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earlgreydream · 3 years

Text

villain.

| draco malfoy x reader / theo nott x reader | smut | angst |

anon requested. smutty draco x y/n where they’ve been dating for months or years and draco cheated on her

cw: infidelity, sadism, branding, non-consensual voyeurism (revenge)

a/n: this request was a lot, it was long, and it made me FEEL THINGS

The alcohol burned going down.

The bass echoed in your feet as music blared from speakers, sweaty bodies moving and grinding against one another, just mere feet away. You were disgusted by the scene before you.

Where was your lover?

“Y/N!” A drunk friend called your name.

An empty smile crossed your face. You tipped the glass back, swallowing the rest of its contents. You needed it.

“Have you seen him?” You called over the music, practically shouting in your friend’s ear.

“Seen whooo?” They giggled, fingers clutching the glittering material of your dress. It felt like nothing on your body, you felt naked.

“Draco!” You spat, shoving them off when they shook their head no.

Annoyance was all too familiar, wrapping around you like a well-known friend. Fuck.

You slithered through the party, your eyes darting everywhere, searching for a head of white-blonde hair. Your efforts proved futile.

“Are you looking for Draco?” Blaise’s dark hand caught yours, grabbing your attention.

“Yes!” Finally, some help.

“I saw him go off to his room,” he pointed to the hallway off of the common room.

Blaise’s eyes were full of terrible pity, and you felt your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach.

No.

“Can I get you a drink?” He tried to stop you.

“No, get off of me.”

You pushed your way through dancing bodies and wandering hands of drunk boys. Your heels clicked on the black marble floors of the common room, drowned out by the music.

Your mind was far disconnected from your body, and you felt like something small amongst a crowd that suffocated you. Adrenaline kicked in, and you freed yourself from the teenagers, escaping hungry grasps.

Every step you took filled you with dread. It decayed your insides, poisoning your heart and your mind and weighing your feet down. Your ears were ringing, and you could barely hear the deafening music, or your friends calling for you to rejoin them on a couch nearby. Your lungs couldn’t properly draw in oxygen, and the edges of your mind began to prickle with delirium.

You were running on adrenaline.

You practically tripped over your own feet as you tore down the hall, halting as your fingers came into contact with a wooden door. Your fist closed around an iron handle, but doubt made you hesitate.

You had an instant where you considered turning around, going back to the party and forgetting about all of this. Ignoring the whispers of gossip, and silencing the rumors, pretending like this never happened. You could leave this doorway, leave and stay blissfully unaware before it was too late.

No.

Leaders don’t doubt themselves.

You’d made it this far, there was no sense to let your bravery falter now. You gripped the handle, twisting and throwing the door open. The action happened in an instant, and all at once, you couldn’t take it back.

Reality came crashing down on you.

Every fear you had suddenly became tangible. It was very real, unfolding in front of you, and you were powerless to stop it. Every ounce of doubt vanished from your mind, replaced with horrible certainty.

Your body froze. Ice shot down your spine, and spread through your skin in gripping tendrils. The adrenaline halted suddenly, and your heart stopped racing. Your mind snapped back to consciousness. Sharp, unforgiving sanity burst through you in one horrible, violent instant.

Draco Malfoy, your boyfriend of four years, was buried deep inside the cunt of Pansy Parkinson, your roommate and best friend.

Sick, deranged laughter rose in your throat and escaped from your lips.

The party still echoed under your feet, reminding you there were so many people close by. You wondered if they knew. You decided it didn’t matter, the only people who you would’ve believed it from were in front of you, fornicating in infidelity.

“Y/N!” Your name left Pansy in a scream.

At least she seemed ashamed, hurrying to pull the sheets— your sheets— to cover her breasts. Draco didn’t even have the decency to end his rough thrusts from behind, even as one of her hands went out to swat him away.

Cold, silver eyes glared back at you.

“Are you going to leave, or do you care to stay and watch?” Draco’s tone was impatient, dismissive.

His words tasted metallic, like blood and poison.

“Do you feel guilty?”

Draco mistook your tone for amusement. You didn’t cry, and you didn’t move. You didn’t even breathe. From his point of view, you just watched the situation unfold in eerie calmness.

Most girls would have screamed. Most girls would have sobbed and begged for validation, or run away at the very least.

You were not most girls. Draco knew you were something far worse.

You were dangerous and severe.

Your eyes glittered with something dark and terrible. It sent a shudder through him, and powerful doubt ripped all of the air from his lungs.

Do you feel guilty?

“No. I grew bored with you, I don’t regret this, Pansy’s a good fuck.” Draco’s voice masked his insecurity, but you saw directly through the cracking shell, staring directly at the truth.

Your gaze locked with Pansy’s. Her fear twisted in your own stomach, igniting your nerves like electricity. Draco’s movements faltered.

A terrible stillness settled over the room. For a moment, none of you moved, the ice inside of you spreading over everything.

In slytherin, you do what is necessary.

The voice echoed in the back of your mind, grounding you in your crumbling reality.

Do what is necessary.

A malicious idea crossed your mind with a depraved smile.

“I can be redeemed of boredom,” you said simply.

Your tone unnerved Draco. The stillness and certainty was suffocating. Every lingering doubt was annihilated, along with your trust and love for Draco and Pansy.

You didn’t expect the grief to feel so relieving.

The light caught the sparkles of your dress, glittering as the thin fabric moved on your body as you walked out the door. It slammed shut behind you, sealing the room shut with its sin inside.

“What have we done?” Pansy asked Draco.

Weak girls doubted themselves.

You were many things, but never weak. Your feet carried you back to the party. It was still in full, excited swing, as if horrible sins weren’t being committed, as if trust wasn’t being desecrated.

The depraved smile remained on your face.

You were freed from doubt, they were freed from lies. It was always easier to know who your enemies were, even when they were your lovers and your friends.

The cruelty glittering in your eyes, and the sick smile on your face confirmed to everyone that you knew. Blaise wouldn’t meet your gaze. He knew, and he’d led you to them.

“How long, Zabini?”

“A couple of months.” He shifted uneasily.

Your laughter struck fear in his heart. You were quickly coming to terms with your lover’s infidelity, and it ignited something inside of you.

Wrath tasted sweet on your lips, and you breathed it into your lungs like oxygen.

Blaise expected you to be hysterical, but this was far more calculated, far more dangerous.

There was one person left who was loyal to you, and he was leaning against a marble pillar, a glass of fire whiskey at his lips.

“Theo,” you approached the brunette, greeted with a smile and a sultry gaze.

“I need you.”

“Anything,” he answered with absolute sincerity.

“Draco is unfaithful, and I want to get revenge.”

Theo’s fingers slipped in yours, and he brought your hand to his lips. His dark gaze glittered with deviance, catching you as you tumbled.

“You’ve come to the right person.”

Draco was sickened. You attended classes with him, and took your usual seat beside him to eat in the great hall. As far as he could tell, nothing had changed. Blaise, and the few others who knew about his side habit, were uneasy with your reaction. All except for Theo.

Ever since you’d began dating Draco four years ago, he’d been terribly jealous of Theo. Whenever the brunette was around, Draco was openly affectionate with you, growing possessive and territorial. He didn’t imagine it would ever be used against him, but you could turn anything into a weapon.

You weren’t one to be underestimated.

The boys talked about an upcoming quidditch match, the Slytherin team being led by Malfoy. Theo calmly discussed strategy with him, as if he hadn’t sided with you in the betrayal. Draco was too trusting of the brunette.

Your hand slid up Draco’s back, your fingers threading in the hair at the base of his neck. He forced himself not to flinch, keeping his voice even. A hand dropped to your thigh, and you sipped the drink in front of you. Your nails were sharp on Draco’s neck, a veiled threat that made his skin crawl.

“I want to show you just how interesting I can be,” you whispered in his ear.

His silver gaze moved to you, watching as you stood and swung your legs over the bench. You cradled his hand in your face, giving him a cold smile before pressing a bitter kiss to his mouth.

You left the great hall, descending into Draco’s prefect dorm. Eyes trailed after you as you moved through the common room with grace. Pansy watched you disappear into his bedroom, pain spreading through her chest.

You changed into black lace and silk, leaning on the armoire as he entered. The heavy door shut behind him, and his hands went to his tie, tearing it from his body. His silver gaze admired your body, and he began to wonder why he’d chosen Pansy over you, realizing his mistake.

“What is this?” Draco dared to ask.

“Boredom can be cured, Malfoy. You may be willing to toss me aside, but you know that I’m a better match for you. I’m the pureblood your parents pray ends up in your bed.” You pointed out, and he swallowed, unable to argue.

“Let me seduce you,” your hands smoothed over the clean white shirt that adorned his fair chest.

He watched you touch him, your fingers undoing buttons and pushing the fabric off of his shoulders. He slipped out of the rest of his clothes, pulling on the tie of your robe.

You let him skim his filthy hand down your body, malice simmering inside of you. Your silk joined his clothes on the floor, and you led him to the bed, pushing him down on his back. You straddled his waist, settling down on his lap and lightly running your nails up his chest.

You tasted poison on your tongue, and a vicious heat spread through your limbs.

Your hands slid up his arms, trapping his wrists at the headboard. Draco didn’t struggle as silk ties wrapped around his wrists, and you secured his hands to the wrought iron bars. Your sweet smile turned insidious, and icy fear paralyzed Draco.

“Y/N-”

“Shut your fucking mouth!” You snapped, sliding off of his body like a viper. Your feet were on either side of his hips as you stood over the terrified blonde, and you considered kicking him in the ribs. He opened his mouth, but it fell shut with your dangerous look.

You stepped off of the bed, and Draco thought you were going to leave him naked, tied to the bed. It didn’t matter, Pansy would be around in a few hours to free him.

Draco’s fear heightened when you opened the door without dressing, his stomach dropping when another person entered the dorm.

“Theo?” he croaked.

His body jolted as the door slammed shut, the lock clicking in place and securing your privacy. Your venomous laughter rattled Draco’s spine, and you walked to the edge of the bed, standing before him.

“Y/N, you need to let me go. Theo, untie me!” The panic in his voice fueled the fire of your wrath, and you smirked at how pathetic he looked.

“I don’t need to do anything! I owe you nothing, you weak little bitch. Beg me.”

He stared at you in disbelief, and Theo watched you. The room was buzzing with intense ferocity, your rage pouring off of you in waves and drowning everything in its path.

You were going to get revenge, and it was going to be sweet.

Draco’s will was strong, but it was no match for yours. Theo slid his tie off of his neck, but Draco was too focused on you to notice. You were entirely focused on emasculating Draco, determined to make him feel as pathetic and weak as you saw him.

“Please untie me. I’ll do anything, I’ll break it off with Pansy, I’ll do whatever you want, but just untie me, please.” The desperation was clear in his voice, fear edging in his tone.

“No,” you answered coldly, and he jerked his wrists, the silk digging into his flawless skin. A frightened sigh escaped him, and he turned to Theo desperately. Theo tossed his own clothing aside, and Draco shook his head.

“No, no, Y/N, not with Theo!” Draco protested.

You turned away from the blonde and pulled Theo against you, his tongue invading your mouth in a rough, forceful kiss. Draco yanked on the bonds, jealous fury burning through him as he watched Theo’s hands explore your body, grabbing and touching you in places that only he did.

“You are going to lay there, helpless, weak, and pathetic. You are going to watch your best friend fuck me, and you’re going to stay tied up and powerless.”

A noise rose in Draco’s throat, and your hands gripped the sheets at the end of the mattress, bending over and facing Draco. The remaining lace was ripped from your body, and you shot Draco a sadistic smile.

“You’re going to pay for this.”

“Open your mouth again, and I’ll force it shut.”

You stood up as Theo slammed you from behind, gripping the posts of the bed. Your fingers gripped the etched iron, and memories of having your wrists restrained on experimental nights came flooding back.

Exhilarated screams left your lips, Theo filling in you in perfect ways, in ways Draco never could.

“He’s so much better than you. You’ve been holding me back, Draco!”

Silver eyes were wet, delighting your cruelty. Your sharp laughter burned his ears, and his skin was raw from struggling. He watched the scene in front of him, knowing exactly how you felt, but Draco was weak enough to drown in it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” he choked out as he watched Theo circle your clit in expert, practiced touches. Draco shook his head, watching his best friend, his teammate, and his partner come deep inside of you. He watched it drip down your thighs, your ecstatic, pornographic screams pounding in his head, echoing off of the walls as your own orgasm shattered through you. Theo shared your vengeful pleasure as he watched Draco fall apart.

Your limbs were trembling as you stood up all the way, leaning back into Theo. You stared at Draco, furthering his shame and misery, twisting like a sickness in your chest. The poison of revenge was addicting, pumping through your veins like blood and filling your heart.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I’m so-”

You lunged at the boy, your fingers closing around his throat, kneeling on top of him like he was your prey.

“Draco, I will never forgive you!” you hissed venomously.

Theo was gone, leaving the two of you alone, leaving no witness to whatever crime of passion you were about to commit. The thirst for blood was thick on your tongue, the hunger for revenge making you violent.

Draco screamed as your wand burned letters into his skin in thick, black ink. You drew back, admiring your initials that were now branded onto the inside of his hip, left by your hatred. His chest heaved as he watched you in horror, making your lips curve into a sadistic smile.

“I own you.”

You left him restrained, knowing someone would find him eventually as the door closed behind you. Your heart was racing, all of your nerves buzzing from the adrenaline.

Leaders don’t doubt themselves. Do what is necessary.

Pansy walked past, and you grabbed her black hair, yanking her back against the wall, pinning her to the cold stone with your own body.

“If you ever touch what is mine again, I’ll rip every pretty hair from your head, and I will have you begging for death!” You seethed, yanking hard on her locks, tearing a terrorized whimper from her.

“Got it?”

“Yes!”

You threw her down and spun on your heel, leaving her shaking. Her scream echoed through the common room when she found Draco, and a sinful smirk adorned your face.

You found you had a taste for wrath, and a talent for violence.

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seriouslysnape · 3 years

Text

Miscommunication (pt.2)

James Potter x Remus Lupin x Sirius Black x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Language. Poly! relationship.

A/N: Part 1 is here!

Word Count: 3,376

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

It had been three weeks since you had stormed out of the boys’ dorm in a scurry of anger. It had also been three weeks since you had touched, talked to, or even spared Sirius a passing glance. As far as you were concerned, he didn’t even exist. Despite your dramatic exit, Sirius was confident that you’d crack soon enough and come running back to him, begging for forgiveness. But the more time that passed, the more that he was beginning to realize that might not be the case.

In a general sense, life continued on as it always had. You walked through the Hogwarts’ corridors with the three Gryffindors, laughing at James’ jokes and blushing red under Remus’ kisses. You gave all your love and time to James and Remus, not offering Sirius a drop of your attention.

He tried to ignore it. He tried to brush it off like it didn’t bother him and like it didn’t make a difference whether you were with him or not. His attempts to drown you out the way you had been drowning him out were successful at first, but it only took about a week for him to realize how much this was killing him.

In the mornings, you woke James or Remus up (depending on whose bed you slept in the night before) with bubbly kisses and sweet giggles, something that you had always done for all three of the boys’ wake up calls. Sirius had gone almost 23 days (but not like he was COUNTING or anything) since he had any kind of interaction with you.

No cuddles.

No hugs.

No kisses.

Nothing.

The whole situation put James and Remus into a bit of an awkward position. You were on great terms with the two of them, considering they hadn’t insulted you and invalidated your feelings right in your face. This was a difficult challenge to tackle, because they felt guilty for continuing to love up on you when Sirius wasn’t getting his usual share. This was a rather particular arrangement that had taken lots of trial and error to make the right adjustments. Now that the balance had been thrown off, the whole thing didn’t feel right.

James and Remus had both tried to convince you to talk things out with Sirius. They knew that deep down this wasn’t what you wanted, and things couldn’t go on like this forever. James and Remus knew Sirius better than anybody. They were fully aware that Sirius was regretting what he had done and was kicking himself for it...even if Sirius wouldn’t show it or admit to it.

Sirius was beginning to lose precious sleep over this. He tossed and turned in his bed that had grown so lonely without you. His arms felt so empty not being wrapped around you, holding you snugly to his body. Suddenly, he didn’t have anyone to help him with his Potions homework or someone to remind him about his Transfiguration exam coming up. He didn’t have the girl that completed the complex puzzle that was Sirius Black. He felt so unfinished without you.

He missed you.

But his pride was winning out.

“How’s the brat today?” Sirius questioned dryly, not even looking up from his Herbology textbook in his lap.

“Sirius.” Remus and James echoed, clearly displeased at Sirius’ cold name for you.

Over the last three weeks, Sirius would ask about you when you weren’t around and he was alone with the boys. He would ask how you were doing, but what he really wanted to know was if you had said anything about him or given any indications that you were close to giving in. James and Remus were growing impatient with Sirius. They had tried to step back, allowing both yourself and Sirius to have time to allow your fog of frustration to air out. They had hoped that Sirius would come around to realize that he had been wrong in all kinds of ways, and you both could work it out on your own.

Between stepping all over your feelings like they were a sidewalk and calling you a bitch for being rightfully upset, Sirius had one too many strikeouts on his record.

“What? If she’s going to act like a child, then I’ll treat her like one.” Sirius growled.

James crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in the chair that he was sitting in by the common room’s fireplace. Remus watched the two of them from over the rim of his cup that contained his favorite hot tea.

“She’s hurt, Sirius. You hurt her,” James snarled, eyebrows furrowed in agitation, “I don’t blame her for not wanting to talk to you.”

“Did you not hear the things she said to me? She was totally out of line.” Sirius argued, his demeanor going rigid and his defensive mode kicking into high gear.

“Because you pushed her too hard,” Remus cut in, “She has every right to be upset.”

Sirius was shocked that they were taking your side over his. You were never allowed to speak to any of them the way you had talked to Sirius that day. You weren’t allowed to talk back, get an attitude, touch yourself without permission, as well as other rules that had been established early on in the relationship. They all took the rules very seriously, and the fact that James and Remus were brushing it off was mind boggling to Sirius.

“I didn’t push her at all. She caught an attitude with me.” Sirius remarked tossing his textbook aside.

“Because you don’t always treat her the way you should,” Remus snapped, “All she wanted was for you to listen and talk to her.”

“Do I not already do enough for her? I walk her to class, I let her sleep with me, not to mention that I fuck her pretty much whenever she wants,” Sirius pointed out, “And now I’m still not doing enough?”

James shook his head, sighing harshly. He was disappointed that he still wasn’t getting it.

“She’s our girl, Padfoot. She responds so well to Moony and me because she knows how much we love her,” James explained, “You’ve got to start treating her like you love her.”

Sirius’ hardened features went light at what James was saying. He looked between his two best friends, who were sharing matching expressions of urgency. Sirius felt a sickening feeling creeping into his stomach that he could feel all the way up into his throat. Had you gone this whole time thinking that he didn’t love you like the other two did?

“But...I do love her.” Sirius spoke, almost in a whisper.

James and Remus looked at one another briefly, a bit relieved that he was maybe starting to see clearly now.

“She doesn’t know that. You’re going to lose her for good if you don’t change some things, Pads.” Remus added once he saw that Sirius was beginning to have a serious breakthrough moment.

That surely got Sirius’ attention. That wasn’t something he wanted at all. It made his heart hurt even to think about possibly never being with you again. He had to fix this, no matter what he had to do or say.

He just hoped that it wasn’t too late.

The remorse and the contrition that he was feeling that had been building up in him over the last three weeks was finally seeping through the cracks of the surface. It was like a fire that just kept spreading and spreading until the only thing he could see were the hot, orange flames and black smoke that would suffocate him if he breathed in too hard. It was like a switch had flipped. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He didn’t care about his pride or his image or his dignity.

He just wanted you back.

So, the boys began to devise a plan. Sirius admitted that he didn’t know how to even begin apologizing to you. He wasn’t great with apologies, considering that even the word ‘sorry’ probably had only fallen from his mouth only a couple of times in his life. This was going to take some calculation and planning to get it right.

You had been doing a bang up job of ensuring that you weren’t ever alone with Sirius. You made sure that either James or Remus was by your side whenever you were in Sirius’ presence, to avoid being forced to speak to him. Remus and James were confident that they could get you two in a room alone together. That was the easy part. The hard part would fall to Sirius, which came down to the actual apology.

James and Remus knew you’d be suspicious if Sirius apologized first. You’d likely only think he was apologizing because he was touch starved and wanted sex, not because he cared about you and was terrified of losing you. In their eyes though, as long as he was honest and didn’t lose his cool, you’d be able to see his real intentions.

Remus had told you to meet him in their dorm, and that no one would be there until later in the day. That seemed pretty normal to you, so you didn’t even give it a second thought. The dorm was empty when you arrived, prompting you to slip out of your uniform and into one of Remus’ sweaters all while getting comfortable on his bed. Shortly after you were settled, the three boys congregated just outside the door, whispering in their semi-circle formation.

“You got this, mate. Just be normal and be honest,” James instructed, “I guarantee you that she’s missing you just as much.”

Sirius was nervous. Not because he didn’t know what to say or what to do, but because he had half convinced himself that you had already decided he wasn’t worth your time anymore. He couldn’t live with himself if he was the reason you had left him.

“We’ll be out here just in case you need us,” Remus piped up, “It’s gonna be fine, Pads.”

James and Remus gave Sirius reassuring grins as Sirius took a deep breath before turning the knob of the door. He entered the small dorm room, his heart fluttering when he saw you sitting on Remus’ mattress. Your head snapped up, your face full of delightful expectation for Remus, but it faded just as fast as it came when you saw it was Sirius. He definitely noticed, but tried not to take it to heart. Your eyes were locked in with his, and you could already tell something was up.

“Hey.” Sirius said plainly, and in a bit of a squeak.

“Hi.” You replied.

He was honestly surprised that you actually gave him an answer. He thought you might’ve ignored him completely. The joyous relief that he felt from you actually talking to him was almost enough to send him to his knees, pleading for you to give him another chance.

His gaze did shift to the book that was placed next to you. It was your Herbology textbook, the same one that Sirius had been studying from earlier that day.

“Studying for Herbology?” Sirius asked, but obviously that wasn’t what he wanted to talk about.

“Yeah,” You answered, unsure of what exactly was happening, “I was just waiting for Remus.”

Sirius nodded, avoiding the sting that burned in his chest at the reminder that he hadn’t truly seen you in almost a month. You looked so comfortable in the large sweater and the blanket that was draped over your lap. Your hair was slightly messy from the breeze outside that you had walked through to get here. Your skin was glowing from the warmth of their room and the sudden interaction you were having with Sirius.

You looked perfect to him.

He knew he needed to say something now. He needed to kick start this conversation before things got awkward and weird. Although, he never minded silence as long as he had you to occupy his every thought. All the things that he had planned to say were abruptly wiped from his mind. He was going out on a limb here, totally about to wing this. He just had to go for it.

“Can I sit?” He questioned, referring to the slight open space next to you.

You nodded hesitantly, shifting over so he could have a little more room. He sat down just about a foot in front of you, both of you turning to face each other. James and Remus were just outside the door, their ears pressed up against the door to be sure they didn’t miss anything.

Sirius looked at you for a few moments, taking in your curious, attentive behavior. He took a breath, and spoke again, but it came out as more of a ramble.

“Baby, I know I’ve hurt your feelings. I didn’t want or mean to hurt your feelings, but sometimes I just say stupid shit and then I’m too proud to admit that I said something stupid and...” He trailed off when he realized that so far he wasn’t saying anything that you didn’t already know.

This was yet another reminder that Sirius wasn’t a great talker. But he wanted to let you know the things that you didn’t already know. He wanted you to know that he was truly sorry. He was sorry for ever making you feel like you weren’t worth anything to him.

He wanted you to know that you were his world.

“I miss you,” He began again, preparing for any possible reaction from you, “I’m sorry for everything I said. I’m sorry that I hurt you...I never, ever wanted to do that.”

Your silence wasn’t because you weren’t believing what he was saying or because you didn’t want to listen. You were silent because you were floored that this was happening. Never in a million years did you think that you’d be sitting here listening to a real, heartfelt apology from Sirius Black. The thought of you leaving him had really scared him, and you could see it.

“I know I’m different from Moony and Prongs. They’re a bit better at this than I am,” He admitted, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

Truth be told, you weren’t really mad at Sirius anymore. You could never stay angry at him. Your whole avoid-Sirius-at-all-costs routine hadn’t exactly been a walk in the park for you either. There were several times where you were tempted to just let it go and forget about it. But now you were glad that you hadn’t done that, because you would’ve lost this opportunity to understand one another a little better.

“All I had wanted that day was to talk to you. I like talking to you,” You explained, “I just get frustrated when you don’t want to listen and the only thing you can think about is fucking me.”

Sirius sighed, his eyes diverting to his hands that were fiddling with the edge of the blanket in your lap. He had known that the other two boys were right, but hearing it come from you made him feel even more guilty.

“I know. I guess I’m just not good at talking. It’s not that I didn’t want to, it’s just...not what I’m good at. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you weren’t important,” Sirius confessed, “But I do love you. And I don’t want to go another day without you.”

Another silence filled the room, one that had Sirius’ heart pounding in his chest. He felt like his entire life was on the line. Like, his entire fate was resting on whatever you were going to say or do next. You had every right to get up and walk out and never speak to him again. He knew he had crossed so many lines so many times that it was a wonder you were still here. He just hoped that you’d give him another chance. He hoped that he deserved another chance.

You were starstruck. You were completely touched and moved by what he had said. Maybe it wasn’t the most flawless apology ever. Maybe it was a little rough around the edges with a couple of hiccups. But deep down it was true, honest, and pure.

Just like the Sirius Black that you had come to love.

He didn’t have anything else to say, and he hoped that what he had said was enough. Your warm hand came to his face, his head lulling into your palm when you brought his worried eyes to look at you once more.

“I love you. I promise you don’t have to go without me anymore.” You smiled, accepting his apology and offering your forgiveness.

All color returned to Sirius’ face, his shoulders relaxing and his chest releasing a bated breath. You captured his lips into a needy kiss, one that was nothing short of long awaited. Sirius’ hands came to the side of your neck, his blood pumping in his ears. He had missed this.

He had missed you.

He was even more thrilled when you crawled over into his lap, his hands guiding your legs around him as he refused to let you go from his lips. Although, when the other two boys came bursting in, your hot make out session was forced to a halt. They came in as if they had no idea what was going on, fake surprised expressions plastered on their faces.

“Well, hello there.” James chided with a smirk.

“Did we miss something?” Remus asked.

You and Sirius only laughed, as the four of you crammed together on Remus’ bed. Sirius continued to pepper kisses wherever he could while you craned your head to look at James as he spoke.

“So, I guess the two of you got things worked out?” James acquired.

“We sure did.” You smiled, giggling when Sirius’ kisses brushed against a particularly sensitive spot on your neck.

Your lips found his again, Sirius leaning you back onto the mattress and keeping secured there. When your breathing began to get heavy and your noises became a little hungrier, James and Remus announced their exit.

“Well, I suppose Prongs and I will leave you to it.” Remus winked.

Sirius broke the kiss only to respond, but that didn’t stop you from leaning upwards to suck on his pulse point, not even phased by what Remus had said.

“You two aren’t going to stick around?” Sirius wondered, groaning as your hips rolled into his quickly hardening dick through his pants.

James shrugged.

“We’ll let it slide this time,” He said triumphantly, ushering Remus out the door, “Besides, the two of you have some catching up to do.”

Sirius let out a guttural laugh as he took a moment to look down at you. You looked so beautiful sprawled out underneath him; your lips swollen from the kissing and your eyes blown with lustful expectation. He knew he’d never be able to take you for granted again.

“My pretty girl...” He mewled, “I love you. A million times over I’ll tell you that I love you.”

“I love you, Siri,” You hummed, swiping a loose piece of hair from his forehead, “Now make me cum the way I know you know how to.”

Sirius chuckled lowly at your boldness, his pupils dilating at the flush of arousal that sent through him. You knew better than to tell him how to run his show, but he knew this was a special occasion, so he didn’t mind taking an order or two.

“Well, now, what happened to ‘sex doesn’t fix everything’?” Sirius joked.

“It doesn’t, but we already fixed what needed to be fixed by talking,” You smiled, “Now we just both get something we want.”

Sirius laughed out loud, continuing his shower of kisses and swiping your skirt off in one swift move, your body squirming with anticipation. He felt confident that things would be better now. He was more than thankful that he had another shot at this. He was happy he had you back, and the four of you could go back to normal.

And now things would be even better than before.

***

Tags: @justadreamyhufflepuff @satellitespidey @blackpinkdolan @gubleryum @gxtitobxby @risingtripletaurus

#sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #sirius black x fem!reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #james potter x fem!reader #sirius black oneshot #remus lupin oneshot #james potter oneshot #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #james potter x reader #the marauders #the marauders x reader #the marauder x female reader #Harry Potter #seriouslysnape

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angstyantoinette · 3 years

Text

Yandere!Howl Jenkins Pendragon x Reader Headcanons

Warnings: Slight NSFW [mention], kidnapping, manipulation, toxic relationships.

We all know that Howl is very much a ladies man; he knows exactly how to pull women in, and captivate them so that they fall in love with him easily.

For Howl, it’s all a game. He catches the eye of a girl, no interest on his part of course. She just happens to be in his line of the game. He knows what to say, how to present himself to perfectly fluster and simultaneously intimidate every other person there. He doesn’t venture outside the castle often, and when he does, there’s an air of fear; there’s such awe left in his wake.

And he loves it. This drama queen feeds off it.

But we also know that Howl is a runner. He cannot commit to anything, hating the restricting nature of feeling tied down. I mean, he abandoned his apprenticeship. With this in mind, Howl makes the most unlikely yandere. But he actually is highly dangerous, although he doesn’t really look like it.

He’s afraid of himself in a way. He understands that he is quite powerful, and after practically going rogue, Howl gets his kicks with spontaneity, with the complete unexpected in life.

When he meets you, he expects you to give him all your attention, like everyone else. But you brushed past him, looking at his fancy clothes, his blonde hair, sapphire eyes, green jewels swinging from his ears, and the beautiful pendant around his neck. He was picturing it now in his mind, getting ready for the look of adoration, the tense of muscles, the scarlet blush upon your cheeks.

But you looked away. You gathered your belongings, perhaps stowing them away in your satchel, and you just looked away.

What?

Is that it?

You weren’t even interested in him. Howl was still so stunned he had nothing to say, no suave and seductive voice to tempt you into his charms. He was in awe of you; you looked at him with such indifference it made his head hurt. Not with heartache or pain or anything like that. But he could not deny that he wasn’t curious.

Well, of course, not only does this not sit too well with Howl, he is very much a delusional person in this kind of state. However, he is incredibly smart and calculating and he balances these two personalities scarily very well.

Like I said before, Howl is a very dangerous yandere, and he thrives on his blantant misinterpretation of a mere womanizer to scamper away, unsuspected, unscathed, and free to do what he likes.

Howl doesn’t really hold on to grudges that much, or anything; when he loses interest, he tosses things away. Not all though.

You, you, YOU.

Why won’t you leave his weary mind after days of being apart? Why is his conciousness telling him to look for you, and not relent until he’s succeeded in doing so? Despite all the signs, all of the telltale signs that shows he’s just a little too invested in you, he writes it off as his bad habits resurfacing to play another game.

And, of course, Howl Jenkins shall oblige!

Howl is a patient man, make no mistake. He finds it enjoyable to watch things go down for a while; no matter how trivial, poking fun in plain sight at innocent civilians never gets old.

When he finally gives in to trying to find you and play with you for a little while, Howl pushes aside all distractions to do so. That means traveling through counties and villages, towns and cities until he’s found you again.

Howl is desperate for love and affection that isn’t because of his looks. He really wants someone to love him, not the image he puts across, not just above the surface with his tantalizing blue eyes that pull you in and trap you.

You saw through that. You barely gave him a second glance and while it peaked his interest initially, it annoyed him for days on end. Usually being teasing and indifferent to Calcifer’s complaining, he found himself snapping and getting easily annoyed. Markl began to subtly keep his distance on bad days.

Now, though, he’s become delusional. In Howl’s mind, you are to blame for his interest, for his inability to keep his mind off of you. You are the sole reason for his burgeoning obsession that seems to be running the show. He tells himself that when he finds you, it’ll leave. This painful, utterly agonising sensation of having you in his grasp, playing his game will go far away. He’ll seduce you, definitely, take you to bed and have a good time and his obsession and all-consuming desire to play the game, just you and him will just...go. Poof.

Except when Howl does find you, he doesn’t feel like letting go of you.

Ever.

And while this does take him by surprise, it all starts to make sense for him.

Because looking at you now, bundled up in his arms, crying in anger and confusion, he sees in the stars that this was meant to be.

He waits until he’s sure you’re asleep [more like passed out from exhaustion-] to really, really get a good look at you. He notices for the first time your cheeks and how they’re squished against his pillows and wrapped up in his sheets so perfectly, it’s like you’ve been here many times before. He notes how relaxed your closed eyes seem to be, no furrowed brow or scrunched tight eyelids; just complete and utter serenity.

You’re just so perfect. Could you be a god, some kind of deity perhaps?

He’s in love for the first time in a long time. He may have let it slip by then, selfish and uncaring, but now?

Oh no, Darling, you don’t stand a chance. Howl will do anything to keep you hidden from those bastards’ eyes protect you, to love you and most of all, make you see that he’s the one for you.

Always.

You sat in the boiling water filling the bathtub, limp and tired, unresponsive as Howl bustled around you, his task completely focused on getting you ready for bed. Once upon a time, you would have refused to call him by name; instead you settled for ‘bastard’, ‘prick’, and ‘I hate you’.

You even tried to sleepily mutter these things under your breath, not caring now that you were being lifted out of the bath, and dressed in a white gown. You cared even less when feeling your mind slip away into a soft sleep, curling into your body with comfort, clinging onto Howl’s pillows.

However, in front of his ‘housemates’ [ you could only guess what a talking fireplace could have to do with his wacky moving castle ], you were frightened. Howl didn’t even have to say a word; he had you smiling and acting somewhat normally in front of ‘Calcifer’ and the little boy, Markl, you thought his name was.

But you could always feel the sliver of magic take a hold of your wrists from behind, a little voice telling you that staying here was for your best interest, what more could you want? It promised you eternal love, devotion and affection, coated with a sickly sweetness only Howl could pull off.

All in all, you stopped resisting after a while. Howl was annoyingly patient it seemed, and it frustrated you to feel as though you were a child all over again. He smothered you, insisting on doing the most trivial of things for you, never snapping back at you, never doing anything to remotely answer back at you in the same manner whenever you resisted his help.

It didn’t click until you had cursed at him mercilessly, screeching and crying, pulling at your combed hair, that by acting like this; he looked better than you. He looked above you. Compared to your tantrums, Howl looked calm and collected and completely willing to help you in any way possible.

But why was he doing all of this?

Why did you wake up in his bed, with his lanky arms draped all over you as if you were lovers? Why was he spoiling you, letting you wear his clothes, feeding you? What was he trying to convince you of?

“Darling, I have some new nightclothes for you. Do you want me to help you into them?” He was slower, more gentle tonight as he strolled around his room. He was delberate though, not forceful exactly, but it was more of an atmospherical warning. You could just tell; if little Y/N tried anything, something would happen.

Some kind of spell, or perhaps even a curse to teach you a lesson.

Ah, there it was. Another gift.

Did he think you’d simply tolerate him because of his lavish, his blatantly excessive gift-giving?

Why did he look at you with such sickening adoration on his flawless features?

At last, his bustling seemed to cease and he took a longing glace back at you. He probably only meant it to last a few seconds but the longer he gazed, it just became a cold and glassy stare.

You knew the feeling of ‘zoning out’ well, but his eyes became darker and darker. Some kind of shadow must have passed over him or something, because he snapped out of his eerie trance and threw himself onto the bed.

You yelped in surprise, pulling your hands to your sides, hastily spreading them out on the soft quilt like spiders, your legs pushing your body back ever so slightly, eyes wide.

Howl chuckled, but it was filled with a sinister undertone that you weren’t used to at all. He snapped his head to the right, his hands already unraveling a silk-encased package.

“I saw these while in the town today and couldn’t help myself.”

Pulling out the brand new nightclothes, you unwillingly let out a pleased gasp. It was a set of matching pyjamas. They were satin, smooth to the touch and a beautiful shade of emerald, not too bright at all, but not dark either.

Sometimes, you enjoyed this sort of treatment from Howl, albeit, very guiltily. He was always polite, courteous and kind, willing to help you with anything, but you also couldn’t help but feel a sense of horror, lingering long after you fell asleep. As if it were some kind of parasite. You just couldn’t for the life of you place your finger on it.

You had learned to never keep him waiting for anything; he was a busy man and as much as he liked to have free reign of his work, he liked to be organised too.

This time you had apparently spent too long admiring your gift rather than answering him.

“Isn’t it lovely, Y/N? I thought it would suit you divinely.”

“Y-yes, it’s beautiful, thanks so much H-Howl.”

Not wasting any more time, he sat up from his previous position on the bed, and somehow managed to gracefully snatch the nightclothes away from your trembling hands, and shooting you a look as if to say, well, take your clothes off. That was the less sinister version. Howl’s eyes took on a new darkness that growled, or I’ll do it myself.

Your hands flew to your neckline, undoing the small ribbon that held the soft cotton on you, and allowed Howl to thread his fingers through the material, travelling towards the bottom of the garment and pulling it over your head whilst you lifted your arms, feeling the comfort of the soft sleeves peel off your arms.

The blush on your face was unmistakeable. It was another embarassment being bathed by him, but this? Stripping you out of your clothes? It didn’t help that he was aware of your inner battle, and having an annoying, but otherwise barely noticeable smile on his face.

His hand reached over with the satin nightclothes, urging you to take them. You did, carefully so, slipping them on against your flushed body, his cerulean orbs watching intensely.

As if he didn’t want the image to go away.

When you had finished dressing yourself, you stood up and tentatively walked to the mirror, even slightly stumbling on your feet, and gasped in pleased surprise. You looked...beautiful in the nightclothes. The satin felt so smooth on your skin, and the emerald shade brought out your e/c eyes nicely.

A few moments later though, you gasped for a whole different reason. Howl slipped his hands around the front of your torso, letting them wander further and further down, reaching your thighs with a renewed urgency, pressing you back against his body.

“I didn’t hear a ‘thank you’, darling.” His tone was teasing, but you could detect a hint of anger, annoyance was it? As quickly as the shadows came they departed, leaving you at the mercy of the wizard Howl.

“No matter,” he rasped against the nape of your neck, placing soft, heated kisses against your skin,”You can say thank you, whilst begging on your knees.”

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

sorry about that ending, it just needed to come to an end before i drove myself mad with the procrastination :)

but what did you think of it?? there really isn’t enough Howl’s Moving Castle fics, let alone yandere ones, but i like how it came out.

to the person who requested this, Howl, is 100000% the gentle dom we ALL NEED OKAY

#yandere Howl x reader #yandere studio ghibli #howl x reader #yandere howl pendragon x reader #headcanons #x reader #x you

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darkfearsandkittyears · 3 years

Text

Y'all, it's Whumptober! I'm super excited!

Okay, uh...funny story [and super embarrassing for me] I am a highly unorganized person, I have a calendar in my room, but it's so much easier to check the date on the huge calendar in the kitchen! So, I calculated the days till October in August, and promptly forgot to write prompts and outlines, [even though I pants most of my works].

Fast forward to today, when I see my mom writing down the October events. I was like, oh, she's just reminding herself for next month.

Then I realized.

I literally forgot that September comes right before October.

I literally thought that I had another month to plan ideas.

One of you come whack me on the head, I really need it.

Anywho, let's get on with the show!!

"Come on, Damian! Reach for it." Jason dangled Damian's bottle, inches from the baby's hands. Damian whined and stretched his arms out as far as they would go, attempting to snatch his bottle. Jason smiled at the child. "Scoot forward. Like this." He demonstrated, pulling his body along with his arms. Damian stared at him as if he'd grown a second head, then cooed a little. "Yeah, it looks whack. But come on." Jason shrugged and put the bottle down, wagging Damian's little toy dog instead. On what planet did this qualify as a dog? It looked more like a deformed elephant. The woman at the store had insisted it was a dog….he had to get Damian some more toys. All the parenting books said that babies needed good toys for development. "Come on buddy, get your..animal." Jason called. Damian laid his head on the quilt and sucked his thumb. Jason snapped a quick picture as the little boy nodded off, tuckered out by 'tummy time'. "Come on Dames, don't fall asleep just yet." Jason said, grunting as he got to his feet. The wound he'd sustained wasn't helping any, and the painkillers weren't working right, thanks to the pit. Oh well. "Come on kid, you can't fall asleep on your stomach." Jason rolled the sleepy baby over on his back. Big blue eyes batted up at him, laced with sleep. Looked like Bruce, a little. House of Wayne. Once upon a time, Jason had wanted to use the kid as leverage...but this was a baby, and his brother. He'd realized that, but realized it a little late. Damian deserved to grow up, shielded from batdad's nonsense and in a world without Joker. Godamn it, Talia was right. Having a 'family' around him had cleared his head. And screwed up his plans. Majorly. But he wouldn't trade it for anything. Besides, he'd nearly had Joker's brains splattered against the wall yesterday, right in front of Bruce's face. He'd make them watch, make them all watch when he pulled the trigger on Joker. For himself. For Barbara. For Damian. Maybe then, when Joker was dead, he'd present Damian to Bruce. Let Bruce wage war against the House of al Ghul while he and Damian ran for the hills. Then they'd double back and destroy both families. He couldn't kill Bruce, not until Damian was older. Jason was no Willis Todd, he was far from willing to force his brother into a life with no father. Picking sides would be Damian's choice, when he got older. But for now, it was Damian, Jason and Talia against the Joker and Batdad. Not a hard fight. Especially when Jason had the upper hand. "We're gonna be just fine." Jason smiled down at the sleeping baby. "We're already winning." Damian's eyelashes fluttered, and he let out a tiny snore. Jason picked him up and transferred him to his playpen, then wandered out of the living room and into the bedroom that he'd converted into a gym. A rumble of thunder burst through the room, and Jason paused, hoping it wouldn't wake Damian up. That was pretty loud, for thunder. The ground seemed to shake with the sound. The pull up bar he'd installed yesterday clattered to the ground, and he flinched lightly as an image of a crowbar flashed before his eyes. It felt as if something had hit him in the back, but he chalked it up to imagination. He was probably imagining the fog around him too. Some things Joker gave him, he could never get rid of. But Damian began to cry, loud, hysterical wails that sent fear up Jason's spine. Another rumble broke through the air as Jason sprinted out of the room. A sickening crack ricocheted through the house, and Jason unwillingly moved to the left as something brushed his right shoulder. A support beam. "Damian!" Jason had never moved so fast, weaving past and through the falling drywall and wood. He was only feet away from the playpen when Damian's wails choked to a stop, as if someone had turned them off. Through the fog and falling objects, he reached into the playpen and curled around the child, shielding him with his body as he tried to find an exit. Damian's body was limp in Jason's arms, not a cry or a coo. Jason risked a

glance at the child's closed eyes and pale, dust covered face. He shoved the blanket up to cover Damian's nose and rushed blindly into the direction of the doors. Behind him, a beam fell and what was left of the house shuddered. An eerie feeling washed over Jason, settling right in the pit of his stomach. Everything went quiet, but Jason tensed, alert. A hot burst of air slammed into his back, and he knew he'd been right to keep alert. Jason grunted as he was thrown into what was left of a wall, which crumbled, pinning his legs down. His mind fogged like a static TV, and he could feel warm air. Fire. Then realization hit. Damian was no longer in his arms. "Damian. Damian!" His throat was raw, coated in drywall dust and dirt. But he yelled on, hoping, needing to hear anything from the rubble. But there wasn't a sound. Jason pulled his leg from under the rubble and plowed through it to the best of his abilities, climbing over and under and around piles of garbage that had once been a house. There was an odd feeling in his leg, the only other thought that wasn't an urgent repeat of, "Find Damian!". But he quickly suppressed the feeling, because through the fog and dust and smoke, a tiny hand protruded from under a beam. Jason attempted to lift it, but couldn't. Damian was trapped under an air pocket, but any wrong movement would send it all crashing atop him. A lever. Jason searched desperately for a board or pole to use as a lever, but saw nothing. But then his eyes scanned over his own leg, and he had to look back at it. His foot was quite literally facing the wrong way. The odd feeling vanished and became a sharp pain that nearly took his breath away. Focus, Jason. The League had trained him as a sniper, and he was good at it. He excelled, even. But all snipers knew how to do one thing. Hyperfixate. And that skill, with the help of adrenaline, might just save both his and Damian's lives. Jason looked around the room once again, eyeing the position of the beam that Damian was under. If he could manage to get across the rubble, he could crawl into the air pocket and rescue Damian. Jason pulled his body up and over rubble, ignoring the extreme pain that was now burning through his body. At some point, that white agony would get the best of him, but for now, adrenaline was masking most of it. "Damian!" Jason called again, nearly falling over a piece of wall. His broken leg slammed into a sheet of metal, which dislodged. The beam began sliding, and Jason screamed, unwillingly. He felt his legs propelling him towards where his brother lay, and he pulled Damian into his arms and cringed as the beam fell down around them. "Damian...Dames." Jason panted as the dust settled, smoothing the dirt off his brother's pale face. The baby was too pale. He had to get him out of here. The falling rubble was controlling the fire, but smoke inhalation would kill them. And Damian had been unconscious for far too long, but there wasn't a single scratch on the child to evidence any injuries. Jason growled in frustration. "Damn it!" His entire body hurt, his leg most of all. Adrenaline was wearing off...the pain was mixing with the green light of the pit, and together they nearly blinded him. Rage, and pain. Great combination. He looked around for a way out. It was like a grave. Tight, and hard to breathe. No Jason. No. His breath caught, and he knew he'd just screwed up. There wasn't enough air in his lungs, and he could breathe it in quickly enough. He clutched Damian to his chest and tried to get in a breath, to no avail. Whimpers punctuated his breath, and the rational part of him could have laughed at himself. But he couldn't. Whimpers turned to screams, and nothing made sense anymore. He screamed the only name he knew would come for him. "Bruce! Bruce, please!" He could hear his own screams dying out, feel himself losing a grip on consciousness. "Dad! Dad...Bruce…" His voice rasped into a whisper, and he gritted his teeth. "Batman! Dad! I need you! Please...please dad!" Not a soul

stirred. "That's right. He's not coming for you." Joker whispered sadistically. Jason shook his head desperately, tears mixed with blood running down his face. "Shut up, you stupid clown! Please! Bruce. Bruce! Please!" Like a miracle on Christmas eve, a ray of light shone into their prison, and a familiar shadow fell across Jason, along with another pound of dust. Damian wailed, and Jason shielded himself and the child against the dust, then spiraled into an exhausted darkness. Four hours later, he pulled himself out of the pit of unconsciousness. "Dami?" Jason slurred, exhausted. "He's fine, Jay. With Alfred." That voice. Jason made an attempt to bolt upright, only to find that he was secured to the bed. "You have two broken legs, five ribs, son." Bruce muttered, undoing the restraints. They must have given him some hefty painkillers, since he could feel nothing. "Call me son again-" Jason snarled, his voice cracked and dry. "How am I your son, if you had the nerve to let him live?! I gave you the choice last night, Bruce. Save me, or save him. You threw a batarang at my throat instead." "Jason-" Bruce looked wounded, his jaw working with words he didn't know how to say. "No! You don't get to "Jason" me. Not after what you did. You don't deserve to have your son." "Jason." Jason looked up at Bruce. "What?" "I put a batarang in your throat?" Disbelief surged through Jason. "You didn't know? All those years of aiming those damn things, and you didn't know?" Bruce's face was as stone cold as ever. "No." Jason had probably imagined the look of sorrow on his father's face. It wasn't like Jason meant anything to him anymore. "It only nicked me, lucky for you. Doesn't even matter, I'm alive. Surprising, isn't it? You wanted me dead and him alive. What, you got a crush on him?" He looked away, unwilling to meet Bruce's eyes. "I hate him, Jason. I just can't kill him." "You screwed me over Bruce. All this," Jason gestured to himself, "Is your fault." "You have a son, Jason." Bruce said softly. "He's not my son. He's my brother." Jason replied, tone dark. "He's your son." There was a dead silence that almost resonated. Jason chanced a look at Bruce. For once in his life, the man looked truly stunned. Did he break him? "Bruce…?" "Talia's child?" Bruce whispered. "Yes." A sudden whim forced him to add, "And you can't have him. You're not going to get him killed too." "I wasn't going to make him a Robin." "Cut the bullcrap, Bruce!" Jason screamed, startling both himself and Bruce. "Yeah, maybe I almost got us both killed, but I've never put a gun or a batarang in his hand and told him to throw it!" Bruce hesitated before speaking. "It wasn't your fault. The city was destroying a building, and the explosion shook the foundation of other buildings. I couldn't get to you two as quickly as I should have. I'm sorry, Jaybird." Bruce sighed. Sorry. Sorry doesn't cut it, Bruce, Jason wanted to say. "Whatever, Bruce.", was all that came from his throat. "Not the first time you've forgotten me, anyways." "If I had known-" Rage surged through Jason. "Save it! Why the hell is he still alive? That's my only question. Why. Isn't. He. Dead? Don't kill him. Fine. But let me kill him. Look at Barbara! Isn't what he did to me enough?! When will it be enough, Bruce? When he murders Damian?" Hands gripped Jason's shoulders, and he stopped his tirade. "Son…" Bruce began, then stopped. Jason could feel his face crumple, not a word slipping past his dry lips. "I can't kill him, Jason. I can't let myself go off that edge. "You failed me, Bruce. When will it be enough?" Bruce didn't answer. Jason swallowed against the knot in his throat and spoke roughly. "I just want him dead. All I ever wanted was to make you proud...then you left me with him. That, the abandonment, it doesn't even hurt anymore, but I wanted you to kill him. For me." Jason's face twisted into a scowl that thankfully repressed the tears. "Make him die." He spat. "I can't, Jason. I'm sorry Jason. It's meaningless, but I'm

so sorry." Bruce looked physically pained. He's acting, Jason told himself. "If you're sorry, don't let him hurt anyone else." "I can't promise that." "I know you can't. But I can!" Jason yelled, finally. But instead of his rage getting the best of him, it all just evaporated. He felt nauseated, as if someone had punched him in the gut. But all he vomited up were words, words that he shouldn't say. "All I ever wanted was to make you proud...then you left me with him. I don't care about that...but didn't you care about me?" Bruce's expression darkened to something that Jason had never seen before. "I put the Joker in a body cast for a year. That permanent limp he has is evidence of it. I couldn't bring myself to murder him, because in his dead eyes, all I saw was myself in him. And it was all too peaceful. He tortured you for months. I'll torture him for the rest of his life." Bruce said the words like a vow, determination lacing his tone. Jason stared straight ahead in shock. Silence settled over the room. "You-when was Joker dead?" Jason finally asked, almost dreading the answer. "Dick killed him when he found out what happened. I couldn't let him live with the remorse, so I revived him." "Dick….killed him." Jason repeatedly slowly, almost dumbly. He wanted to feel anger that Bruce had brought the damn clown to life, but he couldn't. "He always had a temper." Bruce said lamely. Oh great, both of them were shutting down their emotions and verbalization. "Didn't think he'd go that far." "I did. He loves you, Jason." "Don't talk to me about Grayson. He managed to do what I've been trying to do." Jason managed a rough laugh. "Isn't it funny, Bruce?" Bruce only stared at him, a near pitiful expression on his face. It wasn't until Bruce hugged him that Jason realized that there were hot tears streaking down his cheeks. Slowly, Jason hugged back, blinking back the stinging wetness of his eyes. This, all this 'emotional seminar with the Batman' was a total mistake. So Jason let go of Bruce and pushed him a little to regain personal space. Bruce unsurprisingly was fine with taking back his boundaries. "You're doing alright, Jaylad. You took in a son that wasn't yours and you're raising him." "I took him in for all the wrong reasons." Jason bit his tongue. "And what are your reasons now?" "Touchè." Parents...and adoptive older brothers make mistakes with kids. They fail them and screw them up. But Jason's mistakes with Damian could be fixed. Jason couldn't. Not until the clown died. "You can always make the present better than the future." Bruce said. Dammit, old man. "Whatever." Valid points. Very valid points. "Who else trained you in manipulation?" Bruce just looked confused. Either this was more manipulation, or Bruce being bipolar by the days. Whichever one, Jason would try his luck. It was a mistake, destined for disaster. But he just couldn't help himself.

#jason todd angst #jason todd #batfam #batdad #baby damian #whumptober 2021 #writers on tumblr #Wrote it in school #Okay Batdad #Batman #batman and robin #bruce wayne #dcu #detective comics #dc comics #batman fandom #red hood angst

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justcourttee · 4 years

Text

Love, Right?

This was an ask from AO3, but I loved it so much and wanted to post it here too.

vasiliassuns asked: aaaaa!! i love all these one shots so much:)! would it be any trouble to ask for the waynes (minus alfred, he knows all) being in paris to research ladybug and accidentally see marinette transform before watching her whoop ass? (i know theres a lot of fics with this in the damianette tag, but aa!! such a good trope,,,and your writing is awesome.) its totally cool if not! i also wanna add that im super excited for the next chapter:) seriously tho your writing is awesome and i adore it

If you had told Damian Al Ghul Wayne that he would discover the love of his life in a shotty alleyway in Paris, France, he would’ve laughed in your face.

Yet there he was, his heart racing a million times a minute as he watched her swing into action sending the akumatized person sailing with a solid kick to their chest.

‘Flawless Execution, I couldn’t have done it better myself.’

Damian ignored the crowds pushing against him trying to take cover in the nearest shelter. He knew that by now his family would’ve seen his transmission from the camera contacts that Barbara had provided them before leaving Gotham. They would also be racing toward the battle hoping to catch a glimpse of how these victims communicated with the notorious Hawkmoth.

He turned the corner colliding into three other rushing bodies.

They all fell to the ground with a groan, each holding their own heads with equal scowls directed at the others. Damian was the first to find his feet as he crossed her arms, glaring down on his mess of brothers. Three voices filled the alleyway simultaneously, all as panicked at the other.

“Damian was that the coffee goddess-”

“Damian was that the flying angel from the acrobat gym-”

“Damian was that your girlfriend-”

Everyone silenced as their gazes shifted to where Jason stood. He only shrugged his shoulders in response, that familiar smirk pulling at his lips.

“She’s not my girlfriend Todd.” Damian tried to say it with the straightest face he could manage but he could do nothing to hide the red that had crept up his cheeks.

“Well, whatever she is doesn’t matter. What does matter is that the flying angel is Ladybug! That information would’ve been helpful earlier. We were already hanging out in civilian form, I mean, we could’ve been having our top-secret meetings without the masks!”

“Dick, some of us care about our secret identities unlike you.”

Dick pouted as Tim elbowed his side.

“All I’m saying is that if she can trust me to catch her 40 feet above the ground, then she should be able to trust me with her secret identity.”

“It’s not like she knows our identity’s Richard.” Damian narrowed his eyes at the older boy essentially silencing his continuous whining. “Besides, she probably didn’t want to harm us. If we showed care for her superheroine side, then Hawkmoth could try to attack us to get to her.”

Jason flailed his hand around mocking Damian’s speech behind his head earning a giggle from the others. Damian’s whole face flushed red as he tried to count backward from 10 to avoid killing Jason.

A blur of red landed in front of him, her slightly flushed face staring above them, as determined as ever.

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

Her eyes darted down to meet his, a slightly surprised look crossing her face.

“Gentlemen, please return to the shelter. It’s not safe right now.”

The boys stared at each other, calculating their best chances of regrouping if they split now. She swung off before she heard their answer shielding them from the oncoming blow. Damian wanted to rush to her side and help her back to her feet but it wasn’t the right moment.

As they made their way back toward the shelter, Damian’s mind was racing a million times a minute.

The quiet girl with a load of sass who helped him study French couldn’t be the bold superheroine who fought crime on a daily basis right? It seemed illogical.

Yet the more he thought about it, the more he could see it. The way she stood up in class to Chloe and Lila whenever they attacked him, the way she could maneuver around every situation within mere seconds of seeing how it would play out, the way those same blue eyes would shine with determination when she knew she was the smartest one in the room and was only being challenged to prove it.

“I’m so stupid.”

“Wait, can you say that again? I wanna make it my ringtone.”

Damian stuck his foot out as he skidded to a stop taking joy in seeing Todd tumble to the ground, a satisfying rip coming from his new leather jacket.

“Ah, c’mon man, it was just a joke!”

A small scream of terror caught their attention. A girl stood in the middle of the cobblestone, clinging to a stuffed bear, the Akuma looming over her as if ready to strike. Damian knew he couldn’t make it quick enough, but damn if he wasn’t going to try.

The Akuma's hand came down before he had even moved an inch, a sickening smack turning Damian’s stomach. As the dust cleared, Damian raced forward, intent on beheading any man who dared to lay hands on a child so small, but the Akuma was nowhere in sight.

The only thing that was left was a breathless Ladybug, dropped to her knees in front of the small girl, a white butterfly fluttering into the sky.

“Mar-Ladybug!”

Her head perked up at the sound of Damian’s voice as he fell beside her, checking her over for any injuries.

“I’m fine Damian, please, check on the girl.”

As if Damian needed any more confirmation that Ladybug was Marinette. Here she was not even denying that she knew him in that cute stammering manner she did. With a small nod, he turned to check over the girl, making sure the Akuma hadn’t bruised her.

Beside him, Ladybug stumbled to her feet throwing her Miraculous Cure into the air. Instantly, Damian noticed all the damage disappearing under the blinding lights as if the battle had never happened in the first place. He wanted to ask her how the magic behind it worked, but the sound of a shout cut him off.

“Oi! Get back here you little brat! I’m not done teaching you a lesson for eating my food!”

Instantly the girl in his arms became smaller. Ladybug noticed it as well as her eyes hardened, almost daring the man to take a step forward.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to stop right there. You were just a victim of Hawkmoth’s powers and need to be checked over by Chat Noir.”

The blonde hero nodded warily as if ready to attack from behind if things went south.

“I ain’t doing any of that. This child right here is mine and needs to be taught a lesson one way or another.”

Ladybug glanced behind her at the small girl’s silent tears as she clung to Damian’s arms as if they were her lifeline.

“You will be doing no such thing. In fact, by the end of today, she will no longer be your child. I suggest you leave now sir, I wouldn’t want things to get ugly.”

The man had the audacity to laugh. It fueled the rage inside Damian, but he refused to let go of the girl. He feared that if he did, she would run.

“What are you gonna do? You superheroes can’t touch me if I’m not akumatized.”

In a flash, he lunged forward. Ladybug wasn’t even fazed as she sidestepped him, pushing his head down into the cobblestone below. It was only one blow, but he was out cold, a small split on his forehead.

Damian couldn’t help the way his jaw hung.

“Medic, he’s going to need stitches. Sir,” Damian shook the shock from his face as he met her eyes. “This child seems to have taken a liking to you, would you mind taking her to the police station for me? Tell them I will be there soon to make my report and check on her.”

Damian nodded, unable to find his voice as those intimidating eyes stared down into his.

“And one more thing, I’ll be checking in with you later as well. It seems we have much to talk about little bird.”

Damian’s entire face flushed red as she swung off with her partner, his eyes never leaving her figure until she was out of sight. The sound of pounding feet on the pavement brought him back to reality as his brother’s skidded in front of him, their faces as impressed as his.

“Hey Damian, this is your fair warning. If you don’t date her, I might.”

“Ditto.”

“Me three.”

Damian stumbled over his denial as he watched his brother’s burst into laughter. Dick gathered the young girl from his arms, cooing at her until she was calm once more, allowing him to finally stand.

“You all are not worthy of her, only I am.”

Jason crossed his arms mocking Damian’s half pout as he and Tim shared another laugh at the murderous look in his eyes. He could care less what these imbeciles thought, the only thing that mattered was what she did.

And he couldn’t wait to find out.

Permanent Tag List:

@ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava @iamablinkmarvelarmy @seraphkitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @pawsitivelymiraculous @mialuvscats @leagrey

#daminette #maribat

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k7l4d4 · 3 years

Text

Avatar the Last Airbender Story Idea: Wind and Sunlight Part 2

Water. Earth. Fire. Air. Long ago, the four nations lived together in peace and harmony, but everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked. After their raid on the Air Nomads, many fled, desperate to preserve their way of life and their people. Fleeing in all directions, they hunkered down in cultures that they felt would accept them, but even then, the vast majority died due to the Fire Nation’s cruelty and cunning.

However, the survivors were not without friends. The Air Nomads’ peaceful ways and kindness was well known, and not all who grew within their temples decided the path of the Monk or Nun was for them. Among those who chose different paths, some even established families, entrenching themselves in a microcosm in separate cultures. In the Fire Nation, some of those families even rose to prominence.

Ty Lee and her sisters always knew that, despite being of the Fire Nation, it was not their friend. Their family were descendants of the Air Nomads, those scornfully referred to as Gaspers by the more crude of the Fire Nation, and they had been hiding in plain sight for years. What little their family could recall of their way of life, of the way the wind felt beneath their hands, about how sacred life truly was, was taught to them, so they would never forget what the Fire Nation had so cruelly stolen from them and made a mockery of every day with their war.

Despite their adherence to their ways as best they could, the Wind had been lost to Ty Lee’s family with the last proper bender in their family being Ty Lee’s Grandmother, who had manifested the wind just shortly after the Slaughter. Ty Lee loathed the taste of meat, of how it was a reminder that another being had given its life for the gluttony of humanity, but forced it down to blend in, to be one of them, no matter how much she hated it. Out of all her sisters, all identical, she’d always felt like the odd one out, much to her frustration. While none of them liked the idea of being a matched set, none of them had felt the sheer disconnect that Ty Lee felt, the driving impulse to break away and be something, someone, other than them. In her efforts, her studies had caught the eye of the Royal Fire Nation Academy for Girls, her new institute of learning.

When she arrived, she already felt alone. The other girls pointed at her, whispered behind closed doors and around hidden corners, as if she couldn’t understand them. It was more of the same to her. The lessons were admittedly a fun change of pace, actually being able to challenge her to some extent, but she often felt a mix of boredom and simmering resentment at her history classes, constantly fighting the urge to stand up and scream about how it was wrong, how they were liars and murderers... but she couldn’t. As much as her family professed life and goodness and compassion, she wasn’t from that time, and had no knowledge of how true it really was. What if... the Fire Nation was right about them? What if they were right about her? Those thoughts plagued Ty Lee, until, one day, she made two new friends.

To say that Princess Azula was like nothing Ty Lee had ever encountered before was an understatement. Ty Lee knew that many people could and would say the same thing about herself, but it still made sense to say, all the same. Azula was fierce, passionate, yet cold and cunning. She brightened any room she walked into, filling it with energy for better or worse. She could send Ty Lee a beaming grin that filled her with such warmth, as if the sun were blessing Ty Lee with the light of it’s chosen, but just as she could be kind, she could turn that light towards others as a cold brightness, like the mocking gleam of the sun on a frigid Winter Day. She was bold, unafraid, and skilled beyond words. Whatever Azula set her mind too, Azula excelled at. Aside from Acrobatics. That was something that Ty Lee always felt a smug satisfaction at the knowledge that she and her sisters were so gifted in the art, aided by the conditioning they practiced so diligently as soon as they could effectively walk, not to mention the favor they felt from the Wind, even without the gift of bending, but it was still so funny to see Azula’s face screw up in bewildered shock as she planted herself against the ground, having failed at whatever Acrobatic stunt she had tried most recently. Ty Lee loved helping Azula with acrobatic lessons.

Mai was always so quiet, withdrawn, but with a biting wit that Ty Lee adored to see. Others saw Mai and labeled her a freak, an emotionless doll, but Ty Lee knew the truth; Mai was contemplative, watching, listening, ever alert, but she was far from emotionless. For all that she didn’t emote much, Ty Lee knew in her heart that she would never again meet someone who felt so strongly as Mai did underneath that sullen facade. The way she casually threatened to disembowel a girl that tried just a little too hard to intimidate Ty Lee one day was just gravy as far as she was concerned. The way she seemed to understand balance and trajectory, and her skill with throwing, took Ty Lee’s breath away. Ty Lee loved her weapon practice with Mai.

After their bond was forged, Azula insisted on Ty Lee and Mai coming to her place to hang out. Mai’s parents, always so eager to climb the latter, all but demanded Mai agree, not that she wouldn’t. Ty Lee’s parents and sisters, on the other hand, were apprehensive, fearing that it was a trap, that they’d been discovered, saying she shouldn’t go, that it was better to be safe than sorry. Ty Lee was having none of it. Azula was her friend. Yes, she could be cruel, but never without reason, and with Ty Lee she was nothing but kind. If the children of the Wind were going to survive beyond them, they had to learn to finally start forgiving the Fire Nation for Sozin’s cruelty, or they would destroy themselves in their pain. And Ty Lee and Mai being the kind of friends Azula so desperately needed was the perfect first step.

When Ty Lee first came to the Palace with Mai, it was both everything she’d expected, yet nothing like she’d anticipated. It was filled with cold and cruelty, the stain of Sozin’s madness and the ugly cruelty of those who shared his vision clinging to its every surface, the whole area’s collected aura saturated with such horrible bitterness and bile, but she couldn’t deny the small scattered sparks of love, of kindness and compassion that flitted throughout the building. Azula was overjoyed to see them, eagerly dragging them through the halls, effortlessly dodging the servants, a few of whom, to Ty Lee’s eyes, seemed to bear the mark of the Wind themselves, if only a handful. When Ty Lee met Azula’s family, she engraved the impressions they gave off into her heart.

Azulon, Azula’s grandfather and namesake, radiated bitterness and learned cruelty, as if he once had a heart filled with beauty but had it stained black with the horrible things he had done and ordered done in his name, in the name of the Fire Nation; nevertheless, he greeted her with a kind, if strong and slightly calculating, smile, some light entering his dead eyes. Zuko, Azula’s brother, had a beautiful aura, filled with a strength of will exceeded only by Azula’s herself, his body brimming with energy, compassion, and unshakable resolve, a wonderful combination; Ty Lee was sure he and Mai would be the cutest couple, if her friend’s slight blush and raised eyes were any indicator. Ursa, Azula’s mother, had an aura filled with warmth, understanding, acceptance, but it’s edges were tinged with bitterness and despair; Ty Lee honestly worried that, if not for her children, the woman in front of her may have taken her own life... or somebody else’s. As the last member of the family entered her vision, it was all Ty Lee could do not to be sick. Prince Ozai, Azula’s father and third in line for the throne... his aura was so sickening to behold, filled with such unfeeling greed and cruel delight, such a longing for violence and bloodshed, that Ty Lee had to physically fight her Gag Reflex, lest she puke in front of Azula’s family. Ty Lee now understood one thing with perfect clarity... Ozai was a monster lurking behind a human face, and one day, he was going to show the world his true colors; whether the world survived it was yet to be seen. Ty Lee was also sure of one other thing: Azula was never going to become like Ozai, Ty Lee wouldn’t let her fall that far.

#avatar the last airbender #atla #avatar ozai #avatar azulon #avatar ursa #avatar zuko #avatar mai #avatar maiko #avatar azula #avatar ty lee #airbender ty lee #avatar tyzula

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eclecticmiasma · 4 years

Text

Freudian Zip (Yandere!Bucciarati x Reader)

You tried to escape Bucciarati’s suffocating love with the help of your fellow gang members. All of you failed miserably, and now they must watch you prove your worth.

NSFW

Warnings: Non-con, yandere, forced voyeurism, abuse, degradation, female pejoratives, cockwarming, choking

It doesn’t make sense, how it all went wrong so quickly. One moment you were running through the streets of Naples, broken and fearful but free.

The next, you were falling endlessly. He must have opened a hole in the ground before you. Always, always one step ahead.

Falling.

It must have been seconds but it felt like years. You had all the time in the world to wonder how he knew, how he managed to find you despite everyone’s help. With Fugo’s masterful scheming, the gang crafted a fool-proof plan to help you escape your captor’s clutches. It went off without a hitch.

Until your body came crashing back to him, back into the desk of Bruno Bucciarati.

You hit the solid wood with a sickening thud, sharp pain jolting through your spine. The world spins as your body bounces and lands on the floor. With the wind knocked out of you, all you can do is stare helplessly at the ceiling and let out a silent sob.

His form manifests above you, no doubt from an opening he made in one of the walls. He looks down at you with a cold expression. You flinch as he leans to hover over you, icy blue eyes glazed over in calculated rage. An explanation for what happened forms on your tongue.

Part of your fear isn’t only for yourself, but for the rest of your team as well. The last time you had tried to escape you were on your own. When you were caught, Bucciarati unzipped your limbs and left you in his bedroom for weeks. You knew you were a lost cause, that he would probably see fit to kill you for what you’ve done this time, but the others… What would he do to them?

“Bruno, it was all my idea, I’m so-” In a swift motion he zips your mouth shut and drags you up by your hair.

“You know what I hate the most in this world is a liar!” He shouts, pulling your hair until you give a muffled scream. “I lavish you, tesora mia, with anything you could want in this world. You have my kindness, my generosity, my love, and yet you see fit to continue to spit in my face! Not only that…” He drags you up and slams you into the desk so that you’re bent over for him. His strong thigh worms its way between your legs. “…you seduce my team to help you do it!”

Violently, you shake your head, wanting desperately to tell him that they had nothing to do with your escape. He flips you around with inhuman strength and slaps you hard across the face so hard that you see stars.

“Do not lie to me again, troia! I see the way they look at you, the way their eyes follow your body when you leave a room. I worked so hard to keep you safe from their insatiable lust for you, and how do you repay me? You go behind my back and give in to their desire?” He nearly growls into your ear. All you can do is sob at the accusations, knowing that a single shake of your head will result in more injury. With his free hand, Bucciarati unzips your pants and underwear so that they fall off to the side. He ignores your pitiful whines of protest.

“Why else would they agree to help you? You know you can’t hide anything from me. I know you spread your legs for them,” You hear another zip, and his thick, stiff cock slaps against your stomach, “Showed off your pussy to my men like a greedy little slut and entranced them to steal you away from me. Well, you’re all going to learn a valuable lesson. If you’re going to be a puttana then be one. But after today, everyone will know without a doubt that you’re mine.”

Bucciarati pulls away from you and drags you by the hair from his tear-stained desk to the center of his office. He zips off your shirt and bra before forcing you, naked, to kneel on the hardwood floor. You stay absolutely still, sobbing as he moves chairs from around the room in a row several feet in front of you.

There’s a knock at the door, and you freeze. A million possibilities flood your mind at once. You imagine Bucciarati unzipping and stringing Mista around the room by his entrails. You imagine him zipping Narancia and Fugo together into some kind of Cronenburg-esque monstrosity. In your mind, you see Abbacchio and Giorno dying slowly of starvation as he refuses to unzip their mouths for weeks.

“Come in,” He says sternly. You cry out for them to stop, but your mouth is still zipped tight.

“You wanted to see us, capo?” Fugo enters first and stops dead in his tracks when your eyes meet. Bucciarati orders him to enter and he reluctantly obeys. Mista follows, crestfallen to see you captured once again. He slaps a hand over Narancia’s mouth so that the younger boy doesn’t cry out at the sight of you. Abbacchio and Giorno enter last, equally stoic in their reactions at your presence. Once they have all entered the room, Bucciarati orders them to sit in one of the chairs. They do.

The sound of Bucciarati’s footsteps cuts the deafening silence. He strides over to you and cups your chin with his hand. You give him one last pleading look. He smiles softly, and for a split second you have hope that he’ll lecture all of you and then let his men go. Any punishment he had for you, you could take. But seeing your team members, who had been nothing but kind to you as you bore the weight of Bucciarati’s affections, be hurt or killed for your sake would be unbearable.

“I’ve decided to give all of you what you want,” Bucciarati states darkly. No one moves a muscle. He pulls out something from behind his back and puts it in front of your face. Your eyes grow wide as saucers as you realize it’s his cock, unzipped at the base, “Take it,” He barks. Horrified, you grasp it in your hands. It’s still warm and soft, slightly glistening at the tip. It’s pulsing against your skin.

“Since all of you can’t keep your filthy fucking hands off of my [y/n], and she can’t keep her slutty little hole to herself, I’ve decided to be generous. Even though you’ve all betrayed me today, my love for you knows no bounds. I’ve come up with a solution that will satisfy everyone involved, and will teach you all a little lesson in-”

“C-Capo, we would never-” Narancia began before his peers could stop him. Bucciarati interrupted his protest with a low, measured threat.

“I will not hesitate to throw your head, alive, into the Golfo di Napoli do you understand me, Narancia?” The boy squeaks and nods his head furiously, “Good.”

Bucciarati turns his attention to you, “All of you will learn today, that [y/n] belongs to me and me alone. Cara,” He leans down and strokes a few stray strands of your hair behind your ears. Slowly, he unzips your lips, but you don’t dare speak, “Let this be the last lesson I have to give you. Now suck.”

You look at your mortified team members and back to Bucciarati. His cock feels like it has eyes, and it watches you from your palms. Bucciarati’s face turns sour.

“I suppose you’ll need a little help, then,” He grabs his cock from your hands and twists your mouth open with his fingers. You make a pitiful choking sound as he pushes himself inside. You hear someone’s breath hitch. His cock is salty and heavy on your tongue. Briefly, you wonder what it must feel like, wrenching your own dick inside of someone’s mouth like a dildo. He begins to slide it in and out of you, pushing so deep into your throat that your eyes water and you fight to not gag around him.

“There, you see?” He asks you in the condescending way you would a child, “Look how well she takes my cock. I think you can do it now, can’t you carina?” You close your eyes and nod. He hands his dick over to you and leans himself against his desk. “Turn toward them, show them that today was just a little mistake. That you truly do love me.”

You do as Bucciarati says, shifting your body so that you know your taught nipples are pointing straight at the men. You push his cock down your throat just as he did, swirling your tongue along it as it slides in and out of you, pushing along the veins that you know your capo loves best. Maybe, you think, just maybe if you give a good enough show he’ll leave the others alone.

Bucciarati lets out a soft moan of pleasure, and tosses his head back, “Choke on it,” He orders. You force his cock farther and whimper at the burning stretch of your esophagus, “Good girl. Spread your legs for them, and open your eyes.” Reluctantly, you follow these orders too, spreading your knees so that your pussy is fully on display. The shame from opening your eyes nearly kills you, but you look at each of scandalized looks spread across everyone’s faces. Narancia is hiding his eyes beneath his hands, peaking through the gaps between his fingers, a tent beginning to form in his black pants. Mista is entranced but disturbed, swallowing to ease his dry throat, tanned face burning red. You can tell Fugo is angry beyond belief, but a tell-tale blush of arousal also covers his features. Abbacchio is stoic, but fully erect. Giorno’s entire body is flushed a deep crimson, and he can’t stop biting his bottom lip.

Somehow, shamefully, their reactions arouse you. Knowing their focus is entirely on your heated, naked form makes your clit pulse in time with your rapid heartbeat. Six men all staring at you hungrily, ready to fuck you senseless if ever given the opportunity. A gob of precum leaks from Bucciarati’s dick and you reflexively moan at the taste. You can’t see it, but Bucciarati grins triumphantly.

“Take it out,” You whimper at the feeling of emptiness as his cock leaves your throat, “Rub myself on your pussy. I know you’re wet for me and I want to feel it.” As always, you obey your capo’s commands, lowering his cock down to your core. He twitches against you as you slide the head of his dick in circles around your slick hole. You happen to make eye contact with Abbacchio as you slide Bucciarati along your folds. For a split second you imagine it’s him and you grow even wetter. A groan escapes your lips. You roll your hips so that Bucciarati’s cock slides up along your clitoris. Abbacchio clears his throat, but holds your gaze fast.

“Bella,” You startle at the sound of Bucciarati’s voice.

“Y-yes, Bruno,” Another moan rips from your lips as you continue rolling your hips along his cock. Bucciarati walks over to you and jerks your head up to look at him. The man you found so frightening, so detestable moments ago is now electrifying in your eyes.

“It’s time. Show them what I mean to you. Show them that the only cock in this world that can satisfy you is mine.” You nod furiously and tip his cock so that it’s vertical below your entrance. Bucciarati leans down and kisses you as you push his member inside of you, causing you to moan wantonly into his mouth. He practically shoves his tongue down your throat, and you reciprocate, desperately pushing your tongue against his in a contest of power.

He pulls away from you, drool smearing his chin. You mewl aloud as his cock bottoms out inside of you, angled to hit your g-spot in just the right way.

“Look at them,” He turns your face to the men before you. Their expressions are worn out as lust overtakes them. Even Fugo is subtly rubbing his thighs together in an attempt to feel some relief. Narancia is not-so-subtly palming his little prick through his pants. Mista and Giorno are glistening with sweat. Abbacchio shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Look at how desired you are. We all want you…” Bucciarati reaches down and rubs your breasts with one hand. He places the other on your neck. You continue pumping him in and out of you, twisting your hips and moaning at the sensation. Your eyes flick from man to man, marveling in their unique reactions to your masturbation, “But now they all know that only I can have you. They see your love for me, how well you take my cock, how it belongs inside of you,” His hand squeezes your neck tighter and tighter until your vision begins to blur, “Tell them how I feel, tesora,”

“…I-it’s amazing,” You choke, leaning back against Bucciarati’s chest, relishing in the pressure of his large, lithe hands on your throat.

“What’s amazing?” He coos, kissing your temple softly.

“C-cock…your cock feels so good, Bruno,” Bucciarati hums appreciatively, kissing you again and lightly thumbing your right nipple.

“Tell them you love me.”

“I love you…”

“Again.”

“I love you, I love you!” You thrust his cock into yourself so fast it almost hurts, squelching noises filling the air around you.

"Cum for me [y/n], prove to them you love me, only me,” He orders, low and harsh, so that only you hear it. He squeezes your throat so hard you choke.

“I…Bruno!” You whisper hoarsely, knees buckling, orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. Your toes curl and you see stars as Bucciarati continues to choke you out. For a moment you feel like you’re floating. Bucciarati’s gang marvels as you squirt all over his cock as you cum, continuing to pump it in and out of yourself even as your body falters. You’re certain you hear Narancia topple over the edge himself.

“Brava ragazza!” Bucciarati praises you in earnest, showering your head with kisses, “All I want in this world is for you to know my love for you, and for you to know your place…” You gasp and collapse into him as he lets go of your throat. He takes his cock from your exhausted hand and continues pumping it into you himself. “My beautiful girl…do you want me to fill you? Everyone’s watching…” All you can do is nod your head and clutch desperately to his arm as he continues fucking himself into your abused hole. His breathing hitches and he lets himself lose control, his own orgasm wracking his body. You mewl with pleasure as he releases himself inside of you.

The room is silent but for the sounds of you and Bucciarati panting against one another. After taking a moment to gather his breath, he looks up at his underlings.

“What do you say?” He searches their eyes with a stern expression.

"Thank you, capo,” They say in unison, Narancia lagging a bit behind after being nudged by Fugo. Bucciarati nods, satisfied.

“You may leave,” He doesn’t need to say it twice. Narancia scrambles out of his seat and practically runs out of the room. The others excuse themselves with similar haste, faces flushed, eyes out of focus. Mista gives you one sad glance before leaving the two of you alone.

Bucciarati leaves his cock inside of you and runs his hands up your body in a gesture of tenderness. His lips meet yours, and you lose yourself to the feeling of his soft, warm tongue rolling against yours. He pulls away, “What did we learn today, bella?” You swallow hard.

“I’m yours,” Now that you’ve come down from your high, some of the fear and resentment begins to return. Bucciarati nods and runs his fingers along your ribs.

“Promise me you’ll never run away from me again. This world wasn’t meant for you to be without me,” Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Bile rises in your throat.

“I won’t. I promise.” Bucciarati smiles knowingly.

“I know you won’t,” He reaches down and pushes his cock so deep inside of you that your hole closes around it. Overstimulated, you whimper softly at the feeling. You prepare to have to beg him to take it out, but the familiar sound of a zipper stops you cold. You look down to see that Bucciarati has zipped himself inside of your pussy. You whip your head to face him, wide-eyed, terror building within you. He simply cups your face and strokes your cheeks gently with his thumbs, gazing at you with a loving expression so contradictory to his true nature.

“You won’t, because I’ll always be with you, tesora mia.” *all original work belongs to me. do not re-upload without explicit permission.

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mirror-juliet · 4 years

Text

Hard Time {Hongjoong X Reader}

know this is late but i procrastinated again. I sowwy

Requested by anon

Warnings) teasing, hard dom, bondage, punishment. vampire gloves, wartenberg wheel, nipple clamps, spanking paddle, degration, orgasm control, edging, slight mention of blood from bondage toy

Seonghwa had invited everyone over for dinner at his place, not only to hang out, but to also discuss the next comeback on the horizon. You always come to these dinner's with Hongjoong, not only to keep him company and visit with the other members, but Hongjoong likes to show you off.

But tonight you had something up your sleeve. The talk was getting too boring and Hongjoong wasn't giving you the much needed attention you so desired. Who could blame you? Attention is what you thrive on! And Hongjoong was neglecting you to talk with his best friend. So you may have taken matters into your own hands and started playing footsie with Hongjoong's penis from across the table.

You also may or may not have sat right across from him for this exact reason.Hongjoong takes a quick glance at you to give you a sign of warning. One that you ignore and press harder into him while talking to Yunho like nothing is wrong. In fact you and him begin to take selfies together. Though, your attention is brought back to him by force. He slammed his foot into your toes that are exposed by your heels, so hard so that you have to bite your lip to stop from yelping out in pain.

Hongjoong scratches his eyebrow in your direction, another warning sign meaning "Behave" You would, but how could you when you're having so much fun feeling his bulge grow steadily from underneath your foot.

"If you would excuse me, Seonghwa." Hongjoong steps back from the table, Choking slightly on his own spit, but no one notices it besides you. "I need to use the gentlemen's room." As he walks away, you're sure you're the only one who see's it, but your lips quirk upward as you see the thick erection through his pants.

"Is Hongjoong okay Y/n?" Yunho asks, face laced with concern. "He looks a bit flushed, i hope he isn't running a fever." You cant help but coo at how concerned he is for his leader, patting his head for his comfort.

"I'm sure he's just gotten a hot flash, it is quite warm in here after all." Seonghwa hears this and offers to turn the air on, but you gently decline, saying that you'll be fine.

After five minutes of radio silence form Hongjoong, you were starting to get concerned yourself. Usually by this time he would have texted you to get your ass in the bathroom."I'm gonna go see if Hongjoong is okay." You excuse yourself from the table, going to rasp gently on the bathroom door.

Instead of a verbal answer, the door is thrown open and you are yanked swiftly into the bathroom like a scene out of a snuff movie. Right before the main character is killed. You catch yourself having these thoughts, they're so strange to have in this situation.

The look on Hongjoong's face has you concerned, not to mention the mess he has his hair in, pushed back and in every which direction besides straight. "Baby, are you oka-""Look what you did!" He whisper shouts as he pulls his pants down hastily to show a painful erection standing tall and proud, drooling precum down the head"You are such a fucking brat! Fix this. Now." Hongjoong pushes you onto your knee's giving you a moment to pull away if you really wanted to. When you show no sign of resistance, he slips himself into your mouth; grunting in a euphoric and beautiful way.

"Jesus fuck bitch. Fuck, you're gonna make me yell if you keep up your mouth like that." Hongjoong pushes you off of him and rapidly pumps himself like a jackhammer. One wrong move and he'll break his penis. With a small grunt Hongjoong finishes into the toilet."You don't deserve to eat my cum, you're a bad girl." Hongjoong sighs at the release of pressure on his lower region. He tucks himself back in and pulls you up off the floor.

The both of you go back to the dining room like nothing's happened with a suspicious look form Jongho, but no one else. As you sit down, you press up closer to Yunho. The poor boy flushing bright red as you pull your shirt down to show your clevage. Yunho takes a few moments to look, but then quickly averts his eyes and swallows a few times.

"I hate to be this way." Hongjoong stands up and walks over to you. "But i'm not feeling too well. Is it okay if we go home a little early?" Seonghwa quickly swallows his drink and reaches out to Hongjoong."Yea, no problem. I'll text you the details Feel better man." The both of you say your goodbyes and grab your coats to head out to your cars. On your way out, you notice the smirk Jongho has on his face, raising his glass to you right before you leave.

The car ride home was filled with silence, leaving you to soak your panties with dangerous thoughts floating through your head. He's going to punish you no doubt, a sickening sweet smile plays across your lips. Oh how sweet that sounds to your mind. It wasn't too long of a drive though thanks to Hongjoong's speeding.

It takes him mere seconds after you exit the car to grab ahold of your wrist and drag you up to your house and into your bedroom. Not even bothering to let you take your shoes off."I'm going into the bathroom, now when i come out you had better be undressed and on the bed. Do i make myself clear?" You nod your head, crossing your fingers behind your back; you're already in trouble so why not make it worth your time to be underneath him. So you take off everything except the baby blue lingere set you had on underneath your clothes, hoping it would come to this.

Ten minutes is what it takes Hongjoong to get out of the bathroom, clearly have taken a shower and freshly shaven. By the look in his eyes as he looks at her, he's less than pleased."I thought i told you to get undressed. So why are you in that?" Hongjoong doesn't bother to put a shirt on, letting his sweatpants hang dangerously low to his v-line.

"Not even gonna answer me? God you really are just a spoiled brat huh? Cant even follow simple orders." He stalks up to the bed. "So now you're gonna get treated like a selfish brat."Hongjoong kisses you hard, chasing after your lips and you chasing after his own. He tangles his fingers in your hair and grinds against you. His other hand keeping yours at bay from touching him. He pulls back from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting you two. His eyes grow soft and he chuckles.

Then he moves his hand in your hair down to your face, squeezing your cheeks so your mouth opens. A glob of his spit trickles down into your mouth and he expects you to swallow it.

"At least you're able to do one thing right, Stupid girl." And there's that smile again, the soft one that really isn't. Then he does something that has you gasping in shock. He ripped your lingere off completely, completely ruining the garment. You'll have to worry about the price later."On the ground, on all fours." Hongjoong commands as he sits in the chair across the room, crossing his legs and thinking about his next move.

This is like a game to him, you're both on a different team, yet the same coin, merely just different sides. And it's his move, you used all of yours up at the dinner party and now he gets to use his that he has delicately been saving up. He needs to calculate the next move and then strike. How childish this is, to think of it at as a game, Hongjoong thinks.

He uses his fingers to beacon you forward, he smiles again as you obey rather quickly on all fours still. He's going to have so much fun watching you squirm for him. He's already taken care of himself twice tonight, once with you and the second time in the shower. So he has no need to use your cunt other than your torture.

Once you get close enough to him, he positions you sideways in front of him with his feet, then using your ass as a foot rest. Scrolling through his phone while he waits for you to get tired in this position."You have twenty minutes, try not to move too much." Your eyes widen, twenty minutes on the hardwood? On hands and knees?

As time passes you grow more inpatient, trying not to move to much but you cant help but sway your weight to one knee at a time. Occasionally Hongjoong will dig his heel into the small of your back to get you to cease movement."Hongjoong. It hurts~" You whine and it's like music to Hongjoong's ears, But you still have ten minutes left and he's not done taking pictures of you yet.

"If it hurts that bad, use the safeword." He barks, feigning annoyance at her whining. With a few more pictures and liking a few posts on Instagram he tells you to get on the bed, pulling out the cuffs to tie your hands to the bed with, snacking your tits a few times.Then he goes to the spare dresser you keep in the room for all your toys for the bedroom. Hongjoong takes his time browsing through the items, picking out the right ones that will reach the itch he has to punish you and make you cry out in lust. Then he see's it, the one toy he's been dying to use on you and blood nearly goes to his lower head.

You watch as he puts the spikey Glove on the edge of the bed, pulling out another pair of cuffs, attaching your ankles to the cuffs on your wrists."This my little brat, Is called a vampire glove." Hongjoong says as he slips it on, the spikes reflecting light into your eyes."So you know what it's used for?" You shake your head no, truly not knowing what the use of it is. Maybe to leave scratches along a sub?"Spanking." the word leaves you scared, not truly, but the kind of scared that is unsure of itself. Hongjoong is notorious for spanking hard, so what would the gloves do to your poor ass? You shiver thinking about it.

He doesn't leave you much time to process the idea of blood being possibly drawn when he pulls his hand back in the air. You clench your eyes shut right before the impact and leave a yelp at the pinprick feeling on your ass, feeling something trickle down.

"Who would have known you're so prone to drawing blood little brat." Hongjoong comes up to you before continuing, kissing your forehead and breaking his dom complex for a moment."I'll be gentler." And his next swing is more gentle, not going deep enough to draw blood but still breaking skin. The blood that does come out only comes in tiny dots littering across your cheeks.

Even with him being gentler, the glove still hurts, enough so to bring tears to your eyes that fall down your cheeks. It most definitely is a punishment and not one made for you to enjoy. Hongjoong gives you a two minute time out before he moves onto the next toy-The wartenburg wheel, also not one of your favorites for what he always does with it.He rolls the spikes over the puncture wounds, allowing you to cry even more at the pain, but not painful enough for you to use your safeword."I wouldn't have to do this if you were a good girl." Hongjoong argues. "But since you were a brat, this is what happens."

"I know, i'm sorry sir, it wont happen again." What a beautiful sight you are in this state, crying, begging, unrationally thinking in hope for a climax or some sort of pleasure to combat the pain. He feels a little softer than he did earlier, so he lets your legs down and allows you a moment to cry and calm down from the pain. Hongjoong strokes your face as he admires you, you're so gorgeous and perfect for him, the missing piece to the twisted puzzle he is in his mind.

"I think that's enough for tonight darling." Hongjoong makes the decision for you as he see's you aren't calming down enough. Sure you seem fine but he knows with another punishment you'll go into a sub drop. So to the bathtub you go in his arms. He cuddles you and washes you in the tub, pressing his hips to your head; making sure you know you did a great job. Also telling you how beautiful you are.After the bath he puts aloe on your bum and dresses you in some panties and one of his shirts, taking you both to bed.

#ateez smut #ateez hongjoong smut #Ateez hongjoong #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez seonghwa #ateez aesthetic

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himikiyo · 3 years

Text

kerosene lemonade // himikiyo week day 4

Himikiyo Week Day 4: Soulmates + Enemies

“Oh my, I suppose you’ve caught me, haven’t you?” Shinguuji asks languidly, gazing up at her. “But what will you do now with me at your mercy?”

The group decides that Korekiyo, a known murderer, can't be allowed to move freely around the academy. Himiko ends up as their guard.

Read on AO3, DRA, or under the cut.

“We aren’t trying to be cruel,” Himiko says weakly, head pounding from the frustration of having had this same conversation several times already. “It’s not like that. It’s just for everyone’s safety.”

“Hmm, is that so?” Shinguuji responds, just as she expected. Just as they had all the previous times. “Or is it just what you’re attempting to convince yourselves of? From an outsider’s perspective, I wouldn’t call your actions anything resembling merciful. Particularly not Momota-kun and Iruma-san’s.” They shift slightly and wince at the movement. Himiko can’t say for certain whether it’s staged.

“I...I don’t agree with the way they did things, but...” She trails off, hands subconsciously bunching into fists at her sides. The tension is unbearable, and she can’t entirely figure out why yet.

Shinguuji breaks the pattern. In their earlier conversations, they goaded her further, trying to coax out a slip of the tongue or contradiction in her views. Now, they don’t respond verbally at all, bringing a hand to their side. They look at her, eyes cold and calculating. Trying to guess at her reaction? They must be satisfied with what they find, because they tear their gaze away from her. A bandaged hand hitches up their jacket and shirt just enough to inspect a truly nasty bruise blooming along their side.

It’s more of a contusion, really, already a sickly, mottled pattern of black and blue despite being less than a day old. It’s hard to be sure without getting closer, but she can almost make out a bootprint. She must make a sound without meaning to, a gasp or similar, because their eyes immediately shoot over to her again and they rearrange their clothes to hide the injury.

“Am I restricted from whatever passes for medical care in this place?” they ask, voice deadly sharp.

“Wh— Of course not,” she insists. “I keep telling you, it’s not like that. Not for me anyway. The only reason I volunteered to be the one watching you in the first place was—” She cuts herself off, looking away.

“Was what?”

She didn’t (still doesn’t) want something like that to happen again. Iruma kicking them, Momota getting in a good punch. No matter what Shinguuji did, that kind of thing isn’t warranted. Not if they have any desire to keep the moral high ground. She doesn’t say that though, reticent to admit to anything that could be interpreted as fondness for them.

“No one’s stopping you from taking care of it,” she mutters instead. “Do you want ice?”

“You aren’t afraid I might find a way to escape while you’re gone?” They bat their eyelashes in mocking innocence, seemingly exchanging the spitefulness for that. Ever since the trial, their behavior is far more unpredictable than before. Whether they are unable or simply unwilling to rein themselves in again, it’s hard for her to say.

“You know what’ll happen if you do.” She doesn’t take pleasure in threatening them, but it’s the truth. The rest of their surviving classmates would gladly heap more intense forms of punishment on them if given half a chance, save perhaps Gonta.

“Only if I’m found.”

“You think you’ll be able to hide forever? I doubt it.” She doesn’t realize exactly what she said until they point it out.

“Forever, hm? Does that mean you’ve given up on any hope of us escaping this place?”

“I...I don’t know. That’s not the point.”

“Then would you be so kind as to clarify what the point is, if not that?” Their hand cups their cheek in a familiar gesture, though something about it seems to be done more gingerly than usual. That would make sense. Momota punched them pretty hard.

“The point is you aren’t going to figure out a way to sneak out when I’m not looking. Right?”

The way they slump against their desk slightly is, she figures, the closest to agreement she’s going to get.

She nods despite the lack of response, double checking her pocket for the key before stepping out. Iruma had been the one to modify their door to be lockable from the outside, allowing them to be imprisoned in their own dorm room. As the one on watch, so to speak, Himiko has custody of the key, control over their ability to participate in the miniature society the rest of the academy has become.

She doesn’t like having that much control over them, she realizes. Something about it is tantalizing and sickening all at once.

By the time she gets back with an ice pack, painkillers, and a nighttime snack, Shinguuji has moved from the desk to the bed and no farther. They barely look up when she enters, displaying no desire to pull any tricks like forcing their way through while the door is open. Her stomach twists.

“I brought the ice,” she says uselessly, setting everything down on the edge of the desk before backing away. She doesn’t dare get too close to the bed, like there’s a force field keeping her away.

“More than that, it seems.” Their eyes track her movement, stopping on the plate of food. It isn’t much, just what she could grab in the last moments before the dining hall closed for the night. Hardly anyone had dinner after the trial — no appetite.

“It’s nothing,” she mumbles. “I thought you might be hungry.”

Shinguuji’s hand drifts up in the direction of their face, then pauses.

“Your hospitality is appreciated. However, I think it’s time for you to go get some sleep, yes? Surely our friends,” and she thinks they put a special emphasis on that word just to get under her skin, “don’t expect you to watch over me all night.”

They expect exactly that, actually, but Himiko can tell what they’re trying to say. She can see the way their fingers hover near the edge of their mask. They weren’t executed, but they killed Chabashira all the same. They bragged about all the other girls they killed before, the ones they hope to kill in the future. They included her. There’s no reason to show them mercy.

“You’re right,” she says. “I’m feeling kind of tired.”

“Good night, Yumeno-san.”

---

She volunteers to supervise them again the next day, acquiescing to only a few hours off in the morning before going right back to guard duty in the afternoon. The others assume that her desire to take on this work is to avenge Chabashira. She doesn’t correct them.

A night’s rest has done nothing positive for Shinguuji’s demeanor. If anything, they seem even more unhinged in the daylight, every bit the part of someone who committed murder barely 24 hours ago.

“Hey,” she says as she lets herself in, hoping the lackluster greeting does a little to mitigate the surprise. Maybe she should have knocked first even though they can’t actually let her in.

“Back so soon?” They chuckle. It takes half a second of observing the twisted smile that accompanies it for her to process the fact that their mask is pulled down around their neck. Have they forgotten, or are they newly okay with exposing their face around her so casually?

“Are you disappointed?”

“On the contrary, I’m quite pleased. It’s good to know my cherished classmates haven’t yet decided to just let me rot. I wonder who would be considered the blackened if I starved to death in my room...” Getting up from where they’ve been lounging on their bed, they make their way closer to her, backing her up toward the wall. “Perhaps it would be you, as the last one who locked me in.”

“Wait, nobody gave you breakfast? Or lunch?” She’ll deny it later, but maybe she does feel their hand brushing along her side, slipping into her pocket.

“No, no one came,” they say, almost mournful. Then they back off and twirl the key between their fingers, letting the light glint off the metal just for show. “It’s quite alright. I can get it myself.”

“Wh— No! Give that back!” Himiko closes the distance between them, grabbing for the key, but misses. Shinguuji just raises their hand straight up, lifting the key out of her reach comically easily. She jumps, misses, and then grabs at their arm, trying to wrench it downward.

She’s terribly weak. They resist easily, moving in the direction of the door all the while.

“Mm, I don’t believe I will. Maybe next time you’ll be more careful.”

“You can’t just leave,” she insists. “I won’t let you.” She can’t allow it, both for everyone’s safety and for her own reputation. Protecting them in private is one thing. Bungling the one major responsibility she’s been entrusted with would be quite another. Shinguuji won’t be swayed by that argument though, that much is obvious. So she does the next best thing. She tries to tackle them.

Despite being at a major disadvantage in both strength and size, the suddenness of her throwing herself at them (and perhaps the fact that they’ve hardly eaten anything in over a day) is enough to make them stumble, scrambling to regain their balance. With an unceremonious crash, they both go down in a tangle of limbs, toppling the desk chair as well.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” they ask, sounding calmer than she might have expected.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m stopping you from escaping.” Once again, she makes a grab for the key before they can get up. To her surprise, they don’t put up much of a fight, letting her snatch it from their hand. Clenching it tight in her hand for fear they’ll just try to take it back again, she finally has a chance to catch her breath.

“Oh my, I suppose you’ve caught me, haven’t you?” Shinguuji asks languidly, gazing up at her. “But what will you do now with me at your mercy?” She’s close enough to see the smudged mascara under their eyes, like they didn’t bother taking off last night’s makeup before putting on more. Their lipstick is a bit smudged too, right at the corner, but the bruise at their jaw is more dramatically eye-catching. It’s that odd moment of calm that allows her to finally realize how the situation looks.

Shinguuji is sprawled out on the floor, hair in their face and fanned out around them. The bandages are coming loose around the hand she took the key from, and the way they’re looking at her is somehow lazy and dangerous all at once. She’s still half on top of them, straddling them from her ill-advised attempt at a tackle. One hand still clutching the key and the other braced against the floor, she isn’t technically sitting on their lap, but only barely.

As she looks down, she tells herself she’s inspecting the bruise on their face, but really, her gaze is lingering on their lips, reveling in how soft and kissable they look. Even the act of allowing her to look feels so intimate.

It would be so easy to lean in, and she starts to do so, compelled by forces beyond her control. She doesn’t think about their contentious relationship or about the fact that Shinguuji is technically her prisoner. All she thinks about is the crackling tension between them, the way their hand has moved up to rest at her waist, and how wonderful it would feel to kiss them.

Before she can get far though, their voice cuts through the daze.

“You have no answer then?” The question doesn’t make sense to her at first, but with a moment’s thought, she’s able to remember that she didn’t answer them before. They asked what she was going to do now. Despite forgetting to reply verbally, she thinks her actions must have been answer enough. Based on the look they give her, she thinks they agree and merely want to force a response anyway. Just to embarrass her, or for some other reason? She doesn’t know.

“You were never at my mercy,” she says eventually. “I just wanted the key.” She really is sitting on their lap now — when that happened, she isn’t entirely sure. Their faces are still so close too, and yet she can’t bring herself to pull away.

“A compelling answer. I can’t say I agree, but it wouldn’t be half as interesting if I did.” There’s still a slight smile on their face, and the hand against her side makes no attempt to push her off.

They both feel it at the same moment, the entire atmosphere shifting slightly. Himiko nods, unsteadily getting up.

“I’ll make sure someone brings you dinner.”

When she leaves, they’re still on the floor.

---

As she promised, she brings up the issue of Shinguuji’s meals with the rest of the group. It doesn’t matter that a couple of missed meals here and there aren’t enough to kill them — denying them food is inhumane.

Momota is the one to bring them dinner; she watches until he opens the door, just to make sure he really delivers it.

She isn’t assigned another shift with them today, technically, but she drops by late at night anyway, after everyone else should be in their rooms. It’s a moment of weakness, a guilty sort of indulgence. She lets herself in expecting the same sort of behavior as earlier, perhaps with a bit of awkwardness about the intimate moment they shared. She doesn’t expect to see them handcuffed.

“What’s this about?” she asks aloud, brow furrowing in concern. Unless someone else snuck in, this could only have been Momota’s doing. But why?

Shinguuji sneers at her from behind their mask.

“Momota-kun seems to be under the impression that I’m misbehaving. Filling your head with all the wrong ideas and trying to turn you against the rest of the group. How these,” and they lift their hands to indicate the cuffs, “are meant to have anything to do with me talking, I’m unsure, but he never does much critical thinking, does he? I do wonder what you said to him to give that impression though.”

“Huh? I didn’t say anything to him like that.”

“Then are you suggesting he merely came up with the idea on his own?”

“I don’t know! He must have, because I...the only thing I said was that it was wrong of them not to feed you.”

“And there it is. I wasn’t supposed to complain about that, it seems.”

Himiko’s head hurts. All of this is so incomprehensible and unfair. No matter what she does, she ends up disappointing everyone. If Momota really thinks Shinguuji is corrupting her somehow, it’s only a matter of time before no one trusts her, and now Shinguuji themself is upset with her too.

“But you weren’t complaining, I asked you.”

“The others don’t see it that way,” they answer simply. “You must have realized by now that they hardly even see me as human. They will do everything in their power to demonize me, even if it doesn’t make sense. That’s how they preserve their worldview. It’s now impossible for me to have any motivation other than killing. Foolish. If I intended to strike again while trapped here, they haven’t done nearly enough to prevent it. Nobody even bothered to search this room for weapons.” Shinguuji laughs then, turning her blood to ice water. “Even handcuffed like this, I could still kill you if I wanted to.”

Just like that, with no warning at all, they lunge at her. Startled (and yes, maybe a little afraid for just a moment that they really intend to hurt her), a shriek escapes her throat, but it’s only half a second before their hand is covering her mouth, silencing her.

“No, no, none of that,” they croon, pulling their hands away again. “Wouldn’t want anyone else to interfere, would we? I’m still uncertain just how strong the soundproofing is.”

Boneless and shaky from the sudden fright, she can’t help but sag against them, trying to regain her bearings. The fabric of their mask brushes her neck, betraying just how close they really are.

“Right,” she mumbles absently, though none of this makes any sense at all.

“What do you think?” they ask softly. “Shall I try it?”

“Uh, no, I’d rather you didn’t.” Her voice is weak, tremulous. She doesn’t really think they will, and yet...

They laugh again, supporting her body against their own.

“Luckily, I wasn’t planning on it. How about I teach you to pick the lock on these cuffs instead?”

---

Completely (mostly) unintentionally, a routine is established over the next few days. They still tease and taunt — if anything, they’re getting more overt about that — but there’s an intimate, almost seductive undertone to it that wasn’t there before. It isn’t enough to needle her about the others’ behaviors and how unfair they consider their imprisonment to be. They have to fluster her in other ways too as they do it.

One of the most noticeable changes is that they no longer stray away from physical contact. They don’t go out of their way to initiate necessarily, but if she gets too close, they jump on the opportunity without hesitation.

“Why is it exactly that you like coming here so much?” they ask her, arms coiling around her waist to pull her closer until she tips onto their lap. “And after I’ve made it abundantly clear how easy it would be for me to kill you too.” It would be even easier now than the first time they taunted her about it, since the handcuffs thankfully hadn’t made a reappearance yet.

“Does it matter why?” she replies, not even pretending to struggle against their grip. “I’d think you’d just be happy that I do.”

“Perhaps it’s that you enjoy watching me.” The tone in which they say that makes her blush, even without getting a look at their expression. “You all look down on me for what I do in the name of my mission, but you take pleasure in keeping me locked up in this room, controlling every part of my day. If anything, I would think that would make me the merciful one. I don’t cause my victims to suffer any longer than necessary.”

“Me coming here has nothing to do with liking the fact that you’re locked up,” she argues, trying to ignore how closely they’re cuddling her, uncovered lips brushing against her neck. She already knows she’ll have to be careful when she leaves — Saihara almost saw the lipstick marks the day before. “This isn’t some kind of power fantasy.”

“No?” Shinguuji nuzzles against her, somehow managing to weave aggression into such a sappy, affectionate gesture.

“No. What you did was bad, obviously, but I don’t see what this is supposed to accomplish. If you...if you killed someone again, you’d get caught and executed for sure, so there’s no reason for you to want to hurt anyone. Right?”

“If I agree with you on that, will you be persuaded to let me out?” They kiss her neck again. Now that she knows the reality is even better than her imagination, it’s hard to resist the urge to turn and kiss them properly.

“I can’t. What do you even think would happen? I let you out and then what, everyone else suddenly decides it’s okay?”

“Not okay, exactly, but not worth the bother of apprehending me again. I certainly wouldn’t go quietly.”

She hates it when they sound so reasonable. It makes it so much more difficult not to give in to their cajoling. Cajoling that often turns to something on the verge of outright begging, as they seem to be gearing up for now. As recently as a week ago, Himiko never would have pictured Shinguuji Korekiyo as someone willing to stoop to begging for any reason. Amazing how quickly things could change.

“I think it’s better if I just keep trying to convince everyone to lighten up.” She finally gives in to the kisses. threading her fingers through their silky hair. The bruise on their jaw (as well as the one on their side) is finally beginning to heal, but is still plenty visible for the time being, a reminder of exactly what they’re up against.

“Everything would be far more entertaining if I was free,” they urge softly, drawing back just enough to speak. “We could have much more fun together. We can work on escaping this academy together. That’s what you want, yes?”

“I...” She falters.

“We could make it happen, the two of us. All you have to do is let me out.”

“How do I even know any of this is genuine?” she asks, finally putting voice to one of the things that’s been troubling her most since this began. “I mean, you’ve basically said yourself plenty of times that you’re toying with me. Once there’s nothing you want from me, how do I know you’ll care at all about escaping together or anything else?”

Shinguuji is quiet for a long while. At first she thinks that she hit the nail on the head and they simply can’t deny the truth. But they haven’t made any move to nudge her off their lap, nor anything else that would indicate an end to the intimacy that had gradually become routine. Finally, they speak.

“I suppose there’s no way to know that for certain. That’s part of the beauty of human relationships. No matter what assurances you receive or how much trust you possess, it’s impossible to ever know with complete certainty that someone will not betray you. Sometimes your trust is misplaced, and that ugliness and sorrow is part of what makes life worth experiencing.”

“That’s unexpectedly deep,” she quips, trying to buy time while she considers how she actually feels about all that. “It’s been a while since you’ve gone on one of your anthropology lectures.”

“I didn’t realize you were interested in them. That’s another thing we could do more of if you decide to let me out, my dear?”

She stifles a gasp at the unexpected term of endearment, face reddening when she realizes that shocked reaction is exactly what they were trying to get out of her.

“Ugh, you’re so persistent. It really is a pain.”

They shrug. “I have little else to occupy my time, so continuing to wear down your defenses is a worthwhile effort. At the very least, you could bring me some documents from my research lab to make my time away from you less tedious.”

“I can do that,” she agrees, offering a small smile when she meets their eyes. “And it’s not that I want you to stay stuck in here. I just...need to think about the best way to do things. Because I want to get out of here together too.”

“Perhaps Momota-kun was right all along. Maybe I did corrupt you.”

She laughs, already leaning in for another kiss. “Or maybe you just didn’t realize how interested I already was.”

#danganronpa #himikiyo #himikiyoweek2021 #himiko yumeno #korekiyo shinguji #drv3 #shinguji korekiyo #yumeno himiko

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greaterspawnislands · 3 years

Text

wasteland, baby | Dream SMP fic

Phil goes to Las Nevadas with the intent to find out what happens to Technoblade. Everything after that sort of goes wildly off the plan, but he's not going to complain about this outcome.

link in the notes or the reblogs or whichever!

There is no easy way to get to Las Nevadas, but Phil, frankly, doesn’t give a shit.

He exits the community nether portal on a day that it’s raining, and uses his trident to launch him over the jagged patches of stone and sparse pine forests. The needles look almost sickly at first glance, overgrown with no proper care and trampled by countless paths broken between the trees. Nothing like the fresh forest that now borders the front of Phil’s home, lush evergreens pressing so closely together that it becomes impossible to see through.

Phil can see the snow up ahead, and despite the ache in his back he knows that it’s time to stop his substitution for flying. He lands on a rocky outcropping, crouching on the balls of his feet as he looks out over the city of Las Nevadas, the glitter that only shines to disguise the cruelty and danger within.

A crow settles on his shoulder, cawing gentle reassurance as they tuck the top of their head against Phil’s neck. The tension in Phil’s shoulders loosens ever so slightly, just enough that another crow can land on the same perch of the curve of his shoulders. They bring their trinkets and words of worry, peering down at him from the slight cliff above him and hopping around at his feet below.

Holding his breath, Phil waits for the arrival of another crow, one with feathers that shimmer a deep purple and gold without any light shining on them, one who brings a gentle but firm reassurance that Phil could just about use right now.

But she does not show, and the crows only grow louder in their protests as he stands, flicking his hands to shoo them away. “You’re being too loud,” he admonishes. “I need you lot to be quiet, or at the very least not right on me, as I go in to do this, alright?”

There’s an indignant squawk from one of the crows at his feet, and Phil looks down at them with a sad smile.

“I know,” he says. “I want to know what happened too, but he’s not going to understand you, you’ll be a nuisance at best, alright? So go, get out of here. Go watch from the trees as you do.” He lifts his hands, and they disperse, scattering to the shadows of the trees and fluttering to the top of the neon sign that marks the entrance to this snowed-in desert.

Phil slides down the angled cliffside, stones skittering around him and settling once he stands, brushing off the dust from the dark haori that covers his netherite armor and green robe underneath. Coarse dirt and stone change to sand and freezing snow underneath his feet, and Phil feels his face awash in neon as he stands at the top of the steps, tilting his head to look down upon the shining city, the bubbling fountains, and the various monuments reconstructed in a fallacy of wide travels.

Movement catches his eye, and Phil’s head snaps to the right, where Quackity is exiting the large needle-like building. His scarred face is frozen in shock for a moment before it smooths out to a calculated mask, a wide smile pasting over it as he pauses at the bottom of the steps, beckoning Phil with wide open arms.

“Philza, Phil! So good to see you here,” the casino owner calls. Phil looks back at him, and feels nothing but contempt and sickening fury.

Phil grits his teeth in a weak approximation of a grin. “Hey, Quackity!” Though his face does its best to look welcoming, the sharp edge to his tone cannot be hidden so easily.

Quackity’s expression falters for a half a second before he returns to this game they’ve both fallen into playing, one of hidden intentions and false emotions. “So, come here to finally check out the casino? You’re like, the one person here I’m not going to even try to check the age of, so, strip club, casino, checking in at the hotel, all yours if you’ve got the cash for it!” He’s rambling, and there’s already a light sheen of sweat across his brow as he continues to talk.

“I’m not here to play games, Quackity.” Phil’s expression drops, eyes narrowing in a sharp glare that does not feel unlike the beady eyes of his own crows, looking out from their places afar. “What did you do with Techno?”

Nervous laughter bubbles up from Quackity’s throat, but there’s an edge to it. “What’re you… what’re you talking about, Phil, did something happen?”

Phil’s hand drifts to the hilt of his sword where it rests at his side. “I don’t know what happened, exactly, but I know damn well that you had something to do with it.” He plows forward, speaking over Quackity’s attempt to speak. “You told Techno to visit the prison, and he hasn’t come back. I know you had something to do with this, Quackity.”

Quackity’s laugh is harsh and grating. “I’ve done nothing you can prove.”

“Oh, you’ll give me proof, one way or another,” Phil threatens, quiet but firm. He has very little patience left within him. He is a string about to snap, a man untethered with nothing left to hold him down.

Yet still, Quackity barely looks unnerved. “Torture? Never took that to be your style, old man.”

“Yeah?” Phil chuckles dryly. “Why don’t you fuck around and find out?”

Holding out one hand, Quackity’s fingers snap, crisp and clear. “I’ve got something else in mind,” he says in response, and Phil feels a presence step out behind him.

(find the rest of the fic in the notes!)

#dream smp #dream smp fanfiction #philza fanfiction #c!philza #c!quackity #c!purpled #c!kristin #philza kristin #dsmp #hhh.writing #my writing

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thephantomofthe-internet · 5 years

Text

Not Your Type

Steve Harrington x Reader

Read part 2 HERE

Word Count: 6,669

Warnings: Swearing, Smoking, Drinking, Sexual Assault mention

Tag List: @carolimedanvers @moonstruckhargrove @denimjacketkisses @hotstuffhargrove @thechickvic @alex--awesome--22 @hipsmcgee @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @so-not-hotmess @balladblood @ashescilev

“You’re not her type, Steve.”

“You can’t say that till she meets me.”

The two had been arguing for days on the subject, without a clear answer in sight. Robin had promised, after weeks of watching Steve fail at getting girls, first at Scoops Ahoy and now at Family Video, to introduce him to a girl. Not just any girl, a girl like her. Steve had finally admitted that Dustin was right and he needed to go after girls who could make him genuinely happy, not just a girl who fit his popular mindset. He had tried his luck with Robin, and easily accepted the loss due to her own sexuality, and now he was set to try again. And Robin had been hyping up this friend of hers for weeks. She was cool and funny and smart like her and she was straight. That was all he was looking for. Whoever she was, she sounded perfect.

But Robin was holding out on him.

His turned halfway to look at her, leaning his elbows on the counter to watch her shelf VHS tapes of music videos by the checkout line. She kept her back to him, rolling her eyes at his last comment. He was so pig headed most of the time, it was honestly annoying.

“Robin, you made this big deal about her, you said she was perfect, that I’d want to marry her on sight, and now you’re holding out. You gonna tell me what the deal is or not?” he asked with a brutal sigh.

Robin didn’t turn around “Look, I might have...overhyped her a bit...like she’s amazing but she might...not be interested.” she said, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, turning to look at him with an embarrassed grimace.

“What?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Look...she likes Billy Idol types. She probably would’ve gotten along with Billy Hargrove if...well, you know.” Robin said, trailing off at the end. Both nodded softly, Robin swallowing as if her throat was dry. Maybe it was, the memory was certainly hard to swallow and even harder to forget.

“Right...so?”

Robin scoffed “You’re too squeaky clean for her.”

Steve slapped his hand on the counter, his hair bouncing excitedly with the quick movement “Oh come on! Do you remember me? I’m Steve ‘Hair’ Harrington! I was the coolest guy at Hawkins High.” he puffed up his chest proudly, like a peacock.

“And the most modest.” Robin stood up, dusting off her knees from grim from the carpets sticking to her bare skin. The only perk of working at Family Video was the lax dress code. The store’s air conditioning had broken in June and had turned the place into an oven with its big windows that couldn’t be shaded to hide the marquees and cardboard cutouts in the windows. Keeping the front door open and wearing as little as possible helped.

“But seriously, Steve, I don’t want you to get your hopes up about her. She might not be interested.” Robin replied, planting her hands on her hips.

“I got it, now when can I meet her?” Steve asked.

Luckily for him, you were already on your way.

You had no idea why Robin had been so insistent on you visiting her at work. She never had been before, she’d made you promise not to visit her at Scoops, which was strange since you only worked a floor above at Claire’s, piercing children’s ears with ugly silver butterflies and flowers, only for them to buy big plastic hoops and balls to shove into the unprepared holes and get them totally infected. It was fun, you got to use a piercing gun. You’d almost gotten fired for trying to pierce your nose with the gun. You were glad that you didn’t, it would’ve totally ruined your nostril, but you wouldn’t pretend that it wasn’t totally worth it to see the look on your fat manager, Marge’s face. She was such a bitch, you were glad when that damn mall burned down. The one in Carmel was better anyway.

When Robin insisted on you coming to Family Video to meet her for her lunch break, you weren’t insanely apprehensive about it. It wasn’t until her tone changed when she mentioned meeting her coworker and friend that you started getting that sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach. She was trying to set you up with someone. Again. She always did this when she wanted something. Last time she did it, it was with that awful Keith to try to get him to give her his poster from The Godfather, which he’d nicked from the back storage at The Hawke while it was still open. Whatever she wanted, you weren’t going to be used to get it.

Still, you showed up. You promised that you would after all, and you were a person of your word. Parking your car in front of the store, you saw the almost empty parking lot and the wide open door signaling the open store. You sighed softly to yourself, grabbing your purse off the seat next to you and stringing it over your shoulder, popping the door and climbing out.

“Robin? You here?” you called as you walked in.” the store was empty and far too quiet for your liking.

“Welcome to Family Video, where we bring movie magic to you! Can I help you with anything today?” Steve asked from the counter, startling you. You practically jumped out of your skin, your hand coming to clutch at your heart as you whipped around to meet the soft expression of Steve Harrington. He looked slightly bemused, clearly trying to not laugh at your over the top reaction. You rolled your eyes, walking up to the desk.

“Is Robin here? Robin Walker.” you asked, looking him over with a calculating eye.

“Yeah, she’s just in the back, wait here.” Steve stepped out from behind the desk, pulling at his stiff, polyester golf shirt. The shirt was so white and blindingly bright that it hurt to look at, but the large black logo for the store broke it up enough to make it easier to watch Steve leave as it was to watch him walk away.

Steve didn’t even make it all the way to the stockroom before Robin emerged, already changed out of her uniform and was grinning like an idiot. “Hey! You made it just in time!” she said, tossing you her purse and sweater. You caught them easily, relieved to see your friend and get out of there.

“Steve, this is my friend Y/N. Y/N, you know Steve, right?” Robin said, gesturing between them with her now free hands.

“What up, Harrington?” you asked boredly, crossing your arms over your chest.

Robin gritted her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut and pulling her lips into a straight line. This is exactly what she thought would happen. Every time she’d introduced you to someone, no matter how genuine she was being, you turned into a brick fortress, completely impenetrable. Gone was your bubbly, snarky personality and quick wit, replaced by sneers and eye rolls and sarcasm. You weren’t nice or warm or open when you met the boys Robin decided you’d like. You weren’t yourself.

This wasn’t you. Robin knew it, she was certain that deep down you knew it. But Steve didn’t know it. Robin was certain that he had no idea who you were. And that made it worse. He had no background to you other than her own descriptions. And that wasn’t enough. This was not going to end well.

“You ready to grab food?” you asked, drawing Robin out of her mind.

“Huh? Oh yeah definitely. Burger in a Basket cool?” she replied, her eyes darting strangely between the pair of you.

“Sure, I’m not vegetarian this month. Accidently ate a fish stick last weekend while babysitting Todd Carther again. Total shit head but his parents pay me so much money to do it.” you replied, handing Robin’s things back to her.

“Hasn’t he scared you off yet?” Robin asked, tying her grey sweatshirt around her hips.

“Nope, almost got me by dumping a whole jar of electric blue paint on my head. But the stuff is non-toxic so it didn’t mess up my eyes or skin and it let me know that dying my whole head blue isn’t going to be a good look for me.” you replied with a giggle, flashing a strand of faded blue hair to her. “The stupid paint did dye some of the bleach though, which totally sucks.”

“You babysit Todd Carther?” Steve asked, drawing your attention back to him and indented a hard frown onto your face. Robin caught the look and wrapped an arm tightly around your shoulders, squeezing them too hard.

“Oh yeah, Y/N is utterly fearless.” Robin announced with a grin.

“I know his older brother Matt; wicked dude, total party animal. He threw the best parties at the end of the basketball season. Totally rad…” he trailed off with a doofy grin, clearly imagining the fun times he’d had at some shitty house party.

“I know Matt too. He groped Sylvia Newman in the middle of freshman English for a stripe of Fruit Stripe gum. He assaulted her and didn’t even get detention for it.” you replied stonily, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Oh… bummer.” Steve tried. You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “No, I’m serious. I didn’t know about that, that’s really fucked up. I don’t hang out with him anymore, but if I did I’d stop.”Steve said more confidently this time, running a hand through his overstyled hair.

That...wasn’t the answer you were expecting. It knocked you out of your senses and you took a moment to respond. “Yeah...well I take money from his parents so I mean nobody’s perfect. And that whole family’s fucked up anyway.” Steve smiled slightly and you tried not to notice it. He just looked so proud of himself. It was almost endearing. But not enough to make you want to care.

“So, anyway, Steve? You go on break yet?” Robin asked.

Steve furrowed his brow, looking at Robin as though she’d grown a third head. Robin nodded her head towards you strangely and suddenly Steve blurted “That’s the girl? Really?”

You whipped around to look at Robin, utterly appalled. You had a sinking feeling that the whole reason you’d been invited out today was to be introduced to some guy, but you had no idea it would be so quick and for the guy to be Steve motherfucking Harrington. You couldn’t believe it. I mean he was the dumbest, more generic guy at Hawkins High. You swore he’d won the metal for stupidest questions in your Home Economics class in freshman year. He was just…such a dork! How he’d gotten so popular, you had no idea. Maybe this town was such so void of charm and charisma that even the most empty, callus boy could become a god with a wink and a smile.

“What does he mean that’s the girl?” you asked, your face pulling into a look of sheer anger that could stop a man in his tracks.

“Oh great work, Harrington, now you’ve done it.” Robin sighed, pulling her purse across her chest, smacking his arm roughly.

“Robin, what does he mean? What did you do?” you snapped, forcing her to look at you. Her face pulled into a look that you knew too well. Regret, embarrassment, and just a little bit of fear.

“I might have promised Steve that I’d introduce you to him.” You groaned loudly, your head falling back to look at the white tiled ceiling. Robin pressed on, her face turning into a look of sympathy, her smile made of rubber. “Because you’re so great! He doesn’t have many friends his own age anymore and I just thought-”

“Oh I know what you thought.” You bit out.

“Well, are you coming or not?” Robin turned to Steve, completely ignoring you.

Steve’s face turned sour and surprised and he looked between the two of you and then to the clock above you. “I mean…I kind of have some stuff to finish up here and I should really wait until Keith gets here before I go on my break…don’t want Mr. Mueller mad at me again.” He scratched the back of his neck, shrugging awkwardly.

Robin clicked her tongue “Since when do you care?” Steve simply shrugged again. “Y/N, can you wait for me outside?”

You nodded, turning on your heel and heading out just far enough to be out of sight. You wanted to hear whatever they had to say.

“Dude what the fuck? You wanted this!” Robin whispered violently.

“Yeah but I didn’t want her!” Steve replied. You didn’t see the smack, but you sure heard the sound of skin hitting skin and the embarrassing yelp Steve let out.

“Yeah well, you’re going to come with us and you’re going to be nice. Because I did this for you. And now you have to accept it.” Steve didn’t respond, which must have been a good sign for Robin.

“Remind me to never do anything nice for you ever again…” Robin muttered as their footsteps charged closer to you and you scurried out the open door, choosing to lean against the burning hot glass, crossing your arms over your chest and knocking the sunglasses from the top of your head to your face again.

“You ready to head out?” You asked, standing up straight, smiling at Robin.

“Yeah, just waiting for Harrington to put the sign.” Behind her, Steve was hanging the tiny clock shaped sign on the door, trying to figure out what time it would be when they got back.

“Just put four fifteen, Steve, Keith will be back by then and your shift will be over like immediately anyway. You clocked out, right?” Robin said quickly, turning to you to add “Keith is a menace; he doesn’t like to work with anyone and kicks everyone off the floor whenever he can.” You nodded boredly, you’d heard this when she worked with him at the arcade; she quit whereas he got fired, it was a point of bragging for her.

“Yes, Robin. I did what you said. I don’t like this idea, I need this job more than you do.” He muttered bitterly. You raised an eyebrow curiously. Bitter looked decent on him.

“Oh, will you relax? Let your hair down a bit, dingus.” Robin grinned, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. The three of you headed down the street to the cheesy diner Burger in a Basket. The whole place was themed after a fifties diner, complete with neon and pastel colours and fifties nostalgia on the walls. Bikes, hoola hoops, records, pictures of dead icons like Elvis and Marilyn Monroe, movie posters-the whole shebang. You didn’t go there for atmosphere, no, you went for the food. Robin insisted that it was the best burger she’d ever had and you’d be hard pressed to find one better in Hawkins. You didn’t know if Steve had been initiated into the burger ritual yet, but you didn’t really care.

Entering the teal and pink dining room, you nodded to the poor young thing in the giant black beehive wig and roller skates, you and Robin heading towards your normal booth. Steve followed behind, wide eyed and a little bit horror struck. You slid into the booth and grabbed the menus out of the rack at the table, handing them out wordlessly. Robin pushed Steve towards your side of the booth and he begrudgingly slid in, much to your dismay.

“You dragged me out of work…to go to a cheesy themed diner?” Steve asked incredulously.

“Just wait till you try it, Steve, it’ll change your life.” Robin said with a grin, flipping open the menu. You knew that she always ordered something different each time you came. You always ordered the same thing so you didn’t bother to open yours. Steve cautiously followed Robin’s example, flipping around with a wide eyed, innocent expression.

“Alright, welcome to Burger in a Basket, I’m Sylvia, how are you guys doing today?” the voice above you asked. You grinned as you saw Sylvia standing there in the stupid uniform. It was a comfort to know that her life was a little worse than yours. After all, she was such a bitch to you most of the time. That Matt Carther thing gave her plenty of room to get away with being a complete bitch, and it gave you something to use as a tester with guys in town. If they didn’t know who she was or they laughed, then they weren’t worth your time. Sure, you felt bad for her, but she treated you like dog shit for a year before dumping your ass to hang out with Macy Clarke and Nancy Wheeler.

“Hey Sylvia, we’re doing alright.” You said with a slight smirk, resting your head on your palms. Sylvia cringed slightly, but her eyes landed on Steve’s and her whole expression changed.

“Hey, Steve…” she murmured, pulling her lip into her teeth, grinning slightly.

“Hey, Sylvia, how’s it going?” he replied. Of course he’d go for her, you thought to yourself, she’s exactly his type. Just dumb enough to be cute but just pretty enough to hold your attention, with the slightest stink of desperation. You wanted so desperately to roll your eyes, but Robin was watching you with the knowing look, so you maintained your composure.

“I’m good! Can I get you a drink? Or are you ready to order? Do you need a minute?” you wanted to laugh; this was the best service you’d ever gotten at the restaurant. And it was all thanks to Steve.

“I mean…are you guys ready? I think I’ve got it figured out.” Steve said, gesturing to Robin with a nervous expression.

“Yeah, I’ll get the Fourth of July burger with mushrooms and can I get no mustard? Oh, and a diet coke.” Robin said, smiling confidently at Sylvia, who took down the order boredly.

“Sure, and for you, Steve?” she asked sweetly, fluttering her lashes.

“Um…I need a second more, Y/N can you order?” he muttered, leaning over to you. You nodded, surprised that him being closer to you didn’t upset you. It was almost…nice.

“Yeah sure…I’ll get the double hula burger with extra cheese, no pickles, no ketchup, and a triple thick chocolate shake.” You rattled off quickly, enjoying watching her struggle to get everything down.

“Alright, you ready, Stevie?” Sylvia asked and you noted the distinctive blush forming on his cheeks. Sylvia seemed too proud of her work and you wanted to wipe that look off her face. Pride was a bad look for her.

“Can I just get classic burger with mayo and extra tomato? And a coke?” he asked awkwardly, still clearly very unsure of himself.

Sylvia nodded “Perfect! I’ll be back with your drinks in a moment.” She said, turning and skating off, waving coyly to Steve as she headed back into the kitchen. You and Robin snickered, Robin rolling her eyes as soon as Sylvia disappeared.

“Oh my god we should have been bringing you since day one, they never give us that much attention!” you cried with a loud laugh.

“Dude, she wants you so bad oh my god!” Robin added, reaching out to slap his shoulder. Steve lowered his head, shaking his head.

“I totally remember her now…she had a thing for me in junior year, covered my locker in paper hearts. I wasn’t supposed to find out but I did. It was very uncool.” He muttered, shaking his head. You remembered that too, how she’d planned it for weeks, forcing you to help cut out pink, purple, and red hearts. You thought the whole thing was so cringy and weird, but she was dead set that he’d be intrigued by the mystery and sweetness of the action. She thought it was so cute. Barbra Holland unintentionally started the rumor that it was her, but you wished it was you to tell the world. Watching her slink home was worth the afternoons in the library with her calling you stupid for not cutting the heart out perfectly.

“She was just trying to put her feelings out there!” Robin replied incredulously.

“No, Rob, she was being weird. She could’ve shoved a note in his locker, send him a candy gram and Valentine, they do that every year for lacrosse team. She did something unnecessary and creepy to get attention. You’re just a hopeless romantic.” You grinned, reaching out to touch the bright red heart drawn in permanent marker on her wrist. You knew she had a thing for Jennifer Buffet, who worked at the now defunct Starcourt movie theatre. She always drew that little heart on everything whenever she had a crush, it was like she was trying to get caught, you didn’t get that; you always wanted to hide your crushes until the other person showed any interest in you. You wouldn’t usually agree or defend Steve Harrington, but he was right for once. You didn’t mind agreeing if he was correct for once.

“I am not!” Robin cried, crossing her arms over her chest.

You leaned in to whisper to her “Tell that to Tammy Turner.” Robin turned bright red and she leaned back into the vinyl seat, looking away from you.

“Oh was it bad?” Steve asked with a wide, doofy grin. You were surprised to know that he knew about Tammy, but you didn’t question it. Asking questions could reveal something that Robin didn’t want known. You were used to being careful with her.

“Ohhhh yeah, it was a rough year with her pine after that muppet.” Watching Robin pine after Tammy Turner was so embarrassing, since the girl was so straight. I mean the Steve thing was one thing, but the girl dated Tommy H for two weeks between his forty-second break-up with Carol. That’s the epitome of straight bullshit: finding Tommy H’ s awful, crass, and downright sexist attitude and sense of humor attractive and desirable. How Robin didn’t see that was beyond you.

“That’s what I said! She sounds like a damn muppet! Like Kermit the frog or something!” Steve cried, smacking the vinyl and turning to look at you fully. When he wasn’t trying so hard, he was actually pretty cute. His eyes blew wide and his smile reached its fullest capacity, straining to not split his face in half.

“I thought more Ms. Piggy, like when she sang with Elton John. She always like pinching up her mouth at the end of her words, she looks like a wrinkly old apple.” You said, giggling slightly. “Don’t go breaking my heart…” you imitated, pursing and squeezing your lips together, making a tiny ‘O’ with your lips. Steve’s eyes grew impossibly wider and he laughed far too loudly, his head tossing back. You turned to Robin, who was blushing crimson, fully turned away from the scene you were making. Sylvia skated over with your food and drinks, smiling far too much. She placed each order in front of you, angling herself so her chest landed in Steve’s face when she handed his order over to him. He didn’t seem to notice, he was too busy laughing.

“What’re you guys talking about?” she asked, tossing your order in front of you.

“That time you made Steve’s locker look like the Valentine’s Day massacre.” You grinned back spitefully.

Sylvia paled significantly and she reached up to adjust her wig, looking away. “That…that wasn’t me…” she replied softly.

“Yeah…yeah it was…” Steve said between breathes, wiping tears away from his eyes. Sylvia opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. She turned away quickly, skating out fast. You laughed hard when she ran off, hunching over in your seat.

“That was so mean!” Robin cried, looking between the pair of you with a stern look.

“She…she deserved it! After everything I dealt with from her, I get to have one!” you replied, shrugging softly as you recovered. Steve offered you a high five, which you took happily. You never thought in your life that you’d be laughing with Steve Harrington. Today was a weird day.

“Eat, both of you.” Robin snapped and you complied equally happily. You loved this place-everything was fresh and made to order. Sure, it was greasy and unhealthy, but you deserved a bit of comfort food once and awhile. Steve took his first bite and let out a very loud moan. You giggled, it was so stupid. And a little cute, you wouldn’t pretend that it wasn’t. And maybe a little hot. But you wouldn’t admit that.

“This is so good!” he said, muffled by his mouthful of food.

“It’s even better when you’re high.” You whispered, nudging his arm. Steve nodded in approval, clearly into the idea.

The three of you ate in silence, wolfing down your burgers without much of a hum save for the sounds of ice clinking in glasses and small slurps from straws. Burger in a Basket still had glass bottle of coke, the rumor was that they filled them up with every drink and washed them after, since they didn’t really make glass bottles of soda for retail sale anymore.

With only their fries left, the group returned to each other’s attention. To your surprise, Steve spoke first.

“Can I be like honest here?” he said, turning to face you once again. You nodded shortly, shoving a fry into your mouth. “I have like, no idea who you are. I really don’t.” you raised an eyebrow at him, unsure of how you were supposed to react to that news. You swallowed your mouthful, nodding to yourself.

“Yeah, I figured as much.” You replied “I remember you though.”

“Oh yeah, what for?” Steve leaned back in the booth, putting his arms over the seat. He looked to be ready to take in praise.

“I remember how shit you were on the basketball team. How shit that whole team was.” You replied with a chuckle, watching Steve deflate immediately.

“I was, like, the best player on the team!” he replied indignantly.

“That’s not saying much.” That line made Robin laugh and Steve curl further into himself.

“You really should’ve joined the track and field team. You were much better at that anyway.” You added softly.

“On what planet? I’ve never even done track and field.” Steve cracked bitterly.

“Yes you have, we all had to do it in middle school.” You said. Both Robin and Steve looked at you like you were crazy, so without any remaining shame, you pressed on.

“At the end of the year, every year of middle school, we had the grade-wide track and field meet. We all trained on basic stuff-long jump, cross country, shot put for the older kids, and high jump. Then, each grade would compete and the best of those kids would go onto the main competition. We all got a day off to watch and there were free freezies. It was one of the best days of the year.” You explained.

“Yeah, so what? I never competed.” Steve replied, watching you closely.

“Yes, you did.” Steve raised an eyebrow at you. You rolled your eyes and continued.

“You were in eighth grade and I was in seventh. You had won the long jump in your grade level because Jude Armstrong broke his ankle and I had won the high jump. So we both competed. I remember three things about that day: one; that I won the high jump against all the older kids and Tina tried to push me into the mud after I got my medal; that you and Tommy snuck off to smoke cigarettes during the high jump. You both pretended that you’d done it before, and maybe you had, but Tommy was coughing so hard even after that it was so obvious that he’d never even touch a cigarette before. And three, that that was the year we were all forced to run the cross country race. Nobody had wanted to compete in the race, so they forced us to do it to set an example. I didn’t want to run it, I’m not a distance runner, but you were so confident. You didn’t look nervous at all. And when the whistle blew and everyone bolted, you held back. You came in third in the cross country race and second at long jump, against the odds on both. It was the coolest thing I’d ever seen.”

Steve nodded. You looked so pretty when you explained the memory, your whole face lit up and your smiled so softly. You looked angelic, it was truly a sight. But the memory itself turned his stomach.

“I remember that…” he muttered “What I remember about that day was my dad telling me that no other place matter except first and that I was absolute shit.”

You felt so bad, bringing it up at all. He looked so sad now, you regretting even commenting on it. “Oh…I’m sorry…” you said softly. Steve shrugged as if it meant nothing, as if he felt nothing. “God, what a dick and you were good too!” you cried.

“Nah, I kind of sucked.” Steve replied, pushing away the compliment with his hands.

“No seriously! We could have used you on the team, Jude Armstrong sucked ass after like freshman year! You showed real aptitude. And you’re built for it, strong legs and a good core. Let guys like Chuck Bronson stomp around the court, you should’ve came and competed with us, you would’ve won something.” You joked, kicking his shoe with your own.

Steve huffed “We got into the county semi-finals last year…”

“Yeah? We won country finals and got fifth in state. Half my team got into state colleges on scholarship based on that alone.” You replied haughtily.

“You gonna get one?” he asked.

“I might, I got a scout watching me. Don’t know if I’m gonna take it.”

“Oh yeah, why not?”

You grinned proudly “I’m hoping to follow in Emma Lancaster’s footsteps.”

“What she do?” Robin rolled her eyes at that comment.

“She got a full ride to NYU for fashion design.”

“You sew?”

You rolled your eyes “I’m the head of the costume department for the drama club.”

“It’s how we met.” Robin added proudly.

“Emma Lancaster founded and headed up the fashion club at Hawkins High and ran the sewing club. She wants to work for designer labels and head up her own one day. I just want to make costumes for plays. I’d work anywhere that paid and go to any school that offered money.” You explained.

“That’s cool, I hope you get it.” Steve said and you noted the slightest hint of sadness in his tone.

“How’s your planning going, Steve, got any ideas yet?” Robin asked, clearly catching onto the tone Steve had in his voice.

“Well…” he looked a little embarrassed as he spoke, but did so anyway “I was thinking about applying to the police academy in Carmel…it’s not a clear shot, but I’d like it more than working for my dad.”

“My uncle works there, I can put in a good word with him if you want.” Robin said cheerily.

“That would be cool. I just don’t know if I’d be any good.” Steve muttered to himself.

“I’d think you’d be pretty good, I mean you’ve got strong morals.” You turned to Robin “Remember when he broke freak Byers camera? He deserved that fucking shit.” Robin nodded in agreement.

“I mean yeah, Steve, you care about people. Like you take care of Dustin like he’s your brother. It takes guts to be genuine and unafraid about hanging out with literal children.” Robin added.

“You hang out with Dustin Henderson?” you asked curiously.

“You know Dustin?” Steve asked, equally confused.

“Yeah, my sister Stacy made fun of him for like a week last year after the snow ball for asking her to dance. I wanted to smack the shit out of her for it, it takes guts to ask somebody out, especially at that age.” You explained, slamming your tall milkshake glass on the table, having just slurped up the last drops of chocolate milk and whipped cream.

“Yeah well he’s got a girlfriend now named Suzie.” Robin said. Steve’s attention had turned to the window and you heard a small gasp.

“Shit, Keith’s here, I gotta run.” He pulled out his wallet and slapped a twenty dollar bill on the table before sliding out of the booth.

“Don’t get in shit, dingus!” Robin called after him.

He spun around quickly, jogging backwards “If you get me fired, I’ll kill you.” He looked you over slowly, a lopsided grin pulling at the corner of his mouth “I’ll see you around, Y/N?”

“Yeah, sure.” You smiled. Steve nodded happily and his back slammed into the poor dish boy, stumbling slightly before scampering off.

As soon as he was gone, Robin turned to you with a devilish grin “He likes you.” She giggled, reaching out to poke your shoulder.

“Good for him.” You replied, trying to seem confident and uncaring about the whole situation. Internally, you were utterly rocked. He’d gotten to you. You’d drunk the Steve Harrington kool-aid. He was deeper, more genuine, honest, and cooler than you’d ever expected him to be. You were utterly intrigued and now you had to know more. But you weren’t going to admit it now, not when Robin was being so cocky about it.

“I think you like him toooo!” she said in a sing-song tone.

You scoffed “No, not really.”

Robin saw right through you. But there was no sense in arguing when you were like this. You had too much pride to admit it now, especially with Sylvia floating around, looking for any excuse to rip the rug out from under you. But she had an idea.

“So, listen, I’m not working tomorrow and we haven’t hung out in forever. Wanna have a sleepover tonight?” Robin asked, pulling out cash from her wallet to cover herself and you, since she owed you money from the last time you’d gone out to eat.

“Sure, I’m not babysitting the brat tomorrow.”

“Great! You want to rent a movie or something? I get a discount at Family Video.”

You knew what she was doing, but you went along with it. No sense in calling her out now when she had a plan, it wouldn’t stop her anyway.

“Eh, whatever. I’m good either way.” You replied breezily.

“I wanna rewatch Carrie so let’s head over. Maybe grabbed some snacks too, I want some sour belts.” Robin said, climbing out of the booth and grabbing your hand, pulling you out. You didn’t really like horror movies and you really hated sour belts, they weren’t even sour, so you knew Robin was milking your ambivalence for all it was worth. What she didn’t know is that you actually kind of liked Carrie and you had a new dress that needed fitting and Robin would be the perfect model for it. Karma was a bitch.

Robin dragged you all the way to Family Video and inside, grinning at Keith and watching him blush as you passed by. He’d told you that he loved you the first and only time you hung out. You never called him back and Robin had to explain to him that saying I love you on a date that wasn’t even a date is the wrong move. Now, he wouldn’t even speak to you, which you didn’t mind.

“Y/N! Go gather as many packs of sour belts as you can get your hands on! I’m gonna find Carrie in the back!” Robin instructed.

“Get something fun too! Like the Princess Bride or something! Something I’ll actually watch!” you called after her. Robin flashed you a thumbs up and you sighed, turning on your heel and heading to the checkout line, grabbing lime green packs of rainbow striped, sugar coated candies off the rack and clutching them to your chest.

Robin found Steve in the back and, with very little pushing, sent him out onto the floor to talk to you. It only took two tries from him to get the courage to go and talk to you.

And again, he scared the shit out of you. He tapped you on the shoulder and you jumped a foot in the air, dropping all the sugary treats.

“Shit sorry!” Steve cried, dropping to his knees to clean up the mess.

“It’s okay!” you replied quickly, following suit. He shouldn’t have to clean up your mess after all. Your hands both rushed to grab the packages and when they brushed one another over the last packet, you couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t nice. The briefest chance of touch set your heart aflutter. You felt like you were ten years old again. He handed the packages over quickly, standing up just as fast. He offered you a hand up, which you took, if only to hold his hand for the briefest of moments. God, who even were you? You pulled it away fast.

“So…what’s with all the sour strips?” he asked, looking over the armful of candy you had.

“They’re Robin’s favourite. She told me to grab a shit ton, so I did. She’s grabbing the movies for tonight.” You explained.

“What movies?”

“Robin wants to watch Carrie. I’m hoping she gets something fun too, like Fast Times at Ridgemount High or The Princess Bride. Something funny.” You replied. You’d never smiled so much in a day, your face was starting to hurt but with Steve you couldn’t help it!

“Oh yeah? Having a sleepover or something?” that cocky Steve Harrington attitude was coming out, but it wasn’t making you as nauseous as it usually would, which was very odd.

“Yeah kind of. Which means Robin’s gonna wanna watch horror movies, eat so many of these until she pukes, and sneak malt whiskey from her father’s liquor cabinet.” You said, not hiding the slight disdain in your voice.

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna hem the dress I made for the Roenke County theatre’s production of Romeo and Juliet, sip vodka from my flask, and take away the sour belts when Robin gets sick.”

“Sounds fun?” Steve questioned.

“It probably won’t be,” you chuckled “But it’s not the worst way to spend a night.”

“How’d you think an evening with me would chalk up? In comparison I mean.” Steve asked, his hand coming to the top of the low black shelf to lean into you.

“Well I guess it would depend, what’s your plan?” you asked with a grin.

“Whatever you want.” He murmured softly, smirking far too confidently. You didn’t mind though, you knew what was underneath it all.

“Well, I’d have to think about it…how about you call me sometimes and we’ll talk about it.” You replied slowly, looking him up and down.

“Anytime, you got a pen?” Steve said. You nodded, pulling one out of your purse and grabbing his arm. You scribbled out your number on his palm, trying to make it as legible as possible and ignore how big and warm his hands were.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, that cool?” he said as you watched Robin saunter up too confidently, too proud of herself and of what she’d done.

“Sounds good.” You smiled, ignoring Robin’s cocky leer. “You ready to pay for this shit?” you asked as she walked up, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Gimme the belts, I got this.” Robin said, eyeing up Keith like she was going to beat him up. Maybe she was. “Wait in the car, okay? I didn’t bring mine, so you’re driving me home.”

You nodded “Got it.” You turned to Steve, smiling softly “I’ll see you around, Harrington.”

“Definitely.”

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