#like such a big source of glee

[doctor-whu]

Seeing old aunties ,walking down the street, dressed in extremely cool and unique style makes my day <3

[handful0fteeth]

hot for teacher

summary: you’re going on your first date with steve harrington, and hours before he’s due to pick you up your best friend gives you some rather unsavory information.

pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: smut, minors DNI, explicit language, dirty talk, (slight) rough sex

words: 13.6k

EDIT (09/24/2023): i am not a “no beta we die like men” person, but this?? she was not up to my standards. so i fixed her! enjoy ya horny bastards

"You know I heard Steve Harrington can't eat pussy?"

This announcement from your best friend is enough to make you choke on the mouthful of sandwich you're chewing on and spew chunks of it all over the table.

You drop your food noisily back onto its plate and reach for your drink, struggling to breathe while there's still turkey and lettuce lodged in your esophagus. The diner's patrons ogle you as you attempt to collect yourself, some concerned, some plain annoyed.

"Christ, dude!" Kelsey laughs, leaning over the table and thumping you hard on your back. You wave her hand off and guide your straw into your mouth, desperately gulping down Coke with one hand pressed to your chest as if that’ll ensure the food doesn't take a wrong turn on the way down.

"You have to - fuck, dude - you have to give a girl some warning before you just say shit like that, Kels," you sputter. You wipe a hand across your damp eyes and take a couple of steadying breaths, and finally, the reality of what Kelsey just said hits you. You look up and blink away the tears to get a clear look at her.

"Steve Harrington can't eat pussy?" you ask quietly, not wanting to attract any more attention. Kelsey nods, a smug grin plastered across her face. "Apparently, it's like a dog trying to drink water," she giggles. "Katie Kaspbrak went out with him last week, and she's been telling everyone how God-awful he is at head."

"Katie Kaspbrak? The same girl who swore half of the staff at school was in love with her?" You lean back against the cool vinyl of the booth and cough lightly, suddenly less interested in this gossip now that you've learned the source. 

Katie Kaspbrak would lie about what she had for breakfast if she thought it would make her seem more interesting. Actually, now that you think about it, she has done that.

"That's what I thought too," Kelsey continues, "until Belinda Carter and Donna Greene overheard her, and they said the same thing. Belinda said she was so shocked that she just faked it until he thought she came and then made an excuse to leave."

You pause. Katie Kaspbrak is one thing, but two other girls? That can’t all be a coincidence.

But… it's Steve Harrington. Every girl - and some of the boys - you've ever spoken to have the hots for him, whether they want to admit it or not, and how could he be so sought after if he gives such a piss-poor performance at something so fundamental? You pick at an errant lettuce leaf that juts out from the edge of your disheveled sandwich, pretending to find it fascinating so you don't have to look at Kelsey's elated expression anymore.

"Why are you waiting until now to tell me this?" you ask. Kelsey leans back in her seat and pops a french fry in her mouth, glancing at the dusty clock that hangs in the diner's lobby.

"Just wanted to give you something to look forward to before your date, Y/N," she says with barely contained glee. "I can't wait to hear all about it tomorrow." You shoot her a dirty look.

"Who says we're even gonna go that far tonight?" you counter, but you both know you're full of shit. You look down and pick at the skin around your fingernails to avoid Kelsey's knowing gaze because if you meet it, she'll see the uncertainty written all over your face. 

She loves messing with you like this; she's done it for almost every date you've ever gone on, regardless of who it's with. You pick up your sandwich and take a too-big bite to avoid having to talk anymore.

"Yeah, right. You've wanted to bang Steve since the moment you saw him, but you'll magically dry up the second you get the chance. Sounds legit."

 You stick out your tongue, letting Kelsey get a nice view of the smushed-up chunks of meat and bread hanging off it, but it doesn’t deter her snickering.

Her smug declaration is all you can think of for the rest of the day. It's so distracting that, while getting ready, you accidentally kiss the burning hot barrel of your curling iron to your temple and put your shoes on the wrong feet twice.

Who says that you have to go down that path tonight, anyway? Who says Steve is even the kind of dude to want to fuck on the first date?

Well...everyone who attended Hawkins High says, actually. Son of a bitch.

Perhaps you could just go down on him and insist he doesn't have to return the favor; it's not like most of the guys you've been with haven't leaped at the opportunity to skip the preamble and shove their dick in something anyway. The only problem with that is…you really wanna fuck Steve Harrington.

Really, really badly.

And you want it to be as good as it possibly can be. You've wanted this for years, and now that you've both graduated, who knows how long Steve plans to stick around in Hawkins so you can have your chance?

The time Steve promised he'd pick you up rolls around quicker than you'd anticipated. In the mirror, you smooth down your skirt one final time and fluff up your curls.

Kelsey doesn't know what she's talking about, you decide. Who were you to listen to gossip spread around by Katie Kaspbrak anyway? You practice smiling brightly in the mirror and notice a smear of lipstick across your front teeth. You lick at the stain and then rub it away with your index finger. It would be fine. 

Everything would be fine…right?

A car horn beeps twice before you can successfully reassure yourself.

He's here.

Oh, God.

You fly down the stairs two at a time, briefly worrying about how humiliating it would be to crack your head open before your date and snatch your purse off the kitchen table as you say goodbye to your mother. She reminds you of your curfew, and you give a vague acknowledgment as you pull the front door shut behind you.

In the faint evening light, Steve's maroon BMW is almost black, glimmering in the sour yellow streetlight like the shell of a beetle. Your heart leaps into your throat, but you croak a "Hi!" around it. Steve Harrington climbs out of his car gracefully, and his easy smile, accompanied by the bouquet of flowers he has clutched in his hand, is enough to make your knees wobble a bit.

"You look really pretty," he says, eyes flickering up and down your body. You're grateful for the dim outdoor lighting as your face flushes scarlet. "Thanks. Are those for me?" you ask, pointing at the bouquet. You wanna kick yourself as soon as you finish saying it. Of course, they're for you, you absolute buffoon. You’re on a date - who else would he be carrying flowers for?

Steve chuckles chuckles under his breath and extends them toward you. "You said these were your favorite, right? I saw 'em while I was getting stuff for tonight, so…Yeah." You gingerly take the flowers from him and bury your nose in the petals, inhaling their fresh scent as you look up at him through your lashes. He’s clenching and unclenching his fists by his sides, though his expression remains as casual as ever.

Is he…nervous?

He reaches in front of you as you walk up to the passenger side of the car and opens the door, bowing his head and gesturing for you to come inside exaggeratedly. You giggle and sink into the leather seats as he scurries around the car's hood. As he swings the door shut behind him and settles in behind the wheel, you silently draw a few steadying breaths.

The inside of his car smells distinctly of cologne and floral soap, so much so that you have to briefly wonder if he got his car detailed in anticipation of your date. His cologne is woody and sweet, not so strong that it stings behind your eyes, but you know the scent will stick to your clothes whether he lays a hand on you tonight or not. The thought makes your stomach flutter a little. As he revs the engine, you absently twirl the stem of a flower around your finger. 

"By the way," he says as he pulls out of your driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. "If you hear something clunking around back there while we drive, that's just Lucille."

You cock an eyebrow. "Lucille?"

You swear you see the ghost of a knowing smile creep across his lips, but an evening shadow cuts across his face before you're entirely sure. "Just a safety measure, that's all."

~~~

The date is more perfect than you could have ever imagined it to be. Steve takes you to a restaurant near the video store where he works, a little Italian place that's surprisingly upscale - at least, upscale for Hawkins. Your fingers don't get the opportunity to graze a door handle or the back of a chair the entire time, as he's always right behind you, reaching around your body to beat you to it.

His gaze never leaves your face when you talk, and he's so clearly hanging on every word you lose your train of thought a few times. It's jarring to have the guy you've been obsessed with for so long give you his undivided attention - in a good way, of course, but that doesn't stop the words from getting caught in your throat. 

He’s so pretty it's hard to maintain a coherent thought; all you want to do is stare at him and memorize the details of his face. The way his hair gently curves over his forehead, and he pushes a hand through the soft fringe to get it out of his eyes; the way his eyes sparkle in the warm, low light of the restaurant, transfixed on you like you're the single most intriguing thing he's ever laid them on.

You're not even halfway through offering to pay for half of the meal when he informs you he slipped his card to the host before you were even sat, and it's already taken care of. You insist he at least let you cover dessert - a small square of tiramisu you both nibble at - but he waves you off.

"You can pay for the next date," he says coolly, smiling behind a sip of his drink. You pull the cloth napkin from your lap and pretend to dab food from your mouth so you can hide your giddy smile and blushing cheeks. Next date, huh?

After dinner, he drives you to the outskirts of Hawkins, parking in a clearing in the forest that overlooks the blinking lights of the small city below. You have a perfect view of the moon as it gleams in the sky, full and white, and the stars glitter against the black velvet of the night without all the light pollution.

You sit on the hood of his car, legs crossed under you, picking at a loose thread on the hem of your skirt as it pools in your lap. You tug a too-big jacket tighter around your shoulders, a gift plucked from his trunk once he saw you shiver from the autumnal air against your skin. 

Steve is leaning back on his palms, head dropped between his shoulders as he stares at the sky. Goosebumps ripple across his skin, and every so often, his body twitches forward with a slight shiver, but he seems content enough in his short-sleeved shirt.

He catches you staring and chuckles when you avert your eyes and pretend to be fascinated by the paint on his car.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" he asks.

"A cute guy," you respond, your voice smaller than you intended. You clear your throat.

"That's so funny; I was just looking at a cute girl!" he exclaims, and you laugh. "Crazy how that works, huh?"

"Aren't you freezing?" you ask. Steve shrugs.

"I'm alright. It's refreshing. Keeps me awake," he murmurs.

A few minutes of silence pass comfortably. You listen to the sounds of the forest around you, only slightly concerned when you hear a twig snap in the distance or something rustle in the foliage beyond the car. But Steve's lack of interest in either puts you at ease. After a while, he points at a random spot in the sky and announces, "Found it!"

"Found what?"

"My friend Dustin - total nerd, by the way - was talking my ear off yesterday about constellations, like, how to find them and shit, and I found one!" He gestures for you to scoot closer without taking his eyes off his discovery, apparently not wanting to lose his spot. You do so, body hovering close enough to his that you can feel the warmth radiating off his skin, and his cologne wafts pleasantly back up into your nose. You follow the direction his finger is pointing in, scanning the inky blackness of the sky.

"Do you see it?" he asks excitedly.

"Did your nerdy friend happen to tell you what this constellation was called?"

"Uh. Ursula…something…I think. He said it was "the littler one" of the two."

"Ursa minor?" you posit. Steve snaps his fingers and points at you affirmatively.

"There you go! Do you see it?"

You shake your head. The name is familiar, but you don't remember what it's supposed to look like. You mostly slept through your astronomy class in high school. 

Suddenly, an arm drapes itself around your shoulders and pulls you in, and warm fingers caress the sides of your jaw, tilting your face further upwards. Apparently, Steve has decided that the best way to help you see what he sees is by manually guiding you in the proper direction, so he's pressed your bodies together and is trying to angle your head in just the right spot.

Your stomach flips, and your heart jumps into your throat. This time, you're worried you'll choke on it. You're sure Steve can feel the blush in your cheeks burning beneath his fingertips, but he's either too engrossed in Ursa Minor to care or is choosing not to mention it.

"Right…there. See?" Steve says, voice notably lower than before and now right against the shell of your ear. A shiver walks its fingers down your spine.

“O-Oh, yeah,” you stammer. You do see it, a tail of shimmering dots curling into a small rectangle of stars, but you're more focused on Steve's mouth right out of the corner of your eye, his lips parted and quirked up into a smile. His hair brushes against your cheek as he turns his head toward you, and his index finger presses itself against the curve of your jaw to encourage you to look at him.

His eyes shine in the moonlight, dark and kind, as they flit over the details of your face, lingering the longest on your lips. He's warm and solid against you, and you tentatively place your fidgety hand on his knee.

He's so beautiful, you think to yourself. It isn't a word you've ever used for the other men you've dated, but it fits Steve well. A square jaw still soft at the edges with youth, wide brown eyes framed by lashes so thick and long that they fan across his cheekbones when he blinks, full pink lips barely parted and pursed like he has something to say. Beautiful.

Steve’s finger slides down the edge of your face until it reaches your chin, pinching it between bent thumb and forefinger. He leans in close enough that you can feel his breath wash over your lips.

You, on the other hand, forget how to breathe entirely.

He hesitates, and you feel a tug in your stomach as the thought of him pulling away from you occurs. Does your breath offend? You did eat a lot of garlic bread at the restaurant. Maybe you should've packed gum in your purse -

"Is this okay?" he murmurs. You blink, a little caught off guard by the question.

“Huh?” Very astute.

“This,” he says, and his thumb presses itself briefly in the center of your bottom lip as if to punctuate what he means. “I mean…can I kiss you?”

You swallow hard to avoid swooning at the question and clear your throat. "Yes. Yes, please kiss me."

He barely even has to move to capture your lips, so softly at first, like he’s afraid you’ll suddenly change your mind if he applies more pressure. Electricity thrums beneath your skin, zapping every nerve you have until your entire body is lit up with excitement. Your free hand trembles as you rest it against his chest. His heart thumps wildly beneath your palm, indicating that Steve Harrington is just as nervous as you are right now. This helps you to relax a bit, strangely.

Steve's arm slides down from your shoulders to wrap around your waist and pulls you firmly against him. He smiles against your mouth as a contented sigh escapes you and pulls away just enough to mumble, "Still okay?"

You bunch up the fabric of his shirt in your fingers and bring your lips back together, kissing him with more fervor. He hums against your mouth, satisfied with his answer, and his smile grows almost imperceptibly.

When he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, you gasp, and his hand slips up to the nape of your neck and buries itself in your hair. He doesn't pull, just holds you firmly in place, and though the act is relatively small, its possessive nature makes you unconsciously sink into his touch. Your mind races with thoughts of what it would feel like if Steve did pull, just a little - how your neck would bend forward, how your eyes would be forced skyward, and how you'd have no choice but to arch toward him as he kept you where he wanted you.

He keeps you still as he pulls away, chuckling at the little mewl that falls out of your mouth at the lack of contact. He soothes you with kisses peppered down the expanse of your neck, pausing only to nip and lick at random spots of flesh. You moan breathily into his hair as he sucks on a patch of skin just above the neckline of your shirt, and your hand creeps even further up his thigh.

"If you give me a hickey…my mom will kill me," you breathe, and Steve snickers against your neck.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks. The thought is enough to make your stomach sink with dread. You shake your head ardently. He grazes his teeth against your throat, his satisfied grin tangible against your buzzing skin.

"I didn’t think so."

He makes his way back up to your lips after sucking another hickey into your flesh, this time thankfully below where your clothing can cover, and doesn't waste a second slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You swear you'll turn to liquid any second now and slip straight through Steve's fingers. Steve tastes faintly of tiramisu still, and you eagerly chase after the taste, your tongues sliding against each other. The hand in your hair glides down your spine and pauses above your ass. His fingers twitch hesitantly against the hem of his jacket, hiking it up only to smooth it back down several times. He waits for you to move to give him some indication that you want to go further.

So, you oblige him.

You pull away, a thin line of saliva connecting your lips. It's Steve's turn to whine at the empty space where your mouth used to be, and it's a sound that resonates right into the fingers still curled against his chest. It makes a feral heat stir in your belly, and you make a brief mental note to find what else elicits that noise from Steve Harrington's lips later.

You decide if there was any moment in your life to be bold - it's right now. You use the hand on his chest to nudge him up the hood of the car so his back is flush with the windshield, and before he can question what you're doing, you swing one leg over his lap and sit, straddling him.

He takes a surprised breath and smiles at you, the moonlight making his eyes shimmer like liquid bronze. You kiss him again, and he boldly reaches down and grabs two generous handfuls of your ass. With a groan, you roll your hips back into him, urging him to grab more, grab harder. 

Your hands grip either side of his slim waist and dip below the edge of his shirt. His skin is so warm compared to the chill of the evening, and you find yourself wanting to do anything to obtain more of his heat.

"Do you…wanna head inside the car?" he asks breathlessly, kissing the corners of your lips and down your jaw. "It's a lot more comfortable."

"I'm pretty comfortable right here," you say, and Steve laughs. He sits up straight and slots his hands under your knees, pulling you forward and down so you sit directly on his crotch. Despite the multiple layers of clothing between you both, you definitely feel something hard nudging at your inner thigh, and you let out a noise that's half surprise, half arousal.

"He's getting a bit restless if you catch my drift," Steve drawls, capturing your chin between his thumb and forefinger again. Your eyes flicker downward as if you’d be able to see with your legs and his jeans in the way. God, you want to see it, though, need to see it.

"'Course, if you're uncomfortable, we don't have to,” he says quietly, earnestly. “It’s up to you, Y/N.”

Your answer is to grind down on his dick hard enough that he pushes air out through his gritted teeth and grips your ass tighter. "Like I said," you purr against the shell of his ear, "I'm plenty comfortable."

Though Steve helps you back onto solid ground gingerly, there's a tautness to his muscles, a stiffness in how he moves that belies how desperate he is to get you into the car. He tries to adjust the front of his jeans casually, and you pretend to be staring into the treeline when he glances in your direction. You cock your head a bit in confusion when you notice him pull something long and thin out from below the backseat. It appears wooden, and the flared nub at the bottom is familiar enough that you realize it's probably a baseball bat. However, the top of the bat is oddly lumpy and seems to be covered in something spiky; you can't tell for sure what that could be because it's wrapped tightly in a tattered blue towel.  

He pops the trunk and throws it inside, acknowledging your puzzled expression after slamming it shut with a calm smile. "Lucille," he says simply. You decide you'll ask about it later. If you remember.

What you do remember, as soon as your back is nestled against the interior car door and Steve slots himself between your thighs, fingertips pushing the fabric of your skirt further up around your hips, is the conversation you had with Kesley.

"You know Steve Harrington can't eat pussy?"

You try to push the thought from your head by carding your fingers through Steve's hair, marveling at how soft it is while he plants kisses along your inner thighs. His lips brush across the intersection of your hip and thigh so gently that it makes you squirm a bit. Steve, despite your efforts, takes notice.

"Ticklish?"

"Uh. No?"

It's a lie. A bad one.

Steve smirks up at you and pushes your skirt past your pelvis, over your panties. Before you can stop him, his mouth is latched down over the sensitive juncture of your thigh, and you squeal in protest. Your breathless laughter and pleas for him to stop go unheeded, and he pins your writhing hips to the leather of the backseat so he can continue sucking a bright red hickey into your skin. Seemingly satisfied, he pulls off with a pop and strokes a finger over his handiwork. You bump his head with your knee, a halfhearted attempt to get him to stop prodding.

"Cute panties," he says lowly, and his finger follows the thick tendon that runs from your inner thigh to the edge of the cotton fabric. He drags the tip of it just underneath the seam of the gusset, pulling it far enough from your skin that it snaps back and makes you flinch. You remember agonizing over which pair to wear while you dressed - everything was too itchy, tight, plain, or extravagant for a first date. You only settled on the blush pink pair currently hugging your hips because they were the least offensive thing you could find.

You swallow hard, your hands fidgeting from their place atop your chest, and reflexively try to shut your legs. You're suddenly painfully aware of Steve staring at you, your most intimate part. A thin scrap of cloth is the only thing that separates your pussy from Steve Harrington's eyes, and while it's not like no one has ever seen you in states very similar to this, this time is…different. 

The butterflies in your stomach are hammering against your ribcage and fluttering into your lungs, threatening to cut off your air supply entirely. You're sure you're going to suffocate before he can make any further moves, and you're gonna pass out right in the back of Steve Harrington's car before he's even really done anything -

“Y/N?”

Steve's warm hand squeezing your hip pulls you from your thoughts. You pull the pooled fabric of your skirt up against your stomach so you can look at his face. His expression is hued with concern.

"Hm?"

"Are you okay?" His thumb rubs in small, soft circles above the purpling hickey on your thigh.

"Yeah! I'm totally fine, I just…sorry, I kinda got lost in thought."

"Are you sure? I can stop if you need me to, yanno, if you're feelin'...like, weird about any of this."

You shake your head and smile, brushing a lock of hair off his forehead. "I'm absolutely fine, Steve. I promise you. Did you say something before? I didn't hear you."

"I, uh…" He curls the tip of his finger beneath the gusset of your panties again, this time tugging experimentally. "Just wanted to know if I could take these off."

Your face is scorchingly hot, and if it weren't for the shadows cascading over the both of you, you’re sure Steve would laugh his ass off at the shade of red your cheeks have achieved. Any verbal response you might muster is lodged impossibly tight in your throat, so you just nod, let your legs fall further apart, and lift your hips off the seat so he can work your panties down your legs.

He does so with something akin to reverence, inching the fabric further and further off your body until his warm breath unfurls over your bare skin in deep, measured breaths. He carelessly tosses your panties somewhere in the front of his car, eyes transfixed on the spot between your legs. You're torn between wanting to yank your shirt collar over your eyes so you don't have to look at the deferent expression on his face, the damn near worshipful look in his dark eyes, and wanting to sit up to get an even better look at him.

"Wow… you're…fuck." Steve Harrington is at a loss for words because of you. You keep the glow of pride you feel at that fact to yourself…for now. You pull your legs back toward your chest, hooking one hand under your knee ditch to hold it steady and give him a better look. 

"Are you, uh…can I, like, eat you out?" he asks, and though part of you inwardly leaps for joy at the request, another part wants to suggest he do literally anything else.

You're being stupid, you chide yourself. Who gives a shit what Katie Kaspbrak or her stupid friends say? They're probably full of it anyway. Why are you entertaining the idea of telling Steve fucking Harrington he can't eat you out?

"Yes, please," you hear yourself breathe out despite your internal reservations. Steve smiles and raises a hand to replace the one keeping your leg pulled back. You take note of the way he licks his lips before he brings his mouth down against your pussy.

It's…well…it's interesting.

His tongue bypasses your clit completely and instead presses against your urethra, of all places. It isn't flat or relaxed; instead, a stiff pinpoint of muscle grinding uncomfortably into a spot that is decidedly not meant for that kind of stimuli. You shift, uneasy, but he seems to interpret it as a pleasured movement, which only spurs him on. He digs the tip of his tongue harder into your flesh, and you're grateful he can't see how your face is screwed up in distress.

Oh, God…oh, God. It really is awful. It's almost excruciating, and Katie Kaspbrak was fucking right. What do you do? What will he say if you tell him it's not good? Will he get embarrassed or hurt or even angry? Has anyone ever tried to tell him that this was wrong before?

You're conflicted and debating on just letting him finish up and possibly lying for the rest of time that Steve Harrington is a champion at eating pussy, until his tongue flicks upward and the unrelenting nub of his tongue stabs into your clit. You yelp involuntarily and yank your leg out of his hand, tightening your thighs. You press your fingers against your slit, hoping to soothe the throbbing ache Steve's harsh ministrations have brought on.

"What, what happened?" he asks, frantic, sitting up as much as he can in the confined space of the backseat.

He looks so much like a kicked puppy it's physically painful, maybe more painful than the burning sensation in your clit, and you consider for a moment just brushing it off as a leg cramp and letting him continue as if it's the best head in the world.

But you can't. You won't. If Steve doesn't know what he's doing wrong, he can't fix it, right? You just hope he's genuinely ignorant of how unrefined his skills are and not just overconfident and uncaring. The apologetic expression he's wearing is encouraging that it's the former.

"I…that hurt," you hiss between your teeth. "That hurt a lot."

"I'm so sorry," he says, reaching towards you instinctively, but then he seems to reconsider and takes his hands back. They rest atop his knees, clenching and unclenching, just like when he picked you up. "I…I thought that's what girls liked. I haven't…no one's told me any different, and I don't, like, have a bunch of practice - I mean, I've had practice, but no one's ever said anything before. I had no idea I was hurting you. I don't…I don't have to do that if you don't want it. I can do something else. I mean, Nance never really liked it when I did that either, so-"

He stops, eyes widening once it dawns on him what just came out of his mouth. Admittedly, you're a little shocked yourself. You attempt to keep your expression neutral to not make him feel worse, but you clearly fail because Steve cringes away when he catches a glimpse of your face.

"Shit…sorry. I shouldn't… it's not cool to bring up your ex on a first date. I know that. I'm sorry…Look, if you wanna go home, I get it. I kinda messed shit up, so I can-"

He's so fixated on his contrite ramblings that he doesn't notice when you sit up, nor when your hands cup either side of his face, and he only stops talking once you've pressed your lips against his, making it physically impossible. You feel the tension melt out of his body, and he tentatively grips your elbows.

"I'm fine," you start, leaning your forehead against his. His breaths escape in panicked, warm bursts against your lips. "I don't need to go home. I'm absolutely perfect here, with you. You didn't stab me with a burning hot poker or anything, so I'm doing pretty alright." The corners of his lips twitch upward in a sad suggestion of a smile. You should know better; you shouldn't ask about Nancy Wheeler even if Steve accidentally brought her up first, but you can't help the question that ripples from your lips.

"What do you mean, 'Nance never liked it?'" you ask carefully, and his muscles flex beneath your fingers. You're treading on thin ice. You rub your thumbs over his cheekbones, attempting to put him at ease and have his eyes meet yours.

"It's… it's stupid," Steve mutters, eyes downcast at his lap. "She…Nancy really, super hated it when I went down on her. I never thought about it too hard, I guess. I chalked it up to her being kinda uptight and just moved on, but now it makes way more sense. I suck. Of course, she hated it." He offers a dry, humorless sound you suppose is his attempt at a laugh.

"Did she ever, like…tell you what you were doing wrong?" you ask softly.

"Yeah…well, no, not exactly. I don't know. She'd usually just sit up and tell me she wanted to do something else, and when I asked what was up, she would just dance around the question, and we'd do something else and…I stopped trying after that. I should've asked questions."

"Well, you can ask them now. If you'd like."

Steve finally lifts his gaze to meet yours, and his eyes are markedly brighter than before. "If it's not too astoundingly lame…yeah, that'd be great. What exactly hurt about it? Was I too rough?"

"Partially that, and partially how rigid your tongue was," you giggle. "It feels much better if you loosen up. Think more like licking a lollipop than Vlad the Impaler."

Steve laughs sincerely at that one, and his head tilts forward to rest on your shoulder. "Vlad the Impaler, huh? That's pretty bad."

"It is, but it's nothing you can't improve on. I'll even let you practice if you want." Steve sits straight, his once crestfallen expression replaced with wide, hopeful eyes and a hint of a genuine smile on his lips.

"Seriously?"

"Mm-hm. I'll guide you through it, like, uh...like a pussy-eating professor."

 Steve snorts and kisses you briefly. His hands move to your hips in twitchy anticipation, unsure whether or not he should settle on your bare flesh or the hem of your skirt. It's almost like he suddenly doesn't know where to start. You decide for him; you lay your hands over his and guide them toward your body, bringing them up beneath your skirt and settling them on the bare skin of your hips.

"Give me a reason to tangle my fingers in that famous hair, pretty boy."

Without warning, you're pulled forward hard enough to fall unceremoniously onto your back, nearly thumping your head against the door handle. Steve almost concusses you in his excitement, but you can't bring yourself to care once you feel his breath washing over your exposed slit in warm, quick puffs. You sigh contentedly and thread your fingers through the hair at his temples.

"Loosen up, right?" he hums, and you make an affirmative noise high in your throat when you remember he can't see you nod.

"Start at the bottom," you say quickly, "and work your way up. Don't go straight for the clit, just-"

The sensation of Steve's hot, wet tongue licking a flat stripe up your cunt, slowly and carefully, makes your brain short-circuit. The instructions fizzle and die on your tongue, and you forget why you were speaking for a moment.

"Like that?"

"Huh? Yeah…yeah, like that. You don't have to just lick, either. You can like, um…suck on certain areas, like the lips and the - fucking shit -"

Steve is, apparently, a fast and very ambitious learner - before you can finish a complete sentence, he's applying your advice fucking beautifully. He licks another long, languid stripe up your pussy and sucks gently on your labia, tugging lightly with closed lips. Shifting his face upward, his nose grazes your clit, eliciting an unexpected moan. One hand flies above your head, fumbling for the handle on the car's roof for purchase, and you keep the other firmly planted in his hair.

"Still good?" His voice has an edge, much cockier now than it was just a few moments ago. He's so entertained by your reactions, and you don't know if it makes you mad, turns you on, or both. You decide that's not important because his mouth isn't on you anymore, and you can't stand for that.

"Fucking fantastic."

"Any more lessons to teach me?" he asks smugly. His hands are splayed across your inner thighs, spreading you open just slightly, and his thumbs are massaging your outer lips as he talks. His tone ignites something defiant within you. You push yourself up on your elbows and stare down at him evenly, meeting his eyes. His rediscovered confidence is undoubtedly hot, so hot you can feel your arousal starting to leak onto the upholstery beneath your ass, but it's in your nature to want to challenge him a little bit.

"Here's one," you rasp. You fist a hand into Steve's hair, gripping it tightly by the roots, and shove his face deeper into your cunt. You toss both legs over his shoulders and lock them at the ankles.

"Give that mouth something useful to do other than fuckin' talk."

You swear to everything holy, you hear Steve Harrington growl.

He dives into your pussy with renewed fervor, fingers still keeping you opened up for him, and laps at the rivulet of slick drooling out of your hole. Once the taste hits his tongue, he moans into you and pushes his face so deep you can feel the light stubble on his cheeks grazing your sensitive folds. 

Your back arches, lifting you almost entirely off the seats, and you bite your lip to stifle the noises threatening to burst from your throat. It's not to spare whatever stranger may or may not be lurking in the bordering forest but because your moans sound downright embarrassing. His tongue burns a wet trail from your weeping hole to your clit, where it laps experimentally at the swollen bud.

You twist and shudder beneath him, your body operating without input from your brain, but the feeling of Steve's hands slamming your hips down into the seats snaps you back to attention. You lift your head from its position against the car door, struggling to focus your eyes. Steve has laid himself as flat as he can across what little space remains in the backseat. His arms coil tight around your thighs, which keep both legs hanging limply over his shoulders. He stares up at you through his thick lashes, eyes gleaming hungrily, while he licks and sucks your pussy like it's the last meal he'll ever eat. His ordinarily perfect hair is trashed, sticking to his damp forehead in dark clumps.

You gnaw on your bottom lip stubbornly, clinging to what little rebellion still smolders inside you. Steve laughs; the vibrations feel like heaven against you, and you fling your head back down.

It isn't until his mouth has formed a near-vacuum seal around your clit that you unabashedly squeal into the humid air, unable to contain yourself anymore, pleasure wracking your body in unrelenting waves. Steve doesn't let up, swirling his tongue while he sucks, somehow keeping you glued to the seats without much apparent effort. You knew he was strong; he was an athlete the entire time you were in high school, but you didn't imagine his slender frame belied this much strength. The ease with which he's made you almost immobile is unexpected and very, very sexy.

"S-Steve, Steve - fuck - okay, God, you're getting me close already," you wheeze, voice straining high and desperate in your throat. You don't usually get close this fast unless you're alone and rubbing out a quick orgasm before bed or out of boredom. Still, the combination of his greedy suckling and licking, the sheer amount of enthusiasm he's displaying toward pleasuring you, and the fact that this long-held fantasy is coming to life right before you are making you hurtle toward the edge.

You inhale sharply, your body tenses, you're so, so close, you're about to cum -

Steve pulls off you, his lips making a wet, obscene pop before they curl into a fiendish grin. You whine, and he chuckles at you, rubbing your thigh apologetically. "You taste so fucking good," he says breathlessly.

"Why'd you stop?" you whimper. "And…thank you?"

"I'm having too much fun and didn't want you to cum yet," he says simply. "Plus, I wanted to ask something."

"Go for it."

You can't see them, but you can feel Steve's fingers on your pussy; his thumb makes a few small, tight circles around your clit before two more digits glide down the length of your folds and stop right at the entrance of your hole. They nudge around the rim as he speaks.

"Do you like getting fingered at the same time?" he asks, hopeful. "I know I'm at least good at that."

"Yes, please, do that," you beg, hardly letting him finish the sentence. You pause as the last part of Steve's sentence registers in your lust-addled brain. I know I'm at least good at that.

The corners of your mouth tug downward into a frown. Just as Steve ducks his head down again, you cup the sides of his jaw in both hands. He looks up at you, and the way his eyes flash nervously in the darkness doesn't escape you.

"By the way," you murmur, rubbing your thumbs into the stubbly flesh of his cheeks. "You've proven to be very…very good at…yanno, all this. Not just fingering."

"Yeah?" The hope in his voice is so genuine and sweet you could cry.

"Yeah. You just needed a little guidance, that's all."

He turns his head and kisses your palm, tracing circles into the back of your hand with his own before pulling it away and lacing your fingers together. Your interlocked hands rest next to your bare hip, and he presses a chaste kiss to your inner thigh. "Want me to get back to the, uh…fun part?"

You giggle. "I'm having a ton of fun, personally, but if you mean the eating my pussy part…yes, please."

"Gotcha."

Steve wastes no time reclaiming your swollen clit in his mouth, but he's decidedly gentler as he trails his two middle fingers around the rim of your hole. You can't tell if he's teasing you or testing the waters as he dips the tips inside you a few times, never edging past the first knuckles before pulling them back out again.

If he keeps this up, you’re going to go batshit insane. You're milliseconds away from telling him so before he swipes his fingers through the slick puddling beneath your pussy, and plunges them inside you up to the last knuckle.

"Oh my fucking God," you moan, writhing as much as possible while trapped between Steve's body and the car. His fingers curl, brushing against a spot that makes sparks fly behind your closed eyes, and he rubs against it purposefully once your voice pitches up and your breathing quickens even more. Both hands tangle in his disheveled hair, and you're torn on whether to push him away with how overwhelming the pleasure is becoming or pull him closer so he never stops. You settle on knotting your fingers at the roots and holding on for dear life.

Steve's fingers make lewd wet sounds as they pump in and out of your hole, and his free hand rests on the soft mound of skin above your clit. He pulls back just slightly, a stringy line of saliva connecting his tongue to your body, and his index finger stretches your skin up enough that the hood of your clit shifts backward. He chuckles.

"You should see how much of a mess your pussy is," he says. His tongue darts out to lick the slick shining on his lips. "It's so cute."

"Cute?" You don't know if that would've been the word you'd have picked to describe yourself right now, nor had anyone ever done so before. Despite the flush rising high on your cheekbones, you pretend to be more offended by it than you really are.

"Adorable," Steve coos, a smug smile sprawling across his handsome face. "And the noises you're making are even cuter. Have you been saving those just for me?"

You're speechless. You can't deny it, but you sure as hell aren't going to confirm it for him, either. His head will get so big you worry it'll fill the car's cab until you're both suffocated by the sheer mass of it. You sit up as much as you can against the car door, tugging the hand still woven with yours and smiling audaciously at him. You cross pinched fingers in front of your lips in a zipping motion, twisting them at the corner and flicking your wrist over your shoulder. My lips are sealed.

Steve scoffs. "Oh? We'll see how long that lasts, pretty girl."

Steve thrusts his fingers deep inside you again, fluttering them against your g-spot, then spits on your exposed clit. He dips his head and licks up the saliva trickling down your slit in one slow, hot strip, eyes never leaving your face.

You press your lips together tight, screwing your eyes shut and exhaling hard through your nose. Your legs are trembling, you're gripping his hand so tightly you're surprised he isn't complaining of bruised bones yet, and your chest is heaving with the effort of staying silent, but you're winning.

Or, at least, you think you're winning.

That is until he stuffs his fingers so deep inside you that it causes his hand to curl upward, almost cupping your cunt in his palm and grinding the heel of his hand into your tender clit. You can't help but gasp as he outright abuses your g-spot, rubbing circles against it with such pressure that even if you wanted to make noise, you can’t - the pleasure radiating from your core has snatched your voice away. You can't even draw in a satisfying breath and only manage a few sparse, shallow gasps.

"You done acting like you're not gonna give me what I want?" Steve asks, voice dripping with sweet condescension. You sob. It takes a stammering, whimpering, tear-filled moment before you gather enough oxygen to reply.

"U-Uh-huh, I'm - shit - I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, Steve…."

"Atta girl." Though his fingers don't relent in the brutal pace they've set, he does bend his hand down enough so he can lap at your clit again. Tears eke out of the corners of your eyes and drip slowly into your hairline, and when you find your voice again, it bursts out of you in a broken scream.

It takes thirty seconds of consistent attention before he's got you close again, and you warn him of that fact by whining and tugging on his hair.

"You gonna cum for me?" he huffs, breath washing over your sensitive skin.

"Y-Yes, yes, yes, fuck - oh fuck me, Steve -!"

"Soon, baby," he hums.

Your orgasm crashes into you full force, and your throat burns with the force of your wailing as you arch off the backseat; you guarantee you're pulling some of Steve's hair out with how tight your grip is, but he is decidedly unfazed. He milks this moment for all its worth, never stopping or slowing in his ministrations.

Tears flow down your cheeks freely, soaking into the neck of your shirt and wetting the hair you'd spent so much time on. The pleasure crescendos into something too intense to handle quickly. You choke out a few half-assed pleas, your brain melting out of your ears at this point, far beyond being capable of intelligible sentences, and Steve ignores you.

Clearly, you don't decide when Steve Harrington is done - he does.

Your orgasm seems to go on for days, months even, and just as the pain begins to nip at the edges of your earth-shattering pleasure, as you almost snap your legs shut and beg Steve to please just give you a small break, you feel it. 

Your second orgasm. Building, apparently in secret, riding the tails of your first one and sneaking up on you to the point you don't notice you're going to cum until your cunt spasms around Steve's fingers again.

"C-C-Cumming, cumming again, fuck, oh God, fuck, I can't - Steve, I can't-"

"Yes, you can," Steve assures, fingers working impossibly faster. You're astonished he doesn't have the mother of all hand cramps right now. Perhaps he does, and he just doesn't care. You don't think you care, either. "You can cum for me again, Y/N. Come on. Cum on my fingers, pretty girl."

This time, you don't even have the strength to scream. You weep and sag against the car door, body tremoring and barely managing a few pathetic pleas between hiccuping breaths.

You're drenched in sweat, and you're sure your makeup is fucked because of it. That and the tears, of course. You must look utterly trashed, but when Steve finally pulls off your poor, sore pussy with a pop, he looks at you like you're the single most beautiful creature on the planet.

He goes to wipe his lips with the back of one hand, and you notice slick shimmering down his chin and even splattered onto his neck. It's only then you feel the absolute lake of cum that’s accumulated beneath your ass, and your entire body burns bright red with embarrassment. He raises himself up on his palms, his arms boxing you in tightly.

"You are so gorgeous," he says, cupping your cheek in the hand that isn't glistening with your cum. You laugh shakily and lean into his touch.

"Sorry… 'bout your seats," you offer weakly, and he shakes his head. "You can ruin my upholstery anytime."

Steve leans down, dark eyes scanning your face, and smiles. It's a sweet, lopsided expression, nowhere near the self-satisfied, almost sadistic grin from earlier. They both quicken your pulse, but this one assures you you can at least take this moment to recover from possibly the best orgasm of your life.

First and second-best orgasms. Wow.

He kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. He slots his leg between yours, narrowly avoiding the puddle you've made, and cradles your head as if he's the only thing keeping it from flopping sideways. Frankly, he is. When he pulls away, he kisses your forehead before leaning his own against it.

"You okay?" he asks. You nod, sighing and swallowing despite your parched mouth. Your hands rest atop your chest, curled up into each other meekly as you try to regain any semblance of strength in your extremities. You bump your lips into him again briefly.

"You're a remarkably fast learner, Steve Harrington," you mumble, voice hoarse. He chuckles. 

"It's easy when I have such an incredible teacher.”

It takes a few minutes to clean you - and the car - up. Steve digs around in his glove box for some old fast food napkins and gingerly sops as much of your cum out of his seats as he can while you lay on your side, curled up and heavy-lidded as the adrenaline slowly dribbles out of your system. He dabs the sweat from your brow, following the rough, cheap napkin with gentle kisses to soothe your flushed skin. Afterward, he bunches the napkins and shoves them in his passenger side door before rejoining you in the backseat. 

He hoists you up onto his lap and guides your head onto his shoulder, allowing you to nuzzle your face into his neck and inhale his scent as he rubs your back.

"Any more pointers?" he asks just before you've dozed off. You smile and shake your head.

"None whatsoever. You've exceeded my greatest expectations, dear pupil." He laughs and thumps your back appreciatively. It's not until you're readjusting slightly to get more comfortable that you realize something - Steve is still hard. Achingly so, it would seem, as you can feel the rigid denim stretched over his bulge so tightly you're surprised the zipper hasn't popped clean off. Heat stirs in your belly, and you make a soft, serene noise in your throat as you grind your bare pussy into his lap.

His hips stutter upward just enough for you to bounce slightly, and you giggle into the crook of his neck. "We still haven't taken care of you yet." "We don't have to if you're too tired," he assures you, voice little more than a deep hum against the shell of your ear. "I'm happy just makin' you feel good."

You consider it. You know you'll be sore tomorrow, regardless of if you choose to have more of Steve Harrington stuffed inside you, and your clit is throbbing and achy to the touch. You could fall asleep on his chest right now; he could keep you in this beautiful, dreamlike space for the rest of time if he wanted to. But there's a part of you, a part much, much louder than the part complaining about your sore slit or exhausted body, that is dying to know what Steve's dick looks like.

You leave a trail of kisses up from the hollow of his neck to the curve of his jaw and blink at him happily. Once your faces are close enough that his eyelashes are nearly tickling your cheekbones, you snake one hand between your bodies and trail a finger over the cold metal teeth of his zipper.

"Just 'cause my cunt is sore doesn't mean I'm totally out of commission," you purr. "And since you did so well with your mouth on me… don't you think it's fair I return the favor?"

You feel, rather than hear, the low moan that rumbles through Steve’s chest at the insinuation. You hook your nail through the eye of his zipper and give an experimental tug.

"Can I suck your cock, Steve?"

His lips are on yours almost before the question rolls off your tongue. His fingers tangle in your hair, keeping you still as his tongue explores inside your mouth. Steve's natural taste mixes with the taste of your slick in an intoxicating way, but just before your head starts spinning, he breaks the kiss enough to breathe, "You're gonna have to move, baby."

Of all the lewd, downright filthy things Steve Harrington has done and said tonight, the way he slurs the word "baby" against your swollen lips is the thing that makes you blush the hottest.

He reaches behind you and opens the car door, and you both shiver slightly as the cold air rushes in from the forest and cools your sweat-soaked skin. He pats your thigh and juts his chin forward, so you awkwardly clamber out of the BMW despite your wobbling legs. You lean one hand on the car's roof while Steve scoots to sit on the edge of the backseat and swings his legs onto the ground.

He brushes past you as he emerges from the car, planting a quick kiss on the top of your head before he pops the trunk and struggles with something inside for a moment. With a victorious smile, Steve waves the same raggedy blue towel that had been wrapped around "Lucille" before assuming his spot in the backseat again. He folds it in half once and lays it out between his spread legs atop the mud and sparse grass you're standing on.

"So you don't get your legs all dirty," he explains, observing your mildly confused expression.

"My legs?"

"It'd be killer on your back, sucking my dick while you're bent at the waist, wouldn't it?" Steve laughs, undoing his belt with deft fingers while he watches the realization dawn on you. "The least I can do is make you more comfortable and keep the mud and crap off your legs, right?"

“Yeah…totally…”

Words escape you as you watch the metal of Steve's belt buckle glitter in the moonlight while he slips the leather out of the loop. His shirt is riding up just far enough onto his stomach that you can see a dark thatch of hair leading upward from the hem of his jeans, and at that moment, you are determined to follow Steve's happy trail with your tongue at some point. As he pops the button on his pants, you release your grip on the car and collapse to your knees. You grab his hands and pull them out of the way, splaying your fingers across his thighs and squeezing.

"Let me," you say, eyes darting between his mostly undone jeans and his face. He chuckles at you, and you try to commit his crooked, sweet smile and warm brown eyes to memory. He's beyond handsome, drop-dead fucking gorgeous - and he's letting you suck his cock. You take a moment to thank whatever deity or greater cosmic force that's brought you to this exact moment in your life.

"Be my guest," Steve says, leaning back on his palms and staring down the bridge of his nose at you. You lean forward, using the grip on his legs to keep balance and capture the end of his zipper between your teeth. You drag it down agonizingly slowly while keeping complete eye contact with him. You can't look away from his amazed and steadfastly aroused face. Pants fully unzipped, you think you can make out that Steve is wearing dark red boxer briefs.

Very normal, all things considered, but you know in the back of your head that this particular shade of red will always make you horny now - Pavlov's dogs had their bell, and you drool at the sight of Steve Harrington's underwear.

Steve lifts his ass off the backseat just enough for you to tug his pants and boxers down to his knees. You could pull his cock out through his underwear, but no, you want to see all of him, every last inch. Fair is fair, right? 

Steve is…fuck, he's big. Bigger than you ever even fantasized about. 

His cock springs upright fully after you've freed it from his boxers, and with a hard swallow and a fluttery feeling in your gut, you realize it's big enough to touch his navel. It curves toward his belly, an angle so perfect it's impossible not to imagine how it'll feel inside you once you can handle it. The head is flushed a dark red and slick with precum, and you watch in reverence as a milky bead forms at the slit. It's all you can do to not surge forward immediately and lick it off. The hair covering the base of Steve's dick and balls is dark, nearly black, and unexpectedly curly compared to the other hair on his body.

You reach a tentative hand out and wrap it around his shaft. He's so thick your fingers barely touch once you've made a fist. Steve hisses at the feeling and drops his head back a little.

"You're…so fucking big," you say breathlessly. Steve laughs and cards a hand through your hair, brushing sweaty strands away from your forehead. 

"You think you're gonna be able to handle it?" His voice drips with fake sympathy, so you nod your head despite being unsure. The head is so big you worry you won't be able to fit it in your mouth without your back teeth accidentally scraping it, let alone have it go down your throat. But the cocky, smug look he wears makes you want to suck his dick until he cries, just like you did. 

You nudge his shirt further up his torso, noting how solid his abdominal muscles feel beneath your palm, and dip your head down to his happy trail. You lay soft kisses amongst the thick, coarse hair, and Steve subtly squirms.

"Ticklish?" you ask. He narrows his eyes.

"Don't even think about it."

You chuckle, sorely tempted.

You copy his actions from earlier and lick a long, hot stripe with your flattened tongue up the entire length of his cock, stopping only to swirl around the head and lap up his precum. The salty taste blooms across your tongue and your mouth embarrassingly floods with drool as you suck and lick more of the flavor into it. You inch carefully down his shaft, opening your jaw as wide as possible to avoid an encounter between his dick and your molars and twirl your tongue around the length in your mouth to make up for what you can't wholly swallow yet. One hand wraps around the base to make up the difference, stroking up and down slowly as you bob your head.

It's an interesting, intricate dance, trying to fit Steve Harrington's monster cock in your mouth without outright biting it. You persuade your gag reflex to let him go down your throat a bit more, your quick strokes getting slicker and slicker with the drool that pours freely down Steve's dick and wets his pubic hair. Breathing through your nose proves difficult when his massive cockhead obstructs the back of your throat entirely, but you manage well enough.

Steve is absolutely beside himself. He's moaning unabashedly, and it's like music to your ears. He's the first man you've ever been with who makes noises outside of oddly paced-out grunts or a random curse word here or there, and it's having more of an effect on you than you ever could have imagined. You press your thighs together as more slickness drips from your throbbing cunt, free to gush almost to your knees without the interference of your panties. 

"Fuck, baby, fucking shit…fuck yeah, just like that… you're sucking my cock so good, you look so fucking hot right now, oh my God," Steve babbles, eyes fluttering and head lolled over to one side. He bucks his hips, probably involuntarily, and his cock bumps the back of your throat just hard enough that it makes you gag.

You cough and pull off him far enough to take a breath, your hand still firmly locked around his base and wet with spit. He laughs breathily and caresses your cheek as you pant.

“Sorry…sorry…I didn't mean to choke you. You're just… you're so good…."

"You can, uh…like, do that again if you want," you say shyly. Steve cocks an eyebrow.

"Do what?"

"That. What you just did. Again."

"You want me to gag you like that again?" It's said with genuine surprise, not judgment, and you smile sheepishly at him.

"Kinda, yeah…only if you're okay with it too, I just…I can handle it…."

He considers it, absently twirling a few strands of your hair around his fingers as he mulls your request over. Then, both hands slide to the back of your head and gather your hair into one large, tight handful that makes you sit up straighter. Cold air gusts against your freshly exposed skin, and you shiver as Steve leans forward and kisses your forehead. He uses his other hand to pull his jacket tighter around your body, tucking the collar against your throat.

"If you can handle it," he says, and with one smooth push, he's shoved you back down on his cock. The head bumps the back of your throat hard, and though your entire body jerks forward as you gag, Steve doesn't relent. He seems as determined as you were to fit the daunting length of his dick down your throat, and the fact you practically begged him to facefuck you appears to have dissolved any lingering inhibitions he may have had. He keeps one hand securely fisted in your hair, and the other moves to feel where his length is bulging through your throat. He hums lowly and strokes his fingers over your taut flesh.

"You can take more than that, can't you?"

You haven't even begun to respond before he thrusts his hips forward, forcing his way past your uvula, and you can only gag and shudder as your nose gets buried in the thick curls at the base of his cock. He guides you back by your hair only far enough that his head isn't bullying into your airway anymore, then pushes you back down - he does this over and over, hardly letting you have a moment to breathe while he chases his pleasure. You moan as you realize you've essentially become a means to an end, a method of reaching an orgasm, a warm, wet hole for Steve to fuck his cock into, and your fingers sneak down between your thighs to rub your aching clit.

Though you try to be discreet, you're soaked, and you can't do a thing to hide the obscene squelching sounds your pussy makes as you grind into your hand. Steve, with sweaty hair plastered to his forehead and drunk on lust, laughs.

"You're so fuckin' cute. You like bein' my cocksleeve that much, pretty girl?" You attempt a nod and a noise that leans toward acquiescence, and it's good enough.

Steve sets a rigorous pace, bringing you down far enough to kiss his pelvis every time, moaning a little louder when the muscles of your throat contract around his thick shaft as you gag. You are, admittedly, worried you'll puke at some point, and the thought of having arguably the best sexual experience of your life ruined by you blowing chunks all over Steve Harrington's penis does, unfortunately, cross your mind. But before you can dwell too long on it - and before the building nausea becomes too much for you to handle - Steve pulls you off his cock.

Your lips pop wetly as they leave his shaft, and you gasp shakily, the sudden influx of oxygen almost dizzying. Drool drips freely from your aching jaw and the thick strand of saliva that connects your mouth to the head of his dick glints in the moonlight overhead. Your fingers never stop working your clit, though your orgasm ebbs away after your throat ceases to be utterly abused.

"Why'd you stop?" you rasp.

"Was gonna cum too soon," he chuckles. You whine and surge forward, but you're stopped by the firm hand still ensnared in your hair. You crave the taste of Steve's cum on your tongue so intensely, and the fact he isn't letting you have it right away fills you with tantrum-level frustration.

"What, you want it?"

"Yes, Jesus Christ, please."

"Aww. You can beg much better than that." His fingers curl, tugging your hair at the root and jostling you back and forth a little.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes as he starts dragging you further away from his shining, dark-red cock. Drool and precum ooze from the tip and you can see it twitching every few seconds, and though your throat feels raw and sore, your jaw aches, and your legs are alight with pins and needles, you need it back in your mouth. You could kneel here all night, and you would swear you were in heaven. The brazen fire in your belly has been snuffed, replaced with the most thrilling need you've ever experienced, so you can't think of anything snarky to say in response. Instead, you do as Steve says, and you fucking beg.

"Please, please give it back, Steve."

"Give what back, baby?" he purrs.

"Your cock."

"What about my cock?"

"Please give me back your cock, Steve. Pretty please, I need it."

He clicks his tongue at you, giving your head a little shake again while your eyes are helplessly fixed on his glistening shaft. "Hmm, I still don't believe you."

A broken sob falls from your mouth before you can help it, and you paw helplessly at his thighs. "Please, please, please, fuck my face, Steve, please. I need it so badly. Please give it to me. I'll do anything, just please...."

He smiles and coos at you, bending down slightly to kiss your forehead softly. "You sound so pretty and pathetic for me, baby," he hums.

Your mouth is full again in a flash, and this time, it's evident that Steve has surpassed any pretense of being gentle with you. That clumsy, nervous boy from earlier has melted away, leaving this commanding, exceedingly bold, and surprisingly dominant man in his wake. His voice has lowered to just above a growl, rough with lust. The way he's reclining back and fucking your mouth like he's pumping into his fist, the way he teases and mocks you and eggs you on - it's fucking intoxicating. You can't get enough. You want him to go further; you want more, more, more.

"Fuck, fuck, 'm cumming, I'm fucking cumming, fuck Y/N," Steve gasps, placing both hands on the sides of your head and driving his cock down your battered throat. The heat of your impending orgasm begins to pool between your hips, and you rub your clit furiously as you gaze up at Steve, trails of mascara-riddled tears tracked down your spit-wet cheeks.

The exact moment his cock pulses and the first hot, thick rope of cum shoots down your throat, you push yourself over the edge of your third orgasm of the night.

You moan as much as you can around his dick, body spasming uncontrollably, and the vibrations from your noises make him grip the seats beneath him so hard you think he’ll shred the upholstery. You try to swallow as best you can, and Steve does mercifully pull out just enough that the head of his cock rests against the middle of your tongue, allowing you room to breathe. His cum is salty and heady, and you're immediately addicted to it, and you hollow your cheeks to greedily suck more of it into your mouth. He looks at you with worshipful adoration, like you are the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Your hand drops from your overstimulated clit as your orgasm abates, and you use it to hold onto Steve's thigh for balance. You distantly feel embarrassed about smearing slick on his jeans.

When Steve pulls his spent cock from your mouth and releases your bunched-up hair, you fall forward unceremoniously into his lap. You pant raggedly into the fabric clustered around his upper legs, trembling like you've been tossed in the snow. He praises you under his breath, almost like he's not entirely cognizant of what he's saying.

"You did such a good job, God, that was amazing…you did so well, baby…fuck…."

You smile dreamily, glowing under his praise. He pets your hair absentmindedly, and after a while, he gingerly guides you back so you're sitting on your haunches, the rough terrycloth of the towel digging into your knees. He looks beautiful in the bluish light of the evening, hair mussed and sticking out at odd angles, cheeks still dusted a light pink, lips swollen and red and wet with his spit. Steve cradles your face in his hands and rubs at the greyish tear tracks streaking your cheeks, almost embarrassed of their presence.

"Are you okay?"

You nod sluggishly, nuzzling your cheek into Steve's surprisingly rough palm. He smooths the frazzled hair he'd been tugging on so enthusiastically back away from your damp forehead, fluffing it apologetically once he realizes the style you'd sought to achieve is thoroughly ruined. You're sure you look destroyed, to be fair - most of your lipstick is smeared messily on the lower half of Steve's softening cock, so you imagine the rest of it is smudged down your chin and across your cheeks. When you wipe the back of your hand beneath your jaw to catch a few stray tears, your skin is stained blackish from the mascara-laden liquid. Definitely not Harrington-proof, you note amusedly.

"Lemme help you up," Steve says, scooting forward off the backseat and bending toward you. One arm snakes around your waist and tightens against the small of your back; the other hand knits itself against your right hand, and when Steve pulls you to your feet, you're pressed flush against his chest, bodies entwined like partners gliding across a dance floor. Despite everything that's happened in the last hour, you still giggle nervously at the lack of distance between your face and Steve's. He smiles sweetly, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

The hand clasped in Steve's twitches toward your lips reflexively. Your mouth still tastes like his cum, and while you certainly don't mind, you aren't sure if he will. He notices your hesitance, and after a moment, the reason seems to click for him. His smile grows imperceptibly.

Steve takes your face in both hands and kisses you deeply, licking your bottom lip before sliding his tongue against yours. Your already weakened knees wobble, threatening to let you drop like a ton of bricks right back to the rumpled towel beneath your feet. The tangy taste of your cunt still lingers on his tongue and mixes with the salty flavor coating your mouth; it's addictive, and for a moment, it tricks you into thinking you could go just one more round. The way your clit throbs painfully at the mere insinuation, however, quickly dispels that idea.

Steve presses a final, sweet kiss to the tip of your nose after he pulls away from your lips, and the way his eyes sparkle at you in the moonlight dashed across his face makes your stomach flip excitedly, a sensation you're almost embarrassed to feel. It seems too innocent, too chaste after everything you've done tonight, but your cheeks flush hotly regardless.

"You…are something else," Steve says quietly, affectionately rubbing his thumb over your cheek.

"You're one to talk."

You turn your head toward his palm, kissing his warm skin. The yellow-green light of his watch glows out of the corner of your eye, and when he twists his wrist a bit to the side, you catch a glimpse of the numbers.

No. No, that can't be right.

Steve makes a discordant sound as you yank his arm back toward your face, pushing his sleeve up to his elbow. You must've read the time wrong; it can't be that late.

But there it is, clear as day, in blocky electric numbers. Your curfew, which you've never broken, passed almost half an hour ago.

Your heart plummets down through your stomach, and you swear you hear it plop into the dirt at your feet.

"I'm so dead," you murmur, and Steve cocks his head quizzically.

"What?"

"I'm dead!"

You scramble toward the rearview mirror and tug it upward. You look absolutely wrecked. How will you explain why ninety percent of your makeup is gone? Why your hair looks like you've just gone through a tornado? Steve huffs out a confused laugh.

"Am I…missing something?" he asks, leaning casually against the side of the car. You tug the collar of your shirt up and scrub at your mouth - it makes your lipstick look worse and stains the inside of one of your favorite tops. Shit. You frenziedly try to work the buttons on Steve’s jacket closed, desperately tugging the collar up in an attempt to conceal the rapidly deepening red blotches he’s sucked into your skin. They’ll bruise by tomorrow, and if you weren’t in a blind panic, the thought would turn you on. Admittedly, it still does.

"I'm so, so late. My mom is gonna kill me," you say frantically. Maybe it'll be dark enough that no one will notice your lipstick…but they'll definitely see the black trenches carved into your cheeks. Shit.

You turn to the side, trying to tame your hair into a halfway decent shape. It doesn’t work, and you exhale roughly through your nose; the scrunchie you always wear around your wrist is snatched off, and you twist your hair into possibly the sloppiest, worst bun you’ve ever created, but it’ll have to do. Every single aspect of your appearance is like a bright red, flaring neon sign blinking above your head, ready to announce I HAD HOT SEX, AND THAT’S WHY I’M SO INCREDIBLY LATE.

You know it shouldn't matter; she doesn’t have much recourse since you're an adult, but fear still pangs in your gut so hard it makes you nauseous. You can picture it now, tiptoeing into the living room just to have the lamp in the living room flicker to life, your enraged and concerned mother silhouetted in the dim yellow light. You're sure you'll be able to see the steam rolling off her body in waves from where you'll be standing at the landing of the stairs. You'll be lucky if she lets you leave for the supermarket after this, let alone on another date.

"Shit, is it really that late?" Steve asks, and how his voice pitches up in genuine confusion only aids your panic. He bounds to the driver's side of the car, almost tripping over his feet as he fumbles the keys from his pocket and slams them into the ignition. Your butt barely touches the passenger side seat before the engine roars to life, and Steve slams on the gas.

Apologies tumble freely from his mouth as you clumsily clip your seatbelt into place, and you assure him it's alright as best you can while licking your fingers and scouring the mascara stripes off your cheeks. It doesn't work and tastes weird, but it's all you've got.

~~~

When Steve screeches up your driveway, you are an hour past curfew, and that’s only by the grace of God and Steve’s disregard for speed limits. 

You sling your purse strap over one shoulder and almost kick the passenger side door off its hinges as you get out of the car, but just before you're about to bolt up your driveway, you pause.

It wouldn't kill you to be just a little later, right?

You whip back around, and Steve stares up at you, a little breathless, flushed, and still so beautiful. You grip the edge of the window and bend down, poking your head inside the car.

"I had an amazing time," you say, and you wish Steve wouldn't smile at you the way he does because it makes you want to say, "Fuck it," and hop back in the car. But he does, and you don't, and he nods.

"You wanna do it again sometime? I mean, not, not it, like a date - well, we can do it again if you want to. I'm just saying we don't have to…."

He sighs, and you pretend not to notice the flexing and unflexing of his hands on the steering wheel. It's endlessly endearing how nervous he is when he isn't jamming his cock down your throat or eating you out like a starving man. Something in your mind wants to see how flustered you can make him, but you silence it.

"Such a way with words," you tease, and you cup his cheek in your hand. You kiss him tenderly, hoping it encapsulates everything you want to say but don't have time for right now. Fingers slide up the nape of your neck and ensnare themselves in your hair, keeping your lips locked for a few moments longer. Your mouth is swollen and chapped, but you'd kiss him all night if he'd let you. Maybe one day he will.

"I'd love to do this again, by the way," you hum against the corner of his mouth. "Assuming I live past tonight, that is."

"Looking forward to it, Y/N. Oh, and, by the way…."

He grips your hair, not too hard, but just enough to where you stiffen and let out a soft moan. He peppers kisses along your cheek, to your temple, to the shell of your ear.

"I'm keeping your panties. Maybe next time I'll shove 'em in your mouth if you try to play the quiet game again with me."

He releases his grip on your hair, and his hand purposefully slides along the curve of your jaw until it reaches your chin. He pinches it between thumb and forefinger and kisses the bewildered, now painfully aroused look off your face before leaning back, giving you a wink, and revving the car's engine.

"See you soon, baby," he calls. His car crunches back down your driveway, and you're left standing there, brain short-circuiting and threatening to melt out of your ears, hyperaware of the cold night air nudging against your bare pussy under your skirt. You press your thighs together and jam fabric between them self-consciously, hoping against hope that you won't flash your poor, unsuspecting mother, who is undoubtedly waiting for you to chew you out.

You turn unsteadily, gazing up at your house. The living room light is already on, and you can see a lithe shadow flitting anxiously from within the windows. You're going to get an earful.

It was so. Fucking. Worth it.

[wolken-himmel]

In which a strange girl with the same haircut as Lilia appears in the Diasomnia dorm.

It turns out, the mysterious girl is none other than Lilia and (Y/n)'s daughter from the future.

Request by @over-active-daydreamer.

"What is this foul stench, Silver?"

"Must be Lilia cooking again..."

"No way— I was just gone for a few seconds! He better not have messed with my soup... How does one even burn soup?"

Sebek and Silver had their noses scrunched up in utter disgust as they rushed down the hallways of the Diasomnia dorm. Even from kilometres away, one would have been able to follow the potent odor that came from the kitchen. The closer they came to the source of the horrible smell, the more they had to fight against the ourge to collapse.

They only managed to enter the kitchen with their collars raised over their noses. Just as they had feared, a small figure with a dishevelled bob-cut stood by the stove. Seemingly unaffected by the putrid smoke, the culprit continued to stir the overboiling pot.

Silver was the first one to speak up, although his voice was muffled. "Old man, get away from the stove at once," he exclaimed and raised his hand. "I will not hesitate—"

Poor Sebek looked like he was about to cry when the smoke cleared up. "You ruined my soup, Lilia!"

The person whom they thought to be their vice dorm leader let out a little giggle. "Huh? Lilia? That's not my name!" Truly, the stranger's voice was much higher, reminiscent of a teenager girl. A pleased grin appeared on her face. "Must be my hair, eh? I wanted to style it just like Daddy's! I guess the pink streaks look just like his, then. Mommy did a great job with the dye."

"Intruder! Intruder!" Sebek yelled and moved his hand to his baton. "The intruder burnt my soup!"

The girl rolled her eyes before stepping out of the smoke and skipping over to the two Diasomnia students. No wonder they had mistaken her for Lilia — their haircut was identical! Though, her clothing gave her away. She wore a green summer dress instead of a school or dorm uniform. And on closer look, her ears were round, like that of a human.

"Calm down, Sebek... it was just a little bit raw, so I decided to turn up the heat," she said cheekily and held out a bowl of the crusty soup. When she urged him to take it, he almost screamed in fear. His reaction caused her to roll her eyes. "My daddy taught me to cook, you know. I'm not clueless! Just add some lamb sauce if it tastes burnt."

Silver eyed her suspiciously. "How did you get in here and what's your name?"

Upon finally taking notice of him, her eyes lit up in glee. When she threw herself at him and looped her arms around his neck, he was too taken aback to react properly. A series of happy giggles escaped her lips. "Big brother! You're here, too," she chimed happily. After what felt like an eternity, she pulled away to shoot him a lopsided grin. "It's nice to see you again! It's been such a long time since you visited us... You're always away on some important royal guard business with the king..."

"The king...?" Silver asked in confusion.

"Yeah! King Mal-Mal. You should tell him to come visit us, too. It's been an eternity since I've seen him."

The boys' minds rattered with thoughts and all sorts of hypotheses on who this girl was. With all the clues they had been given, they were just about to figure out who she was when another figure entered the kitchen.

"What's this amazing smell in here?" the newcomer asked unironically. "My mouth is watering!"

All three of them whipped around to find Lilia waltzing in without a care in the world. He didn't seem to take notice of the mysterious girl with how his gaze seemed fixated on the soup pot. However, he was forced to acknowledge her presence when she jumped at him and enveloped him in a bear-hug.

"Daddy! You're here!" she exclaimed joyfully. "Would you like some of my soup?"

Lilia furrowed his eyebrows. "Huh? Who are you?" he asked in amusement. A bout of laughter escaped his lips when he noticed her hair style. The corners of lips twisted upwards into a giant grin. "I like your hair, stranger."

"Silly you!" she muttered and rolled her eyes. "It's me, Aurum— your daughter."

The sudden revelation had the vice dorm leader frozen at first, and even Silver and Sebek's unanimous gasps wouldn't make him budge. The only visible movement from him were his eyes that looked the girl up and down. He tilted his head to the side when he could sense no falseness in her words.

"I have a daughter? That's news to me," Lilia muttered calmly. He began stroking his chin. "I've seen a lot of strange things... but even this is newfoundland for me."

"Oh— right, Mommy and you aren't together yet!" A mischievous grin appeared on the girl's face as she clasped her hands together. "You should hurry up with confessing, really. You always told me about all these other guys that had a crush on Mommy. Better not let them win, eh? My life is on the line here."

It was then that Lilia's eyes lit up, the confusion vanquished. "Hm, so you're a time traveller! Everything makes sense now."

"No, nothing makes sense!" Sebek grumbled, still as confused as in the beginning.

With a newfound fondness, Lilia wrapped an arm around her and began laughing. "Your company delights me, Aurum. Why don't you tell me more about the future?" he asked curiously. "About your mother, to be precise."

"Oh, I would love to— but I think I need some fresh air..." A yawn escaped her lips as she gestured to the door. She flashed her father a sheepish smile before worming her way out of his grip. "Time travel can be so insanely exhausting..."

Lilia hummed softly. "Can I get you anything, Aurum?"

"Yeah, a younger sister would be nice. Thanks."

The three Diasomnia students found themselves entirely caught off-guard by the casual tone of her request. Of course, Lilia was the first one to snap out of it when uncontrollable laughter escaped his throat. He could barely stop himself, especially when he glanced upon the shocked expressions of his fellow dorm members. So caught up in his amusement, he didn't notice as you entered just when Aurum was about to leave.

And as fate wanted it, the two of you bumped into one another.

"Oh— sorry, I didn't see you there," you apologised at once. When your eyes fell upon her hair, an aloof smile appeared on your lips. A little chuckle escaped your lips. "Hey, I like your hair!"

"Thanks, Mommy! You did a great job dyeing it." The girl shot you an affectionate smile before walking past you.

Your jaw sank down upon having comprehended her words properly. Even after she had disappeared from your view, you still continued to stare after her. "What... was that?" you asked the trio of Diasomnia students after a while. "And what's up with Lilia?"

Lilia could barely contain his joy at Aurum's implications. At once, he began pacing back and forth, mumbling all sorts of things to no one but himself. An eternally pleased smile appeared on his lips. "I've lived a long life, and I always thought that nothing fate could throw at me would surprise me anymore. But to think that so much more happiness awaits me— oh, fate, you sly bastard... perhaps you will triumph over me, after all."

[baldurs-simp]

Gortash fall in love with the most kind, caring, silly and bold Tav. A Tav he thinks is easy to manipulate, but ultimately, she manipulates him - in a certain way. An artificer Tav to add some more spice (?)

I love Gortash at the moment, so with pleasure!

Masterlist

A loud boom shakes the manor, unsettling the dust in the rafters, telling everyone exactly what happened without the need to investigate. Everyone already knows that their lord, Enter Gortash, will already be on his way to the source of the explosion before the dust even settles again.

You're still fanning the smoke away with your hand, coughing loudly as you try to blink away the tears welling up in your eyes from the smoke. "What in the hells have you done this time?"

You turn your head towards your laboratory door that has blown open from the blast, and you can faintly make out the figure od your lover, Gortash.

"Dabbling in black powder. I may have used a bit much this time," you mention, immediately turning to your notebook on the table to scribble something down, still muttering to yourself. "Perhaps half of the quantity next time. Or a quarter?"

"If you continue like this, you'll bring down the manor before the year is up," Gortash says, tentatively stepping into the room but still carrying himself with immense confidence. "I didn't allow you to stay here just to destroy my home with your...experiments, did I?"

But it's as if you don't hear his words. You're still mumbling to yourself, noting down things on parchment pieces in a chaotic way that Gortash can't understand how you know where anything is.

He calls your name, but you only hum a response, still now paying attention to him. He has to speak your language, so to say, if he wants your attention. "What exactly is it that you are working on?"

The question makes your whip around with a bright smile on your face, glee in your eyes as you beacon him closer. "It's a firearm," you say, turning your gaze to the mangled piece of metalwork on the table. "I've read about them. They're like a ship's cannon, but smaller so you can hold it in your hand. Like a crossbow or shortbow, but less big and without the clanky ammunition that gets stuck on everything. It'll be more convenient and deadly if I get it right. But I'm working on infusing them with some magical elements, too. Like a 'fire' firearm that shoots fire pellets, or an 'ice' firearm-"

"You're rambling, darling," he cuts you off, smirking at your when you bite your lip in embarrassment. "I thought our arrangement was that you work on the weapons we already have, improving my military defense. Not trying to invent some new nonsense."

"But I've done all that and more. It's hard to improve on something that's already great," you say, pouting at him as you fold your arms across your chest. "I'm bored with swords and arrows. Don't you want to be known for something new? Something that no one else has?"

Gortash sighs, dropping his head between his shoulders as he shakes it in defeat. He thought that he had you under his thumb, but every day, he feels that it is the other way around. And yet, he will still give you all that you ask.

You ask him to give you the entrie city for your experiments and he would.

"Very well. But you know I expect nothing but excellence for this," he says, waving his hand at whatever it is that lays on the table in a mangled mess.

You giggle in glee, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek as a thank you. "I know. And you know that I never let anything leave this room until I am completely satisfied with it."

He hums as you step away from him, picking up the contraption to inspect the damage as you right a chair that has been blown over. "Oh, I need more black powder."

"More? Do you have any idea how tedious it is to find? Not to mention how much it costs."

Your eyes meet his, hoping that he will do what you ask without you having to beg for it. But he doesn't budge.

Sighing, you slowly stand up with your head hanging low and your gaze on the floor. "Fine. I guess I'll just have to find someone else who will want to help me if you do not care about me. Clearly, you do not wish to see me thrive in my craft."

You make as if to start packing up your things, making sure not to make eye contact with Gortash. As you try to walk past him, he wraps an arm around your waist, swiping you closer to pin him to his body.

"You will do no such thing, little Artificer," he growls, staring down into your eyes, making sure that you do not look away. "You will leave of I say leave and if I say you will stay, then you will stay. Do you understand?"

"Oh, big, mean Gortash, giving orders to someone that could blow him up with a simple stumble," you say, smiling up at him as you playfully wrap your arms around his neck. "What exactly would you do to me should I defy your orders?"

"Terrible things."

His quick response tells you that he doesn't have a clue what exactly he would do if you went against his orders. It makes you smile and slowly pull out of his hold around you.

"Then, I should get back to work. And you should leave. I do not wish for you to get hurt in my workshop," you say, giving him a light shove towards your door as an instruction to leave.

"Will you be dining with me tonight?"

"If you leave now, then I shall, my love."

Gortash finds himself beaming at the pet name you have used for him and your acceptance for eating with him tonight again. He smiles to himself, not caring that he might be falling in love with you. For with you by his side, you two could be the most powerful couple in the land.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

the post about the chess cheating is just flat out lying about a bunch of stuff by the way (i tried to explain how but it had kinda rant-y vibes for some reason so i guess i'll just leave it here? what a useless ask to send you. sorry)

Honestly every single version of that post, both for and against, has SOMETHING wrong and a bunch of people claiming other people are wrong without any sources and it's all a mess, but what's making me slowly morph from "Raised Eyebrow Disapproval" to "Actual Genuine Anger" is that absolutely no one seems to be paying attention to the important part: which is that this has rapidly become a gleeful global homophobic smear campaign against a 19 year old.

Like... I dunno, maybe this is part of my Generational Queerness, maybe this is just viscerally reminding me of George Michael being arrested, and Michael Barrymore being hounded out of public life and his career destroyed, and Julian Clary being intentionally driven off television. Each of these men were arrested or accused of other crimes. But each of them was really accused of being gay. And those stories followed this exact same pattern this one is: a sensational, lurid, gossipy and undeniably homosexual detail is taking centrepoint in every single discussion by press, pundits, critics, and public alike. The rest is secondary.

What mattered with George Michael was not the public bathroom - it was that he'd gone there to have sex with a man. What mattered with Michael Barrymore was not that someone tragically drowned in a pool at his house party - it was that the victim was his boyfriend and the party had gay sex in it. What mattered with Julian Clary was not that he told a risque joke in his comedy set - it was that he talked about being a gay queen.

What matters with Niemann is not that he cheated. It's that he "probably" used vibrating anal beads to do it. You know: like a big gross queer would.

Like... I cannot stress enough to any of you that I do not give the remotest shit, at this point, whether he has a history of online cheating, or whether his opponent actually just fucked up the game that day, or even who started the anal bead rumour and why. I could not give less of a shit if I tried. That is not even in the same league as the important part of all this. I do not care.

What I care about is the undeniably ghoulish glee with which the international press have leapt upon this and are spreading it about. What I care about is the way celebrities are wilfully spreading it about. What I care about is the way the public are sharing it with exactly the same shrill, giggly, high-on-drama hysteria that I remember them sharing about George Michael, and Michael Barrymore, and Julian Clary.

What I care about is that this is a homophobic witch hunt. A homophobic smear campaign. Against a 19 year old who may or may not even be gay, but that's definitely the direction the press (and their followers) are going to want to push this.

And I increasingly care about the way none of the rest of you seem to give a shit about that, when to me it is so luridly, flagrantly, and screamingly obvious.

I dunno. As I say: maybe this is just part of my Generational Queerness. Maybe I'm pattern matching. Maybe I'm seeing ghosts.

Maybe not.

[belbisous]

Chuuya Nakahara X Reader (NSFW) 🤍

(First time posting on tumblr, using an old fic to figure out how to fully use this app…Also please reboot and like if this is an okay start to this app 😭)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

It's felt like forever since you have last seen your boyfriend. Only being four days and it seemed like an eternity.

You weren’t sure when Chuuya would get back from his mission but you'd at least hope he’d come back with his legs and arms intact.

Usually his missions would take 2 days maximum. Considering his ability, Chuuya would easily take out everyone.

You do recall what had happened the last time you saw him though.

Laying down on the sofa your mind begins to flashback to the memory. It was late at night when he left. You two had just came back from a mindful dinner and went back to his apartment.

There wasnt much you could do but kiss him goodbye and hope for the best outcome. ‘The best outcome’ huh?’

The same words kept repeating over and over in your head. Almost like counting jumping sheep in your sleep, except they wouldnt stop and keep going.

Even if something were to happen to Chuuya, you wouldnt know what you would do. All the money in the world could be yours, but that wouldn’t bring him back…

These horrifying thoughts kept running around in your head, it was too much to control.

That was until you heard a knock on the door.

Immediately jumping off the sofa you walk towards the door in slow careful steps. “Who’s there?” You yelled outloud instead of checking the peephole

“Who do ya’ think?”

Hearing the recognizable voice made your eyes go wide open in joy

“Chuuya!!”

You opened the door seeing his silhouette due to the bright moon starring by the window behind him, but Chuuya didnt come in yet.

While you walked to the kitchen in glee hoping to get him some tea he just stood by the threshold leaning his body over the frame.

“Hey Chuu- Ugh come in.”

Turning around you see him still standing there like a puppet

“Hey Chuu? Everything okay?” You got closer to him seeing his features up close.

Not realizing his dominant presence you tried tugging at his shoulder trying to get him to come in

“You still dont remember?” “Huh? Remember what?”

“Never mind, lets just finish that movie you wanted to watch.” He brushed his shoulder against yours, passing you as he left you standing there with the cup of tea in your hands.

You close the door and headed to the sofa. “What was the movie called again?”

Your boyfriend has asked to which you only responded “ 2 “

“Hey can you go turn the lights off while I make the popcorn?” “Yeah hold on…”

Chuuya used his ability to throw a pillow to the light switch toggling the lights off.

Now the only light source was the dimly lit cityscape outside the big tall windows, or the TV playing the rest of the movie.

As Chuuya searched for the movie on the screen, you could hear how silent it was now. All that could be heard were the popping sounds of the popcorn in the microwave, and maybe the faint sound of cars honking from fifty two floors below.

You were too focused on thinking too much that the sound of the microwave stopping startled you back into reality. Turning your focus to Chuuya who was trying to find the last place you guys had left off.

After placing the popcorn in a bowl you head back over to the couch, sitting right beside Chuuya.

Placing the bowl in the center, just as youre about to grab the folded blanket thats at the other end Chuuya grabs it. “I got it don't worry,” having it fall on top of each other's snuggled bodies.

You try to get comfortable but the gear and equipment your boyfriend has on his waist isnt helping. He notices and takes the guns out of his pocket and places it on the other sofa block beside him.

Getting comfy you two begin to continue watching the movie.

A couple minutes pass and you begin to feel cramped in the current position you were in. “Hold on…” You say as begin to move around. Chuuya only looks at you for a brief moment before pulling the blanket up more.

Stretching your hand out into the air while the other stretches just out, you yawn for quite a moment, until you heard a small yelp from Chuuya’s mouth.

You look over at him with your hands still in place. One hand over his mouth while the other is… trying to move your other hand.

Eyes trailing down to where his other hand was, not realizing what you were doing.

You were accidently brushing up your boyfriends crotch as you were stretching. The silence in the air and the horrid look on your face only made things worse.

Looking up you saw the redness spreading all over your boyfriends face.

It had you thinking, how far could you go with this?

“I’m sorry Chuu…” You lifted yourself up and jumped onto him, hugging him close.

Everything was well until you decided to purposely brush your hips up against him.

Snuggling you face in the crook of his neck and making sure to let out an airy breath, he took notice of it.

He grabbed your shoulders and sure you looked at him. “Dont think I don’t realize what youre doing.”

With his hands still having you by the grasp, he flips you over. Now youre laying down on the long white sofa.

Hands near your shoulders facing Chuuya, he takes advantage and holds the wrists of them. Placing his knee in between your thighs, and bringing his face closer to yours.

But instead of leaning for your lips he leans towards your left ear. “Not being so confident now are we?”

Shaking your head he brings himself back up. “…But its a movie night, so Ill spare you some slack.”

Sitting back up you look over at him who continues to watch the movie while youre still trying to comprehend what just happened. “Chuu… Hey Chuuya.”

“Hm?”

He turns his head over to you.

“…”

“Just this once?”

He sees that look in your eyes. Tilting his face, he only smirks at the remark. Climbing back on top of you he leans his face close again, And leaves a peck on the side of your cheek “Sure thing princess.”

Your lips part ways as he moves his closer to yours. Taking in the soft yet passionate kiss, you could feel his unbearably cold hands slither down your stomach.

He grabs your hips again and presses you close against him.

Wrapping your legs around him his hands move back up and as he still holds the kiss he begins to bring your shirt up, trying to take it off.

You try to help him but his hands only hold yours, “You just relax alright darling?”

He takes your shirt off and then tries to unzip your pants.

As you follow in sync, Chuuya’s breath only gets heavier. He placed his hand in your hair, pulling you closer towards him.

Not even ring bothered that maybe the other sky high buildings across the street could probably see you two messing around.

It was all happening too fast. Chuuya grabbed your thighs and scooted your ody closer to his, while he was kissing and swallowing the loud noises you were already making.

You could feel his throbbing down there, all you had left on was just your bra and your panties. In no time Chuuya instantly pulled down the lace fabric down.

“Tell me when to stop alright princess.” “Mhm..” You could only nod your head in response.

He began to lick the folds, making you squirm underneath. You threw your head back over the pillow your head was resting on, just enjoying the pleasurable sensation that was overcoming you.

Chuuya’s hand were grabbing your thighs spreading them apart. Once he brought his head back up he saw that you were clenching onto any soft part of the sofa, “This wont take a while.” He said as he intertwined one hand with yours whilst the other was still in between your cunt, swirling his finger around in all sorts of directions.

“Chuu~ Ah” Was all that could come out of that nasty mouth of yours. “Say it, go on.”

“Please.”

“Please what?” He continued moving his tongue on your clit while his fingers were brushing up against your entrance “Youre so fucking wet, cmon just say it already.” He cooed at you.

“Please just… do it already…” You lifted your head ‘up’ and your eyes met with the gun that was placed aside on the sofa. Chuuya noticed this and thought maybe you wanted the gun to be inside.

“Oh this old one… If you say so darling.” He leaned his head forward to you again, making your reddened cheeks only burn more. “ But make sure you cum for me.” He whispered softly in your ear.

He clicked on the gun, and placed it near your entrance. As his two fingers, the middle and index were sort of holding the gun in a strange position, he made sure his thumb was still fingering your clit over and over again.

“Chuuya.” “Say what now?” “Ah~”

He loved watching you be a hot mess. It always turned him on, even if it meant he didnt get off. But he would love to see you be high on him.

He placed the tip of the gun closer to your entrance, taunting you with it.

“Ah~ Ah~ Ngh~ Chuuya… AaaA”

Finally after minutes of him sort of circling the gun near your cunt, and him rubbing your clit you finally came.

White and clear fluids were now all over the tip of the gun running down as Chuuya brought the gun up to his face. He licked the liquid that was running down the object “Ya taste good, know that?”

“Oh please.”

You covered your face in embarrassment. This wasnt how this was suppose to go.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

[rwrbmovie]

#RWRBMovie: deleted scenes

Matthew López:

The Cornetto scene. The breakfast scene at Kensington Palace. Everybody’s wondering what happened to the scene [at] the campfire. You know, in the course of making a movie and in the course of telling a story — runtime is less important in the streaming age than it is in theatrical distribution, but what was important to me is that the film be the right length. You cut things for pacing. You never want the audience to get ahead of you, you never want the audience to be bored. You know, there was originally a whole scene where Alex comes to the polo match. He meets Princess Bea. Henry and Alex have a little exchange after Henry gets off the horse. They go to the tack room together. What we found as we were watching the film was that Nick and Taylor were so good together in the scene prior, in Alex's bedroom. And actually when we did a version of that scene in Alex's bedroom, we got a note from the studio, from producers, asking if we could try and make that scene shorter. “It’s good, but it’s long.” So we did our first test screening and I did a shortened version of that scene in Alex's bedroom. I was really hesitant to cut it back. But I wanted to be a good collaborator and prove that I can take a note and I'm willing to try things. We actually got more than a few comments back literally saying, “We wish that scene were longer.” So that, of course, was great for me. That scene in Alex's bedroom is the entire scripted scene. There's not a single cut from the script to the final cut. As a consequence, though, of that being a rather lengthy scene, I needed to then regain momentum. We've spent it all on this scene and it's worth it because that scene between the two of them is so dynamic and wonderful. But now we gotta get things going again. So, I had a new editor come in halfway through because my first editor, Christina Heatherington, who's wonderful, had another project that she had committed to doing. And our post dates got extended a bit and she had to leave, so Nick, my new editor coming in, took a look and he says, “I wanna try something with that polo match.” He spent a weekend of his own time doing something, and then he was ready to show me. He sat me down and said, “I’ve done something crazy.” I’m like, “Great. We love crazy.” He showed me what was largely the version of the polo match that is in the film and with that music. I was laughing with glee the whole time I'm watching it. He was nervous, 'cause he is taking like six minutes of story and condensed it into two and a half minutes. But it has so much drive. It's sexy. It tells the story. It was a real lesson for me as a first time filmmaker: if you expand time, then you need to maybe also learn how to contract time. So that was a big lesson to me in pacing. With the Cornetto scene — that scene in Kensington Palace Gardens, it does everything I needed it to do. Weirdly, the Cornetto scene actually relieved some of the tension between them. I was like, look, if you take the Cornetto scene out, then the tension from that first scene remains when they go into the interview scene. I learned a lot of it is about taking the energy from one scene and using it to help you get into the next scene. One of the things I learned as a playwright, which I found was applicable to cutting a movie, is if a scene isn't working, it might not be the scene itself. It might be the scene before. “Why isn’t the interview scene playing as well as we think it should?” Look at what came before: the Cornetto scene … The Cornetto scene is charming. But we also understood, narratively speaking, it was unnecessary. And more to the point, it sapped the tension out.

(source)

[maxidentscene]

you fall asleep on him

⚘ genre. fluff

⚘ members. ot8

⚘ warnings. I didn’t proofread pls forgive me lmfao

chan wishes he could stay like this with you forever, but he’s a busy man

You had fallen asleep on his lap, per usual. It was always a hit or miss with you, he took chances every time he let you rest in his lap while he worked, enjoying the feeling of your arms wrapped around his neck but he could never complain

In his ideal world, Chan would hold you like this every night, feel the way your breathing slows to a steady rhythm as you drift off farther and farther. It was one of his favorite things in the universe yet he could rarely actually experience it since he’s constantly running around

He cherishes the few minutes that he can spare whenever you do this, wrapping his arms around your frame and resting his head on top of yours. Someday he’ll get to the point where he can stay as long as he wants, but for right now he’ll use that desire as motivation to work and earn that luxury

But unfortunately, for right now at least, duty calls and he has a few tracks to work on. He can’t really do that well with you on him, so he basks in your body heat a few seconds longer before pushing his chair away from the desk

“Sorry about this, pretty,” he breathes into your ear as he hoists you up, laying you down on the couch in the studio and slipping on some headphones to protect your ears from any sudden sounds that may come up while he’s working

lee know gives the biggest glare to anyone who breathes too loud around you

As soon as Minho notices that you’re softly snoring against his neck, it’s like flames appear around him. He goes into attack mode, keeping himself still and rubbing circles into the skin of your side while scanning the room for any threats

For a while, he can remain calm and confident that no one can disturb your sleep since most of the members were out doing their own things. As soon as he heard the door click open, his eyes narrowed, quick to look for the source of the noise because he just knew they’d be loud to announce their presence no matter who it was

“Shut the fuck up,” he uttered quietly but loud enough for Jeongin to hear as the younger appeared in front of the sofa, smirking down at the two of you cuddled up like a bunch of lovebirds. “Not a word.”

Putting his hands up in defense, he backs off because the killer look in Minho’s eyes is a little too intense to mess with. He minds his own business, putting his stuff away and heading to the bedroom to leave you two at peace

This occurred again and again as more members came piling in, your boyfriend spitting empty threats when he’d hear someone kick off their shoes or slam the fridge shut harder than necessary. He’s your protector to put it simply

changbin takes pictures in every angle he can muster

The moment he realizes that you’re snoozing away on his lap, Changbin restrains himself from jumping up with glee. He’s dreamed about cute, small moments like this with you where you finally felt safe enough to be so vulnerable with him

You look too adorable, cheek slumped against his leg, arm hanging off of the couch. He made sure the flash and sound were off before snapping photos of you from the left, the right, the front. Anything to catch your peaceful face

After calming down and putting the phone to the side, he soaked up the sentimental moment, a loving smile spread across his face while he massaged the back of your neck. It made him feel a sense of pride to know that you trusted him enough to do something like this, even if it wasn’t that big of a deal

Naturally, he does everything in his power to make you as comfortable as possible during your little nap. A blanket is thrown across your figure, a pillow is placed on his lap underneath your head and the tv was turned down to avoid loud noises. “What a little baby,” he cooed down at you

He loved it though. Scrolling through the pictures was the best part of the experience, picking the best one to make his lock screen and refusing to delete any of them despite the fact that there were around a hundred taken

hyunjin doesn’t even notice that you’re asleep until you don’t respond to him

In his defense, the movie that the two of you were watching was really good. His reactions had been over the top, so heavily captivated by the storyline that he hadn’t noticed how still you were

Your weight against his shoulder was something that he got used to fast, he was free space for you to lounge around on, more than happy to accommodate you in his hold. Honestly, he just figured that you were ignoring his ooh’s and ah’s. “That’s something you would do,” he laughed at the screen, turning his head to see your reaction only to be met with your closed eyelids

He froze then and there, studying your form and wondering if he should stay like this or move so that your neck didn’t hurt when you woke up from the weird angle

Ultimately, he would’ve felt like a criminal if he had let you sleep so uncomfortably. You waking up to a sore neck all because he decided not to help fix your position would probably fill him with years of guilt. Yes, it was that serious

So, slowly but surely, he laid you on your back across the couch and propped your head up with a pillow. Throwing a blanket over you and kissing your forehead, he eagerly hit play and got back to the movie

han falls asleep with you

The both of you, just like everyone else in the shared space, were so tired from your recent travels that you couldn’t fight sleep any longer. Han had sprawled out on his bed as soon as he entered his room, stomach sinking into the mattress and head shoved under the pillow

You stared down at your exhausted boyfriend with love in your eyes. “That flight was intense,” you yawned, to which he yawned back almost immediately

“I could probably sleep for 2 years straight,” his muffled voice made you laugh in response, watching as his body visibly relaxed. You debated getting changed into different clothes, but truthfully your eyelids were getting heavier the longer you stood in front of the bed

You followed suit, laying on top of him and snuggling into his side. Wordlessly, the two of you fell into the deepest sleep that you’ve had all week. It was a sweet sight and all of the guys witnessed it, Chan being the snitch and telling the whole house to come and look at the two of you

The boys all gathered by the doorframe, impressed that Jisung could just sleep soundly despite his partner being right on top of him. Of course, they took their own equal rounds of photos and videos for later blackmail usage but they decided against being total dicks, quick to clear the room and let you get the rest you clearly needed

felix has experience, he’s used to being used as human melatonin

Talking to Felix was so easy. He made it easy to come to when you felt stressed, sad, angry because he was good at empathizing while also searching for small ways to resolve your problem. This time around, you complained about sleep

Hearing that you hadn’t slept well the past few days put a frown on his face, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. Although he wished that you told him sooner, the need and urge to help soothe you and get you to sleep took over and before you knew it, you were draped in fuzzy blankets

“I help the members sleep all the time,” he kissed the spot under your ear, pulling you close enough to smother you in the warmth of his chest. The soft sound of his heartbeat relaxed your racing mind, his fingers coming up to your back and scratching lightly. “I guess I’m so boring that it puts people to sleep.”

You snicker with him, lightly slapping his arm. “You could never be boring,” Felix smiles down at you. He loves when you say pretty words like this. “You’re just comfy, you know? Sweet and kind and warm. Like a teddy bear.”

He also happens to love your tired rambling, quick to shush you and lull you to sleep so you can stop keeping yourself awake. Once he realizes that you’ve become a bit limp in his arms, he sighs in content before dozing off himself

seungmin does not let you nap in peace

Ruthless teasing is just in Seungmin’s nature, he jumps at every opportunity that is handed to him. This one is no different, you’re fast asleep against his arm and he just isn’t having it. Maybe it was rude and he should let you sleep, but you promised that you’d watch the baseball game with him so really, this is on you

He starts by tickling the area behind your neck gently with his fingers, retracting as soon as you squirmed in your sleep, careful not to get caught. Doing it again only bit him in the ass as you shot a glare up at him, wrapping your arms tighter around him. “Stop messing with me.”

“You said you’d watch this with me,” he whispered down at you, swiping his thumb against your cheekbone gently before tugging at the skin. You whined out and decided to just move altogether, throwing yourself onto the other side of the bed away from him

Your efforts failed as he followed you over, snaking his arms around you and pressing you flush against him. “You promised!” He protested, ticking your sides and watching in satisfaction as you thrashed around in his arms, desperate to just get away from him

Annoying you was his favorite thing to do but he also knew his limits, soon retracting his hands before patting your head and pulling the comforter over you. The match didn’t matter as much as he made it seem, anyway

jeongin remains unbothered and allows you to attach to him like a koala

The bed dipped near his legs as you settled yourself down on the bed, laying your head on the back of Innie’s thigh as he laid on his stomach, his fingers moving all over his phone as he played a mobile game

It wasn’t surprising to feel you wrap your limbs around his leg, you always became such a needy baby when you were tired and he was sure to remind you every single time. “That’s your spot of choice this time?” You can hear the smile in his voice as he taps away on his game

“Mhm,” your answer was mumbled, teeth digging into his jeans ever so slightly to make him jump, eliciting a laugh from the back of your throat at his reflex. “Gonna sleep for a bit. Don’t kick me off.”

He would never. You were secretly the cutest thing in the world to him, he relished the feeling of your body heat against his as you curled up into him. He loved the way you latched to him as soon as you felt a little sleepy, it was endearing

“I’ll try not to,” he reaches down to find your hand, squeezing it gently once its in his own before bringing it back up to where he had it originally. He was your safe place and you were more than happy to let his warmth send you to sleep

taglist. @monstaxdirtywonk

[zelphin124]

Idol Error meets Idol Fresh (Short Story)

Finally, the long awaited prize for @zucchiyeni, I am sooooo sorry it took so long to get to..

These short stories were the prizes of the honorable mentions in the SeasonTale Creative Challenge.

Whew, now, onto the story!

~o0o~

"That's like, totally unrad bro."

Error glanced down at his watch again. 5 minutes... they were five minutes over the meeting time they were supposed to speak with him, and it ticked him off.

Error was one of the most famous independent singers in the entire multiverse. He had rewards for his skills in rapping and voice tuning. Despite his inefficiency with technology, he produced some of the most captivating videos and VR experiences known to mankind. It was said he only had one producer, but to this day, no one could figure out who it was.

And the contractors wanted to hire him.

He told himself it was stupid. He knew that they would take his rights to his music if he agreed to their deal... yet the price tag wasn't something he couldn't refuse.

His producer seriously needed a raise.

"Dude, you can't fire me! I won't be the vibe anymore! The town's countin on me radical skills!"

Error rubbed his head, hearing the younger guy talk in the room with the contractor. All he could think about was how annoying his voice sounded. The way he talked, and the way he yelled... It was ticking him off even more.

He decided he wasn't going to wait any longer. He stood up, banging on the door to the office. "HuRrY Up," he hissed. "I d0n't g0T a11 d@y t0 wa1t f0r y0u."

The conversation stopped, and rapid footsteps were heard before the employer, wearing a bright smile, opened the door. "Error!" He smiled with glee. "So happy to have you here, just give me maybe 5 more minutes as I deal with this hobo mkay?"

"1 d0n't h@vE m0r3 t1m3," Error glitched, adjusting his outfit. "T1m3 1s m0n3y."

"But of course," the small skeleton shuddered. "Right, Fresh, I'm going to need you to leave. Unfortunately, we will not be renewing your contract and that's final."

"But lad," Fresh, a tall-appearing skeleton begged. "Tis is ma only source of income! I can't produce any more music unless you chill and let me have the rights to my own voice yo!"

Error grimaced in disgust at his rainbow outfit. He was a walking kid's toy, with trinkets on his outfit that made no sense and the style skill of a two-year-old. However, he didn't like the look of the contractor's outfit either... it was all black with a white undershirt. Very boring, in his opinion.

"I'm sorry, but there's nothing I could do."

"Wh@t d0 y0u m3an, yoU dOn'T hav3 th3 r1ghts t0 yoUr OwN v01c3?" Error gestured to the hobo, considering what he said earlier.

"Totally unfair, brah!" Fresh explained. "In the contract, they steal the rights to your voice, music, everything! They only pay a pretty penny until your rates drop because of their unrad standards!"

"Wait, no, that's not entirely true-" The contractor had a pleading look in his eyes, glancing at Error and grabbing the scruff of his sleeve.

Error immediately shot his hand out of his reach, looking at him in disgust. "N@h, that's BS r1GhT th3rE. I'1l c0nt1nuE t0 b3 ind3penDenT."

"But-" The contractor flattened his face with a defeated look. He glared at Fresh as Error walked out, but not out of earshot. "You just ruined our chance to make a big buck, prepared for your entire career to be ruined."

The scrape of a chair echoed through the hall. "Too bad you already did lad."

Error rubbed his head, unable to comprehend what had just happened. He really needed the extra cash, but with the terms he overheard and the reviews from other artists stuck in contracts with the company, he saw no benefit. Even the Star Sanses were stuck with them for six more years, unable to produce their own stuff. It made Error wonder if the instant fame was worth it for them.

Not like he experienced that desire. He had posted his music one day and it caught fire quickly, each of his videos going viral the moment it released.

Yet, nothing paid him enough to give his producer the raise she needed. Most of the money he made himself went back into his production and to pay his own bills.

"Yo broski, wait up!"

Error cringed, clenching his fists together as the footsteps behind him got louder. As if this hobo couldn't get any more annoying...

"Sorry about the lazy impression back there bud, I tots wasn't having the best convo of all time. But I know your music and I must say you're pretty rad and wanted to ask if you wanted to collab sometime." Fresh rambled, before stopping and taking a few big breaths.

Error glanced Fresh up and down... well, more up than anything. He raised an eyebrow and continued walking. I don't have time for this...

"C'mon broski!" Fresh bounded after him. "I won't let you down and I can add some sick beats to your vocals!"

"1 h@v3n't h3arD yOuR mus1c beFor3." Error glitched, adjusting his clothes once more. "YoU juSt g0t f1r3d, wHy shOulD 1?"

"Look look look," Fresh immediately pulled out his phone to search for examples of his music. Even Error was surprised at the rate he pulled it up while keeping up with his pace.

The song played fancy and radical tunes, ones that Error had never heard before. There were some parts he liked, but the main melody of most of them sucked in his opinion. Error then explained to Fresh the few parts he liked while everything else was trash.

Fresh did not seem disheartened in any way. "Thanks for the feedback broski, I will take it into account! I could lend you the sounds for a collab, just one brah."

Error scoffed, turning around to face the rainbow once more. "Tw0 w0RDs, m@ss1v3 mAk30v3r," Error gestured to his entire outfit. "Y0u'R3 n0t l0Ok1nG l1kE th@t 1n mY v1d30."

"Really brah?" Fresh frowned, unzipping part of his outfit to show the inside of it. "You think this is lame? It's better than the lazy hobo that you're wearing."

"Th1s 1s f@shi0n, thAT b3l0nGs 1n th3 DumPSt3r." Error fired back, getting more angry by the minute. He snarled and waved his hand in dismissal, walking towards his car.

He didn't see the devilish grin of a cunning idea wrap around the parasite's face. "Relax lad, why don't we let yo cute producer decide? The collab would be made by her anyway~"

Error stopped dead in his tracks, glitching in and out at the mention of his producer. There's no way this loser could have figured out who she was... right? The fact that he even talked like that about her fueled his fury. How disrespectful of him.

If it weren't for his popularity, Error would have strangled him on the spot. However, people were starting to look and point them out, as he was being recognized. Fresh knew this, he saw this... and he laughed about it. They both knew Fresh was taunting Error.

"I'll make it stop if ya wish to collab, broski," Fresh shrugged, rezipping his coat.

Subconsciously, Error pulled the strings from his eyes as they continued to glitch, showing his anger. "N3-3-3-v3r." He hissed, holding the strings around his fingers. "N0 0-0n3 wh0 diSr3sp3ctS m3 @nd m-m-my c-cr3w w0rkS w-w1th m3."

"Hope to see you on stage then broski, when you come crawling back to me!" Fresh bowed, the silver on his clothes blinding Error when the sun reflected off of it. "I'll personally be your rival. It'll be easier to get popular that way."

"D0n't f-forg3t a-a-ab0uT th@t s-stup1d c0ntr@ct y0u siGn3d." Error unlocked his car, seething.

"What they gonna do lad, fire me? I'm on my own," he gives a mocking salute to the rap star. "And I'll be the one to take over your career. Good luck broski..." his eyes turned a scary shade of purple. "You'll need it."

Error was incredibly puzzled by Fresh's behavior as he drove home. The only word he could use to describe it was childish, yet it still got under his nerves. Usually, threats don't bother him as they don't get very far. But this one... it was very unsettling.

The rap star would make his way home in silence before eating his favorite meal and collapsing in bed to sleep. Despite all the things he tried to do, Fresh stayed fresh in his mind, and he was unable to shake the feeling that something was about to go seriously wrong for him.

Little did he know what kind of battle for his career this rainbow hobo would bring... And the rivalry it started to this day.

Even then, his producer stayed loyal to him, and Error still made music as usual. Security was increased, and he was able to get his producer a raise due to the song rivalry with Fresh, despite never collabing. Error always thought Fresh's music was childish and inexperienced, especially when the song was putting him under the bus. He believed he had the real roasts when he finally put the song together to tick off the parasite back.

But after the song "Fresh to Rotten Fruit" was released, Error was unable to sleep. He pissed off the rainbow parasite... and the threat on his life and his producer's life was too serious to be ignored.

And Error couldn't fix it without ruining his career.

[skulla-rxcks]

The guy from the bar

Paring: Han jisung x afab reader

Rating: explicit

Genre: smut

Warnings: hooking up

Day 27 of k-tober

Taglist: @f3lix00 @channiesgoodgirl @mal-lunar-28

!THIS IS PURE FICTION, NOTHING IN THIS IS REAL ITS JUST A STORY!

Going out and hooking up with random people has never been my thing, until today when I felt like I needed some sort of sexual interaction. it’s been ages since I’ve had sex and my body is craving it, touching myself isn’t enough sometimes. Which is why I invited this guy called Han over to my place, I met him at the bar the other night and was drawn in by pretty he was; guys that are both pretty and nice are sort of hard to find nowadays.

and he arrives, i swing the door open with glee, greeting him and taking him inside. “So how’ve you been today?” I ask, clearly not sure if we’re supposed to get straight to it or whatever.

“not bad, been looking forward to what we’re gonna do though.” he winks at me, pulling a grin and bursting out laughing as he realises how stupid it looked.

“Then.. let’s get to it..!” I smile and bring him into my bedroom, shutting the door behind us before turning the big light off and replacing the light source with the lamp next to my bed. I lie down and let him climb on top of me, feeling his warm breath caress my neck as he begins to slowly strip the clothes from my body. Small whimpers begin to escape my mouth as he leaves a trail of kisses down from my neck to my breasts. “oh my god you’re beautiful.” he smirks, his hands cupping my breasts as he pulls my panties down, taking them off with his teeth.

“Han.. fuck me please..” I cry out, pulling his pants down and reaching for his cock, stroking it gently while I look into his eyes with a hint of lust shining in mine. He smirks, reaching between our bodies to cup my breasts once more as he continues kissing down my torso, moving on to sucking bruises onto my thighs. he pulls away, staring at me through his lust filled brown eyes. I lean up slightly and kiss him softly before reaching over to his wallet, pulling out a condom and unwrapping it. I take it out of the packaging and roll it onto his length, needing him inside of me.

“shit.. it’s tight.” Han moans out, biting his lip as he pushes Inside of me. “nngh~ big..” I whimper in response, feeling his cock begin to stretch me open when he begins to move in and out of my tight cunt. “I-I’m not that big..” he blushes, tilting his head down to watch his dick get swallowed by my pussy with every thrust.

He starts to pick up speed, pushing deep and hard with each powerful push into my body. “fuck.. fuck.. oh shit…” he curses under his breath, grabbing his hand and placing it on my chest, pressing it against me to help him balance. I begin to feel my walls clenching around his dick, more noises slipping from my throat as I reach my orgasm. “Ah.. H-Han.. fuck..” I moan out, cumming around his protected cock. Not long after Han cums as well, filling the condom in an instant before pulling out and disposing of it.

[sulphuryasecretcloset]

You are a hero to me

(I blame this entirely on @phrenic-a and their glorious writer-baiting. It was meant to be one genre, but of course Zev can't make anything easy for me....)

-

“Ex… Uhm, excuse me? Miss?” A tiny voice says, dragging Zev’sonya out of the conversation she’s currently having with Mose about whether they should bother securing more supplies or not before heading back to the ship and away from this awfully crowded marked. She looks to her left and down, towards the source of the sound, and is both baffled and displeased to find a green, little twi’lek girl standing there and staring at her with big eyes.

“What?” Zev’sonya snaps. Why isn’t anyone looking after this girl? She can’t be more than six or seven years old? She shouldn’t be hassling dangerous strangers who could snatch her up and sell her to slavers. Her guardians deserve a punch in the mouth.

“Are you…” The girl’s gaze slides over and takes in the sight of Mose towering behind Zev’sonya.

Her eyes grow even larger and Zev’sonya reluctantly braces for the inevitable shriek of horror while silently swearing she is indeed going to punch whomever is responsible for letting this little girl wander off.

“Y-you are!” The girl declares and shifts her attention back to Zev’sonya, but with absolute delight all over her face instead of fear. “You’re Zev’sonya Lee Lewna!”

Zev’sonya blinks. She can feel Mose’s confusion as strong as her own. Putting on her gruffest face, she scans the little girl and sees (and feels) nothing out of the ordinary. She’s dressed nicely, but not like a rich kid, is skinny but not malnourished, and has a large, yellow cuddle-toy hanging from her right hand instead her holding any weapon. “How do you know my name, kid?”

The girl leans to the side and outright grins. “And you’re Mose!”

Zev’sonya looks back at him, but he just meets her gaze with his equivalent of raising an eyebrow and underlines it with a faint shrug. No help to be had there. Great. Zev’sonya turns back to the girl and puts on her stern face again. “Listen, kid, I don’t know what you want from me, but you shouldn’t be wandering around on your own.”

“I’m not.” The girl says, then points with her free hand. “They’re right over there.”

‘They’ must be her family and ‘they’ are a twi’lek man and two other little twi’lek girls. The man, clearly someone in Zev’sonya’s trade of shady business, is busy negotiating with a seller and has no idea what is happening beyond that, but the two girls next to him are clutching their own cuddle toys and are staring wide-eyed at their sister talking to strangers. The girl on the left is hugging a raggedy looking human doll while the girl on the right is squeezing a falleen doll tight.

“I told them we might meet you one day! This is so awesome!” The little run-away declares with raw glee.

Zev’sonya shakes her head and scoffs. Not only does this little shrimp know her and Mose’s names, which is weird enough by itself, but she actually wanted to meet them? Is she crazy? “Why?”

“Because…” Now the girl finally lowers her gaze for a moment, suddenly a little shy, but it doesn’t last for long. She flicks her dark eyes up again and now they are beaming with awe. “I wanna grow up and be just like you one day!”

Zev’sonya feels like the kid just slapped her face. Yeah, must be crazy. She considers backing up in case it is contagious. Maybe it is brain-rot? Must be something serious, definitely. “What?”

“The Pyle heist! The Julita caper! The Aand sting! The Silver holdup!” The girl blurts out, increasingly excited. “They were all you.” A sharp gulp of breath is all she has time for before rambling on. “My dad goes away for work a lot of the time, but he always comes back with stories about you. When I was little, I didn’t think a twi’lek girl could be captain of a crew, but he said I was wrong and that’s when he told me about Zev’sonya Lee Lewna. The Pirate Queen! And Mose, her best friend and second in command!”

That’s when Zev’sonya notices that the stuffed doll the girl is holding on to is not something she’s seen for sale at any marked she’s been to. It is a home-made creation; a yellow hutt with brown stripes and big eyes. It is quite raggedy from being brought along to wherever this kid goes. For some reason, the sight of the clear replica of Mose makes Zev’sonya’s heart clench.

“All my sisters do is talk about meeting a prince and getting married and living in his castle, but they also claim that there are no nice hutts, so you know they’re stupidheads. I don’t wanna marry a prince, I wanna be a pirate, like you.” The girl declares with gusto. She swings her doll forward and holds it up for her to see. “I only have Hose right now. But one day I’ll run into a hutt who is nice, like Mose, and they will be on my crew and we’ll go on adventures all over the Galaxy..”

Zev’sonya has no idea what to say to that. Her brain is spinning at how unreal the situation is.

Lowering the toy, the girl tilts her head and studies the blaster hanging by Zev’sonya’s hip before she scans the blades strapped to her thighs. “My dad won’t let me shoot one yet, but I’m really good with my slingshot.”

“That’s… nice.” Zev’sonya awkwardly mumbles. She hears a quiet rumble of amusement from behind her and Mose is clearly handling this better than she is. But that’s because he’s nice and she isn’t! She’s no role-model. She’s a result of a cruel Galaxy. This kid shouldn’t-

“Is it true you even have a human on your crew now?” The little fiend seems far more shocked by this than Zev’sonya travelling around with a hutt by her side.

“Ye-es….” Zev’sonya replies, not sure why she is giving her answers instead of directions back to her family or spraying her with water to make her go away. How does she know about Leo too?!

“Hey, would you mind…” The girl starts, digging into her own pocket for something that she pulls up with a triumphant look on her face. “Signing this?”

The shocks keeps on coming today because Zev’sonya finds herself looking at the unrolling of a wanted poster of her and Mose. It’s an old one. Three or four years ago? That is really not a flattering picture of her. Yikes. Does she really look like that? She's never leaving the ship again.

Mose chortles from behind her.

Ok, this must be some kind of weird dream. Has to be. This can’t be real. No way.

When all Zev’sonya does is stare, the girl gives the poster a brief, suggestive shake.

“Sure.” Mose says, reaching by Zev’sonya and taking the poster to sign it.

Zev’sonya half-turns to stare at him with no small amount of disbelief that only grows when she sees the smile he’s trying in vain to fight off. He’s far too amused by this. Once he’s scribbled down his letters on the holo-surface, he hands it to her with an expectant look on his face.

Scowling, Zev’sonya hesitates for only half a second before signing it and turning to hand it back to the girl. “Here.”

“Thank you!” She says, beaming even more brightly despite how it shouldn’t be possible.

“Sure.” Zev’sonya clears her throat. “Now, go back to your father and don’t wander off again. Okay?”

“Okay.” The girl declares with zero hesitation and endless cheerfulness. “But when I get a little older, can I come work for you? Mom says I should focus on my dancing or singing, but that’s boring, so can I? Pretty please? Can I?”

Trying hard to ignore the long, rumbling chuckle she hears from Mose, Zev’sonya crosses her arms. “Give it ten to fifteen years, if you still feel the same, sure.” She doubts she’ll see this kid again, but there is still something about her that prods Zev’sonya to say the next words. “Just remember, being a twi’lek doesn’t mean you have to sing and dance. You do what you want to do with your life. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Even your mother. You can be whatever you put your mind to.”

Despite how it shouldn’t be possible, the girl’s face grow even brighter with happiness. “I’m going to be just like you!”

Wait, no t-that is not what she meant, absolutely not, but the girl takes off running towards her father and sisters before Zev’sonya can correct her. Then, after the cretin is reunited with her sisters, pointing towards her and Mose and clearly bragging, Zev’sonya spins around to leave in a hurry as their father finally catches on to something happening behind him and turns to investigate. Time to get back to the ship.

Mose is still chuckling when she stalks by him.

“Shut up.” Zev’sonya growls. Her face burns.

Mose outrights laughs.

“I will stab you in the eye!” She threatens, in vain as it has no effect whatsoever.

Back at the ship, Nohr is waiting by the open ramp. The nikto is standing guard and seems very ready for them to leave. He’s the impatient one on the crew. “We good to go?”

“We’re leaving.” Zev’sonya declares as she marches into the ship with Mose right behind her. “Now.”

The ramp starts closing behind them and Zev’sonya knows she should head up to the cockpit and have Bea’tah initiate take-off right away, but on the way she has to walk by the door to her quarters and she can’t help the way her gaze lingers on it.

“Lorda.” Mose says, now all quiet and gentle, stopping by the door. “I’ll head up. You go in.”

Zev’sonya pauses and glares at him.

Mose nods. His eyes are too mild. “You are the captain, Lorda. I know. You decide.” He’s indulging her bad temper and they both know it. “But I can handle the ship and you should check up on him.”

Hesitating, Zev’sonya is torn between her usual dislike of being told what to do and the fact that she actually wants to go inside that room. What happened earlier had left her with a knot in her belly, and now that twi’lek kid has made her head a mess too…

“Go.” Mose encourages. “I got this.”

She does not doubt that for a second. She trusts him without a shadow of a doubt and because of that, she can allow herself to be weak this one time. Zev’sonya exhales and gives in. “Fine.”

Mose nods again, relieved. “Good.” He shuffles by her. “It’s a seventeen hour journey to our next stop, remember? You might as well get some rest while you’re in there.”

“Mind my ship, not my business.” Zev’sonya snipes, uncomfortable. Mose is always looking out for her despite how she’s supposed to keep him safe. A captain watches over her crew, not the other way around. Mose never seems to get that into his head.

“Yes, Lorda.” He replies with ease, clearly not intending to heed her words at all. And people call her the stubborn one?

Stepping inside the room, Zev’sonya leans back against the door and pauses for a bit to take in the sight that greets her.

Lying on his back, arms by his sides, Leo is still fast asleep on the bed. As expected. As he should be. This morning’s attack had come out of nowhere and for several seconds that had felt like years, Zev’sonya had been convinced that the medicine had suddenly stopped working and that he would die in front of her. She had not felt so afraid and helpless since Mose was poisoned.

Taking a deep breath, Zev’sonya pushes herself away from the door and walks over to sit down next to Leo. He looks pale, but peaceful. No fear. Nothing like during the incident. He’s breathing deep and slow. She takes his hand in hers and forces herself to smile. “You’re going to be so angry when you hear you missed out on meeting someone as crazy as you.” His hand is warm and the contact feels reassuring so she places her other hand over his. “This twi’lek kid, she came right up to me and Mose and started talking to us. No sense of self-preservation.” Zev’sonya breathes a faint laugh of reluctant admiration. “No brain.” She shakes her head, weirdly… flattered? “You would have liked her. She said…”

- I wanna grow up and be just like you one day!

While Zev’sonya knows she’s anything but a role model, the idea that a twi’lek girl might break free from the booth others want to put her in, or even give a deserving hutt a chance because she heard stories about Zev’sonya and Mose, it is dangerously uplifting. And though the girl has horrible taste in heroes and the odds stacked high against her even before she starts her journey, Zev’sonya hopes she makes it. She really hopes she makes it.

Hmm, Leo is going to be a dreadful nightmare when he hears about this. (He won’t hear it from her but Mose is definitely going to tell him. Those two love to conspire against her.) His old nickname is going to be used a lot. “She said something crazy.” Zev’sonya says, easing down to lie next to the sleeping Leo. Everything in her wants to curl up close, wrap herself around him, place her head on his chest and listen to him breathe, but she only allows herself to hold on to his hand. It’s not much, but it’s more than what she’s allowed herself in the past. “You’re going to love it.”

The ship gently shudders as they take off and head towards the stars. Technically it is barely mid-day where they are right now, but the standard time teller tells Zev’sonya the ship will swap to night-mode soon and she realizes Mose must have known as he told her to get some rest. The different time zones between parsecs, even between some planets, can leave a traveller severely sleep deprived if one is not careful and that could get you killed in Zev’sonya’s line of work.

Fine. Sleep it is. For purely practical reasons.

Zev’sonya absently runs her index finger back and forth over Leo’s warm hand as she quietly starts listing up names of people she’s never met, except for one. Even if she’d been ignorant of Hauroko’s fate, Zev’sonya would have known it is souls Leo has lost from the grief she feels radiating from him every evening when he speaks their names. She suspects it is his way of keeping them alive in memory at least and as he won’t be able to tonight, Zev’sonya will keep them alive for him.

Zev’sonya Lee Lewna is not a hero. She’s not even a good person. But she is curled up next to one.

-

[winxanity-ii]

𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃

╚»★«╝ 𝐊𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧 x 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ╚»★«╝

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: angst?? horror?? idk y'all

‌🇷‌🇦‌🇹‌🇮‌🇳‌🇬‌: non-explicit(?) i don't really know, i only count explicit for sex tbh

🇵‌🇴‌🇻‌: 2nd person; You/Your

🇩‌🇪‌🇸‌🇨‌🇷‌🇮‌🇵‌🇹‌🇮‌🇴‌🇳‌: in which, on your way home, you encounter the big bad wolf.

🇼‌🇴‌🇷‌🇩‌ 🇨‌🇴‌🇺‌🇳‌🇹‌: 3.5k

🇦‌/🇳‌‌: Y'all know what time it is...it's time for the annual fall in love with The Originals/The Vampire Diaries season😫❤️❤️ .

★·.·´ 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇴‌🇷‌🇮‌🇬‌🇮‌🇳‌🇦‌🇱‌🇸‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

The last dying rays of the sun slanted through the trees, casting long shadows that merged into the encroaching darkness. The woods are a sanctuary, a place where the raw beauty of nature soothes the soul. Ancient trees stretch towards the sky, their branches etched like dark veins against the orange-red backdrop of the setting sun. The smell of damp earth and decaying leaves permeates the air, filling your nostrils with that comforting, earthy aroma. But even amidst all this peace, there's a knot of tension in your belly, an unsettling feeling you can't shake off. You pull your red cloak closer around you, its hood draped over your head like a protective shroud. Your basket swings lightly against your hip as you navigate through the twisted roots and overgrown bushes that make up the forest floor.

You're humming a soft tune under your breath, an old lullaby that used to put you to sleep as a child. The melody mixes with the sounds of nature, harmonizing with the distant call of a nightingale and the subtle rustle of leaves in the breeze. The song serves as a bridge between you and the forest, inviting you deeper into its labyrinthine depths.

But then, you hear it—a stifled sob, followed by a low, cruel laugh. It cuts through the peaceful backdrop like a serrated blade, jolting your senses. Your pace quickens, each step heavier than the last, guided by the haunting echoes that grow louder as you approach the source.

Emerging from the dense underbrush, you come into a clearing and freeze. A nauseating scene unfolds before you. A young boy with tousled brown hair, probably around 12 years old, is pinned between two figures. He's dressed in what you can only guess were once clean, mage-appropriate clothes, now marred with dirt and blood. The skin around his neck is soaked in red, where the female vampire's fangs are currently lodged. Her fiery red hair contrasts sharply with the pale, death-like complexion of her skin and her eyes glow a dull, hypnotic red.

On the other side of the boy, a male vampire stands with golden-blond hair framing a face that would be handsome if it weren't twisted in a grotesque expression of delight. Blood smears his lips and chin as he momentarily lifts his mouth from the boy's other shoulder, clearly having had his share before you arrived. The boy's face is a mask of pure agony, eyes clenched shut, as though willing himself to wake up from a nightmare.

The vibe is sickening. You can practically taste the malevolent glee coming off of the vampires; they're reveling in the power they have over their young victim.

Anger flares within you, making your body tremble uncontrollably for a moment. Your fingers clutch the handle of your basket so hard your knuckles turn white. Every instinct you have screams at you to do something, to end this abomination of a scene right here, right now.

The moment the blond vampire's eyes lock onto yours, you don't hesitate. Your focus sharpens, and an invisible force guided solely by your intent hurls the two vampires away from the boy. They're thrown back as if hit by a gust of hurricane winds, the blond male tumbling into a tangle of branches and shrubs, and the redhead landing on her back with a thud.

Quickly, you stride over to the boy, who's now lying limply on the ground. Gently placing your hand on his chest, you invoke a healing stasis combined with sleep paralysis. A translucent bubble encases him like a protective cocoon, and with another thought, you elevate him high above the trees. Safe, at least for now.

The male vampire regains his composure and lunges at you, fangs exposed, snarling like a wild animal. But before he even gets close, you whip around, and your thoughts hurl him to the left, violently crashing him into a thick cluster of trees. Simultaneously, your right- hand reaches out to target the female, gripping her throat with an invisible force.

Closing your left hand into a fist, you hear the male vampire let out a pained grunt. His body starts to stretch, elongating painfully against the trunk of a tree. It's like he's being stretched on some invisible rack. "Stay put, bloodsucker," you hiss, eyes flicking momentarily to ensure he's immobilized.

Swiveling back to the redhead, who's struggling to get to her feet, you tighten your invisible grip around her throat. Slowly, your unseen force lifts her off the ground. She claws at the air, trying to dislodge your psychic grasp. "Having fun yet?" you taunt, pulling her closer. "Is this how you get your kicks? Feeding off defenseless kids?" Your words drip with contempt.

As you lock eyes with her, your own eyes start to shimmer, cycling through an array of soft pastel colors. Then they darken, a kaleidoscopic storm settling into a focused, threatening hue.

You tighten your psychic grip around her throat, just enough to make her gasp for an air she doesn't need. Then, with a flick of your wrist, you toss her aside like discarded trash. As she hits the ground, you splay your fingers wide, and her body obliges, stretching out into an awkward starfish position, each limb pinned by an unseen force.

"Let me go, bitch," she hisses, fangs on full display and eyes ablaze in a menacing red. She struggles, but the force you've wrapped around her holds firm.

You laugh, but there's no humor in it—only the promise of reckoning—as you stroll over to her. "Look at you, all defenseless and pinned to the ground. Not so high and mighty now, huh?" The words come out almost playfully, but the undertone is anything but.

Dropping your gaze, you lift your foot and stomp down on her chest. She manages a strained cough, then laughs weakly. "I-Is that all you've got?"

You make a pouty face, letting out a mock-whiny, "You didn't even let me try," but it shifts into a dark, knowing smirk a moment later.

Confusion flickers across the vampire's face, quickly replaced by realization and horror. She coughs again, more violently this time, and blood splatters from her mouth. "W-What the fuck d-did you do to me?" she manages to sputter out.

With slow deliberation, you lift your foot. A vibrant green vine emerges from your sole, its other end already embedded into the vampire's chest. As you step back, the vine detaches from your foot with almost graceful ease, like a paintbrush lifting away from a canvas after the final stroke. For a few seconds, the vine quivered in the air, curling and uncurling before morphing into a sharp point and plunging deep into the vampire's chest.

"Son of a bitch! When I get out of this, I'll rip you apart!" the male vampire shouts from his tangled prison of branches and unseen magical restraints. His words are a raw snarl, each syllable promising violence and retribution; it's almost like he's trying to fill the clearing with his rage, as if that could free him.

As you hear his threat, you can't help but shoot a sidelong glare at him, your face hardening into a steely expression.

"Let her go, you witch! I swear, if you touch her—"

With a scowl forming on your face, you raise your left hand and open your clenched fist. "Shut it!" you shout. At your command, a brutal force grips the male vampire's throat, and in a sickening moment, you can see his eyes bulge as his voice box is violently torn out. Blood spews from the gaping wound and his mouth; he tries to scream but can only gurgle, his face turning a ghastly shade.

His vampiric healing abilities kick in, struggling to close the wound, but you're one step ahead. A faint golden shimmer coats the wound, preventing it from healing and causing it to reopen repeatedly, like an endless loop of pain. It's a grotesque imitation of Prometheus's eternal punishment, his wound ever-renewing. His screams turn into agonized gurgles.

Shifting your gaze back to the redhead vampire on the ground, she's writhing in agony and terror. Her eyes, now filled with a horrifying realization, dart between you and her tortured partner.

Falling into a squat, you lean over to stroke her fiery red hair. "Aw, don't worry, sweetie," you coo, your voice dripping with mock concern, "your turn is coming soon."

The moment the last word leaves your lips, the female vampire lets out a spine-chilling screech that could give La Llorona a run for her money. Despite your hold on her, her back arches, lifting a few inches off the ground as if defying your magical constraints.

Just then, the green vine that had earlier embedded itself into her chest sprouts explosively from every crevice of her body. Like tendrils of some grotesque plant, they shoot into the soil beneath her, pulling her several feet below ground level. The vines thicken and pulse, absorbing the flowing crimson from her body. Almost instantaneously, an array of dark red flowers bloom along these vines, filling the air with the faint but unmistakable scent of blood.

"Ah, Florae Sanguinis," you hum appreciatively, recognizing the rare mystical flowers that have just bloomed. "Excellent for age-defying spells, I've heard."

With a satisfied nod, you pluck a few of the blood-red blossoms and drop them into your basket. As they fall, the basket glows faintly gold, signaling the activation of your dimensional storage. The flowers vanish from sight, safely tucked away for future use.

Standing up, you catch sight of the male vampire still writhing in agony, suspended in the trees. "Oh," you muse, a playful lilt in your voice. "My bad, almost forgot about you."

With a casual flick of your left wrist, you undo the magical bindings holding him in place. But instead of transforming him into another Florae Sanguinis like his partner, he combusts spontaneously, reducing to a spray of blood and entrails that splatter all over the oak tree he was pinned to.

As you stroll towards the floating protective bubble holding the young boy, you talk to yourself, pondering your decision. "Hmm, no need for another Florae Sanguinis here," you muse. "I kinda want this spot to be my secret garden. Having two in one spot would make this place way too popular, and I like my little secret places free from the prying eyes of the curious and the greedy. One flower's enough to keep it mysterious but not make it a local tourist trap for every wannabe spellcaster."

Satisfied with your logic, you continue on, leaving behind a gruesome but strangely beautiful scene.

You wave your hand and the bubble hovering above dissolves, its shimmering essence sinking into the petals of the lush flower bed you had just conjured. As the boy gently settles onto the floral cushion, you squat beside him to inspect his condition. A hum of approval escapes your lips as you note the absence of any vampire-inflicted wounds. Tsking at the torn and blood-stained state of his clothes, you flick your wrist and watch as the fabric seamlessly mends itself, good as new.

Gently, you brush your fingers against his cheek while whispering an incantation. His eyelids flutter open, and with a gasp, he's awake. Initially disoriented, his eyes fill with tears as he scuttles backward, shaken and fearful. A brief flashback races through his mind: he was following his clan's designated trail when he was yanked into the woods, bitten and violated by two vampires.

You make a soothing noise and extend your arms, pulling him gently toward you. The tension in his small frame loosens almost instantly as he nestles under your chin, enwrapped in a warm, comforting aura. Rocking gently, you shush him, repeating that he's safe now. His breathing slows, and the tremors subside.

Gently pulling away, you cup his face with your hands and wipe away the remnants of his tears. "Are you okay, little one?"

His eyes lock onto yours for a moment before he breaks down again. "I-I was w-walking... v-vampires got m-me... s-so scared."

"Shh, it's all right," you coo, leaning in to touch your nose to his forehead gently, a traditional act of endearment witches often share with young members of their community to console them. Recognizing the familiar gesture, one he's experienced from the elders in his own clan, the boy sighs and leans into the touch, finally allowing himself the relief of feeling safe.

You pull back, locking eyes with him once more. "They can't hurt you anymore," you reassure him, your voice tinged with a gravity that leaves no room for doubt.

With the young wizard finally calm, you rise to your feet and extend a hand to help him up. A flick of your wrist summons his dropped satchel, mending any damage it sustained during the ordeal. You drape it carefully over his shoulder, making sure it sits comfortably.

Reaching into your enchanted basket, which glows faintly gold as your dimensional storage activates, you pull out one of the freshly plucked Florae Sanguinis blooms. A protective bubble forms around the mystical flower. "I suspect some members of your clan will be thrilled to have this," you say, handing it to him. "If you break the bubble under a full moon, the flower will multiply, and its magic will intensify."

His eyes widen with delight, and he nods, soaking in every instruction you offer.

Your smile returns, softer this time, as you use your hand to smooth down his hair. You bring your thumb up to your mouth and let one of your canines elongate momentarily into a delicate fang. You prick your finger, and the blood that wells up glows with a faint shimmer of gold. Carefully, you reach over and draw a cross on his forehead, completing it with a circle that surrounds it and pressing a small dot in the center. The symbol pulses softly, shifting between shades of red and pink, warming the skin beneath it and radiating a soothing energy.

Feeling the comforting heat, the boy's eyes light up, and he gives you a toothy grin before bowing. "May your path forever be lit with the light of a thousand stars," he says, his voice tinged with an innocence that makes the words resonate more profoundly.

With a final, affectionate pat on his head, you gently turn him toward the path ahead. "Get home safe, little one," you tell him, a note of tenderness coloring your words.

He nods vigorously, a look of newfound confidence in his eyes, and takes off down the path, which glows with a faint, ethereal blue. As he runs, your blessing activates into the shape of a blessed deity that manifests at his back—a goddess draped in celestial robes, her eyes like twin moons and her hair a cascade of shimmering stardust. She whispers encouragements into his ear, her voice a melodic hum that only he can hear, while also alerting him to any impending dangers on his route. With her divine guidance, his journey promises to be as smooth as the still surface of a moonlit lake.

Relieved that the young wizard is now safe and under divine protection, you let out a sigh, the tension leaving your shoulders. As you pivot, prepared to get back to your own affairs, you find yourself startlingly face-to-face with a man whose presence feels almost as ancient as the woods around you. His eyes are an arresting shade of blue that seem to glow with untamed ferocity, a sharp contrast to his immaculately styled blond hair. He carries himself with an air of aristocracy and danger that seems to defy time. There's something unnervingly familiar about him, something from bedtime stories meant to both enchant and terrify young children.

"Klaus Mikaelson," you finally speak, putting a name to the myth standing before you.

Klaus offers a teasing coo in response, his lips curving into a smirk. "What are you doing out in the woods so late, Little Red?" His gaze drops to your red cloak and then to the basket in your hand, filled with items only those in-the-know would find intriguing.

Ignoring the way you shiver at the nickname, you can't help but be cautious, your upbringing filled with tales of the infamous Mikaelson family, stories laced with blood, betrayal, and the sort of magic that could level entire villages.

"I could ask you the same," you counter, your voice steady despite the caution flaring within you. "You're far from New Orleans."

A dark chuckle escapes Klaus as he begins to circle you, maintaining several feet of distance between you. The effect is unsettling, like a predator sizing up its prey. "Well, you see, I have some business to take care of. A few of my henchmen have gone missing, suspiciously so. Word has it, some witches are taking matters into their own hands."

Your heart skips a beat. You pull your red cloak a little closer to your body as if the fabric could shield you from his piercing gaze. "I wouldn't know about that," you say cautiously. "I don't venture near the French Quarter anymore. Not since they've put that constraint on witches. Can't use our powers without some Council's approval."

You keep your recent trip there to yourself, recalling your rendezvous with an old friend, Davina, who shared some valuable information. The world seems to narrow as you glance back up, and a small gasp leaves you. Klaus is now standing just a few inches away, his sudden closeness catching you off guard.

Klaus coos softly, the mocking tone evident in his voice, "Did I scare you, love?"

His proximity is electric, challenging, and for a moment you forget the cautionary tales, the warnings, the age-old stories of treachery that are synonymous with his name.

You recover quickly, swallowing down the involuntary fear. "I'm not easily scared," you reply, locking eyes with him. "Especially not by wolves masquerading as men."

"You wound me, Little Red," Klaus teases, his eyes twinkling with mischief. But in the blink of an eye, the atmosphere changes. His hand shoots out, capturing your neck and forcing you to tilt your head back, your gaze locking with his. Your eyes widen, your body trembles; you're caught in the snare of his power.

As if to soften the severity of the moment, he lets his other hand drift up to caress the side of your face. His finger traces the contours of your cheek, your jawline, a strangely tender action that stands in stark contrast to the grip he has on your neck. "You see, I'm not just any wolf," he says, his voice lowering to a rumble that reverberates through you.

"I'm the original big...bad...wolf," he purrs, his eyes suddenly glowing a fierce gold. Black veins creep across his face, a dark web of power, and his fangs drop—both the elongated canines of a vampire and the deadly incisors of a werewolf.

In a split-second decision, you channel your own latent power, surging it up from your core and pushing it outward. The spellwork you learned from years of study—scribbled into the margins of old grimoires and whispered to you by wise mentors—echoes in your mind. With a wordless chant that you form in your thoughts, you create a shimmering shield between you and Klaus.

For a moment, just a heartbeat, his grip falters and his eyes widen in genuine surprise. You use that instant to break free, stepping back and regaining your composure. The tension in the air is palpable, but it's different now. It's not just him circling you; you've marked your own space in this dangerous dance.

You hold Klaus's gaze, a shiver trickling down your spine as you sense the weight of his ancient, predatory aura. Your hand tightens around your basket, grasping it like a lifeline. "Stories have beginnings and endings, Klaus Mikaelson, but some also have cautionary tales."

His eyes narrow slightly, sensing the trepidation laced within your defiance. "Ah, but those are the best kinds, aren't they? Because cautionary tales are born from danger, and danger," he leans in just a hair closer, lowering his voice to a silky whisper, "is oh so thrilling."

Finally, he steps back, putting a physical distance between you that does little to break the tension stretching taut as a wire. "Until we meet again, Little Red. I'll be looking forward to reading the next chapter."

He turns, his form melding seamlessly into the shadows, and you're left standing there in a clearing that suddenly feels too big and too small all at once. It felt like ages before you were sure he was gone to drop your shield. You let out a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding.

As you walk away, the forest around you settling into nocturnal life, you can't shake off the unsettling feeling that's crawled under your skin. Yes, your story with Klaus Mikaelson has twisted roots and uncertain paths—paths that you're both eager and afraid to tread.

i couldnt stop myself 😭😭

[rougedraconteur]

I wanted to make a separate post about all the “clickbait articles” regarding Chris Colfer and his “comments” concerning being on Glee and being told not to come out. Many folks are upset at the media coverage, and, as fans, they are outraged on his behalf on what they see. Maybe they are right.

However.

It is a hard stretch to call entertainment media actual news reporting, but there are a lot of jobs and a lot of money attached to the industry, so these things are all carefully crafted and controlled at a certain level for desired results.

First of all, let’s look at the original interview. The View is a topical news show that also purports to be about entertainment, and contains a mix of women from various backgrounds as hosts. It is part of ABC’s NEWS division, not their entertainment division, and is overseen by that department’s executives. It has won 31 Emmys, and no less a respected news source than the New York Times has called it, at one point, “the most important political TV show in America.” In 2021, The View had become the most-viewed news and talk program in daytime tv. (Wikipedia, inc. sources and references.) most importantly, Disney is the parent company, as it is the parent company for 21st Century Fox. Just getting on this show is a big deal. But Disney has all the control (and power) here.

Next, let’s look at who controlled that interview. Whoopie Goldberg runs that desk, and is the biggest draw. She is one of less than 20 living EGOTs, a Disney Legend, very respected in the industry, her Q score must be in the single digits, very high recognizability Quotient, she is recognizable and repected around the world, and appeared with Colfer in most of her scenes on Glee, which was heavily referenced in one of the clips chosen and shown in the interview. She is also a personal hero of his, in early interviews he cites his deep love of her in Sister Act as one of his inspirations to get into acting. The fact that he was able to get placement on that show for the one day he was in NYC is telling.

The clips that were shown, as well as the questions that were asked, and by whom, were all read from note cards and approved in advance. Alla, his well-respected publicist, was with him, as was his long-time agent, Rob, I am sure. They know what they are doing. They all chose together to talk about him coming out, and what he was told, and why. We feel it is all a tired rehash, but there are some slight changes in the actual WORDING, he finesses it a little more here. And it matters. This show contains seasoned interviewers, lawyers, political strategists, as well as celebrities who constantly deal with media. They know about spin, about what to ask, about when to ask it, about who asks what. Whoopie really did not ask much, yet I still felt she was entirely in control, along with Chris and his team, of this whole interview. They also know about legal lines and limits, actual news reporting standards, and what Bob Iger wants the message to be. They also know why Bob Iger wants the message to be a certain way.

Everything about that interview was very calculated, imo. Though, to most of us, I guess, it seemed like the same old rehash. But it wasn’t. For instance, he was told if he came out, it would ruin his career. But over the many years of speculation—was he outed? Was he forced into coming out, going back in, or did he choose for himself?—this is the first time I have heard him clearly say he chose this for himself, yes he was very scared, he did not know his character would be gay until he read the script, he came from a place where that was scary and dangerous, he was very young, etc.; but he acknowledged that his appearance and mannerisms and voice made it extremely hard to closet him in a believable way, so HE CHOSE to come out, though reluctantly and with some trepidation, and he included the story of the rainbow paper clip chain for his reason why, for emphasis. He WAS a debate state champion, after all, and is a seasoned writer now, he knows the power of language to shape perceptions. I have heard most all his live interviews since 2009, and I don’t think I recall that anecdote, or how memorable and sympathetic it is toward him, as a role model, which he specifically addresses as also a choice. Being a role model separated him from others in a very real way, he was a hero but also got death threats and hate mail, he required security, he was used by the show as an example of their progressiveness, but also separated from his peers in bts photos and invitations to events because he was openly gay and others could not be seen hanging out with him as it made them look gay, as well. He has said before he did not seek being a role model, for all those reasons. He is reshaping his coming out narrative regarding Fox and RIB and their roles in all this drama while still delivering an important message about the industry during Pride Month. He says if he wanted to be an action hero, he could not come out. He says he was told that.

That still holds true, for him and others, if he says too much. Conversely, if he did/does not, he would/will be rewarded, these things don’t change. This is their process, this is how it works for everyone, this is what they expect from team players, this is the industry, like it or hate it. And it does not always mean something sinister. (Although sometimes it does.)

There is a huge desire from Disney to reboot Glee in some way, it is still extremely popular on Disney+, and Dana Walden may have now found the gimmick to make that work, according to recent rumors. Now the job is to set up all the dominoes and remove any obstacles to reach that goal. And, based on that final look between Whoopie and Chris, whom she clearly adores, they understand this situation, what’s at stake, and what’s to gain here, and they expected this interview to get the results they both wanted. They, at least, delivered their end of the bargain, imo. I thought it was brilliant and subliminal and delivered a big punch for such a seemingly minor project, a new book, from a former actor. Glee, for him, was a long time ago.

The fact that Variety, an entertainment inustry trade publication, was the first to report on it, almost immediately, also matters, as does their headline. They set the tone for all the other articles, many publications of which are tied to Disney, their subsidiaries, or other major industry players with connections to that show, the showrunners, or the actors. Many of them included links back to the original interview. They want the buzz, and the reactions, to see how they read across media. Chris got a lot of coverage here because he still matters to not just his fanbase, but to the public, and to the industry, and to his community. Clickbait only works if people are interested, and this much is a crazy level of interest.

Again, Glee made BILLIONS for Fox, and Iger is looking to shore up Disney+ offerings to further entice new subscribers.

[wolfie-bee]

Very excited to share my Supercorp Big Bang 2023 fic:

the pieces of me (cling to you)

Em (@shipinsight) was my lovely artist for this collaboration and she made stunning art for my fic here: the pieces of me (cling to you) Art

Please go show her some love, she did such an amazing job 💗💗

moodboard below done by my talented friend (@awaitingrain ) 💗💗

the pieces of me (cling to you)

Summary:

"To know me is to know pain, Supergirl." Lena says simply. "To know me is to know that coincidentally, on the same day you disappeared, my helicopter was blown out of the sky."

Lena's words land their intended blow. Supergirl flinches, guilt etched across her face like Lena had just damned her to Hades. And maybe she did.

"To know me," she continues, stalking forward once more, watching in sardonic glee as the veins in Supergirl's body light up once more."is to understand that I don't care about what if's and altruistic Supers who also want to do no harm." She says, pausing when Supergirl’s prone form is but an inch from her boot.

Or

What if Metallo Lena meets Supergirl and feels a strange connection to her that she couldn't identify the source of? And what if she kept Supergirl around long enough to explain this strangeness to her?

Written for Supercorp Big Bang 2023

And thank you to the awesome mods who organized this event 💗 @supercorpbb

[obae-me]

Could you do the brothers with a vampire Mc? Like they need blood and the brothers feed them and everything, but I would like the reactions of each brother, but if you don't want to do every brother I would be fine with Lucifer, Mammon, Satan and Belphie, of course only if you want to🙂(sorry if I made any mistakes, English it's not my first language)

Ummmmm ABSOLUTELY I can. I love vampires, so much. I have one of the old Obey Me cards where MC and Levi get temporarily turned into vampires, and...love that card so much. I will always be down for vampire content. So thank you for this suggestion! And your english is great! No problems whatsoever!

The Devildom's Unexpected Undead

TW: Blood (Kinda comes with the territory of vampires).

------

With a flash, the program began. Diavolo opened his arms wide in welcome, inviting the new exchange student to his realm with a royal flourish. "Welcome to the Devildom," his voice boomed in glee. The rest of the student council in their seats by his side, staring down at the chosen human.

Of course, they all expected the confused look that came with being unexpectedly summoned. So when MC frantically looked around them, they didn't spy anything out of the ordinary. "Where am I?" They asked, checking off the box of questions the brothers had already planned to answer.

"You are in the realm of demons," Lucifer replied, getting a hint of something...off about them, but then again he wasn't an expert on humans anyway. "Feel proud, for you have been selected to represent humans in our exchange program."

All of the Sins had prepared different reactions. 'Demons?' The human might've screamed. 'Exchange Program?' They would've questioned. But what the demons didn't expect was for the new student to laugh in surprise. "Human?" All they did was stare and observe each one of the demons, trying to wait for them to laugh in return. None of them did. Either someone didn't do their research well enough when making the decision, or they must've blended into society a little too well.

"Yes," Diavolo went on with the explanation, a hint of hesitation in his voice, confused as to why the human was acting this way. "We have created a program with the desire to learn and grow closer with the separated realms. The mortal, demonic, and celestial realms. You are one of the two representatives for the mortal realm."

"Seriously?" MC's eyes went wide, a humorous tug to their lips, the smile fading when no one else seemed to think this was as hilarious as they did. "Well...uh, I hate to break the news to you…but I'm far from mortal."

This wasn't according to plan...Curious, Satan spoke amongst his brothers. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

"Well, I suppose I could technically count as human, compared to demons and angels anyway--speaking of, nice to meet you all, heard a lot about you. I was born a human, but uh, due to a series of certain events... I’m a vampire.” 

Lucifer

They had to be joking, right? Who was in charge of gathering the information on the humans again? He would have to make sure they were fired. Promptly. A vampire? This totally threw off his perfectly made plan. There weren’t enough preparations to accommodate to a vampire! 

After he got over the initial shock of it all, he quickly adapted. After all, his brothers and Diavolo had gotten him adjusted to quickly changing plans. He would act like it wasn’t a big deal and get everything worked out right away. Simply a...minor inconvenience for someone such as him. He could work it out.

Getting enough human blood to sustain a vampire for an entire year would be difficult...

At the start, he managed, working with Diavolo to bring down a supply-- ethically sourced --for them to subsist off of, denying their curious requests to try Demon blood for a change. Who knew what kind of affect that would have? He would not risk it. 

As long as they follow the rules and keep up with their grades like any student, he doesn’t care what they are. At least he doesn’t have to worry about their safety as much as a normal human. And with no sun in the Devildom, he doesn't have to worry about them potentially bursting into flame.

Although they can occasionally give him a monstrous sized headache to the point where he wonders if a normal human would be easier. They nearly gave him a heart attack the first time he found them hanging upside down from the chandelier in the library. And that time they jumped off the roof of RAD just to turn into a bat at the last second and fly away. And the many, many blood stains he's had to clean...

He was worried at first about the exchange program, since they were counting on human culture, but they ended up getting a good deal. Since they lived among humans, they could still contribute in that regard, and now all of them were learning more about vampires as well. A pleasant surprise.

Although, they have been making plenty of unannounced visits to his office as of late, standing behind the door, encouraging him to welcome them inside...And sometimes he swears he can feel their eyes looking at him when he feels he’s alone. 

It’s driving him crazy. 

So fine. Fine. If they stop practically hunting him down, he’ll allow them to try his blood. If anyone could take their possibly frenzy, it would be him. But if anything goes wrong, he is not to blame. 

He makes sure they’re alone in his office, his jacket off his shoulders, the tie off and the first top buttons undone. They are not allowed to make a mess, else they risk further punishment.

The first time they did this, he worked on paperwork at the same time, figuring he'd think nothing of it, because why would he?

...He quickly found out that trying to do both at the same time was a futile effort. 

After that first moment, with their curiosity sated, he told them that MC was now only to have the human blood he would provide for them. None of this begging for demon blood nonsense. After he got to know them a little more, perhaps he allows them to partake what they so strongly desire as a treat, but only if they've been on their best behavior.

Mammon

A VAMPIRE? Doesn’t that mean they’re undead?! Like a ghost or somethin’?! I mean, he’s not scared at all. Why should he be? It’s not like he’s heard of them in any scary stories or anything...not at all...

Why does he have to take care of the vampire first?! Make someone else do it! How is he supposed to sleep knowing they're around?

He’s extra wary around them for a while, doing his best to avoid them, but after a time, he quickly figures out that they’re not quite like the stories he’s heard. Besides, he’s a demon. Other humans were the ones that needed to be afraid...He wonders how Solomon feels. Good thing the other human is staying with the angels. 

He does enjoy MC’s super-human speed. Being the fastest of the demon brothers himself, he spends a large portion of his days imagining all the fun things and the trouble they can cause with both of them running around. Plus, it drives Lucifer up the wall. A win/win. 

With Lucifer making sure MC was properly fed, he nearly forgot about their more...bloodthirsty desires.

The day they managed to make a pact together was the first day they asked if they could have some of his blood. Said it would help bond them further, trying to convince him that it was a vampiric pact of sorts. He still doesn't know how true that was.

He denied at first, said that there was no way he was going to be some dead-human’s juice box! No way in the seven hells! Suave...But they kept asking.

Eventually, they gambled for it. A simple coin toss. Heads meant MC got to try his blood and tails meant Mammon could ask them to do anything they wanted. 

Now that was a deal he didn’t want to refuse...if only he knew what he was getting himself into. 

He lost obviously. 

But was it truly a loss? 

He had been terrified at first actually, sitting on the edge of his bed, fidgeting like some nervous child waiting for a shot at the doctor's office. This was it. This was his demise. All for some coin toss. He faced his room while he let MC come up behind him, finding it a little easier if he didn't see them coming.

Good thing he made that decision, because right after he felt that initial sting, he was glad no one could see his heated face.

He avoided them for a long while after that.

But he eventually came back around, casually asking if they were feeling hungry. Just because he was curious. No other reason. As long as they don't go to any of his other brothers for...snacks.

Levi

OMG! A for real serious vampire? He’s only seen them in anime and video games! They’re like...a legendary version of a human! Kinda. Super rare pull! 

Can they turn into a bat? Please say they can turn into a bat!

He was pretty uninterested at the idea of a human staying with them to begin with. Other than making decent video games and anime, they seem so boring otherwise. Even more normie than he considered his fellow demons to be. But a vampire? That's a game changer! So different!

MC's just not like the other humans.

Although, he doesn't really have the courage like everyone else to just walk up and ask them questions. He's better off staying in his room and figuring stuff out online first, so he doesn't look like more of an idiot than he feels like he is.

He only starts to really ask them questions after they make a pact together. He relates everything he knows to anime he's seen, and it turns out, not too much of it is far off.

He encourages them to do vampire things almost more than Mammon does, which comes at a surprise from everyone in the House.

Plus he can relate to shutting himself inside his room until it's safe to come out, although his is...self inflicted of course, but he can know how it feels! He's almost disappointed there's no sun here...Not that he wants them to get hurt at all! But it would be nice knowing someone else needed to hide...so they could hide with him. Or that's just what he's seen in anime anyway!

To be honest, ever since he knew MC was a vampire, the thought had been on his mind...getting bitten...Which is totally supposed to be Asmo's department! So why is he thinking about it so much?!

Probably for the best though...his blood is probably no good...disgusting...

He obviously overthinks the situation way too much.

Eventually, MC comes to him, noticing the way he seems to act when they're around. They can tell what he wants...and they would be lying if they said they didn't want the same.

He almost passed out the first time it happened...falling to the floor. So they always make sure he's lying down now usually just on his floor.

He can never look at them when they drink, either turning his head or fully using his hands to cover his eyes and face.

No matter how long he knows them, he still can't directly tell them he wants to help feed them, but most nights he'll leave the door open for them just a crack.

Satan

Heh. He loves when Lucifer get’s that subtle look on his face that a plan has gone awry. 

Aside from that, this is fascinating. Sure, it was something none of them were expecting, but this was a perhaps once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to learn all about vampires from one firsthand! 

“Do you actually sparkle?” 

“...Are...Are you serious about that? No.” 

“Hm, I thought I read that somewhere.” 

He’s not worried about them in the least. He actually spends what time he can learning about them, their history, their abilities, everything. After all, this program was supposed to be about learning. He’s pleased to find that MC is just as curious as he is, seeing as they missed out on the whole ‘dying and shuffling onto a different plane of existence.’ 

They also apparently can turn into a bat. Which isn't quite the same as cat, but...still very cute. You don't always get the opportunity to pet a bat.

Why is there a little perch in his room? No reason.

They’re also very, very interested in his blood, which he’s not surprised about. He...would be lying if he said he wasn’t either. 

Would it hurt them? Enhance them? Had a vampire ever tried before? They could be on the verge of a brand new discovery! He had to be the first to find out for himself. 

He's one of the only ones to ask them himself, not needing them to come to him first. He's not ashamed. He's doing this for the pursuit of knowledge. Plus, Lucifer keeps telling them they're not allowed to try demon blood and he always tries to do the opposite of what his older brother wants.

He had everything prepared. Human blood should they need it afterwards if their body rejected his, bandages should he need it, and most definitely a journal to write down everything that happened. 

Only...his mind went blank the first time it happened...and he could hardly recall any details afterwards other than the general sensations. It was all such a blur...He was so out of it for a minute, when his mind cleared up, MC was already gone. He would've wondered if it actually happened were it not for the little mark left behind.

He’d just have to try it again...however many times he needed till he knew everything about it. 

Asmo

A vampire, huh? You know what that means. 

Needless to say, Asmo is perfectly fine with this. Although...is it true about the whole ‘no reflection’ thing? He thinks he heard that somewhere in the myths. If that’s the case...that’s too sad! 

Turns out a large portion of the Devildom still carried silver-backed mirrors...Poor MC. He has to go out and buy them a modern one! But at least they can see themselves in selfies no matter where they are!

Also turns out that vampires have some form of mind control! Well, more of an extreme influence really. It usually works on humans only, but he knows MC has tried it all on them a few times. He's felt the familiar pull of allure from them on more than one occasion. On some of his brothers, it actually works. Mostly on Mammon and Levi, but he thought he did catch MC getting Lucifer to kneel down and tie their shoes for them once. So proud!

Of course, those powers don’t work on him at all. He is the master of mental influence after all. People just can’t resist him!

…Except MC. 

No matter how many times he asks, they won’t bite him! 

As soon as they said they were a vampire, he told them it was okay! He was ready! He was waiting! He was wanting! Listen, he's no stranger to bites, but there was supposed to be something particularly special about vampire ones! And not even he had gotten one from a vampire yet!

Who know he'd feel this jealous?

He spends every day for a while trying to tempt them. He wears clothing that fully exposes the neck and shoulders, tries to use his own powers on them only to find they don't work, he even tried to take some of their human blood away during dinnertime so they'd be desperate, and still nothing!

At this point he wonders if they're doing it on purpose. There's a certain glint in their eye when they tell him they're not hungry, turning away from him.

What is this?...Is he being toyed with? This is SO not supposed to be the way this goes!

Eventually, he gives up. He declares to everyone at dinner that he has a special event coming up tomorrow which means he needs to look absolutely perfect! No wrinkles, no dry spots, and no markings! So of course, as soon as his mind is finally away from the idea of MC's bite, he feels a fiery sting.

Let's just say he feels it was worth the wait. Only, now he never wants to wait. Luckily MC is done teasing him for so long.

Beel

Vampire...vampire...That’s a human turned monster right? He’s heard stories about them here and there, mostly information he’s heard from Satan, and maybe a little bit in class. 

The only thing he can really remember about them was that they didn’t eat. They only could live off of blood. If that was true...that was terrible. Not being able to eat? At all? He would have to ask them and see if that was true. Could they really live off of blood alone? I mean, he knows blood can be tasty, but only being able to have it? 

He doesn’t really care that much if they’re a vampire or not. He doesn’t see how much of a difference that makes. They’re still a student of the program, right? They were born in the human realm and lived among humans right? That’s fine. 

He forms a quicker bond with them than he expected despite not being able to share the same food. Vampires can get to the point where their hunger for blood is all they can think of, right? Their hunger is almost endless? He understands what that’s like...and he’s glad someone else understands him. 

So when they inevitably found themselves on a rampage when their blood supply was empty, he was the first to step in and solve the issue, picking them up off another demon before they became lunch and holding them until he felt their teeth sink into his skin.

They could have some of his blood if they needed. He didn’t mind. He likes knowing that they're getting well fed.

It is funny, he thinks, how he's the one being eaten. He has nightmares like that a lot where his favorite cheeseburgers become monsters and eat him in revenge. He hates dreams like that, but MC drinking from him is fine. It's pretty nice actually.

He and Asmo are the only two that let MC drink from them in public, although the both of them for very different reasons...mostly...sometimes for the same reason.

He never wants MC to be hungry, so any time they feel even a little snacky, that's what he's there for. He never feels weak after they drink either. He's got plenty of blood to go around.

Sometimes he likes to eat at the same time MC does from him. He wonders if it makes his blood extra tasty.

Belphie

Well...That’s certainly a twist, isn’t it? No matter. Born a human, still a human...although that train of thought didn’t really work when compared to him and his brothers...It's not like they were still angels...

Meh. Details shmetails. 

Kinda ruined his original plans though. But he can adapt. He just has to do a bit of...extra research and put in a little more effort. If you know you know. 

Once he gets the chance to learn more about them, and without the ulterior motives, he’s pretty fascinated. Although...he has a terribly rough time trying to get them to sleep. Apparently they’ve hardly rested a wink since they’d been down here. No sun means not having to worry about bursting into flames. And it seems constantly being fed with human blood and demon blood from his brothers has just given them constant energy. MC can finally be up when everyone else is, and they’ve absolutely been taking that to their advantage. 

Which he hates. Watching someone just run around without sleeping just rubs him the wrong way. MC indulges in everyone else sin, why not his?

Even if he holds onto them and never lets them go, he can still feel their restless mind. How is he supposed to nap with them in this condition?

Does he have to order an extra large coffin? Because he will if that’s what it takes to finally have a nap with them. Sounds like it could be pretty cozy in there actually. 

Little would you know that his plan actually worked. They both managed to fit inside the coffin, and as soon as the lid shut, he could feel them finally start to get tired.

What he did not plan for was the fact that he was now in a tight confined space with a vampire who may or may not be like his brother and get a bit peckish right after they've had a nap.

Although, to be fair he didn't feel the bite the very first time. He was so deep in sleep he remembered nothing other than a very pleasant dream. He didn't even notice when he woke up. One of his brothers pointed out a little mark that had not been there before the nap.

Maybe accidently getting nibbled on by Beel has gotten him used to such things...

But he's still a bit sulky they didn't wait till he was awake.

He makes sure that they drink from him before they fall asleep. They both end up sleeping better that way...

[cerise-on-top]

Could I possibly request Fem!Reader x Laswel where Reader takes Laswel home for the holidays, leaving Laswel a bit of an anxious mess at meeting readers family, but also being endeared by the domesticity of the small holiday party, ending with the pair sitting outside on the porch as the first snow begins to fall?

It's a little cliché but I think it'd be a cute idea ♡

It's very cliché, but not to worry, I made the idea even more cliché and sweet and fluffy by adding some headcanons of my own! It makes me happy to hear there are some Laswell enjoyers out there! I hope you like this, it's also more of a fic than anything else, but it's kind of rushed because I have work again tomorrow ^^; Sorry about that! But thank you for the lovely idea, I was very happy to write that! :D

Laswell Spending the Holidays with Reader and Her Family

It wasn’t an issue, she told herself. Kate had been on missions that relied on her expertise, else the world was going to shatter like glass. There was no anxiety there, she had nothing to fear. If the world was going to end, she knew the right people to call to save it after all. Nothing was bigger than her, nothing could best her, she has been through hell and back several times. And yet, standing in front of the door to your parent’s house, she went through every sort of anxiety there was. Would your parents like her? Was she dressed too casually for the occasion or was she overdressed? Would they accept a lesbian into their home? It was the last question that would prove to be the biggest problem. Normally something like this wouldn’t matter to her, but you were close with your family, Kate had to make sure this would work.

“You ready, Kate?” You looked so adorable in your ear muffs, puffy white smoking forming whenever you exhaled. The scarf you wore suited you well, adorning your lovely jacket. The snow hadn’t fallen just yet, but it was cold regardless. Kate couldn’t help but stare for a second, your big, bright eyes looking back at her with such glee, reassuring her that everything was going to be alright. A small squeeze to her hand was all it took before Kate gave you a warm smile herself. Maybe meeting your family wasn’t such a bad thing after all, you were there too.

“Of course I am. Ready when you are.” And thus you rang the doorbell. A normal sound one would hear just about anywhere. It was then that Kate, for the first time that evening, noticed the quiet Christmas carols playing in the background. The door, too, was covered in decoration. Green and red, a Christmas wreath with an angel on it. A lovely sight. Kate may not have been religious, but it was a nice thought, knowing someone was looking down at you, making sure you were alright. A task she, too, was used to. But it didn’t matter too much, soon enough, the door was opened, revealing a man. He seemed friendly enough, joyful upon seeing you, immediately taking you into his arms.

You didn’t seem too displeased upon seeing him either. Given your difference in age, it must have been your father. A tight hug, sentimental greetings and a kiss to the forehead, everything seemed jolly in that moment.

“Who is it?”

A feminine voice called out. Her question was left unanswered for the most part, her husband giving her no response. He was preoccupied, busy with looking at his daughter he hadn’t seen in a long time. Yet, soon enough, Kate’s anxiety returned as he looked at her. It was dark already, the only reliable source of light coming from the inside. Despite it being somewhat hard to make out his expression, he didn’t seem displeased upon seeing her. “You must be Kate, then? Our girl has told us so much about you. Please, come in! It’s so nice to make your acquaintance!” He let the two of you in. Maybe meeting your family wasn’t such a bad experience after all. They seemed nice. “Honey, it’s y/n and Kate!”

The music inside was something one would, most likely, only hear within a proper and cliched Christmas movie. Even the decoration was a bit much. Tiny trees, underneath them small gifts, an advent wreath with all four candles lit and, of course, a fully decorated Christmas tree, full sized. It had some white decoration on it as well, likely resembling snow to give it even more holiday spirit. From small chocolate umbrellas to windrings, it was all there. Another small angel on the tree, a pretty little golden star on its top. It was the way anyone would expect a Christmas tree to look like. And yet, it felt cozy. Nothing wrong with having the spirit, Kate just wasn’t used to it in the slightest. It had been a while since she was able to celebrate any holiday like that.

Among the pretty lights was another figure that came into view. This one was shorter than your father, likely having been your mother. She stopped for a moment before going in for you as well, giving you a tight hug. Loving words came from her, too. How much she missed you, hoping you were doing well. how you should come visit them more often. How nice, your parents really loved you, no matter what. It warmed her heart even more so than the nicely heated room. Looking around as you and your mother exchanged your greetings, she spotted a big pretzel on the table, filled with all sorts of goodies. Cheese, ham, sausage mayonnaise, tuna, it all seemed to be there.

“Looking forward to the pretzel already, are we?” Your mother joked as she looked at her. The food did look delectable, even if that wasn’t exactly what Kate was looking forward to the most.

Even if she wanted to, Kate couldn’t fight the smile on her face. It was just so domestic, it was a home with a loving family, a lovely daughter and it seemed as though, despite two women being in love, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. You and Kate being together, as long as you were bound by love and joy throughout it all, wasn’t the issue. Perhaps the only issue would have been how much Kate could eat of the pretzel before being too full for another bite. “It looks very delicious ma’am. Did you make it yourself? Or did you order it from the bakery nearby?”

“No need for such formalities. As long as you make y/n happy and take care of her, you’re part of our family. You really don’t have to be that formal with either of us.” Such a thing had been a long time from then and there as well, with most informalities having been left behind in the past. You were just about one of the only more recent exceptions, even if you had known each other for several years. Always, Kate had to be formal, if just to delay another conflict for a few days to make sure help would arrive at the right time. She was family to your mother already, even if she had never met either of your parents. “I’m just glad my daughter has finally found someone she was willing to settle with. She had had a partner before, but that did not go as planned.”

“Mom, for the love of everything that is good and holy, please don’t bring up the past. That was an eternity ago and it’s so shameful!” You sounded indignant upon hearing your mother make such a comment. Sweet and kind you, hiding things from the past, getting embarrassed upon hearing your lovely mother bring them up. “Kate, don’t listen to her, she’s lying to you! Straight up! Through her teeth! Nothing ever happened, everything was always good and always will be!” You crossed your arms, glaring at your mother as you protested. As long as everything was good and alright in the present, that’s all that mattered. Kate was going to make sure it would stay that way too.

Your mother simply chuckled, giving Kate a short but sweet hug, exchanging the pleasantries of giving each other their first names. “Kate, if y/n is ever any trouble tell me and I’ll make sure she’ll learn her lesson.”

“Mom! Stop it!”

“It’s lovely to have you with us, thank you so much for coming. Thank you for taking care of y/n, you know how it is with parents, but you seem like such a nice lady. Please continue to take good care of her, we just want what’s best for her.”

Even as you covered your face with one hand, even as you silently muttered curses under your breath, even as you still smiled as though you had received an expensive gift you had been wanting for years, Kate couldn’t help but laugh a bit. You were flustered beyond compare, no matter how much she wanted to say something about it, maybe tease you about your adorable mannerisms, your quirks, your traits, she decided against it, simply giving you a bright smile instead.

“Mom, if I’m going to be bullied here then Kate and I are going to take our leave and celebrate Christmas elsewhere!” An empty threat, everyone involved knew that much. Even in the heat of your embarrassment, your family did not stop teasing you, your father quipping in here and there as well. Kate hadn’t experienced something like this in a long time, getting to sit back and watch some playful banter. With your father distracting you this time, with your mother coming up to Kate, asking her if she wanted to hear some stories of gone-by times with you being so young, small and ready to take on the world, Kate forgot she was ever even anxious to meet your parents to begin with.

It was your father who would finally begin the tradition, aside from the pretzel, calling your mother and Kate over to the Christmas tree. A few of the presents had already been placed there. Even so, before forgetting, Kate excused herself, rushing to the car in order to get the last one. It was that evening or never.

She had always been a calm person, never letting anything get to her head. When her childhood crush told her how disgusting she was, when her parents belittled her and told her she could change still, when her ex wife left her for reasons she didn’t want to believe, it hurt. But not for long. Every time someone let her down, every time someone hurt her, she knew she was one of the only people she could rely on. God helps those who help themselves. There was no God to her, she had achieved everything on her own. But this time she will have to rely on someone else entirely. Whatever you did, it would shape her future. And thus, she grabbed the box meant for you and headed back inside.

You seemed so cheerful, looking at the jacket your parents bought for you. And, in turn, you parents also looked happy with their presents. Naturally, getting along with them as well as you did, you knew what to get them, even in their later years. It was, all round, just a happy evening, for everyone involved it seemed. Steadying her breath for a second, just as your father turned off the lights, leaving nothing but the Christmas lights on, she stood still, gripping the box tightly. Kate hoped you would like the present she got for you. Yes, you had been with each other for years, but this time was different.

After having taken off the jacket, putting it over one of the chairs nearby, you turned to Kate, eyeing the box she was holding. “Hey, what’s that? Can I see?”

“I’ll let you see it in just a second, dear, alright? Could you please come closer to the tree?”

Your spirit guided you to the location Kate wanted you to be in: Standing next to the tree, illuminated by the red and green lights. Everything else was dark. From a purely aesthetic standpoint, this was perfect. And thus, having taken another deep breath, despite her age, Kate got down on one knee, opening the box so your curious soul could see its contents. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

With you clasping your hands over your mouth, your mother and father gasping as they held onto each other, with Kate watching you closely as the tears started brimming in your eyes. The lights were reflected so beautifully in your eyes, dancing across, giving them the most vibrant colors in the universe. But you were stunned into silence, removing your hands only to mouth some words that could never reach Kate in the state you were in. The Christmas charm seemed to have worked, you were out of your mind with joy, but unable to say anything about it.

A sob escaped you as you slung your arms around Kate, tightly holding onto her. You weren’t going to lose her, not that easily anymore, you were both here to stay. “Yes! Fuck, Kate! Of course I’m going to marry you! I love you! I love you so much, you have no idea!!” Your tears stained the blouse she chose for the evening, but it didn’t matter. All Kate wanted was to hold you, love you, cherish you, through thick and thin, through the good and the bad. All she wanted was to spend the rest of her days with you and no one else. Kate got her present, the biggest one she could have ever wished for: Your “yes”.

Your parents were also quiet for a moment, allowing you to cry into Kate’s shoulder. But from what she could see, they were shocked, but happy for their girl. She was going to get married after so many years. And that to the woman of her dreams she never really could shut up about whenever they were talking. It was a lovely sight. Soon enough, you were both officially going to be a part of each other’s family, bearing each other’s names so no one would ever mistake you as anything else but each other’s wife.

You bit back a sob, your voice still cracking as you asked Kate a small favor: “Can we please go outside for a bit? I think I need a moment here.”

“Of course, anything for you.” Kate handed you your new jacket before she grabbed her own. Naturally, as she wanted it to be, you led the way to the backyard, holding Kate’s hand. Despite it being dark, despite the only light coming from other Christmas decorations and you not having been here in a while, you found a bench in the middle of the small piece of land immediately. The two of you sat down, Kate having slung an arm over you as you kept sobbing for another moment. Nothing could have prepared her for you being so over the moon to hear the big question, but she wasn’t complaining.

It took you another minute or two to finally compose yourself, but you got there eventually. “You know, I always thought I was never going to find someone, preferring girls over guys and all. Age wise, you and I aren’t that far apart either, so you know how long I’ve been carrying that thought, that belief, with me now. But then I found you and…” You went quiet again for another second. Kate rubbed your back, hoping it would soothe you a bit. “...and now this. Kate, you don’t know how happy I am right now. To think that someone would think me, of all people, to be worth loving. To be worth marrying. You’re something else.” You grabbed her hands so tenderly, giving them a gentle squeeze as you looked into her eyes. “Thank you so much, for everything. I am so happy, so glad I get to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Y/N, as you know, I’ve been through a lot. I’ve seen the best and worst of humanity, but nothing could ever best you. I would go through this entire hell again and again, if just to spend another moment with you. Getting to spend the rest of eternity with you is more than I could have ever asked for. Thank you for allowing me to be by your side.”

Just as you leaned in, sealing this beautiful evening with a kiss, something small landed on Kate’s nose. You giggled a bit, looking to the sky for a moment, then back at your soon-to-be wife. “Even the sky is weeping with joy right now. Isn’t that sweet?”

“Of course it is. Anyone would be happy for us right now, dear.”

Interrupted by the small snowflake, you gave it no mind, placing a small, tender kiss on Kate’s lips as you were. The snow looked beautiful in her hair. Winter didn’t seem so dreadful and cold anymore, it was a hopeful time you could remember for more than just seeing a part of your family. Another part was right there with you, forever and always, after all.