you too, Steve." You said, almost sadly.

"Then we have something in common," he smiled again, and you rolled your eyes at him. "We can start there, and see where we go."

You didn't talk about what people might say, how you'd probably have to hide in his room or yours, secluding yourselves in VHS tapes in living rooms and candle lit dinners in kitchens. You didn't talk about how hard it would be, to keep the secret, to not talk about one another for a while. You didn't mind though. The two of you enjoyed the idea of the coming winter, the cover of darkness that meant you could walk to one another. The image of you huddled in one of Steve's sweaters as the first snow fell flashed through Steve's mind, and he felt his heart thud in his chest as he looked at you.

Warmth spread through your chest as you imagined Steve beside you on the tiny couch in your living room, fighting over the last slice of pizza as the credits rolled on a cheesy movie he'd rented. You revelled in the thought of getting to know Steve, not the King of Hawkins High, just Steve. And the thought of him knowing you as you were now, the matured and hardened version of you, made you stomach do flips as you looked at him.

"We'll see where we go." You agreed.

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

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[midnight-black2]

Ahh this is my first time requesting anything but I need prompt 5 for Farleigh 🙈

Imagine him being cocky for getting a higher score than reader and reader basically putting him in his place. 🫣🫣 (also i’m absolutely obsessed with your writing!!)

𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐘

pairing : farleigh start x reader

synopsis : pretty much what the req says

disclaimers : sub!farleigh, dom!reader, public sexual intercourse (idk what this is called), handjob (m!recieving), slightly mean reader, degradation, ruined orgasm, probably more lol

note : thanks for the compliment ! hope you enjoy this '

it was by five points, five fucking points, and all farleigh did was torture you about it.

typically, you scored higher than him, mostly because you just straight up put in more effort. he couldn't care less about studying, he was just a naturally good tester. for this reason, he normally knew his place. but the one time he studied and you didn't, the one goddamn time. he wouldn't let you live it out, all he would ever do was talk about it, teasing you and making fun of you.

"wow Y/N, i think you're falling off," he stated, with a sarcastic, disapproving look. he was leaning over, hovering over your shoulder to get a proper look at your score. you were flabbergasted, you actually got a 95%. farleigh had gotten an 100%. if was quite literally embarrassing. that was when it first happened, but he didn't leave it there, oh no.

"ah-ah, don't you think i should skip ahead of you?" farleigh asked, his annoying voice startling you from your thoughts.

"what?"

"well i got a higher score, those have always been our rules." the thing you hated most was that he was right. it was also stupid because he made the damn rule, and you didn't care about being ahead in the lunch line one way or another. you figured the only reason he had done it was to make victory that much sweeter when he actually did score higher than you. so you stayed silent, letting him sit ahead of you.

and another incident...

"so if anyone here needs tutoring, don't hesitate to ask. our programs are specifically designed to connect students while effectively getting them to learn," mrs. abram spoke, as she handed out tutoring flyers.

farleigh shot you a glance, before mumbling your name, and covering it up with a fake cough. you groaned, with a sigh before frustratedly stuffing the flyer in your bag. he was being insufferable, and there was only so much you could take.

the final (notable) time he teased you, you two were partnered on a history project, the exact class he had excelled on the exam in. of course, just your fucking luck.

as he sat down, he had this complacent smirk on his face that you wanted to slap right off. he set the assignment papers down on the desk, and turned over to face you.

"well, i'm glad we got partnered, yeah? you probably need my help," he said, mockingly.

"jesus christ farleigh it was five fucking points! get over yourself!" there it was, you snapped. it was only a matter of time, though it just so happened to be in the middle of class. farleigh's smirk only grew, as if this was what he had wanted the entire time. the teacher had scolded you for cursing, and almost dismissed you from class. fortunately, you managed to stay, and the whole time you felt the urgent need to snap farleigh in half.

finally, after what felt like days, the class ended. however, instead of heading to the next class, you followed farleigh down the hall, before pushing him inside of some random storage closet. he was about to ask you what you were doing, he was about to leave...until you said something.

"what the fuck, farleigh," you uttered, coldly. he faltered, something in the way you sounded made him feel some sort of way. it was dark, and farleigh couldn't make out much, but if he had to guess, your expression would have been that of a deadpan, glaring into his soul.

"i don't get why you're so mad. i scored higher, and that's final."

"i'm mad because you don't know your fucking place." you spat back, inching closer to him.

"yeah? and what's my place, hm?" he questioned. his voice had an edge to it, but more than that he was genuinely curious.

"beneath me," you answered, no hesitation whatsoever. did you say it because that's what you actually thought? no. were you angry? yes. did you think farleigh would get off to it? also yes--and, he did. he did so much that he was developing a hard-on.

"you sure about that?" he asked, voice wavering.

"your dick is," you replied, gripping his cock in his pants. his knees buckled, and he let out the smallest whimper, that was nearly inaudible. "you're so pathetic, farleigh."

"yeah? well you're still gonna give me a handjob. so pathetic or not at least-" he cut himself off with a moan as you squeezed roughly once again.

"just shut the fuck up for once," you instructed, as you unzipped his fly. you, not-so-gently, took his cock from his boxers. his tip was an angry flushed red, and leaking pre. you chuckled at the sight, and he turned to face away, embarrassed.

you thumbed at his tip, and he whined softly. your fingers formed a circle shape, before sliding up and down at mid-pace. if you didn't want to miss too much of your next class, you'd have to make this quick.

"f-fuck, Y/N," he moaned, bucking his hips up slightly. you placed a hand on his hips to keep them pinned. you sped up your pace just a bit.

"is this what you've been wanting, farleigh? i really don't know how you got an 100% because all you seem to do is think with this stupid cock of yours," you said, as it was your turn to smirk this time. his head tipped back with a strained moan.

"shit, oh my god," he cursed, feeling himself grow close to an orgasm already.

"guess i should've done this a lot sooner, hm? really would've shut you up." your hand became brutal, but god did he like it.

"please," he said, not even sure what he was begging for. it was too much for him.

"please? are you serious? you take what i give you, farleigh." he whined at that, cursing under his breath.

"fuck Y/N, i can't-i...i think im gonna cum," he stammered, as his legs felt light, like they would give out any second. and just like that, you stopped. he whined, as you shoved his cock back in his underwear, and zipped back up his pants. you had left him with a raging boner, and he felt he could cry at that. as you exited the closet, he couldn't help but fear what he had gotten himself into.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐤𝐲𝐚-𝐢𝐬-𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐥

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐲? 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞