#he's prissy and stuck-up enough for that

[softstuffs]

Au where Moonpaw is in fact Bayshine and Thriftear's kit but the entire clan is convinced its a Squirrelflight and Crowfeather situation where Bayshine and Thriftear adopted Moonpaw from Nightheart and Sunbeam and is a nightsun kit because of her pelt and name, and everyone's jumping to conclusions about it. Moonpaw is a sweet but cunning and devious little devil child who is all too happy to cozy up to her "parents" for extra attention as well as get them in trouble and just generally be a little shit.

aka au where moonpaw takes advantage of the nightsun assumptions to cause problems on purpose

[ddejavvu]

Animangus reader x Remus where she is a cat and while he sits in the common room asleep on his lap while he readers and Sirius comes in and stops the cat immediately with a "what is that?" In disgust. When Remus responds "a cat?" Padfoot is immediately barking at her and she startals awake digging her nails into Remus before she jumps on top of a book shelf and transforms back and I stuck up there throwing a book at Sirius.

Sirius Black's voice is, perhaps, never melodic, but it's far more grating than usual today when the man stops dead in the doorway and demands to know, "What is that?"

Remus glances up at him, then down to his lap where Sirius's eyes are locked, finding only your little cat form curled up and dozing.

"A cat." Remus blinks, uninterested until he realizes that his explanation hadn't been enough to de-escalate Sirius. Apparently, he should have notified him that you are not just a cat, but that you are, in fact, his girlfriend. Sirius isn't aware of your animagus abilities yet, and before Remus can stop him, he's transforming into his own animal counterpart.

"Sirius, no-!" Remus tries, but it's too late. He finds that dogs' paws are far less gentle and comforting than cats' paws are, only when there are four of them jabbing into his thighs and torso as Sirius vaults into his lap. Fortunately, you'd escaped the dog's snapping maw, but you'd startled awake with a yelp and jumped onto the bookcase behind Remus's head, which means that you're now sleep-deprived, terrified, and stuck.

"Pads," Remus sighs despondently as the dog braces his front two paws on Remus's shoulder to bark up at you. Your back is arched and you're yowling down at Sirius, until you manage to scramble to the top of the bookshelf and find yourself on a steady surface. You have space to transform back now, and you do so while perched precariously atop the bookshelf, eyes just as sharp and unnerving as they were in your cat form when you glare at Sirius.

"You stupid mutt," You accuse, "I just wanted to nap!"

Now Remus has a lapful of Sirius, fur giving way to pale skin and messy black locks. He glares rather unimpressed at his best friend, but Sirius pays him no mind, gaping up at you where you balance on the top of the bookshelf.

"You're an animagus!" He realizes, and you scoff at his inspiring observational skills.

"Well done, Sirius" You sneer, "I didn't know becoming a dog animagus meant you'd retain the same intelligence level even as a human."

"Dogs are very smart," Sirius muses, unphased, "I didn't know you were an animagus!"

"That's because you were too busy collecting sticks beneath your bed," Remus grumbles, pushing at Sirius's chest, "Come on, Pads, off."

"Alright, alright," Sirius whines, pitching himself rather dramatically off of Remus's lap and offering a hand to you where you're still balanced on the bookshelf, "Here, Y/N, jump off this way."

"Absolutely not!" You vow, then with a whirl of limbs and fur, reside in a cat's body once more. Sirius watches as you bat a paw at his outstretched hand, then leap gracefully back into Remus's lap, hissing warningly at him before curling up once more to doze.

"Prissy," Sirius scoffs, and Remus juts out a gentle hand to stroke along your back when you look like you might leap at him. You're placated enough, for the time being, and Sirius stalks away to busy himself with something, hopefully homework but probably his aforementioned stick collection.

"Well I suppose the cat's out of the bag now," Remus muses, a sound between a laugh and a grunt managing to escape his lips when you dig your claws into his jeans at the poor joke, "Alright! Alright, sorry. But don't let him bother you, darling, okay?" Remus strokes a finger between your ears and grins when they twitch, "He's just a dumb dog."

[jiyansthesis]

HEAD SO GOOD SHE HONOR ROLL

summary ー gallagher wasn't stupidー no matter what secret you were trying to keep from him, he was always going to find out.

note ー yeayea ik i have reqs to get to but gallagher has been on mind all damn day and i need him TO LEAVE!! might be ooc tbh but he's not even released yet sooo i DO WHAT I WANT!!! || this is fem reader!! + i lowkey hate this

w/c ー 2.4k

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION | NOT PROOFREAD

"d'ya want this drink or not, doll?" gallagher held a glass in front of your face, light pink liquid sloshing over the edges. "you've been out of it lately."

"i've been perfectly fine." you rolled your eyes, snatching the drink away from him before he made the puddle on the counter larger.

alrightー maybe he was catching on. this was one of the few days where you had gallagher all to yourselfー and you were definitely enjoying it. could anyone really blame you for eyeing the way his buttons could barely hold his shirt together over his chest, how he towered over you, or the way he'd open a can with one finger? every single thing about him had you going rabid internally, but one thing in particular had stuck with you and ravaged your thoughts.

his hands.

they were always covered with glovesー mismatchedー and you'd be lying if you said they didn't distract you every time they were in your line of sight. you hadn't told him about your infatuation with them, knowing that he would make fun of you and tease you any chance he gets. so you decided that you'd keep it your little secret for your sake.

gallagher gave you a knowing glance as you took a sip of the concoction he made for you. "you're a terrible liar, y'know?"

"what would i even be lying about?" you scoffed.

"for one, you were staring at me like you could see through my clothes," he leaned over the counter, close enough that you could smell the alcohol on his breath. "and two, you got a little bit of drool coming out of your mouth."

his thumb shot out, ghosting the side of your lips. you felt your whole body heat up at the proximity and the feeling of his calloused hand cradling your face.

"it's not even drool!" you furrowed your eyebrows, pulling away with your arms crossed, earning a raspy chuckle.

"so you're not admiring how hot your dazzling boyfriend is? harsh blow," he playfully frowned, holding a hand over his heart. he will never truly get over how fun it is to make you embarrassed and watch as you would bury your face into your arms.

"you'd be hotter if you'd shut you mouth for once." you downed the rest of your drink in one go and shot up from your stool, not wanting to give him another reason to taunt you.

you could hear him trailing behind you to the living room, his belt clinking as the canteen nestled at the side of his thigh garter slapped against it with every step he took.

"not even gonna tell me if my drink was good or not?" gallagher tilted his head like a pleading puppy as you collapsed on the couch.

"it was good." you shrugged, focusing on finding the remote that must've fell into the depths of the sofa.

he sat next to you, placing a hand on your thigh as he loosened his tie with the other. if this wasn't some intricate ploy to seduce you, you didn't know what else.

"just good, hm?"

"do you want me to give you an expert's opinion?" you sighed in exasperation, turning towards him to only be met with an amused look etched on his face.

"when'd you get so sassyー do i really distract you that much?" he smirked as your eyes widened. he had noticed the way your legs pressed together as grasped at the skin, and he was going to make sure that your prissy attitude was going to stop right here and now.

"you're in for a surprise if you think you're distracting me-"

his hand slowly made its way up to the apex of your thighs, the feathery touch and anticipation sending shivers down your spine. "i'm not distracting you? then you'll be fine not paying attention to anything i'm doing, right doll?"

you were conflicted as you mulled over the consequences of telling him and not spilling your secrets. either he'll leave you high and dry, laughing in your face as you beg for more, or he'll reward youー with the downside of endless teasing right after.

well, future you can always worry about that.

you gripped his wrist, trying to guide him closer to where his hand was inevitably going to end upー if you played your cards right.

"i'm not going any further until you tell me what that pretty little brain of yours was thinking about," he shook his head, your strength not even moving him an inch. he began to trace incomprehensible symbols onto your knee, every stroke feeling like he left behind a burning trail on your flesh.

"can't resist someone like you," you half-joked, hoping that he would accept it and move on already. instead, his eyes narrowed, and he withdrew his hand.

"you gonna tell me the actual truth?" he raised an eyebrow as you whined at the loss of contact. the sound made him subconsciously perk up, but he restrained himself from acting on his desires.

"but it's embarrassingggg," you drawled, pouting as if that would push him over the edge and forget the reason why he was practically edging you. you'd have to applaud him on his self-control thoughー the bulge in his pants was becoming increasingly noticeable.

"so embarrassing you can't even tell your boyfriend? what can be worse than that time you said you got off to my damn voice?"

you knew that ever since you confessed that to him, his ego has been blown out of the water. and you'd be damned if you were going to give him another thing to boost it.

but the uncomfortable heat between your legs was becoming unbearable as you thought about what you could have if you just told him this one little secret.

"well. . ." you trailed off. it wasn't like it was taboo or anything, but it made you irrationally sheepish. "i think your hands areー attractive."

he burst out laughing, running a hand through his silky hair in disbelief. "that was what you were hiding from me? a damn hand kink? you think about my hands when you're riding that pillow of yours?"

you shushed him, scowling at the accusation, but also not denying it. "this is why i wasn't going to tell your ass."

"i hope this makes up for it then."

his scruff tickled at your collarbones as he nibbled at your neck, leaving behind blossoms of purple and red. the tiny gaps and pants that escaped your lips weren't enough for himー he wanted you screaming.

"gal- what are you doing?"

he simply hummed in response, continuing his assault. his gloves were rough as his fingers trailed under your shirt, skimming your nipples, before retracting his touch quickly to rest his hands at your hips to pull you in.

"wanna do me a favor, pretty girl?" his voice seemed even more coarse and rugged than before as he admired his work. you were going to hate hiding these hickeys for the next few days.

you nodded without hesitation, curious to what he was going to ask you to do. in one swift move, he unbuckled his belt and garter, discarding them to the side as he unzipped his pants. his shirt rose up a little, revealing his light happy trail and v-lineー you swore your mouth watered a little.

"g'na keep staring?" he began to unbutton his shirt, the sleeves that were rolled up to his elbows straining against his muscles. you swiftly pulled his pants down, noticing the wet spot on his boxers.

you've done this multiple times before, but every time you released his cock from its confines you still managed to be amazed and in shock.

the head was red and dripping with precum as you rubbed it before slipping it into your mouth without warning. his hips jolted, pushing his dick further into your mouth and causing tears to prick at the sides of your eyes.

"yeahー just like that," gallagher threw his head back against the cushions, adam's apple bobbing as he struggled to keep his composureー which was hanging on by a thread. it was impossible for him to try not to just grip your hair and push your head all the way down.

spit oozed out the sides of your mouth as you gagged, mixing in with his fluids. the messy sight of it had him groaningー what he would give to take a picture of you right now.

"so pretty like this-" he began babbling off compliments, not able to make a coherent sentence.

"mm- f-fuck, i'm so sorry about this, doll." before you could even question why he was apologizing, his fingers intertwined with strands of your hair as he began holding you down all the way to the base of his cock. you made a noise of surprise as you felt cum shoot into your mouth, the hot liquid shocking you for a moment before you attempted to swallow. he released his grip, letting you lift yourself up and you could see the mirth in his gaze as his cum leaked out your mouth and dribbled down your chin.

"are you fucking kidding me?" you wipe the cum off your face with the back of your hand.

"you're just too fucking good at it, sweetheart," his chest heaved as he tried to regain his breath.

gallagher pulled off his gloves with his teeth, keeping his gaze locked on yours in those few torturously long seconds it took.

he moved you so you were hovering over one of his thighs, arms resting on his shoulders as he lifted up your skirt.

"you're fucking soaked," he grinned as he expertly removed your panties, throwing it somewhere on the floor.

"yeah, yeahー just hurry up," you whined. his fingers gathered up your arousal and held it up to the dim light to see how it glimmeredー gallagher was going to be the death of you.

"c'monnn. . ." you were clenching over nothing, and he could see that.

"not even a please?"

"pleaseeeee," you pleaded, any self-respect gone in your desperate attempt to be filled up.

"just cause you asked so nicely," he slipped two fingers in easilyー he wasn't lying about you being soaked.

your rocked back and forth on the palm of his hand, drenching it with your slick as he rapidly thrust his fingers knuckles deep into your sopping cunt. every time he would curl his fingers and brush up against that certain gummy spot in you, you swore you saw stars.

"keep making those cute noises for me, yeah? s' fucking good for me, princess." he practically growled into your ear, the harsh noise making your walls clench around his fingers. he could probably get off on just the sight of you aloneー but he was adamant that he was going to come in you.

the building pressure in your stomach felt more intense than it had ever been, and you clawed at his arms as your mouth gaped open.

"m' gonnaー sirー" the name came out on accident, and if you weren't so close to climaxing you would've bothered to save yourself.

"sir?" his lips turned upward. "that's new."

"shut- haah-" your weak attempt to snap back was broken by you creaming around his fingers pathetically, trembling.

"that's itー being so good for me." he slowed down his pace until he eventually slid his fingers out, still connected to your pussy by thin and gleaming trails of your fluids. you slumped on him, jerking when you felt his dick rub up against your abused pussy.

"ya' got one more left in you, doll?"

you nod, not actually sure yourself. but you wouldn't pass up a moment have him inside of you.

he easily lifted you up, practically manhandling you as he laid you on the couch and angled himself on top of you. you practically sucked him in as his head tapped at your entrance.

"even this pussy of yours can't be patient," he didn't wait for your response as he abruptly plunged into your walls. it was so unexpected it had you digging crescents into his back, so deep you know it was going to leave scars. maybe they'll match with the ones that adorned his arms.

"wanna hear you call me sir again. say it." he nearly pulled all the way out, earning a cry of dejection out from you.

"sirー sir, please. . . i need more." you threw a hand over your mouth, attempting to muffle the noisesー which he instead replaced with his lips, swallowing all the sounds you made. the lewd squelches echoing throughout the room would've made you blush in any other situation.

gallagher always prided himself that he could make you go dumb and stupid on his big cockー but the fact you'll say whatever he wants? he's whipped.

"such a fuckin' slut for me, hmm? getting wet over my hands and never paying attention." he broke the kiss, immediately going back to praising and degrading you. you couldn't even process a single thing he was saying, but the mocking tone he used made your walls flutter.

"jus' for you," you rambled, chanting out little 'sir's with every heaving shove of his cock deeper into you. he wasn't above average in girth, but he could easily kiss your cervix and see a little tummy bulge that had him cooing.

when he pressed down on your lower stomach, the pleasure practically became unendurable. without warning and a choked moan that bordered a scream, you squirted, the liquid making it all the way to his abs, it slowly dripping down the crevices.

gallagher simply sped up, chasing after his own high as you squirmed at the overstimulation.

"s' too much! please, please-"

"a lil' bit more, pretty girl. ya' feel so good." he reassured you, burying his head in the nape of your neck.

he let out a long groan, your only warning that he was close. you saw his abs tense as he did one final push into you, his arms giving out as he collapsed on top of you.

minutes passed as the two of you calmed, until gallagher let out a little laugh.

"sir? hand kink?"

"i will bite your dick off."

i did not eat this up i fear

[banggyu0308]

definitely want a cheerleader x sub!gyu smut, like hes this nerdy boy with the biggest crush on her. tries confessing, but mc is known to reject confessions, so, he gets rejected. but hes cute so mc's like, "i mean, i can give you a quick bj if you want" absolutely freaks out, cant even get a word in before his crush is down kneeling in front of him 😩

just want the boy absolutely fucked out just by some slight tongue on his tip 😂

Like // Choi Beomgyu

sub!nerd!beomgyu x dom!cheerleader!reader

Summary: it’s obviously going to go badly when Beomgyu confesses to you, someone who’s popular, attractive, and worst of all, known to reject confessions. 

But that’s not going to stop him, is it?

genre: college au, smut

Warnings: oral sex (m receiving), ngl it’s kinda public, reader calls him ‘Gyu’ and ‘Beomie’, dacryphilia (yes, again. I like the idea of a boy crying for me :shrug:) , beomgyu talks about himself in third person in a cute way , virgin shaming (kinda) , unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!) , lots of subby Gyu, non established relationship , not proofread 

Word count: 2.5k

Beomgyu sits in the bleachers, watching you and the other people on the cheerleading team do your performance at halftime of the football game.

He can’t help but marvel at the way your cheer leotard and skirt fit your body perfectly, how you perform the choreography with ease.

It’s obvious someone like you would never go for someone like him. You’re… you, confident, pretty, popular, and he’s the kid on the side who spends more of his time indoors with his nose in a book than socializing. He’s not even sure you know he exists.

It’s not like he doesn’t have friends. His friend group consists of four other boys he’s been friends with since they were in first grade. Some of them, like Yeonjun and Taehyun, were more popular than the others and it was a little awkward at times, but they stuck together and it didn’t seem like that would change any time soon.

In fact, the one time Beomgyu spoke to you, it was actually Yeonjun’s doing.

Yeonjun knew how Beomgyu liked you, and so he dragged him to his football meet just because he knew you’d be practicing there too.

And then Beomgyu was coming out of the boys‘ locker room, opposite to the girls, cause he just felt like taking a shower. And there you are, heading around the corner to the girls’ right as he comes out.

And Beomgyu knocks into you and you almost fall, but instead of being all prissy and annoyed about it, you smile at him, wink, and say, “watch where you’re going, Gyu,” like not only you know his name, but like you’re close enough to have a nickname for him.

And that, my friends, is why half the school is in love with Y/N L/N.

And so, Beomgyu isn’t going to lie, the only reason he’s at the game is because he’s decided to confess. Because, his logic is that if you knew his name and called him by a nickname, that has to mean that you’re paying attention to him. And if you’re paying attention to him and he’s not in any of your friend circles, then that means you must like him.

It’s foolproof!! He’s gone through it multiple times, and it just all makes sense.

And this is why he finds himself waiting for you after you come out of the locker room.

You’re one of the only girls who even use it, the rest preferring to shower at their houses. And this is lucky for him, because he doesn’t want to do this in front of anyone else.

Mainly because, in the small possibility you reject him, as you are famous of doing, he doesn’t want others to witness it.

So here he is, waiting with a flower in his hand, and there you are, looking effortlessly beautiful coming out of the locker room, your hair wet from your shower.

“Hey, Y/N?” He calls, grabbing your attention.

You pause, startled, and turn to look at him. “Yeah?”

Beomgyu fidgets slightly, suddenly embarrassed, then holds out the flower for you to take. “For you.”

You smile, taking it in your hands. “Thank you, Beomgyu,” you reply, smiling up at him, this adorable boy who’s so obviously nervous.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome… you were really good today,” he adds when you two grow quiet.

You laugh. “I don’t know about that, but thank you for the compliment.”

“Oh no, really, you were. Good, I mean. More than good! Amazing! You’re always amazing, which is why…” He’s a stuttering mess by now, cheeks flushed pink, hand on the nape of his neck. 

You look at him expectantly, waiting for his next words. “Why…?” You prompt.

“Why… why i like you.” Your eyes grow wide, and he continues quickly. “You’re so smart, and kind, and talented, and, and beautiful, and I just wanted to let you know in case you would ever want to be with, well, someone like me…” he trails off, looking at you from under those long lashes that flutter perfectly against his cheeks when he blinks.

“Oh- oh, I…” you don’t know what to say, flustered by his confession, and you know you’re going to break the heart of this sweet little boy in front of you, looking at you so innocently, so eagerly waiting for your response. 

“Oh, Gyu…” It’s never easy, this. Hurting people just because of your personal worries. “Gyu, I’m really sorry, but I, I really can’t…”

You can see the moment his heart cracks, and you rush to say something else, hand on his forearm. “Trust me, it’s not you. It’s not you at all. In fact…” No, no, too personal. Saying something like that isn’t going to help fix anything.

And he’s so, so cute, too, and before you know what you’re even saying, the words come out of your mouth. “I could give you a blowjob though, if you want?”

Embarrassment flashes across his face, along with shock and a million other emotions, and how is he supposed to resist? Beomgyu can only nod slightly, his cheeks a bright pink, and that’s all the answer you need.

“Do you think the girls lockers or the boys are less crowded?”

He’s internally freaking out and can’t even stutter a response, which doesn’t matter because you answer yourself.

“Girls, of course. No one goes in there except me. I’ve gotten off in those showers more than once, actually.”

And now you’re dragging him into the locker room by his hand, heading to the shower, and you turn on the first faucet, moving to the other side so you don’t get wet.

Still in your tiny cheerleader outfit, you’re on your knees in front of him, and Beomgyu is trying to calm his breathing, because his crush (who just rejected him) is about to suck him off in the shower of the fucking girls locker room.

And he has to say something.

“Y/N, I- I…” You look at him from your position, and he has to look away, swallowing thickly, because why in hell do you have to look so sexy like that, looking at him from between his legs? “I’ve never done this, no ones ever…touched me?”

You giggle, unbuckling his belt and then moving to unbutton his shirt. “You’re telling me little Beomie has never been jerked off before?”

He shakes his head no, cheeks still pink, and you smirk, the exposed skin of his torso catching your eye again. “Are you okay if I kiss you? I mean, just to spice things up?”

He nods, because who wouldn’t say no to their crush kissing them?

And just like that, your lips are pressed against his, eyes shut, lips parted against his and your tongues dancing together. For being a virgin, he’s a surprisingly good kisser.

Your lips leave him breathless and a little more stimulated than it should have, but you don’t care, leaving marks all over his pretty neck and collarbones, your teeth nipping his skin. 

Beomgyu can’t help the moans that leave him,  a little whimper joining them when your lips dip down to his pants’ waistband.

“Want me to keep going, Gyu?” You tease, because like hell you know he wants you to.

He nods quickly, eyes shut and back pressed flush against the shower wall, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead.

You smirk and tug off his pants, running a hand over his clothed dick.

A little whine leaves his lips at your touch, and you can tell his legs are struggling to hold him up, trembling at the slightest of touches.

“Please, please, please, keep going?” He begs, hands slipping on the shower wall, trying to grab on.

Another whimper leaves his lips when you finally pull down his boxers, and you bite your lip, because god, he looks so delicious right now, and you want your tongue on him as quickly as possible.

Your fingers wrap around his dick, coaxing an echoey moan from him, your name slipping past his lips. His legs shake, and he’s flushed pink, his tip leaking. You gently, with the tip of your tongue, lick off the precum beading up, and the reaction he gives you is priceless, loud whimpers all you can hear.

“Oh, you taste so good, Beomie..~” you coo, then lick up the side of his dick, then over his tip again, applying enough pressure that when you look at him, his head is leaned back, neck with your marks exposed, and there are little tears running down his cheeks.

“Is Gyu crying?” You tease, simply kitty licking his tip again. “Is this too much for him?”

“No, no, not too much, ‘s perfect, ‘s perfect…” he whispers, his breath shaking.

“Not too much for who?” You ask, repeating your movement.

“For Gyu, for Gyu!” He gasps, giving you the words you want, his hips moving forward slightly, causing him to slide between your lips.

This only makes him cry out louder, limbs quivering, and you can feel him twitch in your mouth. 

“Is Gyu gonna cum?” The question sounds so innocent, but you’re stroking his thigh with one hand and jerking him off with the other, your tongue on his tip. It’s anything but.

Beomgyu nods sharply, quick repetitive nods that make his hair fall into his eyes, his lips parted in pleasure. “Yes, gonna cum, gonna, please, please, can he?”

You smirk at his pleas, but he’s being good and asking, so all you say is, “alright, little virgin Gyu can cum~”

Both Beomgyu’s breathing and hips stutter, lips parted in a silent moan when he cums, his seed leaking down your chin. You swallow it all up, then stand, peering at him curiously.

He fidgets under your gaze and you smirk, hands tracing the line of his slender shoulders. “Hey Gyu?”

“Yeah…?” He whispers, still breathless, his eyes on yours.

“I want you to fuck me,” you state blatantly, eyes searching his, the taste of him still present on your tongue.

His eyes grow wide, lips trembling slightly as he tries to form the words he wants to say, and once again he just nods in agreement. 

You don’t know what urged you to say that, but soon enough you realize: the boy is so fucked out from your tongue, you can only imagine how he’ll get once he’s inside you. 

The steam of the shower has your clothes sticking to your skin and you peel them off, smirking at how Beomgyu’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down when he swallows. You tug down your panties, beckoning him to your side, and pull him in to kiss him again. You’re under the water by now, the two of you slick, your hands tangled in his wet hair. 

“Please,” you inhale when you break the kiss, kissing him again immediately, and he gets the memo, tentatively hooking an arm under your knee and drawing your leg up.

His tip prods against your entrance almost immediately and you both suck in sharp breaths, his face buried in your neck. “Is this it?” He mumbles, the sound of his voice muffled by your skin. His hips buck forward on their own, a little twitch, but it’s enough for him to sink his tip in, stretching your entrance perfectly.

You can feel his mouth opening and closing silently, his breath shuddering, the way his eyelashes flutter tickling your neck. “Keep going, Beomie, I can take it.” You whisper, playing with the hair on the back of his neck.

Beomgyu thrusts forward again, sinking in halfway, and you feel as his his breathing falters all together, his one arm tightening around your waist, fingers pressing bruises into your skin.

One last thrust, and he’s in entirely, his tip pressed perfectly against your g-spot. Your own breath hitches and a small moan leaves you simultaneous with a whimper from him.

“Can’t, gonna, please!” He gasps, rutting into you again, pressing closer and closer to your cervix, the pressure in your lower stomach building when his fingers press against your clit.

“Gonna what, Beomie?” You tease, trying to sound cocky, but your voice turns too breathy, a squeaky gasp leaving you.

“Gonna, cum, please, ‘m gonna cum…” Beomgyu’s hips move again, small little jolts that send the pleasure on rampage down your skin.

“Who’s gonna cum?” You tease, the power that comes from him talking about himself like that running through your brain and making you want to ruin him.

“Gyu is, Gyu is, gonna…” he can’t even finish his sentence, too far gone, hips stuttering as he cums inside you suddenly, the fingers against your clit quickening in desperation to get you to your own pleasure.

You were already reaching it, the sensation of his fingertips, slightly calloused, tipping you into the deep end of the pool, drowning you as you tremble, gripping him hard, his name leaving your lips over and over again.

Your walls clenching around his dick makes him whimper slightly, cumming again without warning, the twitch of his hips fucking his cum deeper into you. 

He lets go of your leg and you collapse against each other, your weight pinning him against the shower wall. Beomgyu’s chest is heaving against yours, both of you fully bare and shaking slightly, his hand still gripping your hips. 

You raise his chin with your fingers, his eyelashes casting shadows on his flushed cheeks, because god, he still can’t believe you’re fucking him. “Gyu?” You hum, smiling slightly at him.

He raises his eyebrows, a small “hm?” leaving him in a response.

“You’re cute when you talk in third person,” you giggle, backing up from him with a smirk and pulling on the fresh clothes you had in your backpack.

You scribble something down on a piece of paper and hand it to him when he follows you out of the shower in a dazed state. “My number. Call me?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, of course,” he blushes, stuttering slightly, trying not to crinkle the paper in his fist of excitement.

You smirk, then leave the locker room, Beomgyu trailing behind you. Two guys in your class raise an eyebrow at your wet and disheveled hair, and well, the fact that Beomgyu was in the girls locker room.

“Did you guys fuck in there?” The talker of the two asks, smirking at you and obviously eyeing your torso, exposed by your crop top.

You shrug like it’s not big deal. “Yeah. So?”

The other raises an eyebrow. “Was he good?” As if ‘he’ wasn’t right there, listening.

You smile, a teasing look in your eyes. “He was, but if you define “good” as “fucked my brains out” you should ask him about me instead.”

And at that, you stride away, smiling to yourself.

You look behind once, to survey Beomgyu’s reaction, and he smiles cutely at you, coaxing one of your own in response.

You tamp down the feeling in your chest, because you are not falling for this boy. No you are not.

At least, not harder than you already had, even before today.

A/N- TWIST ENDING??

I went a little overboard haha-

[eyesxxyou]

❝ sunshine pt.3 ❞ (hobie brown x male!reader)

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. hobie x male!reader. reader pretends to hate dislike hobie. gay longing. denial of feelings. switch!hobie. switch!reader. missionary. save a horse ride a cowboy. using cum as lube. hobie being a tease. after your time in the bathroom, it's hard to deny your feelings for hobie. it's even harder to deny when hobie shows up on your doorstep.

Hobie Brown liked you.

He liked you from the very moment he met you. You were responsible, respectable, with enough sense in that brain of yours to last the both of you. You were quiet yet not shy and willing to speak your mind when need be. You were mean but in a nice way, in a way that really showed you cared more than you ever wanted to let on. He might have liked that most about you. Or it would be your lips that he liked the most. After all, he’s finally gotten a taste of them twice now.

You and Hobie met at a party through Riri. She had introduced you two and you had given him a once over and, looking rather unimpressed, dismissed him in the most polite way you possibly could. Hobie thought you to be prissy and stuck up and was ready to dismiss you as well as just that until he saw you glancing at him throughout the night, always within view of him. He knew you liked him right away, simply playing, or convincing yourself, that you didn’t. He thought it was cute. 

You were avoiding him again. More so than before. According to your other shared friends, you weren’t even leaving your apartment. You didn’t want to risk any chance of running into Hobie on the street and being forced to confront your undeniable feelings right then and there.

But you had to talk about what happened eventually…right? You would have to talk to him eventually.

Would flowers be appropriate? Would they make you more upset? Imply something that was never there in the first place? Or would they soothe the undoubted rage you would feel upon seeing Hobie at your door when all you wanted was to be left alone with your thoughts. You didn't need him coming in and stirring shit up but Hobie wouldn't be himself if he didn't stir the pot just a little.

Hobie decided no flowers, not yet, you weren't ready for something like that. It would send you into a spiral, turn you off to any idea of simply talking to him.

He stood at your door for approximately 10 minutes, simply debating if disturbing you would be worth it. Hobie had the chance to make things a whole lot worse but also the chance to remedy your pain and confusion. He would be remiss if he didn’t at least try to make things better between the two of you. So he knocked, nervous for one of the few times in his life.

It was clear you didn't expect him to be at your doorstep when you opened the door. Your bored gaze widened into something of surprise, or maybe that’s fear he was seeing. You didn't hesitate to try and close the door on him but Hobie stuck his boot between the door and the frame to stop you. “Wai’, wai’, sunshine please, hol’ on.” He pleaded softly, sticking his hand through the crack to pry the door open but you had a surprising amount of strength.

“Could you stop fucking calling me that? It’s stupid and annoying.” Your words hold a bitter taste to them. Your lips are pressed into a firm scowl as you look at him. Your hands balled into fist pinned to your sides. “Why are you here, Hobie? I’m not feeling well” You let out a feeble cough to punctuate your point. It’s unconvincing even to you.

Hobie leaned against your doorframe and looked at you with those heavy-set eyes you found yourself thinking about far too often. “Ya haven’ been answerin’ ma calls.” His voice was soft compared to yours. It makes you feel a bit ridiculous for being so angry. But your anger was righteous; you had every justifiable reason to be upset.

“When do I ever answer your calls?”

“Touché.” Hobie tried to play nonchalant, shrugging his shoulders dismissively, shifting his gaze to the side. But — God — if only you knew how anxious he was to speak to you. His mouth ran dry and his palms, usually cool, where now hot and clammy. “But we still need t’ chat. Don' wan’cha goin’ ‘round thinkin’ I was just tryna get off or somethin’.” 

You’re colder than usual to him, scoffing at his every word. Hobie was starting to think you might actually hate him. But if he’s right, and he nearly always is, you like him far more than you want to let on, you always have. This was all denial, a front, a way to protect your fragile world view and delicate self-image.

You turn yourself away from him, eyes shifting, head low. You don’t want to talk. Is it so hard to just be left alone?

Hobie could see you were shutting down. “Look– I’m no’ ‘ere to tell ya who ya are and who ya aren'. ‘M jus’ here fo’ support.” He was gentle, his lips twitched into a half-hearted smile, trying to be friendly and cordial. As much as someone like him can be.

Maybe it’s then that you realized the fact that he was just trying to offer you some kindness at a point in your life where you might have needed it most. You were so unsure of yourself, who you were, what you did. You always knew Hobie wasn’t a bad person, but you never knew he could be so tender.

You pursed your lips and sighed with defeat before opening the door a little more to let him through. His boots made your floorboards creak under the weight of them as he walked into your flat, his hand shoved into the pockets of his spiked and studded leather jacket. He was too comfortable, too cool for your liking. Or maybe you were too tense for his.

You closed the door behind him and crossed your arms over your chest as if to protect yourself. Your body language screamed defensive, closed, unwilling to listen. Your eyes shifted from side to side but never linger on Hobie for long. Back against the door, you shifted your weight from foot to foot, heel to toe. “I don’t know what you think is going on between us, what you think we share, but I’m not interested. It shouldn’t have happened.” You spat out, more at yourself than at him. “It was a mistake.”

Hobie grunted. “Way t’make a guy feel good ‘bout ‘imself.” He wasn’t hurt about it. You were going through a lot right now. And your words said more than you ever cared to say. 

“I’m not gay, Hobie.” You say a little forcefully, watching with a sort of meticulousness as Hobie wandered his way closer to you. You watched him shrug as if it didn’t matter. “So wha’? I wouldn’ call myself gay either, I jus’ like who I like.” He slid his hands from his pockets, his approach still slow and steady. You didn’t dare look away from him or make a motion in any other direction.

“‘M no askin’ you t’be gay, sunshine.”

You swallowed as Hobie reached out and placed his large hand on your hip and closed the space between your bodies. This was the very reason why you didn’t want to be around him, because you knew that if he made a motion for you, you wouldn’t have the strength to pull away.

You wanted him. You wanted him carnally, wanted him the way one being always longs for another. You wanted his hands, his lips, his cock. You wanted all of him and more. Just one more time, one more time and you’d expel him from your mind and you’d be done with it all together.

You looked at him, desperation filling your glossy eyes like tears. “Then what do you want from me, Hobie? I don’t understand.” You don’t understand yourself anymore. You don’t know yourself. All you know is that you're wildly and completely, head over heels, desperately fiending to have him again and you didn't know what that meant about yourself.

Hobie stroked your hip tenderly with his thumb. “I jus’ wan’cha t’like me back. Is tha’ so hard?”

You turned your head away, lips pursed to stop them from trembling. You were utterly terrified. Terrified because you do like him back. You like him more than you ever wanted to let on. Everything you despise about him, his saunter, his carelessness, his full laughter, his smile, is truly everything you adored about him and he had seen right through you the entire time.

“I do like you.” It feels so good to get off your chest, to finally say it out loud. You look at Hobie, eyes hard yet glassy. Your lips are pressed firmly.

Hobie didn't understand. “Then wha’s the problem?” If he liked you and you liked him, why were you so against being with him? It wasn't like you’d lose your friends, they were totally accepting of queerness if not queer themselves. And so what if anyone else judged you? You never cared about anyone’s opinion before.

“I thought you were the most annoying person in the world just a few weeks ago. I still do. So what if we like each other? That doesn't mean we’re meant to be together. I’ve known myself well all my life. I’ve known what I wanted, who I wanted, where I wanted to be-”

“This is ‘bout’cha feelin’ like ya don' know yerself anymore?” Hobie scoffed. “Things change, sunshine. Life happens. Grow up.” It was harsh, but you needed to hear it. You liked men, Hobie specifically, men generally. Who cares? Not him, not your friends, not the people that matter in your life. “If I like you and you like me, wouldn' i’ make the most sense for us to at least try to make sometin’ outta this?”

You were silent. Utterly and terribly silent. You didn't know what else to say. You felt ridiculous for holding on to this idea of yourself that you’d never live up to. You couldn’t believe you were admitting this but Hobie was making sense. Who cares if you like men, like him. Sure, it might come as a shock to everyone but in the end, what does it truly matter?

You look at Hobie with big eyes and your hands reached out to pull him a little closer. Who cares, you told yourself. The guilt still ate away at you but with time, you knew it would go away.

Hobie deemed it safe to kiss you. He was cautious, easing his lips onto yours, tender and innocent until it wasn’t. It was all the sum of their parts. Lips, teeth, tongue, passion, drowning desire. You reciprocated with the same timid carefulness of someone unsure of how to be gentle, how to be intimate without being aggressive.

Hobie’s fingers curled into the fabric of your shorts, pulling you closer until your body was flush with his. Your arms fell over his shoulders, fingers mindlessly scratching at the nape of his neck while your teeth nip softly at his lip piercing. He pressed you to the wall much like you had done to him that night in the bathroom and pressed his body closer to yours. You didn’t mind that all his spikes in studs were digging into your flesh. You welcomed his sharp abrasiveness.

You guided Hobie to the couch, where the two of you fell into a tangle of limbs and caressing touches. Hobie was on top of you, his large hands still on your hips but slowly beginning to roam about your body while the two of you kissed. 

Fuck, he was hard already but so were you so it made the matter all the less embarrassing. Your arousal only made him harder, more desperate for you. Hobie’s hands grasped at your hips and waist in an act of worship, before sliding between your legs to palm at your aching cock pressing against the front of your underwear.

“Hobie~” you whined softly, moaning onto the fullness of his lips before your tongue sought out his once more. “Fuck, fuck, just like that.” You should be embarrassed by how desperate you are, you both should. Your hands ferally tug at each other's clothing, just enough to get your cocks out and rutting against each other. His was bigger than yours, thicker, with veins running along the sides. He was uncut and pretty. And the direct comparison of your sizes made your cock twitch and leak onto your stomach. His precum dripped down and mingled with yours.

Hobie was not shy about rutting his hips and rubbing his length against yours. Your hands continued to pull off clothing after clothing. His vest, your shirt, his pants then yours. Until you both were totally nude, minus the spiked collar Hobie still wore.

“I don’t– I don’t know what to do.” You said between bated breaths and eager kisses. Hobie pressed his hips down against yours and you whimpered just slightly. You felt his smooth yet scarred skin under your palms and felt at ease. You looked at him almost pathetically and felt your face grow hot as Hobie rolled his hips into yours and chuckled at you. The leaky tip of his cock rubbed the underside of your mushroom head and you shivered.

Hobie’s lovely lips kissed your cheek and began to hover over your jaw and down your neck. “I’ll show ya, sunshine. We’ll take turns, yeah?” He suddenly became as sweet as sugar, so sweet you could taste it on your tongue when he kissed you again. “I’ll show ya how t’do i’, then you can do i’ t’me.”

He was so gentle when he touched you, but you writhed and squirmed with every trace of his fingers along your body. “Do ya have lube?” He murmured against your flesh as he kissed a small sweet spot at the base of your neck. You nodded, a bit slowly. “I think… It’s somewhere in my room. I never needed to — fuck — use it before.” For the life of you, you couldn’t remember exactly where it was. Your brain was too fuzzy, Hobie was starting to move his hips faster and the way his cockhead rubbed yours was starting to make you delirious. “I can’t remember,” you murmur hazily. “I can’t remember, I can’t remember. God, please don’t stop.”

“Yer actin’ like this ‘n ‘m not even fuckin’ ya yet.” Hobie chuckled lowly into your ear. It tickled and you weren’t sure if that’s what made you shiver or the way he wrapped his lithe fingers around your cocks and squeezed just enough to apply a perfectly delicious amount of pressure.

You couldn’t help but to roll your hips into his hand while Hobie thrusted his forward. He watched the way you huffed and whimpered, almost whining. You squeezed your eyes shut and simply let yourself feel his length against yours. His tip rubbed yours, precum leaking onto your slit. It was just enough to make you come undone.

You didn’t even know you came until you felt it pool all over your tummy. Your eyes opened, bleary and out of focus as your cock twitched. You reached down, looking up at Hobie who was pushing his hips in shallow thrusts. He was close, you could tell just by the way he moaned, deep and pretty like he was singing just for you.

You reached down and dragged your thumb over his dark tip, pressing against his slit and rubbing in short, tender strokes. Hobie’s hips shuddered and his lips parted just enough to let out something of a guttural groan. “Fuck– ‘m close, sunshine. Yer doin’ so good.”

Hobie came soon after you, with a few more short rubs of his tip, he spilled out all over your hand and tummy, his cum pooling in with yours into a large, milky puddle. It was warm, a bit more viscous than yours, came out in globs that landed on your abdomen.

Hobie leaned in and kissed you once again. You melted into him, your hands cupping his face to pull him closer. “Please fuck me, Hobie.” You plead with him, panting into his mouth with a desperation you’ve never before known. You parted your legs wider, exposing yourself to him, offering yourself to him. You looked so handsome like that, legs spread and cum on your belly. “Use our cum if you have to. Please, I need it.”

He was taken aback by your eagerness to be fucked. “This’ll be ya first time bottoming, yeah?” You nod sheepishly. Hobie smiles that smile you’d usually scoff at but now, all you could do is marvel at it. You swooned at it, your lips pulling into the smallest smile of its own. “Will you let me fuck you after?” You ask in the smallest voice as if you were almost embarrassed by your request. But you couldn’t help it. “Please, I really wanna fuck you.”

“Awww ya wanna fuck me, sunshine?” Hobie crooned at you. He laughed robustly as you slapped his shoulder and turned your face away. “You can always leave, dickhead.” He kissed at your neck and chest, nipping slightly at your skin. “You don’ wan’ me t’do tha’.” Hobie continued to kiss at your neck while dragging his fingers through the puddle of cum on your tummy.

Your lips parted and a small gasp left you as the pad of his fingers circled over the tight rim of your puckered hole.

“Ya wanna prep first, jus’ tease i’ open.” Hobie pressed a singer against your hole, listening to your soft whines as his finger eased into you. The intrusion felt odd, but not bad. He whispered for you to relax. “‘M no’ gonna hurt’cha.” He gathered more cum and made sure his path was nice and slick. “‘M gonna add another finger.”

“Just do it— please.”

Hobie wasted no time sliding another slickened finger into your taut hole, his eyes watching the way you bite your lip and stifle a whimper. His fingers didn’t search for your prostate, his cock would do that work for him. He was just focused on opening you up and ensuring that you’d be ready to take him. Your hands gripped his shoulders. Your face twisted, not exactly with discomfort. It was a feeling you could get used to with time.

Hobie and that dimpled smile that grove you mad. You almost wanted to say something but every time you opened your mouth, you simply cried out. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” You were desperate, every desire you’ve ever had spilling out of your mouth, every fantasy you’ve had about him since that night in your closet. You wanted him to fuck you, you wanted to fuck him, you wanted you bodies to melt into one another.

And when Hobie pulled his fingers from your wanton hole and gathered more cum to spread down his length, you prepared yourself for an unbearable pain. You’ve seen porn like this but no one has ever been nearly as big as him. 

He placed his tip against your wet hole, looked at your face for any sign of pain, and slowly eased himself in.

Your mouth fell open and your back arched as you whimpered. You could feel him splitting you open, parting your tight walls to make space for him. Your walls were molded to his cock. Hobie groaned above you, hands gripping at your hips and thighs to ground himself. “Ya feel so good, sunshine. Bloody hell. Stay still f’me.”

But you couldn't, you wiggled and writhed with something of discomfort and pleasure. His intrusion was not exactly welcome but certainly not discouraged. The sounds that left you were ones you’ve never heard before. They were new and unknown, whiny and loud as Hobie pressed against something soft and sensitive inside you. Suddenly discomfort was welcome and you needed more.

He pressed his hips flush to yours, rolling his hips and offering shallow thrusts that made him poke and prod at that spot that made your toes curl. You tossed your head back, eyes rolling back into your head, fingernails sinking into his flesh. “Hobie, Hobie, Hobie.” You whimpered as he buckled down and pulled out only to fuck himself back into you.

Hobie was desperate, ravenous, trying so hard not to hurt you while also satisfying his need to have you. He loved the way you sang for him, your whiny moans growing higher with each thrust into your hole. You trembled and you sang and you opened your legs wider to feel him deeper if such a thing was really possible. You could feel him in your throat, choking.

Your orgasm came so quick you hardly had the chance to say anything before you were squealing, your cock leaking more cum onto your tummy with a few hard twitches. Your mind was so hazy, but you had enough sense to hide your face in the bend of your elbow to hide from the embarrassment of coming so swiftly.

You expected Hobie to laugh at you, tease you for it. But he gently took your arm from you face and leaned down to pepper kisses across your heated face. “I’s okay, sunshine. I’s ya first time. Only right you’d be sensitive.” His fingers traced up and down your side as he placed his lips on yours and kissed you with a tenderness you still couldn’t believe he was capable of.

“Y’want me t’keep goin’ or do y’want yer turn?”

He made you feel safe and comfortable. As comfortable you could be having sex with another man.

“Can you ride me? I wanna look at you.” 

Hobie chuckled, slowly pulling out of you with a pop that made you shiver. “So obsessed with me.” Your lips tugged into a lighthearted scowl that soon faded as Hobie scooped up your cum from your abdomen and reached back to prep himself, slowly sinking a finger into his ass, soon followed by another.

You watched, dazed and amazed, admiring the contours of his face as he let out a breathy little moan. Hobie smirked at you, “like what’cha see?” You didn’t have enough sass left in you to pretend that you didn’t. You just wanted him, to feel him, to make him cum like he made you cum. You wanted his pleasure, wanted him.

You sat up into a sitting position and watched as Hobie came and straddled your lap. Your hands found purchase on his boney hips and he looked into your eyes as he stroked your cock with his cum-covered hand. “Le’s see how fast I can get’cha t’cum this time.”

“You don’t have to rub it in my face.”

“No’ rubbin’ i’ ya face, sunshine. I jus’ think i’s cute.” Hobie leaned down and kissed you again, just a peck that left you wanting more. He settled down and positioned your cock against his hole before slowly and carefully sinking down onto you.

It felt different than being with a woman, tighter, warmer, less wet. A moan ripped from your throat, your mouth falling open to gasp and shudder. Your hands stroked Hobie’s sides to soothe yourself. “Fuck– Hobie~ God, you feel so good.” You were gasping for air, breathless. Your cock was still sensitive. You’d cum in no time.

Hobie grinned, settling into your lap, rolling his slender hips into yours. He rode you slowly at first, drawing out noises no other person has ever made you vocalize before. He cooed at you, his lips on yours, his tongue in your open mouth. Then he rode you hard and fast, with the skill of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

You were borderline pathetic. Rendered down to nothing more but a gasping, whimpering, drooling mess. You should have more self-respect, but Hobie was taking any semblance of it from you. His hole squeezed you tight, a vice grip that left your eyes rolling. “Ngh, mmh~” You were writhing beneath him, hands gripping, nails sinking into flesh.

You held Hobie close. His chest to yours, his cock slapping against your wet abdomen, his fingers laced into your hair. There was something so terribly intimate about it, how close you two were. The desperation on both parts was thick in the air, hot with the smell of sweat and sex. When Hobie stopped kissing you, a string of saliva connecting your lips. You two looked at each other and you felt as though your face had been shoved into lava.

Hobie grinded his hips down and his head lulled back. You had touched his soft spot and he let out a pretty, baritone moan. He squeezed you tight and stroked your cock softly and just as Hobie had suspected, you came, without warning. You had meant to cum on the outside, your hands attempting to push Hobie off of you when your cock began to twitch, but he seemed intent on staying.

You came inside, nice and deep, your hips shuddering. Hobie groaned, low and loud, and came onto you stomach and chest.

You both were left panting, tired and suddenly sore. Hobie looked at you, waiting for that moment where it all switches and you realize that you’ve made another mistake– where you suddenly become cold again. You looked up at him, eyes unsure but softly pleading for reassurance. “Please tell me this wasn’t a mistake.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper.

Hobie got up off of you and sat on his heels beside you. His hands traced imaginary shapes into your cum-covered chest before leaning in to litter pecks across your face. “I’ wasn’ a mistake, sunshine. Nothin’ we did was a mistake.” His lips finally found yours and you didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. His lips soothed you.

“Le’s see where this takes us. We don’ have t’put a label on i’ righ’ now.”

You looked rather sheepish, turning your head away from him. “What if I want to put a label on it?” If you were going to do this, you wanted to do it right. You wanted Hobie to belong to you and you to belong to him. “Don’t get me wrong, you still annoy the hell out of me and sometimes I want to knock you over the head with a frying pan, but I want us to be something.”

There was that smile, that gorgeous, charming, irritating smile. It was so cocky, so arrogant, so Hobie. You adored it.

“Then le’s be something’.”

[pedgito]

okok hear me out. eddie x reader literally despise each other, for no particular reason. reader just thinks he’s gross and weird. eddie thinks reader is stuck up and prissy. BUT one day reader walks into the dnd room on accident. eddies the only one in there, setting up for the new campaign ofc. and they just get into a really heated argument that ends up w reader bent over the dnd table w eddie pounding into her from behind.… PLS IM BEGGING I LIVE FOR A GOOD HATE FUCK

author’s note: this is all over the place i’m sorry lol, i can’t write hate fucks for the life of me but i tried.

cw: 18+ (minors dni) mean!eddie, mean!reader, slight perv!eddie, just a lot of harsh shit talking between eddie/reader, degrading language/shaming, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, again just straight smut and not the sweet kind, if i missed anything lmk

word count: 3.4k

Eddie Munson was the bane of your existence, that’s one thing you knew for sure. Some of it was intentional, some of it not—but he got under your skin in the worst way. It wasn’t his obnoxious volume or ridiculous acts of show, throwing himself around in a way that was meant for amusement, drawing a few laughs from his friends and even a couple strangers—but most of it wasn’t received well and definitely not by you.

The thing was, you didn’t hate him for the same reason everyone else did. He dressed differently, sure, listened to the kind of music that has you covering your eyes from the harsh percussion and scratchy, screaming voices—but that’s because it woke you in the middle of the night, your own trailer rattling from the vibrations. The smell and smoke of his weed wafting into your open bedroom window, white cloud bellowing into the humid air of your room, it was a nightly occurrence.

There was also the misfortune of having to listen to his escapades, whether daily or nightly, and having to suffer through the sounds of whoever Eddie decided to hook up with on that particular day—the walls of your trailer were entirely too thin and did nothing to muffle the sounds shrieking from your neighbors home. But, at least he had enough respect to do it while Wayne was away—because while Eddie was the most annoying part of your daily life, Wayne was one of the better ones.

He greeted you kindly, always asked how you were—meanwhile Eddie would lazily stomp along to their trash bin, shirtless and a half-smoked cigarette tucked behind his ear, staring you directly in the eye before spitting on the pavement. Wayne always reprimanded him for it, complained about how disrespectful it was, but Eddie knew it got under your skin. It’s exactly why he did it.

He snickered at your starch ironed skirts, pleats along the front and always the softest shade of pinks and blues and purples, fitting an even softer sweater over your starkly white button ups—and if he wasn’t commenting on it as you were leaving your trailer, cigarette shoved between his lips as he leaned against his van, it was in the hallways as he approached behind you swiftly, your body smacking into him amongst the hoard of people swarming the halls.

“Might want to watch where you walk, sweetheart .” He whispers, voice low and in your ear, “Get too close to the trash and you might get dirty, right?”

You shove him away haphazardly, nose scrunching up in annoyance. You couldn’t remember speaking more than five words to him at any given time, regardless of how often you saw him. It was physically painful to be in his presence, mentally exhausting, and you shoved a forceful middle finger his way as he laughed at the gesture, throwing them back as a double.

And it felt like fate was forcing you two together despite your obvious distaste for one another; running into each other during bathroom breaks from class like they were planned, both of you sharing an awkward look in return, eyes lingering on one another.

It had to be the disgust you felt, there was no reason your eyes should stay stuck that long.

Or how he always ended up behind you in line at lunch even though he rarely ate—sometimes a couple of measly snacks, a pack of almonds or a small water bottle, mostly too enveloped in his own conversation to remember that he needed to eat until it was already too late, bell signaling you back to class.

You didn’t know that because you watched him at lunch, that was the case at all. Definitely not.

But the truth was, you weren’t much different from Eddie. In fact, if you thought about, Eddie was a lot better off than you. He had a group of friends, a community he felt safe participating in, and no shame in the way he carried himself.

But you, you were terrified—never a hair out of place, never a wrinkle in your outfit, and how dare your grades dropped lower than a B. You were jealous of Eddie, but that wasn’t something you could easily admit to his face. You envied his ability to be so careless, but in that same breath, you absolutely hated him.

You’ve also involved yourself in too many school clubs at this point, overwhelming your schedule and spending most of your days frazzled trying to keep up—so by the end of the day when you’re running back to the classroom to grab your things before heading home, it’s not a surprise that you don’t realize the flooring as you skid to a stop—the room was low lit, some song you don’t recognize set for quiet ambience and you freeze, eyes connecting with the only person in the room.

“Can’t stay away, can you?” Eddie teases, head turned up slightly, vivacious grin plastered on his face.

“My mistake,” You interrupt him, turning on your heels swiftly to flee the space, a small chuckle escaping Eddie’s chest, “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Clearly,” He remarks, plucking the small figurines from the table and shoving them away in a box, carefully piling the other items inside, “but if you wanted to see me that bad, you could’ve just said so.”

And as much as you want to keep quiet, act like he doesn’t bother you—you can’t. It’s the one last bridge he hasn’t burned, until now. The teasing has only ever gone so far, mostly harmless, but his voice is edged with a dangerous intent—not so much toward you, but it lingers.

“Excuse you?” You ask tensely, turning back around, face pinched up in anger. “See you? Why would anyone want to spend more than five minutes around you?”

“You tell me,” He shrugs, finally managing to clear the table amongst your hatred filled gaze, resting his rear against the edge, arms crossed heavily over his chest, “you’re the one still standing there.”

“I tolerate you, at the very least.” You spit at him, finger held up scrutinizingly as you took a few slow steps toward him, “your horrible manners, the decency and respect you lack for others—if it weren’t for having known Wayne I could blame it on your family for raising you that way, but no. It’s all you.”

“Careful, princess,” He replies teasingly, “words hurt.”

The nickname always drove you mad, fist clenching in frustration.

“Good.” You say forcefully, know only a few inches from him—he smelt like cheap tobacco and old leather, nostrils flaring in disgust. “Maybe you’ll think twice before watching me change from your bedroom window—“

Eddie’s eyes widen, face paling at your admission.

“Yeah,” You reply knowingly, nodding your head as a taunt, “I know all about your little secrets, Eddie.”

But instead of giving in, Eddie doubles down and fights back just as hard.

“At least I don’t have a stick shoved up my ass,” He replies, “I guess mommy doesn’t know you’re blowing guys behind your trailer late at night—does she?”

And frankly, it’s none of his business. But then again, the same thing could be applied to you. There was too much shared anger, shuffling back and forth between hate and jealousy—you weren’t sure if you actually hated Eddie, or just the idea of him.

At face value, Eddie was attractive, likable, and had the calmest demeanor you’ve ever seen—but the moment his mouth opened, it was ruined.

“It’s no different from you fucking girls with your window wide open—half the neighborhood could hear it.”

“Oh, so you listen?” Eddie asks, disregarding the obvious problem. “Naughty.” He remarks softly, smirk settling into a dark grin.

You roll your eyes in annoyance, dropping your finger down at your side. “It’s kinda hard not to, you know?”

Eddie shrugs nonchalantly.

“And what about you?” You ask, “Doesn’t that make you a creep when you’re watching me?”

“I go out for a smoke around midnight every night,” Eddie reminds you, “It’s not my problem if you’re there—I’m not changing my routine for you.”

“So, you’re okay with peeping?” You ask redundantly, but Eddie has a response anyways.

“You’re the one sucking cock in public,” Eddie reminds, “are you forgetting that’s technically illegal?”

You shrink back slightly, lips turning down in a frown as you glare at him. “No one’s out there—at least no one but—“

“You like it, don’t you?” Eddie asks, lids shifting down, eyes lingering with darkness. “You could go anywhere—a car, in the woods—but you like the idea of being watched, being caught, don’t you?”

Your silence is telling—but you didn’t have to explain yourself to him.

Eddie hums in response, nodding.

“I think you’re doing it so I’ll watch,” Eddie tells you, like he’s suddenly got you all figured out—and so what if he did, “at least I can admit I do it for fun, knowing half of those guys won’t last more than a few minutes.”

“You’re disgusting.” You reply quietly, watching as he rises slowly, stalking toward you. “And a fucking dick.”

“Oh, sweetheart—don’t go soft on me now.” Eddie chides, “Tell me how you really feel.”

There’s a beat of silence, eyes never leaving each other's gaze. Eddie speaks first.

“And don’t act like I don’t know you like listening to me,” Eddie admits, “Why do you think I get so loud?”

“Because you’re obnoxious,” You start, “and rude, and—“

“Three nights ago, Friday, you remember?” Eddie asks curiously, stalling your attack.

“Yeah?” You reply wearily, wondering where he was taking this. “I saw that girl you let inside—you fucked her, do you want a ribbon?”

“What girl?” Eddie asked before it dawns on him, “Oh shit—Chrissy, yeah.”

You raise an eyebrow inquisitively, waiting for him to finish.

“She left five minutes after she got there—in, out. It was a quick deal.” Eddie tells you, before leaning toward you menacingly, face only a few inches away, “But sweetheart, that noise? It was all me.”

The heat rises to your face in an instant, the guilt in your expression obvious.

His tongue peeks out slightly, running along the top row of teeth, “It was good, wasn’t it?”

Your gaze is fierce, refusing to give in to his game.

Eddie takes another step closer, raising his arm—for a brief moment you expect him to touch you, bracing to grip his wrist and shove him away, but it lingers, finger pointing toward the open door as he talks to you petulantly, instructing you through his next few moves.

“Now—I’m going to close that door,” Eddie explains, “do you want to leave?”

You hesitate for a brief second, before shaking your head slightly. If Eddie wasn’t watching you so intently he probably would’ve missed it.

“And, with your blessing of course, I’m going to bend you over that table and fuck you how I know you want me to,” Eddie says haughtily, tipping your chin up briefly, touch disappearing as quickly as you felt it, “then maybe you won’t have a reason to hate me so much.”

“I’m going to hate you regardless.” You answer weakly, confirming his suspicions. You couldn’t say no. You wanted this.

“Somehow I think I’ll survive.” Eddie smirks, vanishing behind you quickly, leaving you stuck at a standstill, heart pounding in your chest. “Last chance to back out, just say the word—“

“Lock it.” You tell him firmly.

Eddie snorts softly, flipping the lock closed.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate in his movements, shoving you harshly over the edge of the table, lifting your skirt up lazily, slipping the soft white cotton of your underwear down your legs without a word, the light jingling of his belt behind you as he stripped himself of it, working himself out of his jeans enough that his cock springs free, bouncing upright into the cool air.

“What’s got you so quiet?” Eddie harps, fisting his hand into the end of your hair and tugging, eyes connecting with your own—it was an awkward angle and Eddie was slightly upside down from where you were peering back, hip held tight in his grip. “I thought I’d at least have to get my dick inside you first.”

You shove away his wandering hands, fingers drifting over your entrance and pressing against your clit, thick juices coating his fingers briefly.

“I didn’t say you get to touch me like that.” You tell him sternly, “If you’re so desperate to fuck me, then do it. Stop wasting my time.”

“Your time?” Eddie repeats, “Princess, I’ll make this last an eternity with that mouth.”

“You don’t scare me, Eddie Munson.” You say to prove a point, holding in a ragged gasp as he presses inside slowly, a dull sting as he stretches you open, inch by tantalizing inch.

Eddie wraps a gentle hand around your throat, squeezing the tiniest amount of pressure. He’s testing your limits, already well aware of what you like—he may not be the brightest, but he’s not that dim. “I’m not trying to scare you.”

“Then?” A sudden thrust of his hips has you tumbling forward, hands forced out in front of you to keep from slipping. Eddie pulls you back up swiftly, back flat against his chest as he speaks, leaving you fully under his control, hands instinctively grabbing at the fabric of his shirt on either side of him.

“I’m just giving you what you want,” Eddie explains, “and letting you walk home full of me—“ He turns your head slightly, forcing you to look at him, bottom lip puffy and parted as he drags his finger along it, “you want me to come inside you, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t have let me get this far.”

No response has Eddie tugging at your face, pulling you even straight, hand pressed firmly around your neck—mostly just to keep you in place.

“Answer me.” He warns, “Tell me how badly you want me to fill you so fuckin’ full, sweetheart.”

You moan embarrassingly loud as he pulls his hips back before shoving them against your backside harshly, skin slapping against skin, his own mouth parting on a silent groan as he stared down at you.

“If it will shut you up, yeah.” You tell him, earning a deep chuckle before you soften your eyes, peering up at him sweetly, sickeningly, “Come inside me.”

Eddie releases you with no warning, forcing you back down against the hardwood, resuming your previous position as you used the leverage to push back against him, creating a pace that was almost unbearable, feeling the soft string as he slapped his hands against your skin—your ass, your thighs, any exposed skin he could get his hands on, painting you with temporary marks for his eyes only—he’d make them more permanent if you let him, but that was far from possible.

Your blood still boiled in his presence, even with his cock buried inside of you.

You groan in frustration, agitated with the position, the lack of technique—but given you two were at each other like animals, it wasn’t entirely his fault—regardless, you weren’t going to leave without some satisfaction or at the very least, an orgasm.

“Stop, stop,” You urge him and Eddie doesn’t question it, letting you go immediately, “it’s not—“

“What—it’s not what?” Eddie asks with minor frustration, watching as you turned to him, scooting your ass up toward the edge of the table.

“As much as I hate looking at you, this might be the easiest way for me to cum,” You admit and Eddie smiles softly, the urge to retort a sly remark creeping up on him, “—what, why are you looking at me like that?”

Eddie shakes his head, refusing to answer before he pulls your hips flush, slipping back inside of you with ease as he crowds you space, lips brushing your own but never daring to reach out and kiss, you let out a sudden huff of air, reaching for his forearms to stabilize yourself.

“Tell me how much you hate me.” Eddie eggs you on, grinning evilly, hands balled into fists as he pressed them against the tabletop, fucking you achingly slow.

“So much,” You assure him, not missing a beat, “you’re gross, rude,” Eddie moves his hips sharply, forcing a wrecked moan from your lips, “fuck—you’re so fucking annoying.”

“Uh huh.” He agrees, eyebrow furrowing as his stone faced expression falters slightly, “Is that all?”

“No manners,” You tell him, “and no respect for anyone.”

“Oh, you want respect?” Eddie gloated, “You want me to respect you?”

“Never said that.” You reply bluntly, his shirt in a vice grip as you yanked at the material, pulling him impossibly deeper.

He ignores you, “Now, why should I respect a whore like you?”

“I’m not a whore.” You pout slightly, “Oh, fuck—that’s—“

You slump slightly, but Eddie catches you, face tight in his grip, one hand pressed into the dip in your back.

“Say it like you mean it.” Eddie challenges.

“I’m not—“ Eddie tugs your face up, cheeks squeezed between his fingers, “not—not a whore. Or a slut. Or whatever the fuck you want to call me.”

Eddie nods, not believing a word you tell him.

“I forgot—you’re that stuck up little princess who lives next door to me. Perfect life, perfect family—if they only knew the shit you got up to.” Eddie says menacingly, “Letting the neighborhood trash fuck you raw, come inside you—god forbid I knock you up, right?”

And the idea is terrifying, but you know it’s all talk. You had nothing to worry about, birth control be damned—but it leaves a pit in your stomach that lingers. Eddie was self aware, he knew people hated him, knew you hated him—but that didn’t change his unnatural attraction toward you, nor yours for him.

“Eddie—Shut. Up.” You emphasize, pulling him tight against you, cunt clenching around him as he hits a dangerous spot inside you, sweet but alarming.

“Well, maybe you’ll think twice about walking in here again.” He replies snidely, his faltering slightly as he lessened his grip on your face, touch stalling at the side of your neck as gave in, letting the sounds of your bodies fill the silence, hearing every soft little moan he punches out of you with his movements, becoming addicted and yearning for more. His hands move without any real direction, landing sloppily over your clit as he circled it lazily, head hung back and eyes closed.

“Fuck—Fuck you.” You sigh, whimpering quietly as his movements over your clit increased, mouth falling open wide.

The slap is a surprise, soft but enough to startle you, eyes staring up at him in shock. And you hated yourself for enjoying it so much, but the knowing smile on his face is too good to be true, and your mouth is moving without filtering through your brain.

“Harder.” You counter, eyes darkening as you challenge him.

He slaps you once more, forceful, noise crackling through the air. You huff a soft laugh, causing him to laugh in response—and truthfully, you both forget how this even started in the first place. It was all just an outlet for your own shared anger and it turned into a giant mess.

“Girls don’t—they don’t usually—“ Eddie doesn’t admit it outright, breath quickening as he attempts to speak through his unskilled thrusts, groaning loudly, “—they don’t like that.”

“Now Eddie,” You tell him, voice delicate, “I’m not most girls.”

But, he already knew that. You were nothing like the girls he was used to. You were everything he wanted but couldn’t have. You were a disease, a disgrace—in his eyes, and it made him want you that much more.

The climax hits you heavy, a gasp ripping from your chest as he tips you over that peak, following suit with one hard thrust, coming deep inside you until he can’t handle the stimulation any longer, pulling out with a weak groan.

The air is thick and tense, but Eddie helps you up carefully, slipping your underwear back into your palm. You stare at the fabric, balling it up in your hands briefly before making a sudden decision, reaching for his own hand and shoving them back at him, his pants still hanging unbuttoned around his waist.

“Keep them.” You shrug, smoothing out your skirt.

Eddie eyes you suspiciously, but pockets them nonetheless.

“This is never happening again, just so we’re clear.” You clarify. Eddie chuckles, not so sure. He can see the way your eyes linger on him, not fully believing yourself as you speak.

“I’m offended that you think I care that much, sweetheart.” Eddie replies back just as meanly, also lying to himself.

“Close your goddamn window from now on.”

“Not a chance.” Eddie smirks.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[taylormarieee]

In my Feelings Luke Castellan

Summary: You find Luke talking to another girl and after taking action it backfires on you and now you might lose the love of your life...

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Fem!Aphrodite!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Angst, fire, arrows being shot, hair burned off, threats, Luke being a douche and terrible boyfriend, sad reader, humiliation, drama, anger, reader being a badass, that's all enjoy!

Previously:

He faced your body away from the door and shielded you with his body that way if Chiron came in, he wouldn't see you.

"I got my eyes on you my pretty girl. Won't let anything happen to you baby."

He finally drifted off to sleep letting his dreams flow like a river, a river full of love and happiness.

He finally had a peaceful and loving dream rather than a nightmare. And he was grateful you were the cause of his fantastic dream.

Now:

Three weeks later your walking around Camp half blood and it's cooler than normal. Maybe it rained and brought cool breeze but the sun was still shining.

You were walking towards archery as this will be the first time you go back ever since the "Incident". The incident where that boy came onto you and when your heard Luke confess his love for you offically.

You both were now in a happy relationship that's been going on for a month now and personally, you think it's the best thing in the world.

He's handsome, smart, very sneaky, and a total goofball, but he's your goofball and that's all that mattered to you.

As you were walking towards archery you saw Luke there and your face lit up and you started smiling, but that smile sooned dropped when you saw him with a girl. It wasn't just any girl, it was Candice.

She was a demigod child of demeter, she was also head counselor of Cabin 4. You didn't mess with her or get on her bad side because you didn't want poison ivy in your bed sheets or some type of flower to put you to sleep.

He was laughing with her and she was touching him and was too close for comfort, way to close for your liking anyway.

You felt a little hurt, he never liked Candice, he always hated the way she acted so prissy and stuck-up. Those stuff he told you were clearly lies if he's laughing with her and letting her touch him like that.

You stared at the both of them before Clarisse and Percy came up to you. You and Clarisse became closer friends and you helped her and percy settle their differences, there not friends but they tolerate each other.

"What's up? You look sad." Percy asks, his face contorting into one of worry. "Luke and Candice. At Archery. Look." You say in pieces not even able to say a proper sentence. They both look to where your pointing and see what you see.

You hear Percy sigh and you can feel Clarisse roll her eyes. "Candice was always a bitch anyway, and Luke was too good for you. Let's go, it's almost lunch." She says grabbing your arm to try and turn you away.

You stay in place and look at percy, he has an apple in his hand. "Hey can I borrow that for a second? Thanks." You say not waiting for his reply and snatching the apple from him.

You hear him protest in the distance but just walk closer to the two. "Hey Candice!" you shout not even acknowledging Luke, you were pissed now, but you didn't wanna show it.

A couple of other campers were aware of your presence and were nosy enough to want to see what was happening.

"Oh, hi! What's up!?" She shouts but as you get closer, your nice facade drops. "Hold this apple and put it on your head and stay fucking still, got it?" You demand before finishing off your sentence with a charming smile.

Clarisse and Percy give each other a knowing look and sit back and watch not even attempting to stop you.

Candice, looking like the confused girl she is puts the apple on her head anyway and stands still. You smile at a little girl before asking if you can borrow her bow and arrow.

You get in position and hold it out, but of course you wouldn't be you without a little flair. "Light it up please." you ask politely. Candices smile drops and she gets scared.

Someone rushes over and lights the tip of the arrow on fire and you smile and thank them. "uh I didn't sign up for this." Candice says moving a bit. "Didn't I tell you to stay fucking still? You signed up for this when you decided to flirt with my fucking boyfriend." You snap back.

You ready the arrow and release it causing it to hit the apple but what you didn't expect was for the fire to burn some of candices hair in the back. Luckily Luke put it out with some water. She screamed and stormed off before looking at you one last time.

'She had it coming.' you thought. You looked at Luke, rolled your eyes and walked off before he could even chase you. You walk up to Percy and Clarisse and wrap your arms around them, "Anyone hungry?" You say with a smirk on your face. You and Clarisse laugh and Percy smiles.

It was a couple hours after the incident and Chiron decided to make an example out of you, in front of everyone.

"Y/N Y/L/N and CANDICE CAPONE! Come up here now!" He yelled, silencing everyone and making all their heads turn towards you and Candice. Your eyes darted around before they fall on Luke.

You were still angry but that anger would soon turn to sadness. You looked at Clarisse and then Percy and the Annabeth and lastly, Grover. You smiled at all of them as they had worried expressions because they've never seen Chiron so mad.

You walked up and Candice stood on the other side of Chiron. You two stop in front of each other but looked at Chiron. "You, y/n y/l/n did something extremely unexceptable. You shot an arrow at a fellow demigods head and burned her hair. Do you have anything to say for yourself?" He asked

"Yes, yes I do. Candice Capone, I'm extremely sorry for what I did. It was not nice and completely unfair to you. I shouldn't have done it, but I didn't think that was going to happen. So for that I'm sorry. Do you accept my apology so we can put this shit- sorry, this situation behind us?" You said.

You didn't actually mean it but you had to make it sound believable before you get stuck on horse duty for the rest of the week, month even. She stared at you for a few minutes not saying anything.

At that point you got tired of standing up there and was ready to sit down. "I accept your apology but I do have one thing to say to you. That's exactly why Luke doesn't even like you anyway."

The whole room gasps. Everyone literally knows you and Luke are the IT couple, you guys were perfect and everyone kew how much Luke loved you, or so they thought.

"He is so sick of you and your constant complaining, your random outbursts and just the way you always bother him with wanting to do cutesy stuff together. He said your annoying and he wants you off his back." She says with the evilest smirk on her face.

You were on the brink of tears. "That's all, but I do accept your apology because now we're even, you embarrassed me, I embarrassed you." She says before walking away to go sit down.

You stood there in complete shock. You know you shouldn't have believed it but lately the signs were coming back to you. Luke had an attitude with you yesterday because he was tired and you wanted to go swimming, you ended up going with Percy and Annabeth, and Clarisse tagged along for the fun of it.

You watched as everybody looked at you. Your eyes were dark and your expression emotionless. "Hey Candice, when your hairs all gone tomorrow and you can't grow it back, I'm gonna see whos embarrassed now. Watch your back." You threaten.

Her smile drops and you try so hard not to grab something to throw at her fucking face. You loom at Luke and that's when the tears come down. 'Don't cry, Don't cry, Don't. Fucking. Cry.' It repeats over and over again in your head but it's not working.

One tear falls and then you run off before anyone can say anything. You didn't wanna be in your feelings because then you would go into this isolation where you avoided help and avoided everyone.

You hated this and god why'd you have to be such a cry baby. You hated when you got in your feelings.

Why couldn't Luke just say something. ANYTHING! He just sat there, didn't even try to come after me and comfort me and tell me it's all a lie. Instead he sits there like a fucking jakcass and does nothing.

You wanted to drown, get struck by lighting, died in a war full of men or maybe just died in your sleep. Anything is better than this feeling. Anything is better than being in your feelings.

Slowly drowning in a pool you can't get out of. Stuck in a time loop of constant nightmares that fuel your overthinking and negatively shut you down physically and mentally.

'If only there was a way to get out. If only I could stop being in my feelings.' you thought...

Taglist: @elaratckker @lizziesfirstwife @angelicdanvers @prettyinsatiable @angelinajolie0213 @maryann2013 @kneehe-nehar7 @rhydianissuperior @urmomsbananabread @reader-bookling123 @istillremberthefirstfallofsnow @csifandom @repostingmyfavs @leo-lvr @glorywielder101 @aanoia @madelainelupin16 @ahh-chickens @callsignwidow @murdrdocs @bright-molina

A/N: i'M SORRY THIS ONE IS SO DEPRESSING STOPPPP! dw though they'll have their happy ending and their happily ever after in the last and final chapter! Love you guys and thanks so much for the support! MWAH💋

~COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE NEVER ASKED FOR BUT MUCH APPRECIATED~

[bloodyshadow1]

Adaine's Furious Fists part 1

Or

Porter takes Adaine under his wing au Day 1

Just a quick story/summary of how things would go if Porter took Adaine under his wing throughout the series. I made a post about how she is the perfect candidate for him with her anger throughout the series and this happened on a whim. Adaine and Porter actually could have had a really interesting story given how their lives actually intertwine a lot if you think about it. So Regardless, read this if you want, I just thought it might be a fun idea.

First day of freshman year porter is scoping out potential prospects in the courtyard not coming up with much.

Puts a maybe down for fabian, he seems more like a grandstander, but he did punch a kid bigger than him without provocation. Still more ropey than strong, but there are dexy barbarians. Gorgug is a likely candidate, he seems soft, but was able to go into a rage and pummel his attacker, Porter could work with that if he had to. But the metal flower and the singing ticks Porter off. Riz is a low maybe to a no, kids being bullied on the first day are usually a good source of rage, but the goblin kid just seems to take it. Fig he doesn't have a chance to see since she sneaks into the teacher's lounge so early. Kirsten is a hard no, religious trauma can bring out a lot of sweet rage, but with Daybreak breathing down her neck it would be hard to get close to her without alerting suspicion. Adaine is a hard no. A tiny trembling high elf wizard with a huge orb she could barely carry, wearing the uniform of the prissy magic school? No way, no how, Porter doesn't even bother to learn her name.

Later that day he sees Adaine have a panic attack over being given detention and he writes her off even harder because it's pathetic. But seeing Fig stand up for her, she's not the ideal barbarian, but she is a young tiefling girl full of rage and Porter see's his opportunity.

Even later he's called to the cafeteria and sees Doreen, Arthur, and Mr. Gibbons dead with corn everywhere. Goldenhorde explains vaguely what happened and tells them to watch. It would be a horrific scene for a bunch of freshman, but Porter has seen and done worse. Still, he doesn't want to talk to Jace right now. The guy is powerful, but too much of a talker for Porter's liking. He knows some of the kids died and were brought back, that's why Arthur and Mr. Gibbons are dead, but little else. He does notice that Doreen's skull is caved in. He thinks of what little he knows about the kids, of the maybes, only fig has a weapon that deals bludgeoning damage so he assumes it was her and now intends to take her under his wing now that she got her first kill.

Once the cops come, he and Jace leave, Porter goes to observe the kids. They all seems broken and beaten, and about to be sick, not surprising. Porter doesn't have any sympathy for them, but he does understand so it's not enough to write any of them off. They're clean enough but the blood on your hands doesn't wash out as easily.

Porter is intent on Fig, because he thinks she's the one who killed Doreen. When Sandra Lynn comes to pick her up he notices that she's an elf, and Fig was dropped off at school by a different elf, yet their daughter's a tiefling. That might explain why she's so angry the first day since she seems like a newly presenting tiefling. Trouble at home can be juicy, especially when fell blood is involved.

Last to leave is the pathetic little high elf girl, you could use her spine like a meter stick with how straight the girl is standing. Porter can understand being sick or scared after your first battle, but he feels like he's within his rights to mock this little elf girl when no one else is around. He has enough of stuck up high elves to deal with as it is, it's good to see them scared.

But speak of the devil, Arianwen fucking Abernant shows up to pick her daughter up and clearly doesn't want to be seen at Aguefort of all places. Porter knows Arianwen and hates her, she's another teacher and their town only has two so they're bound to run into each other from time to time. They're also technically allies through the Shadowcat, who Arianwen is the main liaison. They don't work together exactly, but there's no reason they all can't exchange favors when working on their own evil plans. Arianwen is a cold, stuck up bitch, but she's a powerful stuck up bitch.

The fact that she's hear means the little elf girl is her daughter, now Porter actually feels a bit sorry for the child. It's one thing to be scared after your first battle when you watched people, including your..., 'friends,' might be to early for that since it's the first day, but people your own age die. It's another to be forced to deal with Arianwen afterwards. Porter still finds it pathetic, but is more lenient since he knows what Arianwen is like, especially if the girl is here instead of at the magic school her mother teaches at. that explains the uniform at least.

Then something happens he's too far away to hear, but Arianwen says something to her, likely to berate her. Porter expects the little elf girl to flinch and cower, but to his surprise, she snaps back at her mother despite her fear. It's not much, but despite how afraid she looked only moments ago Porter can see the fury in her eyes when she snaps back at her mother and it's something that Porter wants to see more of.

Later on Goldenhorde/Kalvaxus is given the faculty the full rundown of what happened. Porter knows more than most of his fellow teachers, but when Kalvaxus mentions Doreen being killed he talks about how she was bludgeoned to death by her own ladle. Not Fig's bass like Porter assumed. One of the other members of the faculty, one of the casters that Porter didn't bother to learn the name of, asks which of the kids did it.

Goldenhorde says it was Adaine, for a moment Porter almost asks 'who the fuck is that' out loud. Since he didn't really learn the names of most of them yet. But Tiberia Runestaff, another frigid wizard bitch, chimes in as always 'Adaine Abernant beat Doreen to death with her own ladle? The girl is ten pounds soaking wet and a wizard, why did she use a ladle" clearly angry that one of her wizards would pop their kill cherry with a martial weapon instead of her arcane abilities, but Porter doesn't care.

Learning that Arianwen's daughter was the one who murdered Doreen, and with a ladle is interesting. And moves Adaine from a hard no to a solid maybe in his rage book.

Part 2

[inoreuct]

i just got a brainwave. ZOSAN DANCER AU.

zoro mainly does hip hop, sanji mostly does ballet, they’re both attending this prestigious dance academy; zoro’s a scholarship student and he thinks sanji’s an absolute fucking snob. he can’t stand the prissy rich boy three studios down, golden with all the money from his royal background— he’s a vinsmoke. he’s a prince. it’s right there on the student name list, clear as day.

he’s only seen sanji from afar and yeah, sure, maybe he shouldn’t be so quick to judge but the blond infuriates him with his stupid hair flips and his heart eyes and his mirror-hogging and the way he kneels down to retie the girls’ pointe shoe ribbons for them so that they don’t have to. he’s tall and willowy and strong and fucking talented and every time zoro sees him he wants to kick a hole through the drywall.

now, zoro doesn’t really practice in school often. he enjoys lessons well enough, but he and his crew dance their best in the streets. so when he signs up for a practice slot the one time and gets there (already fifteen minutes late, mind you) just to realise there’s a very familiar annoyance in his studio? he’s pissed. he slams the door open right as sanji executes a spinny jump thing that reaches a frankly ridiculous height, sinking to one knee with his head thrown back, the air ringing after the music’s final crescendo.

zoro doesn’t give a shit. he’s tired and hungry and needs to get his fucking step sequence clean before next week’s dance battle, and thus opens his mouth and shatters right through the thick quiet as he barks, “vinsmoke!”

and he doesn’t know why, but sanji’s gaze flicks to him and he freezes in place. the blond’s expression, just moments ago composed and focused, is dripping with something that zoro can’t quite name, but he has to stop himself from gulping when sanji gets up and beelines straight for him, jabbing a manicured finger right into his sternum without reserve.

“don’t. fucking. call me that,” the blond grits, damn near seething, jaw so tense zoro’s honestly afraid he’ll crack a tooth and it’s almost funny, but he suspects that he really did cross some sort of line, and he might be rough around the edges but he isn’t an ass.

“okay, i’m sorry,” he offers, cautious, hands up in the air. the words taste weird in his mouth, but sanji looks slightly less livid so he counts it as a win. “what do i call you, then?”

the other man looks torn between kicking zoro soundly in the shin (which zoro can already tell would hurt like a bitch) and storming out of the studio, but he huffs loudly and turns away. “black. sanji black.”

zoro hums carefully and slowly inches his way to the corner of the room, setting his duffel down much gentler than he normally does. he should really leave this alone. he has a solo he needs to practice for and dinner to catch after. so what if sanji renounced his supposedly royal last name? it didn't make him any better than every other stuck-up dancer with a superiority complex.

(he decidedly doesn’t leave it alone, because this is the first time that he’s seen cracks in the blond’s porcelain-doll facade, and he can’t help but want to dig his fingertips in and pry. he’s never claimed to have a sense of self-preservation.)

“so…” he starts, facing the barre that he’ll never use and watching sanji through the mirror. “your parents—”

“not my parents, i’m estranged,” sanji cuts in, blunt and terse, emotionless to the point where zoro knows he cares much, much more like he wants to seem like he does.

he watches sanji sit in the middle of the wooden floor and fiddle with the elastics on his weird sock shoe hybrids, going into splits with no apparent effort and pressing his torso flat to the ground. a bright blue eye meets his and zoro looks away sharply, yanking on the zipper of his duffel and grabbing his snapback to pop the closures just to look busy.

…god, fuck, zoro wants to ask so bad. estranged. that word is rapidly reshuffling his worldview regarding the man currently yanking off his knitted leg warmers behind him and tossing them to the side. he wants to know how much of all of it is real; the money, the rumours, the gleaming reputation that surrounds sanji like a shield. he’s their academy’s golden boy and a shoo-in for the principal position at its sister ballet company, once he graduates. zoro had thought of him as an absolute primadonna— put bluntly, a pompous brat. a classic silver spoon child. but even just sitting here and stewing in his thoughts, the ability to cling onto the image he’d admittedly half made up in his head is rapidly slipping away from him.

it’s painfully obvious that sanji can talk the talk and walk the walk. jump the jump? “hey, what was that spinny jump thing you did just now?” jesus christ. zoro winces; his voice is so loud against the silence that he nearly puts his head in his hands.

“mm?” sanji’s voice isn’t even strained as he sits up from where he’d had his face pressed to his knees, forearms around his feet. how a person could even fold that far forward, zoro would never understand.

“the— the jump thing. when i came in.”

“oh, the double entrelacé?”

zoro squints. “the fuck kind of name is ontrolassay?”

“it means interlace in french, you—” the blond seems to struggle with choosing an insult before he finally lands on, “—goonhead. although i wouldn’t expect you to be able to appreciate it.”

the KT tape on zoro’s calf rolls back at the edge as he rubs over it absentmindedly, and he quickly stops. that shit isn’t cheap. but he’s more concerned about why he'd been doing it in the first place, because he only does that when he thinks, and zoro has enough self-awareness to know that when he thinks too hard it usually doesn’t end well. he’s all instinct— and something in the back of his mind is telling him that sanji is tired.

the blond isn’t just a pretty boy with no bite, that much is obvious. but now, with the sky dark outside the full-length windows and the air still and silent, it’s easier for him to see the weariness that sanji hides with all his fawning and flirting and smiles. he eyes the other man in his peripheral and clocks it settled bone-deep in the weight of sanji’s eyelids, the parting of his hair, the curve of his back.

he turns around properly to look at sanji over his shoulder and thinks, ah, fuck it. he’d been late to begin with and he’s spent so long here fiddling with his fucking hat under the guise of doing something important that half of his hour-long slot is gone, anyway. “the crew and i are going for pizza. come with.” a smirk pulls at his mouth as he cocks his head. “or are you gonna die if you eat something other than rabbit food?”

the blond looks up with an arched brow and a scowl. “you fucking wish,” sanji scoffs, but after a moment he gets up and starts tossing things into his bag. “it better be makino’s. arlong’s pizza dough tastes like sardines no matter what you get.”

zoro would have been impressed if sanji knew any neighbourhood pizza places to begin with, but this sounds like he has experience. “of course it’s makino’s, curly. we have standards.”

“i wouldn’t have known,” sanji sniffs delicately. “and curly?”

“yeah.” zoro shrugs, the strap of his bag digging in over his baggy tee as he stands. “your hair, your brows, your spinny jump thing—”

“double entrelacé.”

zoro makes a like i said gesture with his hands, grinning broadly. “spinny jump thing.”

sanji sighs as he tosses his hair out of his face. zoro gets a glimpse of two sapphire eyes, blue as the heart of a flame. “you’re a barbarian.” the blond shoulders him aside and snaps the lights off, pulling the door shut as he fishes out the keys. “and you’re buying.”

zoro hums non-committally and deliberately neglects to mention that makino’s fond of both luffy, his best friend, and luffy’s godfather shanks— which means that the whole crew basically eats free on late weekdays like these. on a side note, shanks has a thing with his own dad, mihawk, but they refuse to admit it. it’s infuriating. maybe he’ll rope sanji into helping to get them together before christmas because he has a bet running with nami and it is not looking good for him.

they walk out into the brisk night air as he flips his snapback onto his head, picking up the pace when he sees sanji shiver. “i drove, c’mon.”

“oh, you’ve been driving,” sanji says airily, raising his brows again as he digs around in his well-loved canvas bag for his cardigan. it’s pink and it’s cashmere, because of course it is. “driving me crazy.”

zoro doesn’t even realise he laughs until after it’s left his mouth and sanji is looking at him with wide eyes, blue, blue and more blue. he clears his throat. “let’s hope i don’t crash, then. did i mention i’m half blind on the left side?”

he cackles as sanji squawks at that, half-terrified and disbelieving, and on the way to makino’s he explains how he’d gotten into a scooter accident with luffy as a kid. (“of course you did,” sanji mutters, rolling his eyes. there’s no malice to it.) his crew’s already waiting for him when they arrive; to his dismay (or is it?), sanji hits it off with them marvellously.

zoro finds out that sanji’s biological family is royal, sure. royal assholes. sanji had run away one day and the bastards hadn’t done a damn thing to make sure he was alright, which, he supposes, made sense considering sanji had literally run away. (he isn't given a reason. he doesn't push.) and yet vinsmoke judge still refuses to let sanji change his name, which means that sanji’s father zeff had never been able to legally adopt him. he pays his own school fees working at zeff’s restaurant; not as a waiter but as a chef, and at this point zoro resigns himself to seeing this guy around a lot more because luffy’s already vibrating with excitement and in this friend group, luffy somehow always gets what he wants. sanji’s in it for the long haul now.

but it doesn’t seem like such a horrible thing anymore. zoro almost feels bad for thinking that sanji had been some kind of spoiled brat the whole time, and isn’t that something? the blond is quick to laugh and hardworking and snarky and proud, yes, but it’s deserved solely based on how much he’s trained to get to where he is— he’s damn good and he knows it, and zoro can appreciate that.

(he takes that last bit and shoves it into a box that he locks up tight and buries deep, deep down. he will Not be thinking about that tonight.)

he’s impressed all over again as he watches the sanji inhale an entire four cheese pizza and five garlic knots to boot, and he laughs when the blond gives him a petulant glare.

“fuck off, marimo, i’ve been training all day. m’fucking starving,” he groans through another mouthful of garlic and cheese, elegantly hiding his mouth behind his hand.

oh, hell no. “marimo?” zoro deadpans. “really?”

“not inaccurate,” nami hums from beside him, and he nearly smacks his forehead to the table. he cannot let these two get along. that would be the beginning of his own personal hell.

it’s too late. “small and green and fluffy,” sanji coos, faux-condescending as he reaches out to pet zoro on the head, and zoro snaps his teeth at slender fingers. he listens to sanji meld effortlessly into his friend group and wonders just what he's gotten himself into.

(there is warmth blooming between his ribs. he knows it will grow no matter what he does.)

they get closer as the weeks go by. zoro learns that sanji hates oregano with more vitriol than should be possible towards a herb. he learns the blond’s favourite brand of dance shoes (he knows that they’re suede slippers now, considering he got beaten over the head with them). he learns that sanji’s left arm never healed completely right from where his oldest brother snapped it when they were children, and he has to dig his nails into his palm so that he doesn’t punch something. sanji drags him into an empty studio one day and tells him to lift his leg as high as he can, which devolves into a stretching session that zoro is more inclined to call torture. sanji is adamant that having at least some degree of flexibility will help him dance more fluidly and loosen up his muscles. zoro tells him to eat shit.

(he goes home, and stretches, and he’s mad as hell because sanji’s right.)

the whole crew goes to the ballet course’s end-of-semester recital and nearly gets kicked out with how loudly they scream when sanji finishes his presentation. zoro throws a rose along with everyone else and pretends that he doesn’t.

(sanji pretends that he doesn’t find the exact one zoro tossed and press it to his nose as he sits in the dressing room backstage, his classmates bustling around him not enough to break his bubble of makeup mirror lighting and silky red petals and the memory of keen grey eyes, watching from the darkness of the audience seats.)

(zoro had been the first one to stand when he’d bowed. he’d cheered the loudest. sanji saw him. sanji heard him.)

zoro doesn't realise how much he talks about sanji until his sister threatens to peel the skin off his face if you don't ask him to come watch nationals, zoro, i swear to all that is unholy— and he shudders. perona is... terrifying. he also loves her terrifyingly much, but that won't stop her from peeling his face off, so he drops sanji a text with the details of the national finals of the dance battle that he was supposed to be training for that fateful day. he's too chickenshit to do anything else. too much of a coward to ask him face-to-face.

they win. their friends and family flood the stage. zoro looks for one face only. he feels a hand on his shoulder, whips around with his heart pounding and oh, he's here. radiant under the stadium lights, hair gleaming like brazened honey, eyes bluer than the sky and his smile even brighter. zoro opens his mouth to say something. anything.

sanji crashes into his arms and kisses him, and he feels like the fucking king of the world.

(the wolf-whistles only register when he realises sanji's legs are wrapped around his hips, his hands beneath strong thighs, but sanji is flushed so brilliantly pink and he looks so happy that zoro doesn't even care. luffy's elbow loops around his neck, nami crashing into his back, usopp coming in fast from the right, and sanji wiggles down to slide his arms around zoro's waist and tuck right up against his side. the trophy shines in his fist as he raises it high above the crowd and his nakama press in tight around him, and zoro screams and cheers with them until his throat goes hoarse.)

(mihawk and shanks get together three days later. sanji and zoro split the money nami begrudgingly forks over and then buy the whole crew pizza.)

[sangyeonsmuse]

FILL THE VOID | Day 13

PAIRING guitarists WooSan x reader

WORD COUNT | 1.8K

GENRE Smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ‼️ use of the word slut, oral , vaginal, anal teasing. Dom San , Soft Dom Wooyoung, mouth fucking, degradation

SUMMARY Sans grown a little too tired of how mouthy you are, So he and Wooyoung decide its about time you learned your place in the band.

MORE | Day 13 of the Groupie Love Series

Since joining the band you wouldn’t say that things were going completely smoothly. Since the moment you joined you and San had been at one another’s throats which the rest of the band found absolutely amusing especially Jung Woououng. Wooyoung had never seen anyone get San as pissed off as you would get him. While wooyoung loved how mouthy and bratty you would act at times, San hated it, and anytime you spoke all he wanted to do was put you in your place. Your little prissy spoiled attitude completely pissed San off. Tonight was the night he just about had enough of your mouth.

You had just come back from the afterparty of a friend of the band and you were completely drunk off your ass. After you having spilled a drink on the dj in your drunken state, Wooyoung and San were forced to carry you out.

“Are you fucking kidding me, I thought you were watching her?”

“Well I was warning her and then I happened to not be.”

“Wooyoung are you fucking serious? If you were going to bring us someone to join the group at least find us someone that knows how to be a grown fucking adult.”

“Oh fuck off, you’re always bitching about something.” You spoke up from your place on the couch, getting up you slowly make your way over to Wooyoung and sit on his lap, something you had usually done since the two of you were quite comfortable with each other now. His hands immediately rested on your waist, rubbing your sides reflexively.

“Oooho hear that Sannie, princess thinks you’re always bitching.” Wooyoung found the whole situation amusing as always, San on the other hand was not amused.

“Well princess have you ever taken a moment to realize i wouldn’t be bitching if you weren’t such a spoiled fucking princess that cant even think for herself.” He responds leaning in close finally shutting you up over and for all

“Lets not forget why you’re here sweetheart, prissy little nepo baby that got cut off by her parents. Remember you work for us sweetheart, you may be part of the band but you can be dropped at any moment. Then what will you do sweetheart hm?” He swipes his thumb over your lips and Wooyoungs grip on your waist suddenly falls down to your hips.

“Can’t do anything without us sweetheart can you? You’re so dependent on others now that you dont have mommy and daddys money to fall back on. Hell you can’t even think for yourself without asking Wooyoung or your best friend for some sort of approval.”

“I think you hurt her feelings Sannie she has nothing to say now.” Wooyoung chuckles, his fingers gently brushing over your neck.

“Did he upset you sweetheart hm?” Wooyoung places a soft kiss on your neck sending a shiver down your spine.

Between Wooyoungs kisses and Sans words you were completely stuck. San was absolutely correct, and it made you hate him more. For the first time in your life you were alone, you had to make your own money, your own decisions. You had never had to work for money or earn your parents approval like now. You hated it, you hated having to think for yourself, you hated that things weren’t coming as easy to you. So yes you fell dependent on them, dependent on them to tell you what to do, how to act, at this point you didn’t just need their approval you needed them to have complete control over your life so that you wouldn’t have to worry about a damn thing.

“Fuck you.” Was all you said as you looked into Sans eyes and he simply laughs in response. He could tell he struck a nerve.

“Aww you hear that she wants you to fuck her.”

“Jung Wooyoung Shut the fuck up.” San simply laughs at how quick the tables have turned and you’re now cursing out Wooyoung. Wooyoung immediately grabs your face and forces you to look at him.

“I think its time she learns how to speak to people Sannie.”

“I say she’ll end up bottoming out and having to use her hands.” Wooyoung chuckles as San who was now standing in front of you with a fistfull of your hair in his hands . They spoke about this like it was some kind of game for them. Like they found amusement in using you and humiliating you and you hated that it worked in getting you worked up. You hated that part of you had been wanting this, for them to fill that empty void you felt in yourself after realizing you had nothing to offer to the world. If it weren’t for your parents, your musical talent wouldn’t have even gotten you this far. Maybe the two of them could fill that emptiness inside you and make you feel useful.

“I can take it.” You finally speak up, earning an amused look from both Wooyoung and San. Wooyoung's little sweet and gentle act had gone away immediately. While san now stood towering over you you could feel the way Wooyoung was pressing your ass up against his bulge.

“Well look she finally knows how to speak again hm? Won’t speak to defend herself but wants to speak when it comes to getting used like some pathetic slut.” San brushes his thumb over your cheek

“I bet she’ll be a good girl for us now right sweetheart?” Wooyoung looks at you and flashes that heartwarming smile of his as you give him a nod. He gently caresses your thigh. Compared to the San he was a lot more calm and gentle but surely that wouldn’t last.

“Go ahead and Look at San Princess.” Wooyoung demands and San immediately lifts your head forcing you to stare into his eyes to distract from the pain of Wooyoung stretching you out.

“So when it comes to taking dick she listens so well, but can't follow simple instructions?” San chuckles and shoves his fingers into your mouth to make you quiet down while Wooyoung completely bottoms out inside you.

As your eyes remained locked on Sand , Wooyoung took advantage of the moment and lifted you up before slamming you back down onto his cock. When the pain subsided the way he stretched you out and the lewd sounds that spilled from his lips upon you clenching around him made it feel like heaven.

“Holy fuck.” Wooyoungs head immediately fell back onto the couch and his nails dug into the skin on your waist as he adjusted to how tight you were.

“If you keep clenching like this I’ll cum quickly.” He breathes out earning a snicker from San.

“Open up Sweetheart.”San demands before pulling his fingers from your lips. He loved the way your sweet eyes gazed into his like you were ready for him. As your mouth hangs open he smiles and immediately shoves in his entire cock down your throat, completely bottoming out.

out.

“Maybe this is what you meant for sweetheart, being a needy little toy.” He growls, his head falling back as he takes in the feeling of your mouth around him. Grinding his hips against your face as Wooyoung finally starts to move fucking into your cunt from his seat on the couch beneath you. He then forces his fingers between your folds. He releases a moan at how easily he's able to bury his fingers into your soft cunt. The squelching sounds immediately earn a groan from each of them.

You took Sans thrusts so easily, eyes trained on him above you as you begin to suck, one hand on his thigh to keep yourself still and the other on your breasts. Falling into the rhythm was surprisingly easy and felt very fucking natural with the two of them. You were quite occupied on all ends with Wooyoung fucking up into you, one of his thumb’s rubbing over your asshole as if threatening to push it in. You were feeling overwhelming pleasure on all ends, you bounced against Wooyoungs thrusts, forcing you to take San further down your throat each time. This was your opportunity to show both men you were worthy of them being chosen by Wooyoung.

While San and Wooyoung seemed to be lost in the sensation of both your holes.You on the other hand, you were a moaning mess, fingers digging into Sans thigh as he fists your hair and fucks your throat. The slurping and gagging noises that spilled past you lips were enough to make him cum right then and there, but he didn’t, he just kept fucking your pretty lips as if he were trying to permanently shut you up.

“You’ll be responsible for taking care of her throat after this jackass, she's our lead singer.” Wooyoung grunts out as he watches you gag and choke on his close friend's cock.

“Should have thought of that before she got mouthy” Following his words San forces the rest of his dick down your throat earning a cry from you as you feel the head of his cock excessively abuse your throat.

It was starting to become too much for your body to handle for your first time and your body jerked Wooyoung's lap earning a soft coo from the latter.

“Looks like sweethearts ready to cum already.” He grunts as he uses the one hand placed on your hip to make you bounce in his lap.

You were basically Squirming in his Wooyoung's lap now, overstimulating now, setting in as he mercilessly drilled into you until you felt him twitch against your walls. Wooyoung was no longer being gentle and San was now rocking his hips, fucking your mouth and muffling every moan that threatened to escape your mouth. You simply whimpered pathetically, clawing at his thigh, clenching around Wooyoung, it pulled a grunt from him, he pulled you down harder onto him forcing a cry from your mouth which was swallowed up by Sans cock.

“Shit!”

Without any warning san forces himself to reach the back of your throat as he finishes in your mouth. Shooting his load into the depths of your throat, while Wooyoung panted and moaned behind you. You squeezed your thighs together and he let out a choked moan, thrusting harder, you moved your hips so he was grinding against you as he thrust, bumping against your from behind.

He paused his thrusting, one hand came down to under your thigh, pulled your leg up to your chest. As he speeds up his pace the sound of skin on skin grows loud throughout the tour bus and as if on cue both of you cum in unison. Your head falls back onto Wooyoung's shoulder as you struggle to catch your breath.

[writingrock]

the tale of two lovers [2]

pairing: barbarian! katsuki bakugou x reader (female) summary: a bard approaches a lone barbarian in search for a story to tell. Who could have known that the barbarian end up being such a romantic tale.

notes: fantasy au, fluff, strangers to lovers, slow burn, bakusquad, barbarian bakugou, mentions of injuries, expletives

word count: 8.9k

part list

part one: chapter list

a/n: part two is here! Feeding time !! I love it when they hate each other >:)

Bakugou was annoying. That was the one word you’d use to describe him— though it hardly seemed enough to capture the sheer exasperation he stirred in you. The journey to Niniel’s Veil should have been the easy part, a straightforward trek across familiar terrain before delving into the real danger that awaited in the Veil’s depths. The path was well-charted, the landscape mostly predictable, and you had the map etched into your memory. By all accounts, this leg of the journey should have been smooth sailing, the calm before the storm. But Bakugou knew exactly how to rile you up, turning even the simplest task into a battle of wills.

“We're moving too slow!” Bakugou’s voice, sharp and demanding, cut through the quiet morning air. “If we keep dragging our feet, we’ll take weeks to get to Niniel’s Veil.”

“The risk is going through ogre territory,” you replied, trying to keep your voice even. “We do not want to use our resources on a big fight like that.”

“Karshoj Arnahk.” Bakugou spat the words, frustration etched in every syllable. You knew enough Draconic to recognize it as an expletive, something along the lines of “for fuck sake.” He was losing patience. He didn’t have time to argue with some prissy mapmaker. “We can take them and get to Niniel’s Veil quicker.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, the map in your hand crinkling slightly. “Or we could avoid them entirely and save ourselves the trouble. Not every fight needs to be fought, especially when there’s a safer way around!”

It didn’t help that he was constantly questioning your decisions, his deep voice laced with scepticism every time you suggested a route that didn’t involve charging headlong into danger. You could see the distaste in his eyes when you advocated for the safer, slower path, as if he considered it a personal affront to his abilities. It was infuriating. Here you were, with years of experience under your belt, and this hot-headed barbarian had the audacity to second-guess you at every turn.

The two of you stood at a crossroads— literally and figuratively— each staring the other down with a mixture of stubbornness and conviction that crackled in the air like a brewing storm. Your gazes locked, neither willing to concede an inch, the tension between you palpable. The rest of the group lingered a few paces back, caught between amusement at the spectacle and concern over what it might mean for the journey ahead. You could sense their unease, their nervous glances exchanged behind your backs, but no one dared to intervene. They knew better than to step into the middle of a clash between two such strong-willed personalities, especially when both of you seemed determined to win this battle of wills.

Kirishima shifted his weight, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “They’ve been at it all morning. Think we should step in?”

Denki shrugged, a small grin playing on his lips. “Eh, let ’em go at it. It’s kinda entertaining, don’t you think? I’ve never seen anyone stand up to Bakugou like that.”

“Yeah, but we’re not making any progress like this,” Sero added, glancing between you and Bakugou. “If they keep arguing, we’ll be stuck here all day.”

Kirishima frowned, his gaze flicking to Bakugou. “He’s just worried about time. You know how he is— always pushing forward, no matter what.”

“True, but our guide’s got a point,” Denki chimed in. “I’d rather not get into a brawl with ogres if we can avoid it. Those guys don’t mess around.”

Mina nodded, her eyes on you as you squared off with Bakugou. “I think they’ll figure it out. They’re both stubborn, but they’re not stupid. Hopefully.”

Bakugou’s voice broke through the murmur of the group, his frustration boiling over. “If you’re so scared of a fight, maybe you shouldn’t be leading us in the first place!”

You bristled at the insult, taking a step closer, your eyes narrowing. “Scared? I’m being practical! It’s called strategy, you dimwit. You don’t just charge in blindly and hope for the best.”

It's not that you were averse to fights— far from it. You understood the value of brute force, and there were times when a show of strength was exactly what the situation called for. But in your mind, there was always a safer, more calculated path to take. One that didn’t involve charging headfirst into danger or risking unnecessary harm. Brute force might solve problems quickly, but a well-thought-out strategy could avoid them altogether, or at the very least, mitigate the risks. 

For all his bluster, Bakugou wasn’t reckless— at least, not in the way you’d initially thought. He was driven, yes, and often too eager to prove himself, but there was a method to his madness. He wasn’t just charging into battle for the thrill of it; he was doing it because he believed it was the fastest, most efficient way to get the job done. And in his own twisted way, he was looking out for the group, even if his methods were more brute force than finesse.

Still, that didn’t make him any less annoying.

“Strategy?” He scoffed, crossing his arms in a mirror of your own stance. “Your ‘strategy’ is to waste time and avoid every challenge we come across. Our progress is at snail pace.”

“This is about being smart,” you snapped back. “It’s about surviving long enough to get to Niniel’s Veil in one piece. Or do you plan on dragging a half-dead group through the forest because you couldn’t wait a few hours to go around?”

“But I guess that’s asking too much from someone who thinks brute force solves everything.”

Bakugou’s eyes flashed with anger, but there was something else there too—something like shock, buried deep beneath his stubbornness. He wasn’t used to being questioned like this, especially not by someone he barely knew. But you weren’t backing down, and that seemed to catch him off guard.

“You think you know everything because you’ve got a map and a compass,” Bakugou growled, stepping closer. “But out here, it’s not just about what you know. It’s about what you can do. And what I can do is get us to that Veil faster than your slow, ‘safe’ route.”

You met his gaze head-on, refusing to be intimidated. “And what I can do is make sure we get there without losing anyone along the way. If you’d stop being so damn reckless for five minutes, you might see that.”

The tension between you crackled like a live wire, each of you daring the other to back down. Yet neither of you flinched, standing your ground with unwavering resolve. It was a standoff, a stubborn battle of wills where neither of you was willing to give an inch. Neither of you would ever move.

Finally, Bakugou huffed, breaking the silence. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice low but still laced with irritation. “We’ll do it your way. But if we get ambushed because of this detour, it’s on you.”

You let out a slow breath, relief mixing with the lingering frustration. “Deal. But if we avoid a fight, you owe me an apology.”

Bakugou snorted, turning on his heel as he started down the path you had pointed out. “Tch. Don’t hold your breath.”

"Bastard," you muttered under your breath as you walked with the group. You made sure the insult was just loud enough for him to hear. As you passed by Bakugou, you deliberately bumped his shoulder, a subtle but unmistakable show of defiance.

As you walked past Bakugou, muttering the insult under your breath, he stiffened, his jaw tightening. The faintest twitch in his shoulder betrayed his irritation, and he shot you a sharp, sidelong glare. Despite his attempt to maintain his composure, the anger simmering just beneath the surface was unmistakable, his fists clenching at his sides as he fought to keep his temper in check.

Denki and Sero exchanged glances, both grinning now as they walked behind you. “I think they’re gonna get along just fine,” Sero whispered.

“Or kill each other trying,” Denki added with a laugh.

Bakugou marched forward with determined strides, his shoulder colliding with yours in a harsh, deliberate bump. The force of it nearly threw you off balance, but you quickly steadied yourself, glaring at his back as he put himself slightly ahead of you. He didn't even glance back, his focus fixed on the path ahead as if daring you to react. You rolled your eyes, the irritation bubbling up as you let out a scoff, but you held your tongue. It wasn’t worth it— at least, not right now. 

Still, the tension between you crackled in the air, a silent reminder of how easily the two of you clashed. 

But as you watched Bakugou’s back, still bristling with barely-contained energy, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be the last time the two of you butted heads. And while it was exhausting, a part of you couldn’t help but admire the fire in him. Even if the fire gave you the urge to strangle him. 

But for now, as the group continued on the safer path, you found a small measure of satisfaction in knowing that you’d held your ground. And if Bakugou had to learn that not every fight could be won with brute force, well… you’d be more than happy to teach him. And rub it in his face. But as far as you were concerned, you doubted that he’d let you teach him anything. In the end, the group did not get ambushed. And Bakugou never apologised. 

You were insufferable. Bakugou couldn't stand you. Every word that came out of your mouth seemed designed to get under his skin, and it worked—too well. You challenged him at every turn, never backing down, never letting him have the last word. It was infuriating.

He could feel his blood pressure spike every time you smirked at him, that infuriatingly calm look on your face as if you knew exactly how to push his buttons. It wasn’t just your words, though they were bad enough. It was the way you matched him, blow for blow, never letting him dominate the conversation or the situation. You were always there, a thorn in his side, ready to counter his every move with some clever quip or an infuriatingly smug retort.

Bakugou often enjoyed insulting people in Draconic, relishing the way it let him vent his frustrations without anyone understanding a word he said. There was something undeniably satisfying about watching someone’s clueless expression as he spat venomous words right to their face, knowing they couldn’t decipher the meaning behind the growls and hisses of his native tongue.

But then there was you. Of all the people to cross his path, you just had to know Draconic. It grated on him that every time he let a curse slip, you not only understood but fired back with equal venom. It was as if you revelled in the challenge, matching him insult for insult, and sometimes even besting him at his own game. It drove him up the wall, especially when you threw insults at him in a language he couldn’t comprehend.

"Maurg wux gashtik," he hissed at you as the two of you walked side by side, leading the group down the winding road. His eyes gleamed with irritation, the insult dripping with venom. He was trying to get creative with his insults now, pushing to see if he could get under your skin. The group sighed at his insult, a familiar one they had heard more than a few times before. It was his go-to jab whenever his patience ran thin.

 

Without missing a beat, you shot back, “Syyulq iw haf'ry zmy aldh kyiwz voraflv, la zmilcw.” Your words were smooth and confident, dripping with the kind of sarcasm that only comes from knowing you’ve got the upper hand. You smirked as you finished, casting a sidelong glance at him, knowing full well that he had no idea what you’d just said. 

Mina, walking behind you, suddenly burst into laughter, clutching her sides as she tried to keep up with the group. In that moment, she was more than relieved that she could understand both Bakugou’s insult and yours. Silently thanking you for cursing back at him in infernal. Her laughter was contagious, and the others glanced around, curious about what was so funny. Bakugou's scowl deepened.

"What the hell did you just say?" he demanded, turning to you with a glare, clearly not pleased with being left out of the joke. He hated being in the dark, especially when it was at his expense.

You simply shrugged, feigning innocence. "Wouldn’t you like to know?" The teasing lilt in your voice only fueled his irritation.

Mina wiped away a tear, still giggling. "Oh, Bakugou, you don’t want to know," she teased, which only made him growl in frustration.

"I do want to know, dammit!" he snapped, his eyes narrowing. But neither of you gave him the satisfaction of an answer, continuing down the path as if nothing had happened.

Kirishima grinned, joining in on the fun. “Kats, I think you’ve met your match.”

Bakugou growled, his frustration mounting. It wasn’t just that you could keep up with him in Draconic—it was that you had the audacity to use another language entirely, one that left him in the dark. It was infuriating, and he hated how you seemed to enjoy pushing his buttons.

“You’re gonna regret that,” Bakugou muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you, as he tried to think up his next move in this strange verbal chess game the two of you had been playing since the journey began.

But for now, you had the upper hand, and the smirk on your face told him you knew it. The group continued their journey, the road ahead long and winding, but the air was lighter with the banter that lingered. 

It gnawed at him, the fact that he couldn’t just ignore you or dismiss you like everyone else who got on his nerves. You were too sharp, too quick, always two steps ahead, and it drove him mad. It was like you were put on this earth specifically to test his patience, to see just how far he could be pushed before he snapped.

Bakugou might have been annoyed, but a small part of him— buried deep beneath the frustration— couldn’t help but admire how you never let him have the upper hand for long. That, he thought grudgingly, was something he could almost respect. Even if it did grind his gears to no end. The journey to Niniel’s Veil was far from over, and the challenges ahead would test all of you in ways you couldn’t yet imagine. 

Maurg wux gashtik: Go fuck a beast. Syyulq iw haf'ry zmy aldh kyiwz voraflv, la zmilcw: Seeing as you’re the only beast around, no thanks. 

If the annoyance wasn’t enough, Bakugou didn’t trust you either. It was understandable, in a way— trust wasn’t something that came easily, especially not in a group formed under the pressure of necessity rather than choice. But the combination of mutual dislike and a lack of trust was a volatile mix, one that threatened to undermine the cohesion of the group at every turn.

The fire crackled softly in the heart of the forest, sending small sparks up into the darkening sky. The gentle warmth of the flames was a comforting contrast to the cool night air. The group sat in a loose circle around the fire, the orange glow illuminating their faces as they chatted quietly. Kirishima was recounting a funny story from one of their previous adventures, his laughter infectious as the others listened, occasionally adding their own comments or chuckles.

Mina leaned back against her pack, her eyes half-closed as she enjoyed the moment of peace. The night was calm, with only the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant call of a nightbird to break the silence. The woods felt alive, but not in a threatening way—just the usual sounds of nocturnal creatures going about their business under the watchful gaze of the stars.

After a while, the conversation began to taper off, the weight of the day’s travel settling in. One by one, everyone began to prepare for sleep. Kirishima stoked the fire one last time before lying down, while the others rolled into their blankets, their breaths gradually slowing as they drifted off.

You lay still for a few moments, listening to the soft, steady breathing of your companions. The fire had burned down to embers, casting a dim, flickering light over the campsite. The forest around you seemed to hold its breath, the quiet only deepening as the night wore on. 

But your mind was restless, thoughts swirling like leaves caught in a storm. Sleep was slipping further away with each passing minute. After what felt like hours of lying there, you silently rose from your bedroll, careful not to disturb the others. The urge to move, to clear your head, was too strong to ignore.

You stepped away from the camp, the night embracing you with its cool, familiar stillness. Your eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness, allowing you to see the path ahead with ease. It was a gift you often kept to yourself. It was your nature, after all, to hold things close, to keep your secrets guarded.

As you walked, the forest seemed to whisper around you, the leaves rustling softly as if in conversation. You breathed in the crisp night air, feeling it clear your mind with each step. The solitude was a welcome relief, a chance to gather your thoughts away from the group.

But before you could get far, a firm hand suddenly gripped your shoulder, halting you in your tracks. You turned to find Bakugou standing behind you, his expression hard and unreadable in the shadows. His eyes, however, were sharp and searching.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his voice low and edged with suspicion. “Ditching us in the middle of the night?”

You shook your head, surprised by his sudden appearance but not entirely shocked by his suspicion. “I’m not ditching anyone. Just needed some air. A walk helps me think.”

Bakugou didn’t release your shoulder, his gaze narrowing as he studied you. “In the dark? Humans can’t see a damn thing out here without a torch.”

You paused, at his words. Bakugou’s hand tightened slightly on your shoulder as he pieced together the implications. “Humans don’t have darkvision,” he muttered, almost to himself. His mind was clearly turning over the possibilities, trying to figure out what you really were. 

You rolled your eyes, the tension between you and Bakugou palpable in the dim light of the forest. “I’m a half-elf,” you said, your tone edged with impatience. “Half-elves have darkvision. I never claimed to be human.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he quickly masked it with his usual scowl. He studied you with renewed scrutiny, as if trying to reconcile this new piece of information with everything he knew— or thought he knew— about you.

“Well, that explains a few things,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “Half-elves, huh? Didn’t see that coming.”

You met his gaze steadily, unflinching. “I didn’t see the need to announce it. Besides, I’d rather not make a big deal out of it. I’m here to help, not to broadcast my heritage.”

The truth was more complicated than you cared to share at the moment, especially with someone as guarded as Bakugou. He wasn’t someone who trusted easily, and you doubted he’d start now.

After a moment of tense silence, Bakugou finally released his grip, though his eyes remained wary. “Whatever. We’re not out here for a midnight stroll. Let’s go back to camp.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and started walking back toward the campfire, clearly expecting you to follow. You hesitated for a moment, then sighed and fell in step behind him.

As you walked, Bakugou’s posture remained stiff, his mind clearly still turning over what he’d just discovered. You had given him an answer, but he wasn’t sure if he trusted it. Then again, would you lie about something like that? The doubt lingered in his eyes, though he didn’t ask any more questions. The silence between you was heavy, thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. It was clear that, for now at least, the matter wasn’t settled in his mind.

When you both returned to camp, the fire was still glowing faintly, and the others remained asleep, unaware of the brief exchange. Bakugou didn’t say anything as he resumed his spot by the fire, but his eyes followed you as you lay down once more.

As you closed your eyes, you could feel his gaze lingering, the unspoken question hanging in the air. It seemed that trust, for now, would remain elusive between you— but at least you knew where you stood.

The morning sun filtered through the dense canopy above, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor as the group prepared for another day of travel. The air was crisp and fresh, a welcome change from the damp chill of the previous night. As everyone readied their gear, you decided to take a backseat in the day's journey, letting Bakugou take the lead. The prospect of another argument with him seemed exhausting, so you followed behind with Kirishima, who had readily offered to walk with you.

Kirishima’s cheerful demeanour was a stark contrast to Bakugou’s usual intensity, and you found the company pleasant. The two of you fell into an easy rhythm, your footsteps crunching softly on the forest path.

“So, Kirishima,” you began, trying to steer the conversation toward a topic you’d been curious about. “What’s Bakugou’s story? I mean, I know he’s skilled, but there’s something about him that seems like there’s more.”

Kirishima gave you a thoughtful look, his usually bright eyes narrowing slightly as he considered how to respond. “Bakugou?” he said, his voice taking on a thoughtful tone. “He’s got quite the history. He’s a dragonborn prince, you know.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the revelation. “A prince? That’s… not something I expected. I mean, he doesn’t exactly come across as the royal type.”

Kirishima chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that was warm and friendly. “Yeah, he doesn’t exactly fit the typical prince mould. But he’s got a lot of responsibilities back home. Being a prince isn’t just about wearing a crown—it’s about carrying a whole lot of weight.”

You glanced ahead, where Bakugou was striding with his usual determination, his back straight and his gaze fixed on the path ahead. “So, what’s driving him to adventure like this? It seems like a pretty big change from royalty.”

Kirishima hesitated for a moment, his expression becoming more guarded. “Well, that’s not really my place to say. Bakugou’s got his reasons, and he doesn’t share them easily. Let’s just say he’s on a quest that’s important to him—something personal.”

You nodded, sensing that Kirishima was being intentionally vague. “Fair enough. It’s clear he values his privacy. But it’s good to know he has friends like you backing him up.”

Kirishima’s smile returned, a look of genuine warmth in his eyes. “Yeah, we go way back. I’m his chosen advisor, and it’s my job to support him, no matter what. We’ve been through a lot together, and I trust him more than anyone.”

You smiled, appreciating the loyalty and camaraderie that Kirishima clearly felt for Bakugou. “It sounds like you two have a strong bond. I guess that’s why you’re always so ready to jump in and help him out.”

“Definitely,” Kirishima agreed, his tone filled with sincerity. “We’ve got each other’s backs. That’s what matters.”

The conversation drifted to lighter topics as you both continued along the path, the forest surrounding you both serene and welcoming. There was a sense of unity and purpose among the group. As you walked beside Kirishima, you felt a deeper understanding of the dynamics within your travelling party and a little bit of Bakugou. 

Your mind drifted back to the night’s encounter. Bakugou had thought you were going to run off, his suspicion evident in the way he confronted you. It wasn’t just that he didn’t trust you— he was actively wary, as if expecting you to betray the group at any moment. The weight of his doubt lingered with you, and you couldn’t help but wonder what you could do to earn his trust.

You hadn’t lied when you told him you were a half-elf. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t the full truth either. There were parts of your heritage you hadn’t revealed, things you weren’t ready to share with anyone— not yet. That unspoken part of yourself hung between you and Bakugou like a shadow, a barrier that kept him on edge. You knew the dangers of revealing your true identity. The consequences could be far-reaching, and trust was a fragile thing. So, for now, you would keep it hidden for as long as you could, hoping that time would eventually build the trust you needed to bridge the gap between you and Bakugou.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the forest floor, Bakugou and Mina worked together to set up camp. The crackling of the fire was the only sound for a while, save for the occasional rustle of leaves as the wind whispered through the trees. Bakugou was unusually quiet, his sharp gaze focused on the task at hand, but his mind was elsewhere. 

After a moment of silence, he glanced at Mina, who was busy laying out bedrolls. “Oi, Mina,” he started, his tone gruff as he tried to sound casual, “how close are you with that cartographer?”

Mina looked up, blinking in surprise at the sudden question. She tilted her head, considering. “We get along fine,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “She's easy to talk to, but… I wouldn’t say we’re super close. Why?”

Bakugou shrugged, his expression carefully neutral, though there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “Just wonderin’. She ever open up to you? Y’know, about her past or whatever?”

Mina shook her head, her antennae twitching slightly as she thought back. “Not really. She’s pretty secretive, honestly. I know She’s a cartographer—travelling all over the place for work. But outside of that, she doesn't share much. She usually keeps to themselves.”

Bakugou frowned, his brows knitting together as he absorbed this information. “So she doesn't talk about where she’s been or what she’s seen?”

Mina shrugged, her expression a mix of curiosity and understanding. “Not much, no. I think she prefers to keep her distance. It’s like she’s here, but her mind is always somewhere else, always on the next map, the next destination.”

Bakugou grunted in response, his gaze drifting towards the trees where the others had gone to collect water and firewood. “Figures,” he muttered, almost to himself. He couldn’t quite place why it bothered him that you were so closed off. Maybe it was because he couldn’t stand not knowing what made someone tick, or maybe it was something else entirely—something he wasn’t ready to admit, even to himself.

Bakugou thought back to that night. You had said you were a half-elf, but something about it didn’t sit right with him. There was a nagging feeling in his gut, a sense that there was more to your story than you were letting on. He couldn’t shake the feeling that you were holding something back, something important. 

But then again, it was still early in the journey. Maybe he was just overthinking it, letting his natural suspicion get the better of him. He huffed, brushing off the unease with a scowl. He was probably just being stupid, reading too much into things that didn’t matter. There was a long road ahead, and he couldn’t afford to get distracted by his own doubts—not yet, anyway.

Mina noticed the thoughtful look on his face and smiled softly. “You’re curious about her, huh? It’s not like you to take an interest in someone’s life like this.”

Bakugou scowled, quickly masking his curiosity with a gruff snort. “Don’t get any ideas, Mina. Just tryin’ to figure out what makes ‘em so damn secretive. It’s annoying.”

Mina chuckled, giving him a knowing look. “Sure, sure. Well, maybe she’ll open up eventually. Who knows? We’ve still got a long journey ahead.”

Bakugou didn’t respond, but the frown on his face deepened as he returned to his task, his mind still turning over the mystery that was you. The more he thought about it, the more it gnawed at him. There was something about you that didn’t add up, and Bakugou wasn’t the type to leave a puzzle unsolved.

You returned from gathering firewood with Sero, engaged in light conversation as you both made your way back to camp. Sero was animatedly discussing his latest idea for improving the camp setup when your eyes happened to meet Bakugou’s across the clearing. The moment your gazes locked, the interaction quickly soured into a glare.

Bakugou’s voice cut through the calm evening like a blade. “What are you looking at?” he growled, his tone sharp and challenging.

You met his gaze with a raised eyebrow, your own expression hardening. “I’m just bringing back the firewood, Bakugou. If you’ve got something to say, just spit it out.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed, his irritation barely contained. “Oh, I’m just admiring your talent for being annoyingly friendly all the time.”

“Better than being a grumpy jerk,” you shot back, your tone crisp and biting. “At least I’m making an effort to get along with everyone around me.”

Bakugou snorted, his defiant expression unwavering. “Getting along doesn’t mean I have to like you.”

“Well, too bad. You’re stuck with me for the long haul,” you retorted, your eyes challenging as you turned back to Sero.

His scowl deepened, the lines on his forehead etched with frustration. “It’s not my fault if you’re always skulking around like you’re up to something.”

You took offence, the bundle of wood in your arms feeling heavier as your grip tightened. “Oh, spare me. Maybe if you didn’t jump to conclusions all the time, you wouldn’t be so damn paranoid.”

Sero, sensing the escalating tension and the heat of the moment, stepped in with a nervous laugh, trying to defuse the situation. “Hey, let’s just focus on setting up camp, alright? No need to turn this into a fight.”

The two of you exchanged one last, lingering glare before turning away, the bitterness of the encounter still hanging in the air. It was clear that, despite the forced civility, there was a lot of ground to cover before any semblance of mutual respect could be established. The journey ahead was long, and whether you liked it or not, learning to get along would be a necessary part of the road ahead. Both of you would have to navigate your way through this tension, finding common ground amid the bickering and suspicion, if you were to make it through the trials of the journey together.

The tavern’s warm glow flickers over Bakugou’s face as he recounts the early days of the journey to the bard. The firelight dances across the rugged lines of his features, accentuating the gruffness of his expression. His voice, though rough and often brusque, carries a hint of amusement as he describes the mishaps and close calls of their travels. The corner of his mouth curls into a rare, fleeting smile, betraying a sense of camaraderie and nostalgia as he relives the stories of the group’s early adventures. 

“So, let me get this straight,” the bard chuckles, leaning forward, “you two couldn’t stand each other from the start?”

Bakugou snorts, a rare grin tugging at his lips. “Hated each other’s guts. She was too careful, and I was too reckless. We annoyed the hell out of each other every chance we got.”

“We couldn’t stand each other,” Bakugou admits, his tone gruff but tinged with amusement. “Always bickering, always on each other’s nerves. Hell, I thought we were gonna tear each other apart before we even made it halfway.”

The bard chuckles, shaking his head. “Sounds like quite the pair. How’d you manage to get anything done?”

Bakugou laughs, a low, rumbling sound. “By sheer stubbornness. We hated each other, sure, but I’ll give her this—she knew what she was doing. Eventually, we figured out how to make it work. Mostly.” He added with a knowing grin.

The bard laughs as well, eyes twinkling with interest. “And now?”

“Now?” Bakugou leans back, a glint of nostalgia in his eyes. There’s a hint of sadness in them. “Now, we still argue like crazy. But somehow, we make it work.”

It had barely been two weeks of relentless bickering with Bakugou, and every moment felt like a battle you were losing. His sharp words, constant challenges, and the way he always had to have the last word grated on your nerves. You couldn’t stand it. The tension was suffocating, your patience wearing thin with every snarky exchange. The urge to scream clawed at your throat, desperate for release.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the dense canopy of trees, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. The air was cool, filled with the earthy scent of moss and damp leaves. A gentle stream gurgled nearby as Mina and you filled water skins for the camp, the soothing sound doing little to quell your growing frustration.

“I swear, Bakugou is impossible!” you huffed, shaking your head as you dipped another skin into the clear water. “He acts like nothing can touch him, diving into danger for convenience!”

Mina glanced at you, an amused smile playing on her lips as she finished tying off one of the filled skins. “You know he’s just being Bakugou. It’s kind of his thing— punch first, ask questions later. But it has worked out before.”

You rolled your eyes, the irritation evident in your voice. “Yeah, but it’s only a matter of time before it doesn’t! He needs to learn to slow down, think things through. When we reach Niniel’s Veil, it’s not just fighting monsters out here; we’ve got traps, puzzles, who knows what else. He’s too reckless!”

Meanwhile, deeper in the woods, Kirishima and Bakugou were trudging through the underbrush, fallen branches crunching underfoot as they gathered firewood. Bakugou’s expression was as stormy as ever, his grip on the axe handle tight as he vented his frustrations.

“That damn guide is a pain in the ass,” Bakugou grumbled, swinging the axe down with a fierce chop. “Always so careful, double-checking every damn thing like I’m some kind of idiot. We don’t have time for all that crap!”

Kirishima chuckled, hoisting a thick branch onto his shoulder. “But isn’t that why you brought her along? To make sure we don’t walk into some ancient trap or something in the Veil? I mean, you’ve got to admit, her method has been smooth sailing.”

Bakugou scoffed, his eyes narrowing as he chopped through another log. “Doesn’t mean she has to question every move I make. I’ve got instincts, damn good ones! She just needs to keep up and stop second-guessing me.”

The complaints overlapped in the forest air, each of you venting to your companions, the words crossing paths but never reaching the intended target.

You shook your head, handing a full water skin to Mina. “He’s so stubborn. I don’t know how he thinks he’s going to survive if he keeps acting like he’s invulnerable. One of these days, he’s going to get us all killed.”

Mina tied off the skin, her expression thoughtful. “Maybe you just need to find a way to work with him, instead of against him. I mean, you’re both pretty set in your ways, but maybe that’s why you butt heads so much. You balance each other out, you know?”

Back with Kirishima, Bakugou grunted, shouldering a bundle of firewood. “She thinks that she knows everything, like she’s got all the answers. But I’ve been through worse, and I’m still standing. She needs to trust that I’ve got this.”

Kirishima adjusted the weight of the branches, his tone calm. “Maybe it’s not about who’s right, but about making sure we all get through this together. You both care about the group, even if you show it in different ways.”

“Urgh..! He’s such a pain! I can’t stand him. He’s such a—”

“She’s such an uptight, overcautious nag! Always acting like she’s got a stick up her—” 

“—reckless, hot-headed maniac! Charging into everything like it’s a damn arena fight! Why can’t he just—” 

“—shut up and let me handle things without acting like I’m gonna blow us all up every five seconds! It’s not like—” 

“—he ever listens to anyone but himself! If he’d just stop and think for one second, maybe we wouldn’t be—” 

“—stuck wasting time because someone has to check every leaf and twig like it’s gonna explode!” 

“—risking our necks because he’s too stubborn to admit he’s not invincible!”

Mina and Kirishima exchanged knowing glances if they were next to each other. They watched the barbarian and the cartographer vent their intense frustrations. The raw display of annoyance was almost comical— both of them so stubborn, so convinced they were right, yet so blind to how similar they really were. Mina chuckled softly, shaking her head at the irony of it all, while Kirishima couldn’t help but grin at the familiar scene. They had seen this play out before: the clash of two strong-willed personalities who, despite their constant bickering, somehow managed to keep the group moving forward.

Neither of you would hear the other’s words, each too wrapped up in your own complaints. The journey ahead was fraught with dangers, and though you couldn’t see it yet, those opposing qualities might just be what kept the group together when the stakes were highest.

There were definitely times when your methods worked best, especially in situations that demanded careful planning and a steady hand. Navigating treacherous terrain and leading with caution—all tasks where your meticulous approach and attention to detail had saved the group from wasting precious resources early in the journey. You were determined to conserve energy and supplies for the challenges that awaited at Niniel’s Veil. 

But there were also moments when Bakugou’s approach was undeniably effective. His instinct to charge forward, to confront danger head-on with raw strength and unwavering confidence, had turned the tide in battles where hesitation could have been fatal. His ability to make quick, decisive moves in the heat of the moment had saved lives more than once.

The early morning air was crisp and cool, carrying with it the faintest scent of dew and pine. The camp was still, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of awakening birds. The sky, just beginning to blush with the first hints of dawn, cast a soft, golden light over the landscape. You and Bakugou were the only ones awake, the rest of the group still wrapped in the comfort of their sleep. An unspoken tension lingered between you.

Bakugou sat by the embers of the now-dying campfire, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he stared out into the growing light. You approached him, your footsteps muffled by the soft ground. The air was crisp and cool, a welcome relief from the stuffy confines of the tent.

“Hey,” you said, trying to sound casual despite the underlying strain. “Since we’re both up, I figured I might as well come with you to scout ahead.”

Bakugou glanced up, his expression a mix of surprise and reluctant approval. “Fine. Let’s go.”

You nodded and fell into step beside him, the two of you moving out of the camp and into the dense underbrush. The forest around you was bathed in a soft, early morning light, the trees casting long, slanting shadows on the ground. The silence of the woods was punctuated only by the crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional chirp of a waking bird.

The awkwardness between you was palpable, each step feeling like a small, deliberate choice in a game neither of you wanted to play. Bakugou’s posture remained rigid, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a vigilance that spoke more of habit than relaxation. You walked beside him, your own gaze alert but focused on maintaining a semblance of peace.

Bakugou was quiet, the weight of unspoken tension hanging between you. He knew that for this journey to work, you both needed to reach some kind of understanding. Begrudgingly, he decided to start the conversation. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew it had to happen.

After a few minutes of strained silence, Bakugou finally broke it. “Why do you hate me so much?” His voice was low and gruff, cutting through the quiet.

You glanced at him, taken aback by the bluntness of his question. “Hate’s a strong word,” you replied, keeping your tone measured. “I don’t hate you. I just think your approach is reckless and puts everyone at risk.”

Bakugou’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing. “Reckless? You mean taking risks to get things done faster. You’re the one who always plays it safe, wasting time and taking it slow while we’re stuck in the same spot.”

“Oh, come on,” you shot back, a hint of frustration seeping into your voice. “It’s not about playing it safe. It’s about using our heads and avoiding unnecessary danger. If we take shortcuts without knowing what we’re up against, we’re just asking for trouble.”

“Trouble that we can handle,” Bakugou retorted. “If we keep taking the long way, we’ll never get anywhere. Sometimes you’ve got to take a chance to get ahead.”

You shook your head, exasperated. “And sometimes those chances come with risks that could be avoided. It’s not worth jeopardising everyone’s safety for the sake of saving a few hours.”

As you argued, Bakugou’s eyes fell on a narrow path winding through the woods. He pointed to it, his tone challenging. “Look, there’s a shortcut right there. We could cut through and save a lot of time.”

You pulled out your map and studied it, your brow furrowing. “That shortcut is infested with bandits. I’ve marked it as dangerous. It’s not worth the risk.”

Bakugou’s frustration was palpable. “The group can handle bandits. We’ve fought worse. Why waste time taking the long way around when we can deal with the problem head-on?”

You glared at him, your patience wearing thin. “Because it’s not just about fighting. It’s about making sure we don’t run into more trouble than we can handle. Sometimes avoiding a fight is the smarter move.”

The argument continued, the exchange heated but ultimately inconclusive. Both of you were too entrenched in your own viewpoints to reach an agreement. When you finally returned to camp, you were both visibly frustrated.

The group was still asleep, the peaceful morning broken only by the soft murmur of the wind and the distant chirping of birds. You and Bakugou sat down, waiting for the others to wake up. The lingering tension between you was undeniable, but there was also a sense of shared purpose—an understanding that, despite the disagreements, you both had a role to play in the journey ahead.

As the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, the rest of the group began to stir. Kirishima was the first to sit up, rubbing his eyes and glancing around sleepily. He quickly noticed the strained silence between you and Bakugou, who sat apart from each other, both looking tense and frustrated.

“Uh… morning, guys,” Kirishima said cautiously, trying to gauge the situation. He shot a questioning look at Sero, who was now waking up beside him.

Sero stretched and yawned, then raised an eyebrow as he took in the scene. “Morning. Everything… okay?”

Denki, who had just rolled out of his blanket, leaned in closer to Mina and whispered, “What’s up with them? It’s too early for them to be fighting already.”

Mina, still half-asleep but alert enough to pick up on the tension, whispered back, “I don’t know, but you can feel it from here. They must’ve had another argument while we were asleep.”

“Again?” Denki replied, shaking his head. “You’d think they’d save it for when we’re all awake at least.”

Kirishima stood up and started gathering his things, trying to break the awkwardness. “Alright, let’s start packing up. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.” He shot a pointed look at you and Bakugou, hoping to diffuse the tension.

Mina and Denki exchanged a knowing glance before following Kirishima’s lead, quietly packing their belongings while sneaking curious glances at you and Bakugou. Sero sighed and muttered under his breath, “Great, just what we needed. Another day of this.”

As everyone started to pack up, the camp buzzed with quiet activity, but the atmosphere remained heavy. Despite the early morning chill, the tension between you and Bakugou lingered, a silent reminder of the ongoing clash of strategies and personalities.

You had spent the morning turning over Bakugou’s and Mina’s words in your mind. Your aversion to danger wasn’t born from some crippling fear. It was more a matter of practicality, honed by years of travelling alone. The safer, longer paths were the ones you’d come to rely on, not because you couldn’t hold your own in a fight, but because most threats didn’t come alone. As a lone traveller, risking an encounter with a group of enemies wasn’t a gamble you could afford to make. 

You couldn't deny that the idea of taking shortcuts was tempting—who wouldn't want to shave time off a journey? But the longer routes had become second nature to you. They offered a sense of control, a way to avoid unnecessary risks, even if it meant the journey took longer. After all, the longer path had kept you alive this long. But now, you weren’t alone. 

This time, you were guiding a group capable of working together in fights, each member bringing their own strengths to the table. While you understood the weight of responsibility for your choices and the lives of those around you, you also had to acknowledge that they were strong. Maybe it was time to trust in their abilities as much as your own instincts.

So, you decided to give in to Bakugou’s methods. It wasn’t easy—your instinct was to err on the side of caution, to take the longer, safer route. But you couldn’t always reject Bakugou’s ideas. He wasn’t stupid; if anything, he was frustratingly competent. Maybe, just maybe, his method would work out this time.

“Alright,” you said, catching up to him as the group prepared to move out. “Let’s take the shortcut you suggested.”

Bakugou turned to you, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You’re agreeing with me? No complaints about how dangerous it is?”

You shrugged, gripping your sword staff a little tighter. “No, no complaints. If we manage to get through, it’ll get us to Niniel’s Veil quicker. I can see the benefit in different methods.”

He gave you a long, searching look before nodding. “Good. Then let’s get moving. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when we run into trouble.”

You met his gaze, your voice firm. “I’m not scared of trouble.”

The group set off, the atmosphere tinged with a mix of tension and curiosity. Bakugou led the way, his confidence clear in his stride, while you stayed close, your sword staff at the ready. The path was narrow, overgrown, and clearly less travelled— a clear indication of why it was considered a shortcut. The trees loomed overhead, their thick branches casting long shadows on the ground as the sun filtered through in patches.

This shortcut was infamous for the number of bandits lying in wait to ambush travellers. It was certainly a quicker route, but it came with a reputation for trouble, especially in this part of the woods. 

You kept your senses sharp, every sound and movement drawing your attention. The quiet was unnerving, each snap of a twig underfoot sending a jolt of anticipation through you. You could feel the others’ unease too— Mina kept casting glances at you, while Sero and Kirishima’s usual banter had died down, replaced by a focused silence.

Sure enough, as the group pressed deeper into the shortcut, the ambush came. A gang of bandits emerged from the underbrush, their weapons drawn and eyes gleaming with malicious intent. It was clear they’d been lying in wait, expecting easy prey.

“There they are!” one of the bandits shouted, raising his sword. “Get ’em!”

Your grip on the sword staff tightened as you instinctively fell into a defensive stance. “Here we go,” you muttered to yourself, your eyes scanning the bandits for any weaknesses.

Bakugou, however, was already on the move. “Stay close and don’t hold back!” he barked, his voice commanding as he charged forward, his weapon drawn and ready.

The fight was intense and chaotic. The bandits were skilled, but your group was more than a match for them. Bakugou’s aggressive approach caught the bandits off guard, his attacks swift and brutal. You found yourself coordinating with him, your defensive techniques complementing his offence as you fought off the attackers.

“Watch your left!” Bakugou yelled, his voice cutting through the din of battle.

You pivoted, blocking an incoming strike with the shaft of your sword staff before delivering a sharp counterattack. “Cover the right!”

Bakugou grunted in acknowledgment, his movements fluid as he took down another bandit. The two of you moved in sync, your strategies— though different— working together to keep the group protected. Mina and Denki used their abilities to create distance, while Sero and Kirishima provided support, ensuring no one got overwhelmed.

Despite the initial tension, the fight went smoothly. The bandits were eventually routed, their numbers no match for your combined strength. As the last of them fled into the trees, one of them managed to knock you to the ground.

Bakugou was quick to stride over, grabbing your arm and hauling you back to your feet with a force that left you slightly off balance. “Can’t even stay on your feet?” he quipped, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Whatever,” you retorted, shaking your head as you brushed the dirt from your clothes. “Thanks, I guess.”

Bakugou chuckled, the sound a low, gruff rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “What was that?” he asked, leaning slightly closer, the smirk widening. “Didn’t quite catch that. Why don’t you say it again?”

You shot him a glare, pausing in your task to look him squarely in the eye. “Don’t push your luck, Bakugou. I said what I said.”

His smirk only grew, clearly enjoying the reaction he’d provoked. “That’s what I thought. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You rolled your eyes, slotting your sword staff into your pack. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And you’re welcome,” he repeated, the teasing tone unmistakable.

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but smile a little as you adjusted your backpack. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t expect me to be grateful every time you play hero.”

Bakugou’s eyes glinted with amusement as he rolled his shoulders, preparing to continue the journey. “Wouldn’t dream of it. But you might want to work on that ‘thank you’ anyway. We’ve got a long journey ahead.”

You shook your head, but the corners of your mouth twitched upward. “Keep dreaming.”

There was a pause as the both of you caught your breath, the adrenaline of the fight slowly ebbing away. The forest around you was quiet again, save for the distant rustle of leaves and the soft breeze. You both stood there, a few feet apart, the tension that had filled the air earlier now replaced by a tentative calm. 

Bakugou looked at you, his gaze steady as he wiped a bit of dirt off his arm. “Told you it’d work out,” he said, his voice gruff but surprisingly even. “Sometimes, you just have to take the risk.”

You couldn’t help but grin, albeit begrudgingly. There was something about his blunt confidence that, for once, you couldn’t argue with. “Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, the corners of your mouth twitching upward. “But next time, we do it my way.”

Bakugou snorted, a sound that was more amused than dismissive. There was no malice in it, just a hint of teasing. “We’ll see about that. But admit it— my way wasn’t so bad this time.”

You chuckled, a strange sense of camaraderie settling between you, easing the usual friction. “I guess I’ll give you that. But just this once.”

Bakugou’s eyes glinted with a mix of satisfaction and challenge as he crossed his arms over his chest, a small smirk still playing on his lips. “Once is all I need,” he replied, the competitive edge in his voice unmistakable.

The tension that usually hung between you had softened, replaced by something that felt almost like mutual respect. The group, though tired, seemed more cohesive after the battle, the tension of the shortcut replaced by a sense of accomplishment. As you resumed your journey, the atmosphere was lighter, the lingering animosity between you and Bakugou beginning to thaw—if only just a little.

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a/n: maybe you guys can make out instead of fighting. Every Twosday yall !! @chocogoldie @l0kisbitch @devils-adversary

border credits: @enchanthings & @adornedwithlight

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Husk with gender-neutral!reader relationship headcanons

Special thanks to @isuckatwritingsobenice, @nixie-writes, and a few other writers in the Hazbin Hotel community for helping me create a piece for one of my favorite characters from the 2019 pilot episode, Husk! :)

Warning: Husk's potty mouth and this is Hell, so indecent things are bound to happen but nothing to imply NSFW content.

Husk gave up on the idea of love years ago, preferring to drown himself in cheap booze and try his luck at the casino before Alastor pulls him away to do a job for him or some other shit because of his contract with the fucking asshole. Why else would he and Nifty be wastin’ time slaving away in a hotel that’s supposed to rehabilitate sinners? Least the pipsqueak gets to clean this place from top to bottom and away from the clients, and he’s stuck handling their drunk asses in the lobby bar.

Angel Dust has been the one who’s been trying to get into his pants since day one, but that’s a different story entirely. He’s persistent, Husk will give the prissy punk that much credit.

Though…he supposed it isn’t all too bad being here. Least since Vaggie hired you. Initially, the job offer she and Charlie had posted online was to manage the front desk, handle phone calls, and all of the other tasks required to be the hotel’s conceirge. However, since there still wasn’t enough staff to do everything, he would see flitting about carrying baskets of clean linens or giving tours around the hotel to potential clients, helping Vaggie with organizing meetings with the press, and so on.

He might be a drunk asshole, but if there’s one part in his body that’s still functioning besides his dick, it's his hearing.

He’s lost count of how many times he’s heard a snide remark from potential or current clients about your polite demeanor, if you’re actually a freak in bed, and a whole lotta other bullshit he did not want to hear when he’s still sober. He didn’t want to care but god fucking dammit it made his skin crawl at the idea of some asshole thinking they had a chance with you. You, who never seemed to lose your smile and would go out of your way to make Nifty’s day by belting out Broadway songs on top of the banister, completely lost in the character you were playing and not giving a shit about anything else.

Not gonna deny it, you had one hell of a voice. You could change the pitch of it so easily. From a high tone all the way down a low, smooth baritone that almost sounded like a siren’s song luring sailors to a watery grave.

When he actually musters the fucking courage (thanks to a lot of booze from earlier in the day) to ask if you’d like to go to a bar or even the casino, Husk thought you would reject him. After all, why would a someone like you would even want to hang around an old fucker like him?

But when he saw your face turn as red as a certain deer bastard’s suit and sputtered that you weren’t very good at the slots, though you were willingly to try your luck at the blackjack table as long it wasn’t a high stake one, Husk thought he had actually achieved the state of inebriation to where he was hallucinating.

However, he was proven wrong when you told him that you’ll be ready by seven to go to the casino. Since he’d been on good behavior and Charlie never had any issues with you as of late, the princess wouldn’t mind the two of you being out for a couple of hours as long as you kept your phones on you in case anything happened.

Alastor could care less since watching a tormented, loveless war veteran being bewitched by a beguiling songstress provided him with much needed entertainment~.

Upon arriving at the casino, Husk pulled you over to the slot machines. He showed you how they worked and how much money you should put in them, so you don’t lose all of it in under an hour. The old-fashioned ones with the levers weren’t so bad, though the rounds would go pretty quick if you weren’t paying attention to the denominations; same thing applied to the new tech ones, betting could go from 88 cents to up to two dollars.

In the end, you quit after trying three different machines and went to go find the restroom. Husk decided to go find a bar and order a couple of drinks. One for himself, and one for you. A couple of fellas, hellhounds by the look of ‘em, asked him if the ‘pretty little thing’ he was with earlier is with him or if you were single.

“They’re with me, so fuck off.” He grumbled.

“Ya sure about that, old man?”

Husker growled, feeling his hackles rise at the provocation, half of it he blamed on the booze. As much as he wanted to teach these punks a thing or two about showin’ respect….they weren’t worth ruinin’ his first date with you. First impressions made all the difference, least when he’d been alive. So he made a rude hand gesture and sat at the bar until he heard you call out to him.

“Everything all right, Husk? I hope I didn’t interrupt anything between you and your friends. The guys you were talkin’ to before they took off.”

He smirked. “Nah. If I knew them, they’d know how to play poker.” He stood up and grabbed his drink, handing over yours. “C’mon, let’s hit the blackjack tables and see how good you really are.” He said, leading you to your next stop for the night.

Turned out that you weren’t all talk. You were able to win five out of seven rounds, never showing any anxiety or indication that your hand was either good or bad. For kicks, Husk asked if you wanted to try the poker table. You agreed, but just to two rounds. If you weren’t comfortable continuing to play, please allow you to walk away. Husk agreed, opting to watch you from the sidelines as moral support instead of joining you at the table.

Three words could only describe what he saw next: holy fucking shit.

All you could do was smile sheepishly at him when he asked how the ever living fuck were you this good at gambling and didn’t say anything as the two of you left the casino with a hefty sum of cash.

“Would you believe me if I said I’d gotten banned from more than one casino when I was alive because I was just good at card counting?”

He stared at you for a long moment before he grinned widely, clapping you on the back. “I knew I had my eye on ya for a reason!”

‘Course, you’d never know that he wanted to show you that he’s one hell of a gambler at the casino instead of the other way ‘round. How he knew to play his cards right and treat you to something nice, show those little shitheads that a real gentleman knows how to win the game and a good-lookin’ partner all in the same night.

Still…gettin’ spoiled at a nice restaurant for a change wasn’t too bad…so long as no one from the hotel saw them. Especially Alastor.

And that was how your first date went. Nothing too crazy, least the two of you didn’t run into any trouble on the way back to the hotel. Husk walked you to your room, wished you good-night, and went to drink a little more before passing out in his own room.

Husk hasn’t been with anyone in an incredibly long time. There will be moments when he might seem harsher than usual towards you and tries to brush everything off, or chug it down with alcohol. He struggles to communicate with his feelings to someone else, so patience and respect for boundaries is key.

He does not tolerate any disrespect towards you, even if you try to tell him to ignore the sinner who is catcalling after you when the two of you are walking through the Pride Ring to pick up stuff for the hotel. If it happened at a bar while you’re on a date? Be prepared to have chairs go flying or Husk tearing a new hole in the poor bastard who pissed him off.

He is not a fan of PDA. He has a reputation to uphold in the hotel and on the streets. Behind closed doors, however, he will be more lenient. Cuddles and midday naps are exceptional, with him pressing against your body with his tail loosely coiled around your thigh and one of his wings acting as a shield or even a blanket.

Speaking of feathers and fur, he does need to groom himself periodically, especially when it's molting season. You need to be gentle if you want to help him since his skin can be especially sensitive around this time of the year.

Actions speak a lot louder to him than pretty words. If you show him that you do care for him and will never betray his trust or loyalty, he will return it tenfold. He will do everything in his power to make you as happy as you have made him in this shithole.

Taglist

@angelltheninth

@isuckatwritingsobenice

@selineram3421

@nixie-writes

@dragonempress18

@ceoofdabicorpsensfw

@lbcreations-blog

@chroniccorvus

@food-theorys-blog

[ellecdc]

Mother, serious question mainly for my own self-esteem 😮‍💨😅

How do you think the boys (any of them really) would view a partner with like all sorts of facial piercings and like rat tails in their hair and funky colors(truly best describes as a queer little gremlin lol). Cause I know Marlene and Sirius have an alt rock aesthetic (I don't think I spelled that right) but as much as I love these characters I never feel like I would have fit in with them if I was really there ya know?

Idk it's kinda stupid but just curious on you're thoughts on this. They're just so cool and I would hope they would like me enough to at least be my friend if they were real 😮‍💨😖

okay first of all, love the title queer little gremlin; let's all capitalize those letters and add them to surveys when they ask you how you identify plsss??

Here's my take:

James:

I love (and follow religiously) the headcanon that James is pansexual but I believe that expands beyond just gender identity, if that makes sense?

It doesn't matter if you're male or female or anywhere in between or beyond or both or all

and I feel like it doesn't really matter what you look like to him

I feel like he loves people for their hearts, their minds, their interests, etc

I feel like he'd maybe be worried because....those had to hurt??? you do that on purpose? doesn't it hurt terribly? his poor sweet angel????

I also see him as the type of bf who would be like "oh! are we changing colours? which one's? can I help?" and will dutifully like, adorn gloves and sit in the bathroom breathing in dye fumes and chatting away with you while the two of you talk about everything and nothing - I think he'd love spending that time with you and it would be special bonding time

(also, have you seen the James fan art with him with a nose ring??? fuck me sideways)

Sirius:

you're so right re: alt-rock aesthetic etc

I think he'd find the facial piercings awesome tbh, you might even have inspired him to get one or more of his own

I think he'd make it almost a competition of who can dress the most grunge that day hahaha - but the two of you would make quite the couple

also? you look like the kind of person his posh, prissy, stuck up parents would hate seeing him with - that's totally a bonus

I see this guy as someone who loves hair care and would be horrified at how much/often you change your hair colour and would insist on helping you/buying the more expensive products/ensure you're doing it right to save your hair from too much damage

that's the only 'problem' I see him having

Remus:

idk, I kind of see him a little bit like James tbh; looks would be a little less important to him? like he doesn't care how you express yourself in terms of style and clothes

what would be important to him is that you're kind and patient, that you're openminded and considerate of others

I mean...he's littered with scars, is he not? He doesn't exactly look "normal" (derogatory) and would probably feel very similar to what you've described; like he doesn't feel he particularly 'fits in' with his friends

I see him having like, not long hair but like a decent head of curls, and he'd totally love if you braided a few little pieces of his hair like your 'rat tails'

I think he'd find the hair fun; you'd show up one day with new colours and I could see his face lighting up like 😃 "that looks great love; so fun"

Regulus:

he's tricky because he's so posh and stuck up lmfao

BUT

people also ship bartylus and I see so much Barty fan-art somewhat similar to how you've described yourself and if Reg likes Barty - he'd certainly like you too

Barty:

as mentioned above, I could totally see him having like a green streak in his hair or something

perhaps some piercings (I think he'd get piercings down below.....), tongue piercing, nose piercing, eyebrow piercing - I feel like he'd be down for it all himself, so he wouldn't mind it on you at all either

and again, as a guy with daddy issues, he'd be a lot like Sirius and think the better chance he has at dating someone who would sooooo piss of his dad - the better!

thanks for your ask babes <3

[peapodsinspace]

Hiiii :3

do you have any jojo headcanons?? It can be for any character :]

oooh absolutely!!! I’ve never made a post about my head cannons before!!!

These are just the ones I can think of off the top of my head!! And a lot of my head cannons are like, au specific anyway hehe

Also a lot of these will be post cannon :]

-Diamond is Unbreakable-

-jotaro taught josuke and okuyasu how to do eyeliner

-tomoko listens to Britney Spears when she cleans her house

-tonio sends okuyasu “left over” (freshly cooked, made expressly for this purpose) meals a few times a week

-koichi’s mom invites Rohan over for dinner fairly often (he accepts occasionally)

-Golden Wind-

-narancia’s favorite thing to do is listen to music with his friends and just chill

-he has playlist for all of them

-he likes to sit upside down in chairs (supposedly helps him focus ((he just does it because he can)))

-nara ikes to have other people read to him because he’s better at remembering it that way (usually fugo reads to him)

-giorno isn’t super good at video games, but he gets very serious and into them regardless

-fugo and trish used to not get along very well, but now they just bicker at each other for fun

-they read crappy YA novels together!!!!

-fugo has a copy of divergent he added commentary in the margins of, and long rants at the end of the book (he stuck extra paper in)

-he did this to try and get mista to read divergent (it worked ((mista hated it)))

-that copy was passed around the whole group so it has a bunch of notes from everyone

-fugo keeps all his books in stacks and low bookshelves because he dislikes the way ceiling-high bookshelves loom over him

-fugo genuinely had it out for abbachio when he first joined Bruno’s gang, to the point that he would try and get him in trouble with bruno for no reason

-abbachio lets Trish do his makeup sometimes

-abbachio will sleep in all day, and if he’s ever up early it’s because he never went to bed at all

-Stone ocean-

-weather and anasui will usually try and get extra breakfast (or save some of theirs) to give to emporio

-emporio likes FNAF

-he makes his friends play horror games with him (jolyne and anasui mostly, because jolyne is good at them, and anasui screams like a little girl)

-Steel Ball Run-

-diego is effected by cold and heat more since he developed his stand

-he occasionally gets the extreme urge to chew on something (or more specifically to eat a rock), however save the times he is fully in his dinosaur form or close to it, his teeth aren’t strong enough to eat them :[

-which is why his gloves have many pinprick holes in them from where he chews on the extra fabric around his fingers

-diego is a total nerd about anything animal related and will happily info dump at any opportunity, but somehow still be prissy about it

-gyro is consistently baffled by at least half of the phrases that Johnny says, because he doesn’t know what they mean

-gyro saws some serious logs in his sleep (he snores very loudly)

-he has a journal he’s really secretive about

-one time Johnny read the journal and it was just dumb joke ideas and a really weird bucket list

[oddfable]

Sketches of my lovely lovely MC for the magnificent @loveandleases's "Love and Leases".

Nothing real serious, just some doodles of my MC Julia and Cam (or, well... my interpretation of him). This boy has me in a chokehold, and I can't believe Julia picked prissy Chris over him T-T

I'm also really looking forward to Gage and Ardent's romances, but I'll need to build the willpower to NOT romance Cam before I can get to them. Same with Markus and Isaac, and mmmaaaaayyybbbeee Kara. I only hesitate going for her because I'd feel bad if MC dates every Clarke sibling BUT Cam. Doubly so because he is, in my humble opinion, the best Clarke.

Anyways, my heads just buzzing with little tidbits about my girl, so here's a bunch of useless knowledge about her down below.

Quick heads up! This is basically just a long rant about her and her relationship with Cam. Read at your own peril, it's unnecessarily long and dumb.

Name: Julia Fontaine

Dog: Koi the shih tzu

Career Path: Modeling for Cam

Summary: If Jade is the "It Girl", cool and collected and desired, Julia is the "Good Girl". The quiet, well-behaved girl. The sweet plain-Jane. The nice but forgettable sister, quickly overshadowed in the blinding brilliance of Jade Fontaine.

Basically, she was the boring one.

Years of being overlooked in favor of Jade left Julia vying for attention by being perfect. Perfectly behaved, perfectly smart, perfectly understanding and in her shell and away from the spotlight. And for the longest time, this left her very insecure and even more reserved than she already was. For as much as she loved Jade and held little resentment, there was still a part of Julia that compared herself to Jade negatively. After all, it was natural for everyone to favor Jade. And there had to be a reason everyone liked her better.

The only exception to this was Cam.

Whereas other friends would be lured away by her mesmerizing older sister, Cam stuck to Julia's side like a stubborn stain on white sheets. And in doing so, Julia not only thrived in his presence but grew into herself.

Julia came alive whenever Cam was around. With him she smiled brighter, laughed louder, felt more genuine in each and every of her interactions. She was playful, and teasing, and had a much warmer atmosphere. Unafraid of showing how she truly felt. Embracing all of her emotions, the positive and negative.

He helped her be confident, not only in herself as a person, but in her love for art. An outlet that she happily turned into a hobby, and a skill that she tirelessly worked on and developed over the years. Though she still hesitates doing anything worthwhile with it, Julia is easily skilled enough to try going professional as an artist.

Cam brings out the best and the worst of Julia. And for a while, she thought he was "the one". But when his heart went to someone else, her own was stolen by Chris Clarke.

And what a mistake that was, falling for Chris Clarke.

_____________________________

History

Developed a crush on Cam at a very young age. Realized her growing feelings sometime in middle school. Did her best to ignore them until junior year of high school. Starting junior year, she slowly overcame her fear of destroying the friendship and subtly tried confessing. The problem? Her "confessions" were either too vague, easily misunderstood as admission of feelings for someone else, or she would straight up chicken out last minute. ~*~

In college she said "Fuck it" and was going to confess to Cam as straightforward as possible. She had a whole plan and everything. Found an interesting gallery exhibition she knew he'd love and made reservations at a very popular, slightly high-end restaurant. She worked super hard and saved up for months at her part-time job to afford a whole new (pricey) outfit and makeup set, to fund the entire date herself, and so she could buy him this camera he'd recently mentioned. It was a professional camera, recently released, and very expensive. BUT totally worth it. ~*~

Legit went all out when planning to romance him. ~*~

Was going to ask Cam to "hang out" (aka initiate the date) when she heard he was dating someone. Putting her confession on hold, Julia was in complete denial of this new development. Then she saw him with his new girlfriend. She was heartbroken. Regardless, she pushed her own feelings aside and became the #1 supporter of Cam and his girlfriend. Literally went out of her way to get out of the way for the new girl. ~*~

She repurposed the camera she bought as a Christmas gift for Cam. Claimed it was an investment in his future career, but also a bribe so he'd photograph her future wedding for free. ~*~

Before college, Julia didn't think much of Chris. He was kind of just there. Like, a background prop you didn't really notice. Sure, they'd exchange pleasantries and maybe even chitchat for a bit, but that was it. She had no interest in him. When Cam started dating his now-ex, Chris swooped in and wormed his way center stage of Julia's life. The two formed a very close and tight knit friendship. ~*~

Julia was hesitant to start dating Chris. Even though she'd mostly gotten over him, Julia still had lingering feelings for Cam. She ended up giving Chris a shot so long as he promised he'd have no expectations. Much to her shock, Julia was quickly swept off her feet, all feelings for Cam fading away. Needless to say, Julia was genuinely head-over-heels in love with Chris. ~*~

Despite falling for Chris, Cam remained Julia's "person". Her touch stone, someone she absolutely couldn't live without. Wanting her boyfriend and best friend to get along, she put max effort into mending their relationship. The results were... less than ideal. BUT, she tried. Additionally, she put a lot of effort into getting to know Kara better and rest of the Clarkes. ~*~

After "the incident" and moving in with Cam, Julia is horrified her feelings for the red head have returned with a vengeance.

Trivia

Julia paints and draws both digitally and traditionally. That said, she lowkey prefers traditional medium. She loves oil paint the most and is particularly fond of using splash techniques when she can afford the paint and canvas. She'll strategically splashes paint onto the canvas and forms shapes until she gets the image she wants. When it come to people or animals, she's more precise with her strokes. You could say her style is more on the expressionist side. ~*~

A lot of her older drawing notebooks are filled with doodles of Cam. ~*~

Was a tall kid. Would use her height advantage to affectionately tease Cam. Lowkey wonders if their current height difference is some kinda universal karma, especially when he gently teases her the way she used to teased him. ~*~

They have the same energy as a pair of bonded cats so in sync they're basically joined at the hip. ~*~

Julia and Chris were actually a great pair, and Julia would have remained loyal to him till the end of her days had he stayed faithful. She would do a lot of little things to show how much she appreciated him. Things like bring him a snack if he was still working at home. Pack him a nice lunch if she got up early enough and was in the mood, topped with a little stick-it note of a cute drawing and words of affirmation. Also freely gave shoulder massages and back hugs, and overall was incredibly physically affectionate. ~*~

You could say she was physically affectionate to the point of being clingy. Luckily, for the most part, she was empathetic enough to pick up if she was being too much and back off. If she didn't pick up on it, all you'd need to do was tell her and she'd step back. ~*~

Love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation. ~*~

With anyone else, Julia would want to wait until marriage to be "intimate". With Cam, she's pretty much ready to go any time he is. The reason isn't that deep: Julia is terrified of being tied down to a bad relationship because of amazing sex (has seen it happen plenty of times, does not want the same fate). But with Cam, things are different. She has a level of trust in him that goes beyond reasonable. There is no line in the sand when it comes to him, because she knows, in her heart of hearts, that he'd never do anything to hurt her. And she'd never do anything to hurt him. ~*~

Has thalassophobia. Mostly centered around the ocean and sea, but is also unsettled by huge lakes. Could probably overcome it if Cam is with her. Even then, she's goanna be clinging to him like she's dying and he's a lifeline. ~*~

When dating Cam, she half-jokingly suggests they skip dating and get married at the courthouse. Then they can start saving up for their dream wedding. Claims they've known each other so long that it'd work out fine. Says this as a joke because she wants to test the waters and see if the idea puts him off or not. She would absolutely elope and start saving for the wedding of their dreams if he implied he's down for it. She may or may not already have a few ideas for engagement and wedding rings. ~*~

I like to imagine that, after getting notoriety as Cam's model, Julia gains the confidence to sell some of her paintings. I also like to imagine that she and Cam are extremely successful in the world of art and photography.

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟐 (𝟏/𝟐)   ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜   |   ZUYATL HOUSE, APRIL 1991

❧  𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲  /  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

   ❛  The family gathered in Intizara every spring to celebrate Matias’ birthday, but the location lost its charm in 1991. Wedded as it was to memories of holidays past, ones freshly lacquered with sadness, the estate felt inappropriate. Aides arranged for this year’s party to take place in Nakawe where a night in the open courtyard of Zuyatl House would suffice. Matias was never eager to be in the spotlight, but he understood the ritual of celebration meant something to his wife and children. They treated it as a thanksgiving of sorts—an opportunity to make lavish toasts in his name, to perform familial harmony for him, to present thoughtful gifts they (or their aides) had spent a year deciding upon. An undercurrent of competition annually motivated the extravagance, in no small part out of envy for the effortless sincerity of Safya's contributions.

❧ grandma back at it

𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

After an hour of aimless mingling as the sun set, Beatriz called the family together for the first of several toasts. Her speeches in the past had been brief but emphatic. Today, she appeared distracted, casting her eyes everywhere but on Matias as she spoke. 

“If there are better men,” she opined, swirling the wine in her glass. “I have not met them. This is the ...” Beatriz paused and wrinkled her brow. “Fortieth? Forty-first? Either way, we’ve celebrated many birthdays. This is the hardest and unhappiest, so I’ll say that I remain grateful. The Villars had no idea what they were doing when they gave you to me, but they found out soon enough. Forty more? I pray.” 

Matias gazed up at her the whole while, soaking in what she said with a gentle smile, but the mood around the table descended rapidly into apprehension. Beatriz, in her indifferent way, named the tension hanging over the party like the warm yellow lights strung across the courtyard. This was the first intimate family gathering since the funeral. It was, too, the first time most of the siblings had assembled and the only time anyone except Matias had spent informally with Beatriz. Even as they fell into the muscle memory of conversation and laughter, a general consensus simmered below the surface. No one wanted to be there. No one wanted to mimic the gestures and expression of happiness they didn’t feel. The sentiments were authentic, but they did not come from a place of joy. 

The toasts after Beatriz lacked her willingness to state the obvious, even if there were a few wry references to Safya’s absence. Arnaut emphasized gratitude as well, although he meant it as an acknowledgement that he no longer had to cross an ocean to attend family get-togethers. Olalla teared up as she described baking the cake alone this year; Safya had been no expert pâtissier, but the abrupt end of a thirty-year tradition caught her off-guard. Martin and Sebastian stuck to safe, tragedy-free childhood memories of their father. Blanca, though absent, expressed her regard for her father’s unwavering support in a card read by Arnaut and left the death unmentioned. 

When it was Matias’ turn to speak, he said simply, “I won’t give a speech. What I want to say is that being here, together, this year, is the greatest gift of all. Thank you. I love each of you—everyone here, everyone who isn’t. Please, now, let’s eat.”

Beatriz left before dessert. She rose, tossed her napkin onto the table, and floated away with a silent farewell squeeze of Matias’ shoulder. He remained engaged in conversation, but Salvatore’s eyes followed her as she left the room. More than just his steady gaze, Prissy followed her, too. She took fast strides with long legs, easily catching up with Beatriz whose steps slowed the moment she believed herself out of sight. If she heard Prissy’s footsteps—and, almost certainly, she did—then she gave no notice. 

“You don’t feel shame, do you?” 

Prissy’s hand clasped Beatriz’s shoulder, and she urged her to turn around with a tug. Although Beatriz obliged, her expression was hard. Hateful, their mother called it. 

“No.”

Then, “What do you want?” 

Prissy scoffed. “We haven’t even cut the cake. You’re a piece of work, Birdie.” 

The pair stood almost toe to toe, but Priscila towered over her sister as she had for decades. Beatriz had been nearing eleven years old when her sister was born, although she was mature for her age and carried herself with precocious sobriety to match. For a time, Priscila had been small and round. Adolescence came, and she shot up, a seedling made of willowy limbs, thinned out to reveal the striking combination of strong features she inherited. Few could guess, once they were grown women, the wide gap of years between them. Beatriz never gave the impression that she was the younger sister, but Priscila’s statuesque presence granted her a compelling illusion of command and seasoning. 

When they stood together like this, Beatriz thought of their father, whose height and eyes Priscila possessed. The resemblance filled her with envy. 

Priscila was talking again, her brow set low and her dark eyes boring, entirely unfazed, into Beatriz’s resentful stare. “You’ve got all the grit and endurance in the world for everyone and everything,” she complained. “Except for the people who love you. I just don’t get it.”

“Hysterics, over a cake?” Beatriz sneered in response. 

For all of her gentility, Prissy was also an impatient person. Beatriz knew this. She had poked and prodded her sister for years, able to rile her up or bring her down with the kind of precision honed best by siblings. Years apart hadn’t changed that. With a transoceanic letter or strategically missed phone call, Beatriz could rest assured Priscila would be wearing the exact look of infuriated astonishment she donned now. 

That never faded. Neither, too, did the desire of most people, including Priscila, to be heard and taken seriously. 

“It’s not about the cake,” Priscila snapped. She angled, pointing with a sharp-nailed finger into the room where Mateo stood, suppressing laughter while his uncles shoved each other like children. 

“It’s family. I visit those boys twice a week,” Priscila said, turning back to glare at Beatriz. As she continued, Beatriz watched Mateo with Martin and Sebastian. “They’re barely alive, and you made it worse. Isolating them, taking them from their home, making their only parent out to be—”

When Beatriz cut her off, her demeanor had changed. She wasn’t the defensive, condescending older sister who seemed intent on toying with Priscila’s clearly heightened emotions instead of digesting her complaints. Beatriz did know what Priscila wanted to discuss. She had left her chair on impulse, propelled by anger that had nothing to do with Matias’ birthday party. It had everything to do with how Beatriz existed, like some aloof god, above everyone in attendance even as she altered and diverted the flow of their lives. This conversation wasn’t one Priscila prepared in advance to have and, even if she had, it wasn’t one Beatriz would allow. 

Beatriz responded to her the way she would have a disgruntled minister or arrogant reporter. Her shoulders were squared, and she fixed her scowl into a kind of neutral expression as she stated, “Let me stop you there.”

“They’re fine,” she continued. Priscila listened, hands fastened to her hips, brows lower than ever. “If this is the worst thing that ever happens to them, they’ll be luckier than most. Certainly more blessed than I was at that age. I turned out fine, and so did you.” She added, quickly but with the tone of a dubious suggestion, “I suppose.”

Priscila sighed, which Beatriz took as an admission of defeat. “All that contempt,” she whined. “Doesn’t it get tiring?”

Beatriz wagged her finger. “Look in the mirror. This has been a good, wholesome evening. You’re being ugly.”

Now, while Priscila swallowed an indignant gasp, Beatriz took a half step closer. She spoke near Priscila but looked past her, once again eyeing the warmly lit scene of family reunion playing out just beyond earshot. “Don’t start an argument about this with me again,” she warned. “I will finish it next time, and you won’t like that at all.”

Having said her piece, Beatriz stepped away and turned. Priscila let her go, squeezing her hips tighter as she felt her face grow warmer and warmer.

TRANSCRIPT:

BEATRIZ | If there are better men, I have not met them. This is the … Fortieth? Forty-first? Either way, we’ve celebrated many birthdays.

BEATRIZ | This is the hardest and unhappiest, so I’ll say that I remain grateful. The Villars had no idea what they were doing when they gave you to me, but they found out soon enough.

BEATRIZ | … Forty more? I pray.

MATIAS | I won’t give a speech. What I want to say is that being here, together, this year, is the greatest gift of all. Thank you. I love each of you—everyone here, everyone who isn’t. Please, now, let’s eat.

[Overlapping conversations, laughter, music]

PRISSY | You don’t feel shame, do you?

BEATRIZ | No. What do you want? PRISSY | We haven’t even cut the cake. You’re a piece of work, Birdie

PRISSY | You’ve got all the grit and endurance in the world for everyone and everything, except for the people who love you. I just don’t get it.

BEATRIZ | Hysterics, over a cake?

PRISSY | It’s not about the cake. It’s family. I visit those boys twice a week. They’re barely alive, and you made it worse. Isolating them, taking them from their home, making their only parent out to be— BEATRIZ | Let me stop you there.

BEATRIZ | They’re fine. If this is the worst thing that ever happens to them, they’ll be luckier than most. Certainly more blessed than I was at that age. I turned out fine, and so did you. I suppose. PRISSY | All that contempt. Doesn’t it get tiring?

BEATRIZ | Look in the mirror. This has been a good, wholesome evening. You’re being ugly.

BEATRIZ | Don’t start an argument about this with me again. I will finish it next time, and you won’t like that at all.

[Beatriz knocking]