#Odds are if you do I'm probably just gonna fuck off and not like ask for anything from anyone for a longass time again

[shroomanddoom]

I can be normal about Random Crits in TF2.

[himbosandhardwear]

Steddie I Soulmate AU I 2k I Rated Mature I idiot4idiot

The thing about linking with your soulmate, you never knew when it was going to happen. There were horror stories about it happening during weddings to someone else or while performing heart surgery or landing a plane, but linking was so rare, stories like that seemed more like fairy tales than cautionary ones.

If anyone had asked Eddie what he thought about it, he would've said the odds of there being some guy out there destined to be his mate, let alone that he'd have to worry about linking during some critical moment, were astronomically low.

He'd be wrong.

Because his ears are ringing, his vision has tunnelled, and there's an empty vacuum where his usual chaotic thoughts should be. All signs pointing toward-

Hello?

Jesus H. Christ, not now! Not right now, this cannot be happening now. Quick! Think of something else! Uhhh… Golems! Ice golems! Or maybe frost giants. Yeah! Not having hate sex with your arch nemesis. Shit! Stop thinking about it! Frost giants, frost giants, frost giants!

Hate sex? He hears echo around his noggin next. Arch nemesis?

Fuuuuuck. No, darlin’, don't even worry about that stray thought! Nothing to see here. I'm, uh, baking! Yeah. Brownies. For a charity bake sale

A long pause, empty space between them, before he says, I don't believe you. I think you are having sex

Sex?! He screeches. How dare you! I would never!

You would. Go balls deep into a guy you don't even like, sounds like to me. Class act.

Oh god, there’s gotta be a way to salvage this.

No, let me explain, please!

Knock yourself out

Right. So, this guy, I know him from school, right? And he was always kind of a jerk. The space between them pings with a sort of stung feeling but Eddie doesn't understand how any of this works yet so he ignores it. But we end up having a few mutual friends, and this one really weird event happens that forces us to, like, team up, I guess. After all that I'm spending more time around the guy and he's not so bad. Invited me over to smoke up with him, which was cool. I'm gonna be totally honest, I'm not sure how exactly we got here, the sex part, but it’s pretty hot and heavy, kinda aggressive, so… yeah. Hate sex I guess

Soulmate is quiet again. His feelings bleed through anyway, at least Eddie's pretty sure that's what he's getting. It feels like embarrassment and disappointment.

You okay? Did I scare you off?

You don't like the guy at all? You said arch nemesis

Oh. Uh. Well… How did he explain to his future partner, if he hadn't already ruined it, that he likes him plenty, he's just been holding him at arms length, metaphorically, because he assumed the guy was straight? Up until roughly twenty minutes ago. He should probably start with honesty.

No, I like him okay. He's not as bad as I'd always thought. We give each other shit but I'm pretty sure it's just left over bullshit stereotypes from high school. I bully him about his music taste, he bullies me about my shitty van. That type of thing

…Right

He waits to hear back from his soulmate but he's not very talkative. That's okay, Eddie can talk enough for both of them.

So, what were you up to when we linked? Not driving I hope

He can hear the guy sighing over the link, which is worrying.

You'll never believe it, but I'm also having sex at the moment

Seriously? That's hilarious

Yeah. A hoot

Not having fun?

I was. But I recently found out the guy doesn't like me that much. So, yeah, real mood killer

Oh man. That sucks

Oh my god. Yeah, it really does. Kinda wish he'd get off of me so we can get the awkward part over with but he's distracted at the moment

Doing what?! Eddie yells, offended on his behalf.

“He’s busy not realizing he linked to the guy he was hate fucking.”

Huh?

“Eddie, open your fucking eyes.”

That's Steve talking.

He blinks his eyes open to see Steve looking up at him. He's not pleased.

Wait

“Yeah.”

Oh my god

“As impressive as it is that you managed to stay hard through that whole thing, I'd appreciate it if you-” He hisses as Eddie, rudely he realizes, pulls out without warning.

He scrambles to the end of the bed, bunching up the comforter around his junk. “I'm so sorry, fuck, Steve, I'm so sorry. I don't… I didn't…”

He can't fix this, he starts to slowly comprehend. He's made Steve think he hates him.

“Nah, it's cool. I get it.”

I don't hate you, I swear. You have to believe me

“Sure, Eddie.” He's yanking his briefs back on, angry and trying not to show it. “You just don't like me much.” Can't believe I did this again. So fucking stupid

Eddie's certain he's not meant to hear any of that but he responds anyway.

You're not stupid. Please let me explain

“You already did. And I am fucking stupid,” he snaps. “Here I thought we were flirting this whole time and you thought we were bullying each other. That's real fuckin’ stupid of me. I'd convinced myself you actually-” He snaps his teeth shut but Eddie can still hear the unfinished -liked me. “I really wish you would control your feelings, dude. You're broadcasting your horror straight into my head.”

“I don't know how to stop,” he quietly admits.

“Well if you'd ever shown up to health class you'd know how to control it.”

I never thought I would get a soulmate

Steve's surprise at that pings around his brain before he does what Eddie can't and shuts it down.

“I did. I've been thinking about it for years.”

And you ended up with me… And I ruined it before we even got started. I ruined it. Steve Harrington is my soulmate and I ruined it. What the fuck

“You don't have to say it like I'm some kind of prize.” He steps into his jeans and tugs them back up to his hips, not even bothering to do them up. Which is- “I guess it's nice that you think I'm hot. That's something. Maybe we'll be the first casual hookup soulmates.”

He has to fix this. Somehow. Think, god damnit! Wait! That's it! He just has to show Steve what he's thinking!

“I wish you wouldn't.”

“Too bad!” He snaps back.

Okay, as embarrassing as this is about to be, he has to tell the truth.

Eddie was in the 8th grade, Steve in 7th, when they first met. Or, when Eddie first noticed Steve anyway, they never really spoke to each other, their cliques already established by then. But Eddie can remember it like it was yesterday. It was lunch, Eddie was walking by with his bagged PB&J, when he heard it. Steve laughing. It was so joyful, Eddie didn't even know what he was laughing about but it made him smile anyway. Of course one of Steve's shitty jock friends caught him staring and called him a queer freak but that wasn't unusual.

“What the fuck, Eddie? Why do you remember that? And how are you so good at visualizing?”

He ignores the questions to move on to the next memory. Eddie's sophomore year they somehow ended up in the same Shop class. Again, they never spoke but he got to watch Steve work, tongue poking out while he concentrated, the proud look on his face when he whittled some hunk of wood into a recognisable shape.

“I forgot about that. It was a dolphin. I was dating Chelsea Hosteller, they were her favorite animal.”

“Lucky her.”

“Hey, fuck you, man, you're the one showing me this shit! What am I supposed to assume from any of this? You thought I was cute? So what? You clearly don't like who I am as a person, so what difference does it make?”

He's not going to have the patience for every single moment, and they're a lot of them, Eddie realizes that now. So he speed runs through them, making sure to send every bit of feeling through their link.

Steve in his Scoops outfit, luring Eddie to the mall but never making him brave enough to go in. The horror of not knowing whether Steve was alive or dead when he heard about the mall burning down. The joy of finding him at Family Video, somewhere he had reason to visit.

You never even talked to me there

Listening to every word to every story Henderson told him about Steve and his bravery. Pretending to be annoyed so no one noticed he was eating it up. Getting to know the real Steve over Spring Break, the giddiness he couldn't quite tamp down, even as he was scared shitless. The pain of knowing Steve was still in love with Nancy Wheeler, even though it was the obvious narrative to Steve's fairytale life. Of course he gets the girl at the end.

What? Is that why you-

The way he stuck around afterward, even though their dynamic was more antagonistic than friendly, and the way Eddie thrived off of every snarky comment. How it felt like banter even though Eddie knew, by all logic and reason, Steve was merely tolerating his presence. They would always be antithetical to each other, circling but never meeting.

Eddie, no

Steve growling ‘Do you ever shut up!’ before pouncing on him downstairs. The heavy pounding of his heart as he wrestled Steve up the stairs. The way his brain never did catch up to what was happening or why, until it was too late, and he was ruining both the greatest sex he'd ever had and also the chance to prove, though he's still completely unworthy, that he has already been primed and ready to fall for Steve for years. The shame of ruining it. The heartbreak of ruining it. The teeny, tiny spark of hope as Steve stares him down. He has to close his eyes to avoid it, lest he say something stupid and fuck it up again.

You…do like me?

Yeah, Stevie. I like you a whole lot. I just didn't think I was allowed to like you. I didn't realize you liked me too. I'm sorry I said all that shit earlier. I didn't want to tell the guy I'd just linked with that I was thoroughly enjoying the chance to sleep with this guy I'd had a crush on for years. That seemed rude

The bed dips and so does Eddie's stomach. Steve's enormous hands slide up his neck, into his hair, and gently cradle his face as he leans in to kiss Eddie square on the mouth.

Oh. Hi

Hi

This is nice

I think so too. How do you feel about finishing what we started but this time we both know that we like each other?

That sounds awesome. But are you sure? I really, really fucked up the first time

I thought you were perfect up until you called me your arch nemesis

I have been told that sometimes I'm a little dramatic

You know what, that's fair. I really should've taken that as a compliment, if anything

See? Now you get it

What I'm getting is another condom. Hold my ankle so I don't slide off the bed

You got it, baby

Unbelievable. Salvaged the wreckage of his own stupidity and managed to bag the hottest guy in town! Score one for the nerds!

“I heard that.”

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 3 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: He tries to be nice for once to win you over, but is he being genuine? Or will it backfire? All the while your mind is playing confusing tricks on you.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of rape, violence, mentions of murder, body issues, trauma talk, hinting at stockholm syndrome, manipulation, mentions of erection/arousal/masturbation, mentions of abuse earlier in life, not beta read, 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

"I do not intend to rape you, if that is what you think."

It was weird. The words were supposed to comfort you, right? Make you breathe easier. Instead you felt your chest tighten. Again.

Because he brought it up out of nowhere? Who could tell?

You sat on the couch, your arms wrapped around your legs like they usually were ever since you started participating in his mind games. It wasn't really like you had any other choice.

Your body, once young and healthy, albeit loaded with trauma to the brim, felt bruised and battered. It was a fight you were forced to fight every day and it felt like war. War against him, against yourself and life itself. Your face hurt horribly and it was all his fault. Or was it your own? God, you were confused.

"Don't get me wrong. I do intend to fuck you." His eyes crinkled in a smile. "Oh, I intend to fuck you again and again and again, until you feel like you're being ripped apart and you'll be begging me to stop."

There was it again, the cold sweat. Almost like an old friend you could count on.

Why didn't you have any real friends? You suddenly asked yourself. If only you had invested one of your Sundays into getting to meet at least one person. Maybe then someone would miss you now.

There was still your work. But you couldn't really tell if they'd get suspicious after you stopped coming or if maybe they simply accepted it. Your boss knew you had some issues. How you hated confrontration. He probably assumed you simply were gone for good.

Poor girl. Well, whatever, time is money. At least I get to keep her last paycheck.

But somehow you were sure that no one really missed you. No one waited for you at home. And no one cared that you still spent your days in the captivity of a psychopath. Or was it a sociopath? What was the damn difference again?

"Why don't you do it then?" You heard yourself ask.

One might think you would have learned your lesson not to talk back the day when he threw everything edible away and turned off the water supply. Or after he just beat the crap out of you.

But no, here you were, being smart with him. At least right now he didn't seem to mind. His fucked up smile was still in place.

"Because, my sweet, darling girl", he said slowly and crouched down before you, "because I want to fuck you when you're mine. I don't want scraps and pitiful silence. I'm not like the filth I threw on the train lines."

A violent shiver ran down your spine. It was the first time he mentioned the incident. For a few days you had almost asked yourself if that had really happened. And you had also asked yourself if your life so far had been a hallucination. Maybe you had always been his prisoner and maybe you had made up the role of your mother to keep yourself entertained and somehow deal with everything. They did have a lot in common.

"I want it willingly."

Odd. He didn't seem like the gentle type. Or the type who cared about consent.

"Don't mistake my words. I'm going to fuck you, no matter how you feel."

Ah.

"I don't give a shit if you feel sore, you have a headache, you've been crying or you're bleeding. I don't care if it is me who made you bleed." He leaned in so close that his warm, minty breath tickled your ear. "All the better."

For a moment, you were sure he was gonna bite your earlobe. A sound rumbled in his throat, almost like a groan and his lips were so close to your skin, you felt the wet warmth of that groan. But eventually, he pulled his head back and instead stared at you intensely.

"God, I want you."

The last two days had been weirder than usual. Instead of playing tricks on your mind and hitting you till blood trickled down your lip, he had been...considerate? It was hard to tell if that was the right word for it.

Many things were hard to tell nowadays.

It started with the dresses. He once came home - home, God help you - carrying countless bags which contained pretty and expensive dresses. All in your size and all to your liking.

Your style so far had been modest and humble, convenient mostly.

You knew that you could be pretty when you tried and wanted. Yet on most days you simply didn't care enough.

But when he came back with the dresses and left them in your room - and after you had spent enough hours sulking in the corner and being devastated about your loss of dignity when he forced you to drink water from a fucking bowl on the ground - Be a good girl and drink. I'd be really annoyed if you died of thirst. Yes, just like that. My good girl. - your curiosity finally got the better of you and you glanced into one of the bags.

Everything from silk to cashmere, with no ridiculous colors in sight. Everything was black, white, beige, cream, light rose or babyblue.

Then the lotus silk one in dark green.

It made you feel like a princess.

It felt like tiny kisses on your skin.

You couldn't help but try each and every one of them on.

And God, they felt good on you.

And eventually, you were forced to wear them. All you had was that one night dress. You had tried washing it in the sink and drying it on the radiator. But additionally to all the other bullshit he put you through, it was just too much. And so you put it on. The green one first.

The look on his face when you timidly left your room and tiptoed over to the living room had made you feel...

It made you feel...

You wanted to slap yourself until you came back to your senses, but no. It was enough when he did.

Desired. It made you feel desired.

It made you feel beautiful in a way you hadn't ever experienced before.

Sure, despite your questionable upbringing and your mother who constantly made sure you felt just below miserable, there had been men ogling you. Like the one who attacked you.

They'd stop what they were doing and glance you up and down, making sure you felt like a well-seasoned piece of meat.

Edible.

Fuckable.

But none of it was any comparison to him. The look in his eyes had been nothing short or fascination. The way his eyes gleamed and his lips parted in that soft exhale. His eyes didn't just linger on your breasts or ass. His sized you up entirely, like you were a porcelain doll to be cherished.

Of course you expected to hate the feeling.

But to your undying horror, you didn't.

You tried to think back to the many hits you'd taken from him, the humiliation and the countless tears.

And still, when he looked at you like that, you felt your cheeks grow warm and your insides tingle.

"Try them on for me." He had breathed.

You opened your mouth to protest, because that was what you usually did by now, you protested, but one look at him and it shut you up. Not because he was angry or because he had threatened you.

Because of that damn look.

You found yourself walking back to your room, your hands shaking and your heart racing. What were you doing here? Was this your life? Was this your punishment? Was he someone your mother had hired to punish you for escaping her?

You pushed all those thoughts aside and changed into the next dress. It was almost regal looking, a long white dress that hugged your body like a gentle embrace.

None of the dresses were cheap looking. They weren't even all too revealing. A little more than what you usually wore, yes, but all in all they were still kind of modest. But they highlighted your beauty in a way that made you feel exactly that.

Beautiful.

You took a shaky breath and made your way back to the living room. He had settled down on the couch, a glass of whiskey in his hand which he swirled around, lost in thought. The moment he heard you, he looked up from his glass and his eyes lit up in the same delight they had before, even more so.

He did something more now. He bit his lip.

He twirled his finger around, silently beckoning you to turn around, which you did. You turned around, almost timidly, feeling somewhat small under his assessing gaze. You still felt beautiful, but a part of you expected...

What?

That he laughed?

That he scoffed and recoiled in disgust?

Yes. Yes, that was exactly what a part of you felt he might do. Instead, he set his glass down and stood up, approaching you slowly and carefully, as though not to startle you.

You held your breath. He would hit you. You had done something wrong. You were wrong. You looked wrong. You didn't look the way he wanted you to.

He'd get rid of you.

By the time he reached you, you nearly suffocated. Your chest heaved rapidly under his scrutinizing gaze. When he lifted his hand and moved to touch your cheek, your eyes fluttered shut and you gasped.

But instead of hitting you, he...caressed you.

His touch was so gentle, more gentle than ever before. Like he was holding a delicate bird.

"Stand up straight." He breathed in your ear.

You swallowed thickly. And slowly obeyed. You fixed your posture slowly, pulling your shoulders back.

"Like that?" You whispered.

He nodded.

"Now your chin." He whispered back and gently placed a finger under your chin to lift it.

You let him guide you, feeling like his fingers left a trail of fire on their wake when he carefully ran them down the side of your neck.

"God, you're exquisite."

When you finally looked up at him, your eyes were wide and your breathing still far too quick. But his expression was calm. So calm. Almost gentle.

If he wasn't such a psychopath, he'd be really handsome, you realized. His eyes shone in a warm brown and his smile, albeit twisted, was beautiful. He was beautiful. Like a man made of marble who didn't mind getting messy.

When you realized what the hell you were thinking, you recoiled as if you’d been burned. His expression didn't waver, but he slowly pulled his hand back.

"Show me the next one." He murmured and sat back down.

You quickly made your way back and slumped down, your back pressed against the door.

What on earth was that? Were you now entirely out of your mind?

You didn't have many rules, but one of them went above all others.

Avoid him. Avoid him at all costs.

No unnecessary contact, because then you'd have less opportunities to make him angry. And maybe, just maybe, then you'd get out of the alive. You still had hope.

After a long moment of gathering your thoughts, you changed into the next dress. A soft beige cashmere dress, which hugged your curves sinfully.

You took a deep breath and made your way back. His gaze was fixed on the door and he looked at you with a subtle smirk.

"Look at that." He murmured.

You didn't know what he was referring to while you walked in there, a slight frown on your face.

"What?"

"Nothing. Turn around."

You turned around. It was easier this time. And it got easier with every dress. You changed, came in an twirled around. Changed, came in and twirled around. And at some point, his eyes started feeling almost natural on you. Like you were meant to wear those dresses for him on that particular day. It wasn't until the last dress, a beautiful, yet simple black dress, that you realized. Your stance had somewhat changed.

You stared at yourself in the mirror with a deep frown.

Was that you?

Who were you?

And how did you pull it off to show off these dresses looking almost...confident?

You made your way back, looking at him with an unreadable expression.

His face lit up at the sight and he took a sip of his drink.

"My favorite by far. That and the green one."

You stared at him speechlessly. What on earth were you supposed to do with that information?

He approached you slowly, with that predatory air on him as he slowly circled you, looking you up and down.

"Do you like the dresses?" He asked slowly.

"Yes." You whispered.

"Good." He smirked. "Then thank me."

You slowly, almost carefully, looked up at him. Did he expect...you to...

"Thank me." He whispered.

"Thank you for the dresses." You whispered back.

And just like that, he smiled in satisfaction.

"You're very welcome. They all look wonderful on you."

He sat back down and beckoned you to sit beside him, which you reluctantly did. You tried to keep your knees from bouncing up and down nervously and folded your hands in your lap.

"Who are you?"

You simply stared at him. Because you knew, every time you answered the question, even if you said the right words...Something bad happened. So, this time you stayed silent.

He took a slow breath and leaned closer.

"Who are you?"

"Please." You whispered. "Please, don't."

His expression immediately darkened and he took a tight hold of your chin.

"Answer the goddamn question."

"Your girl." You said quietly, but you were unable to meet his eyes as you did. "I'm your girl."

He hummed softly.

"Why?"

You blinked. "Why?"

He nodded. "Yes. Why?"

Suddenly your throat felt dry. You liked to think that you were actually pretty clever. But whenever you spoke to him, you felt like a complete idiot.

"Because I...I just am."

He raised a brow. "You just are?"

"I don't know what you want to hear."

His grip on your face loosened slightly and he shook his head.

"Do you despise me?" He suddenly asked. There was no emotion in his tone, just pure calculation.

You blinked again. You were almost sure you were going to die tonight. Too bad. The pretty dress would end up soaked in blood.

"I..."

"Because just a few minutes ago, you looked at me like you want me."

Suddenly you felt your face heat up in embarrassment. Actually, you had hoped he hadn't caught on that moment of weakness.

"That's not true." Somehow you managed to force a certain firmness in your voice.

He just smiled. "It's alright, sweet girl. You can deny it all you want, but we both know the truth. I know you’re ashamed. That’s fine. But a part of you likes me."

"But it isn't true!"

He tsked. "Listen, why don't you calm down and then we'll-"

"I could never like you!" You called out before you could think about. "I could never want a twisted person like you. You know what? There's a reason why no one ever loved you and why no one ever will. You're simply evil and there's nothing good or loveable about you. Nothing at all."

It felt like one of those horrible moment in apocalypse movies, just a moment before a protagonist is going to die. You knew you had fucked up. You just couldn't tell how bad yet.

By the time you managed to carefully lift your gaze to meet his, you got struck by unease. You could practically follow the shift in his eyes. From teasing and playful to something darker, something dead. He didn't even need to drop the smile. His eyes spoke loud enough.

"I'm sorry." You whispered breathlessly.

You couldn't even tell why you had said that, why the statement that you found something likeable about him had triggered you so badly. You weren't normally this reckless. This suicidal.

"I'm sorry." You whispered again, when he didn't move. "I don't know what came over me. Please. Forgive me. Please, I..."

The coldness in his eyes made you shut up. The man who called you exquisite and asked you to twirl around like a ballerina was gone. And you immediately knew he wasn't going to forgive you.

But what was even worse was that for some reason you felt so terrible for what you had said. Usually, you were pretty kind to everyone and didn't just go around saying hurtful things. If your words reached and hurt him didn't matter. What mattered was that you said them.

Immediately tears stung your eyes and you forced your gaze away from his. God, he would kill you.

And this time you were certain.

So, you weren't truly surprised when he roughly forced your back onto the sofa and straddled you. But you were still scared shitless. Your breath hitched and suddenly, just like that, you couldn't breathe again and you were mute. Betrayed again.

He pinned your wrists above your head and pushed you down with a rough movement, grinding down his hips against yours and forcing your legs apart.

First he would take what he wanted and then he would kill you.

Despite you being mute and frozen, you were still crying. Your body was being shaken by sobs and it only ever seemed to make him angrier.

"It appears to me", he growled furiously, "that you forgot your place."

You quickly shook your head, desperate to make him understand just how much you regretted what you had said, but before you could even try to open your mouth, a firm slap made you cry out in pain.

"No, please-"

There was your voice. And there went another slap. The intensity of it made you cry out as your head lolled to the side.

"Where is your place?" He growled. But before you could respond, he hit you again, all the while you felt his hardness pressed against you, ready to ruin you.

He had never done that before.

Sure, he had hit you when you got something wrong in a game, but he had never straight up beaten you for speaking.

Or what was even worse, he hadn't forced himself on you.

You had sensed the hardness between his legs once before, after he had made you drink the water from a bowl on the floor. But he hadn't mentioned it, hadn't made you look there, let alone touch it. He had skillfully ignored it and probably taken care of it himself afterwards.

He hadn't tried to kiss you.

Hadn't tried to reach between your legs.

Hadn't let you feel him.

But now you felt it, hard and urgent, straining against his pants and then your dress.

You had never felt a man like this before.

What a weird thought to have in this kind of situation.

"Please." You finally managed to sob out. "Please, I swear to you, I'll never do it again. I'll make up for it, please let me make up for it."

By the time his hand shot out for the sixth slap, you felt yourself go dizzy. Your face burned like fire under his palm and everything around you slowly went blurry. Your sight as well as the way you tried to hold your eyes open. They slowly blinked shut.

"I'm sorry." You whispered exhaustedly.

"Don't you dare pass out on me right now." He hissed and tightly grasped your chin.

When, instead of answering, you murmured something inaudible, he sighed deeply.

"Fuck." He murmured. His touch on your face grew softer. Then he slowly tilted your chin up, examining your face.

"I marked your pretty face." He said in a bland tone. You didn't say anything back.

"But I had to remind you that you don't just get to say and do anything you want." He gritted out. He was obviously still furious.

You didn't understand why he sounded like he was trying to justify his actions or why he even cared if you passed out. You had actually expected him to go off on that.

As if on cue, he reached down and carefully adjusted his pants, letting out a soft sigh at the touch.

You felt him press against you for a moment longer. He was obviously fighting with himself. Despite everything, the friction caused a nervous twitch in your lower body. He seemed to notice it and checked your expression. Eventually he forced himself away from you. He got up and ran his hands through his hair.

"Take a nap and calm down. I'll be back in a while."

With quick steps he disappeared to his bedroom. For a short, reckless moment you caught yourself thinking; he'll be occupied fucking his hand for at least five minutes. If you go and find the keys he always carries around when he leaves...

But your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of him. It was barely audible. You were sure you weren't even supposed to hear it. But you did. A moan. He moaned.

You closed your eyes. Oh God.

He had managed it. He had messed up your brain even more than it already was. Instead of crying, because your face hurt like hell, you felt a certain warmth spread through you.

Honey, you cannot seriously-

Shut up, mother.

You heard him again and now you were sure. You felt yourself grow wet. Immediately, your face flared up in even more heat and your breath caught in your throat.

What on earth was wrong with you?

He had nearly killed you, nearly taken you, nearly-

"Ah, oh, fuck." He groaned.

Your brows furrowed and you took a shaky breath. You could almost see it in your mind. The way his hand slowly slid down his chest. It made your heart skip a beat.

Enough!

You jumped up and scurried back to the bathroom. You locked the door and paused before the mirror. The sight made you wince. He had indeed marked you up. His hand, angrily imprinted into your cheek. You gingerly reached out to touch it, but stopped short of your skin.

He had done this to you. Just as he had done so many other things to you.

You were trapped in these godforsaken halls.

All you had wanted to do was go home after a long day of work, read a book in silence and eat a warm meal. Instead you got trapped into this hell, where he slowly manipulated his way under the trauma that had been cursing through your body and mind for years.

He destroyed all the walls you had built up, all the aid you had taken to repair the little sanity that was left in you.

The little confidence. The little love. The little you.

Now it was all gone.

You felt a tear run down your cheek and you immediately wiped it away. The touch made you wince in pain, it was rather harsh. You couldn't help it. You were angry.

You were so, so angry.

Why was it that no one could ever be good to you?

Why did you always attract the attention of twisted people?

You didn't deserve that. You didn't want it. And God, you didn't ask for it.

You had been a sweet child. Innocent and curious as every child is. Until your mother, who knew nothing but hate by day and pain at night, turned you into a shell of a person. And when you finally, finally made it out of her chokehold and you thought you could now live your life in peace, happily ignoring everything wrong in your life, he came.

He came and destroyed your fragile peace.

With shaky hands you leaned down and splashed your face with cold water. You carefully dried it up and stood like that for a while, holding onto the sink tightly.

And you made a silent promise to yourself.

You would get out of here and get your peace back.

The night was quiet. He didn't try to approach you, punish you, torture you in any way. He simply let you sleep.

The second your face touched the pillow, you passed out.

The morning went on just as quiet. You took a quick bath, before you put on one of the horrible dresses. You didn't care which one, you just wanted this to get over with.

The rest of your life.

After you spent two hours pacing the room, you decided you needed to speak to him. Ask him nicely maybe. Or steal his gun and murder him. You didn't care anymore. You needed to get out.

With quick, determined steps you stormed out to the kitchen and were surprised to find it empty. The other rooms were empty as well. You even gathered all your courage and knocked on his bedroom door. When no answer came, you sighed and went back to the kitchen.

Maybe he had abandoned you. He had thrown away all the food and he would come back in a few days after you died of starvation. Yes, that sounded reasonable.

But to your great surprise, that wasn't the case. Instead, on the kitchen table stood a gracious amount of food. Everything from rice and beans, to spinach and even…lemon cake.

You frowned as you thought back to the second day with him.

"What does always manage to cheer you up?"

"Mostly books." You had whispered, after he had just finished nearly choking you to oblivion, because you had answered another question to his displeasure. "But when things are remarkably bad, then lemon cake."

You stared at the cake as if it was poisonous. Which it probably was. You took a step closer and then you saw the note.

Sorry.

That was it. Just sorry. Sorry?

Your eyes widened as you stared down at it.

What was this?

Did he actually apologize?

You didn't care that it was written on a post-it. The word on the post-it was Sorry.

You had to sit down, because you felt like your knees were about to give in.

After a long moment of simply staring down at it, you reached out and took a bite of the lemon cake.

It was fruity and sweet and everything good in the world.

You took another bite and choked back your sobs.

After he came home, he didn't say anything for a long while and so didn't you. Just a quick glance of acknowledgement.

He didn't comment on how you sat there, reading. Of course you expected him to beat you down with the book. But he didn't. Instead he averted his gaze and disappeared into his room.

And he didn't say anything for the rest of the day either, until suddenly he declared that he didn't intend to rape you and so the conversation dragged on.

You felt especially snarky today, after yesterday he got so angry and took it out on you. After he awkwardly vanished and you heard him. After you remembered that you didn't deserve to be treated like shit, right after you had felt incredibly aroused, because you heard him touch himself.

"God, I want you." He breathed in your ear. And then you did the unthinkable. You pushed him back. The movement was gentle. But you pushed him back.

He growled deep in his throat and seconds later the vase from the coffee table crushed against the wall in a loud scatter. At least it wasn’t you who flew into the wall.

You would have winced from the sound. But it was so sudden and somehow almost funny. But you knew better than to smirk.

"Who are you?" He hissed.

You stayed silent.

He took a long, slow breath. Then he reached out and touched your cheek, his fingers digging into your bruised skin, making you flinch. He raised his hand like he was going to slap you again. You wanted to cower in fear, but you forced yourself to keep looking at him, your eyes wide.

He kept staring down at you and slowly lowered his hand back down.

"You're still beautiful." He said quietly.

You didn't expect him to say that or the way his fingers gently trailed down your cheek. You inhaled sharply and slowly closed your eyes. It was like trusting a bear to guard your life, when it was covered in honey.

"Are you going to hit me again?" You whispered.

After a beat, he quietly said: "No."

His mood swings were terrifying, but you knew there were far scarier things about him.

Like the way his eyes darkened whenever he got really angry. Which was often the case.

Or the way he hummed whenever you did something wrong.

Or the way he made you weak and scary enough, not entirely in a bad way. You were certain he had manipulated you into thinking this. Into, somehow, caring. This was the worst that could happen to you. The absolute worst.

He sighed. "Sweet girl, are you..."

You needed to get the hell out of here. And quickly. So, maybe, maybe, if you just played along…

Maybe then you would get out alive. All you had to do was play along. All you had to be was…

“I’m your girl.”

[lurochar]

The Shadow will Play

'Behave'? What did that mean?

In which Alastor’s shadow "plays" with you and you find out something very interesting about your lover.

Alastor’s Shadow x Reader

18+ MDNI

Part 2

‐-------------------

“Behave.”

It had been his Master's orders and he was trying so hard to abide by them, but you were just making it so difficult for him!

What exactly did ‘behave’ mean? It's not like his Master gave any examples in which he could follow through.

Did ‘behave’ mean not going out and slaughtering a few unlucky Sinners?

Did ‘behave’ mean not pulling a few pranks on the hotel residents and staff?

Or did ‘behave’ mean not getting amorous with his Master's lover?

(Shouldn't he be able to touch? He was a very part of Master after all).

It seemed that his Master had not told you to behave as you were touching him freely, causing him to shudder from your pleasant warmth.

“You're so cute~” You always did love how affectionate Alastor’s shadow was as it rubbed against you like a giant cat. “Is there anything you want to do today? I don't think Alastor will be back until tonight.”

The shadow tilted its head before its grin widened and it let out a series of chirps. It pushed you back on you and Alastor’s bed, cooing as you let out a surprised noise when it clamored over top of you, “W-what are you doing?”

The shadow's tail wagged as it thought back to the times where he was just a voyeur when you and his Master engaged in intimacy and knew he wanted to draw those pretty sounds from you.

“W-woah!” Your eyes widened when the shadow eagerly began to pull down your pants, probably ripping parts in the process with its claws. “Did Alastor put you up to this?”

The shadow paused for the briefest of seconds before chattering, nodding its head as it finally managed to rip your pants off.

“Well, if he’s okay with it…” You muttered, shivering slightly when you felt the shadow's two cold hands on each thigh, spreading them as you flushed at the… odd situation you found yourself in.

But if this is something Alastor wanted, then…

You jumped when your panties were practically torn off you and cool fingers were parting your folds. You shut your eyes, expecting to feel discomfort or even pain since you weren't prepared in the least and not at all wet.

The shadow tittered, using his thumb to rub circles around that nub of flesh like his Master did and as expected, you let out one of those pretty sounds that had his ears twitching.

“That… feels good.” You sighed, feeling a heat in your lower belly begin to ignite. You glanced down curiously, aching a bit when its thumb left your clit, moving so its face was directly at your cunt.

Before it could dig in, it reached up, catching you by surprise as it took hold of your arms and placed your hands on its ears, pointing at them and chirping.

“You want me to pet them while you do that?” You asked and received a nod in return. “If you're anything like Alastor, and I'm sure you will be, I'm not sure I'll be able to,” you got a sound that sounded like a huff, “but I'll try! I will!”

The shadow seemed satisfied with that.

The shadow parted your slippery folds again, keeping them spread and it was quick to bury its long tongue in your dripping hole, causing you to shudder.

Like Alastor, it could elongate his tongue.

You groaned, feeling its tongue lap at every little crevice of your pussy, slurping up your slick like a mindless animal, “H-hah, yeah. Oh, r-right.”

You squeezed its ears as promised.

You almost shattered when you felt a small vibration in your core and you barely heard something – a sound that you never heard the shadow make before and once more, to be sure, you squeezed the shadow's ears.

Again, there was that sound and that oh-so good vibration and with the absolute tongue fucking you were getting, you were gonna cum with that next one.

But that sound – what was it and why was it familiar?

The shadow ears twitched when you squeezed them again, hearing your moans while your legs spasmed around his cold body and he tried the best he could to lap up your slick as your hole clenched around his tongue.

Your noises were so pretty~♡

(He wanted more).

It took a few moments for you to gather your senses as you slowly sat up, seeing the grinning shadow practically make heart eyes at you.

But before that, you needed an answer to a question (and possibly, another answer to another question).

“That noise you made when I touched your ears, was that a deer bleat?” You asked, causing the shadow to nod and you to be taken back for a second.

 ‘I’ve touched them before, and Alastor or his shadow has never made that sound, so maybe it's just a sex thing?’ 

“If I touch Alastor’s ears during sex, would he bleat too?” You asked, thinking back and you always wondered why your lover seemed dead set on you not touching his ears during intimate times, but you had just respected his wishes and never went beyond that.

The shadow nodded.

“That’s so cute~!” You smiled brightly, bringing the shadow in for a hug and it purred, tail wagging, “Thank you for telling me this! How can I repay you?” You almost regretted asking as the shadow immediately pounced on you, ready for more of you.

His Master wouldn't be back until night, after all.

[moth-murdock]

No one knows (I wish she could)

My masterlist | Series masterlist

A/n: part two! Let's fucking go! Also, those images were chosen for a very specific reason that you will find out later :)

Genre: angst? Fluff?

Summary: being pregnant is supposed to be celebrated. But how are you supposed to tell your husband when he has such deep emotional wounds?

Warnings: telling your husband you're pregnant

Other tags: Curtis mentioned, max not much :(, confrontation yikes, I'm starting to Google stuff now so bear with me

Word count: 1.6k

You pocket the test and sneak over into your shared bedroom to hide it. After much deliberation, you decide to go back to the bathroom and hide it among your period things. You knew for sure that Frank wouldn't go nosing around in there, and it's not like you'd forget about it. You couldn't if you tried.

Slowly, and with shaking breath, you put your things back to how they were. Then, you felt like you could cry. All the worst-case scenarios were going through your head at once, and you felt like they would all come true and burn down the life you had built with Frank. You wash your face to will the tears away, heading back to the living room. He's still asleep. Good.

After a moment of thinking and a glance at the crooked clock on the wall, you turn the forgotten TV off.

"Honey... Come on..." You say softly as you nudge your husband

"You're gonna be achey tomorrow if you sleep on the couch." You reason, but you are met with a protesting groan from the man

"Not gonna be able t'sleep if I get up..." He murmurs, adjusting the pillow beneath his head

"And I can't sleep without you in the bed with me, sweetheart." You counter, to which he gives a few seconds of thought before getting up.

"Don't say I don't love you..." He grumbles as he stretches, his shirt riding up a bit to reveal his happy trail. You want to have a sinful thought, but that is quickly doused by the knowledge of what is currently hiding in your bathroom drawer. Thankfully, he's too sleepy to notice the worry on your face. 

You both make your way back to the bedroom, crawling into the soft sheets together. He's the big spoon tonight, pressing gentle, sleepy kisses to the crook of your neck as he wraps his arms around you. You want to be comforted, but this just makes his hands end up on your stomach. Instinctively, you tense for a second. But you don't want him to know something's wrong, so you force yourself to relax. You damn near shit yourself when you're pulled out of your thoughts by his voice, rough with sleep.

"G'night, sweetheart."

"Night, baby"

Baby

The next morning, you take another test. To be sure. Because there's no way, right? I mean, you take your pills on time every day. No matter what. Of course, birth control isn't always effective... But the odds are so slim, there's no way. Right?

Two pink lines.

FUCK

It takes 2 days before you feel like you're actually going to die unless you tell someone. So you call the people you know are close to Frank. You pick up your phone, dialing Curtis's number. There's background noise, like he's probably cooking dinner

"Hello?"

"Curtis! Hi!"

"What did he do this time?" The man chuckles

"actually... I uh... I need your advice on something."

"Alright, what is it?"

"... Well... I uh... I'm pregnant. And I don't know how to tell Frank, and I'm scared of how he'll react."

You hear the click of a stove being turned off and the scrape of a pan being moved off the burner.

"Well... Before anything else, congratulations."

Oh boy.

"... Thank you..."

"I know you know about Maria and the kids. But I need more context."

"Like?..."

"Was this planned? Unplanned? Have the two of you talked about kids before? How did he react to that? All that."

"Oh, um... Unplanned. And I've tried to bring up kids before... He avoids it every time..."

Every time you tried to hint at kids with Frank, you were shut down. A video of a baby in a onesie? He said "cute" and nothing more. Asking to look around the infant section of the store? He asked if your sister was pregnant. You straight up asked him what he thought about kids as you walked past a park one day, and he said "they're alright. Pretty loud."

"Okay... So... Unplanned, and he's been avoiding talking about kids..." Curtis repeats

"Yeah..." You sigh

"Well... I'll tell you what I do know. I know Maria's pregnancy also wasn't planned. But damn it if he didn't love those kids more than anything."

"Yeah, I thought about that too, but I don't know if he'll be the same about me. He didn't have so many... Issues... When Maria was pregnant."

"Good point..."

There's a few more moments of silence before he speaks again.

"The best I can do is this. Tell him, and if he doesn't take it well, call me. I'll try to talk to him."

"Thank you, Curtis."

"No problem. Congrats again." He says before hanging up, after which you put your phone away with a sigh.

You pretty much repeat this process with Dinah, David, and even Matt. You needed all the opinions you could get. And they all said something along the lines of what Curtis said. Frank loved his previous children, and he loves you. But also in case anything goes wrong they would all beat the shit out of him together.

You know you only have so much time before you can no longer hide it. If you did your math right, you got pregnant about two weeks before your period. And given that morning sickness starts at around five weeks, you don't have very long to think about what you want to do and how to do it. 

What you know for sure is that you don't want to get rid of it. But having a baby would affect Frank as well, so he should at least get to put in his opinion. That still means you have to tell him.

It could potentially blow up in your face, yes, but it doesn't seem like Frank would realistically be angry or leave you for it. Hell, when he found out Maria was pregnant, the first thing he did was put a ring on her finger. Their marriage was a good one, from what Curtis and Frank himself have told you. So this can't go too horribly wrong, right?

You take some time to consider your options before you finally come to a decision. You're going to tell Frank. But now you figure out how. You've seen a few pregnancy reveals before, so you have an idea of what you could do that Frank would like. Hopefully, if he likes it enough, he won't blow up.

We need to talk when you come home you text.

Okay. 👍🏻

Despite the situation, that manages to get a small laugh out of you. That seemed to be his response to just about everything.

As you wait for Frank to get home, you decide to pick up some pizza from Lombardi's. You figure that if he's happy, it's celebratory. If he's upset, it's a consolation. You check your phone to see if he's on his way home yet, and he's about 15 minutes out. Fuck.

In an attempt to not go insane, you go to the bathroom to take one more test, just in case. After the longest ten minutes of your life, you are greeted by two pink lines. Double fuck.

You let yourself spiral until you hear Frank's truck pull into the driveway, at which point you go to the dining table. Frank walks in and hangs up his jacket, smirking at the pizza on the table

"Lombardi's and a talk? I hope we're celebratin'" He chuckles in that low voice of his, crossing the room to give you a kiss.

"I hope so too..." You sigh into the kiss, your grip tightening around the positive test in your hands

"You hope so?" He asks, pulling away and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear

"Frank... I..." You start, trying to avoid the lump that forms in your throat.

Frank, lord bless him, just waits. He has this look when he's listening, so aggressive and yet so soft at the same time.

"What I wanted to talk to you about... Is... It's..." You struggle, trying to speak around the lump in your throat.

And Frank, he just listens. He listens in a way that you know he really is. He has that look on his face, so aggressive and yet so soft. He meets your eyes, and that's all it takes for you to break. Because you don't want to lose him. You don't want to lose everything you have with him.

Frank sees the fat tears brimming on your waterline and immediately wraps his arms around you so tenderly and with such concern that it just makes you cry even more.

"Hey, hey, what's goin' on? Why're you cryin'?"

You can't answer, your nose already so full that you almost can't breathe. When he notices that, he stops trying to get you to talk. He lets you cry it out, your tears rolling off his flannel.

Once your sniffles die down, you gather the strength to speak.

"I just... I love you so much... And I don't want to lose you..."

"I ain't goin' nowhere... Why would you lose me?" He chuckles softly as he cups your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs

"Because... I don't... know how you'll take it..." You hiccup between breaths

"Take what, sweetheart?"

You finally bring up your hands, showing him the positive pregnancy test

"I'm... I'm pregnant, Frank."

Chapter 3: I want her to know (he don't have it all)

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

spellbound: spy

epilogue/bonus ch!

masterlist

you knock on megumi's door, your heartbeat ringing loudly in your ears. you're not sure why you're so nervous. you and him have been dating for a few weeks now, but you can't help it. just the mere idea of him is enough to wake the butterflies in your stomach. It's odd to think of how you used to mistake these feelings for hatred. but you two are beyond that now; that part of your lives is over. megumi opens the door with a grin on his face, and it's off-putting to anyone but you—he can't not smile around you anymore.

"hey megs-"

your sentence is interrupted by him cupping your face and fervently locking his lips with yours. kissing you as hungrily and urgently, if not even more, as he did the night you confessed. you push him off of you.

"jeez, can you at least let me say hi first, stalker?"

"sorry," he says flippantly, not actually sorry at all, as his face flushes bright pink.

"so what's on the agenda today?" you ask as you walk past him into his house. "some more horror movies, maybe-"

megumi stops you in your tracks by grabbing you by your waist, his arms wrapping around you, and drawing you into him, your back flush against his chest. "are you gonna kiss me back yet? you already said hi."

"you're awfully affectionate today, megs." you swivel around in his hold to face him, pushing a few strands of his hair out of his face as you entreat, "let me guess yuji and nobara aren't home?"

megumi sheepishly averts his attention to the floor.

"knew it. I have to practically fight you just to get a kiss when they're here."

"it's embarrassing..."

you gawk, feigning offense. "oh, so loving me is embarrassing?"

his gaze snaps back to your face, worried you're serious, but when he sees the shit-eating grin you're adorning, megumi rolls his eyes. "ok, you know what I meant. stop it."

"I know," you say cheerfully, before finally leaning in and giving him what he wants—sort of. you purposely pull away the moment you feel him melt into and deepen the kiss.

"now chop chop, these movies won't watch themselves!"

"I hate you."

"oh, I'm sure you do, stalker."

☆⋆。𖦹°‧★⋆。𖦹°‧☆⋆。𖦹°‧★⋆。𖦹°‧☆⋆。𖦹°‧★⋆。𖦹°‧☆

Inumaki, nobara, and yuji are all giggling like crazy as maki unlocks the door, while yuuta attempts to shush them, considering it’s late and they are trying to be stealthy here.

with the door now unlocked, maki doesn’t open it; instead, she turns around and scolds, “can you guys shut up?”

“oh, cmon, babe, aren’t you excited? we’re about to catch megumi and y/n being all lovey-dovey!” nobara pouts, suddenly hanging onto her girlfriend's arm like a koala.

"well, we’re not gonna catch anyone if you guys don’t be quiet,” yuuta quips under his breath.

maki nods. "thank you, yuuta.”

"you guys are no fun, oh my god,” Inumaki says through a quiet groan.

“for real!” yuji exclaims, slightly exasperated. “we didn’t suffer through weeks of them being insufferable just for us to never see them happy together!”

“do you think maybe this is why,” maki says, unimpressed.

“maki, my love, shut up,” nobara gruffs before placing a chaste kiss on maki’s cheek. "you're literally an accomplice right now, so don’t pretend you’re not trying to catch them being losers either... now open the door, cmon we’re wasting time!”

"yeah, megumi has probably already sensed our presence by now,“ yuji whines.

yuuta’s brows knit together, looking and sounding slightly concerned as he asks, “what?”

yuji shrugs nonchalantly. "yeah, I don't know; he has like a sixth sense.”

maki rolls her eyes. “or maybe it’s because you guys aren't discreet at all.”

“oh my fucking god, maki, just open the damn door,” Inumaki snaps. “all this yapping, and for what?”

nobara nods. “yeah, babe, listen to Inumaki.”

“dear lord, help us all,” maki murmurs quietly as she turns back toward the door.

the three of them are all attempting to control their giggles as maki and yuuta eye each other. yuuta merely shrugs, and maki sighs before quietly opening the front door. Immediately, it’s dark; the only light coming in is the porch light from the front door.

“are they not home?” yuji asks through a whisper, squinting as if that will speed up his eyes adjustment to the darkness.

nobara frowns. “they have to be; they said they would!”

“fuck, maybe they found us out,” Inumaki adds.

maki suggests blankly, “have we considered turning on a light yet, maybe.” 

yuuta walks toward the light switch, mumbling, "I'll do it.”

It takes a minute for everyone's eyes to adjust, but once they do, everyone goes wide-eyed at the scene in front of them. you and megumi are asleep on the couch. you’re on top of him, lying on his chest, and buried in his arms. small content smiles on both of your faces.

yuji chokes back a squeal. “no way, no way, no way!!”

“oh my god, maki, hold me; I'm gonna collapse,” nobara quickly says before throwing herself into her girlfriend's arms.

maki stumbles slightly as she mutters, "I might collapse too; this is sickening.”

yuuta can’t help but smile. "aw, wait, this is so cute."

“right?” Inumaki instantly agrees. “look at them cuddling asleep, oh my god," he pauses momentarily. "I suddenly have the urge to kick y/n.”

maki’s glare practically burns holes into Inumaki. "don't you dare.”

"If you touch me, I'll kill you.”

everyone’s head snaps toward you, slightly startled from not expecting you to say anything considering you were asleep—or at least they thought you were.

“oh my god, haha!" Inumaki laughs nervously. “heyyy, we were just talking about you.”

you roll your eyes and slowly lift your head to look at all of them, before gently resting your chin back down on megumi’s chest. “you guys are so loud; maybe work on that next time you wanna spy on us.”

“we tried telling them to be quiet,” yuuta explains.

maki adds, “they don’t know what that is.”

you scoff, “clearly.”

“Is megs awake?” yuji asks.

“nope,” you say, quickly glancing at megumi, who’s still sound asleep. “you think I'd still be on his chest right now if he were?”

nobara half-shrugs in agreement. “you’re right, he’d go into cardiac arrest... shy ass bitch.”

you can't help but snort, which you immediately regret because megumi stirs awake.

“who are you talking to?” he slurs with his eyes still closed.

"shh, no one, go back to sleep,” you coo.

megumi’s face scrunches up, evidently suspicious, and the moment you see his eyes begin to open, you slap your hands over them.

“y/n, stop covering my eyes.”

"I don't know what you’re talking about.”

you barely have a second to process what's happening before megumi sits up, your hands dropping off his face as you grab onto his shirt to save yourself from falling. he also wraps his arms around your waist to help. now sitting up, with you in his lap, he looks around and finds the rest of the group smiling like idiots at the whole ordeal. megumi flushes deep red as he turns to look back at you, who’s smiling menacingly.

he gulps, not liking the way you’re looking at him. “y/n…”

although you’re already on his lap and in his arms, the force with which you slam yourself against him pushes him back down onto the couch, and now back in your original positions, you smother kisses all over his face. megumi somehow flushes an even darker red as he attempts to push you off him in embarrassment, and his embarrassment only grows worse when he can hear yuuta, yuji, Inumaki, and nobara either cooing or laughing while maki is pretending to gag.

"I thought you didn’t hate me anymore,” megumi asks through a pout, still attempting to evade your kisses.

"I don't,” you say before pressing your lips against his.

megumi kisses you back and uses the opportunity to snake his hands up and grab your face, pulling it away from his and effectively stopping you from kissing him anymore. “then why are you torturing me like this.”

you simply smile. “cause you're cute when you get all embarrassed.”

megumi pushes you off of him and onto the couch as he stands up, scoffing, “fuck off.”

you laugh as you sit up properly. "you wound me, stalker; I can feel my soulmate mark fading as we speak.”

megumi looks down at you blankly. “you're literally not funny. like at all.”

nobara seems to suddenly appear out of thin air by megumi’s side, slinging her arm over his shoulders as she coos, “and everyone booed when I said me and y/n would marry into the same family.”

maki rolls her eyes and pulls her girlfriend off megumi. “neither of us are married, nobara.”

“yet…”

megumi rolls his eyes. “shut up, nobara.”

yuji, who has just been enjoying recording the bickering between you and megumi up until now, lifts his head from his phone. “hey megs?”

“what?”

"have you told gojo anything? cause like he's asking me how you are, and I don't wanna spill the beans…”

"wow, you're closing your fat ass mouth for once?”

you don't hesitate to kick megumi in the shins for that and scold him through clenched teeth, telling him to be nice.

yuji is unphased. "don't play with me right now. your life is in my hands.”

megumi clears his throat. "...I'll text him.”

-ok ignore that i accidentally posted this last night coughs.

-ANYWAY YIPPEE BONUS CH!

-do nawt ask me what happens when gojo gets there bc idk! megumi explodes probably !

-sorry the layout is so weird i wouldnt have been able to include gojo's messages in here had i screenshotted the written part like i usually do but i rlly wanted to add papa gojo!!

-ANYWAY LOVE U KITTENS MWAH MWAH ! I HOPE U GUYS LIKED THIS SORRY ITS LIKE LOWKEY UNDERWHELMING AND BAD LOLZ

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[lara4eclipze]

𝓢cream for me

— ( 🔪 ) when you put your body on mine, and collide — collide

daniela avanzini x fem!reader, suggestive, fluff, swearing, mentions of murder, torture, dani is possesive and most of the time jelous here, wc [?], tags listed below

north side high has never been this quiet, well ever since the murder cases started floating people became paranoid — especially you, the people dying were either close with you or you had once talked too

you always had this feeling that you were next, its like the perpetrator is pickin out your circle of friends one by one, and each time someone died the knife inches closer to you

so did the blame, with an unknown killer on the loose everyone is pointing fingers on who it might be, and you? your the main suspect like mentioned earlier everyone dying was in your circle

"i just don't know, karlee — I'm scared" you mutter through the call, you've been on this call for maybe 6 hours, and it gave you a sense of safety having someone to talk to

it terrified you that you might be next, you wanted to know the motive, why would the killer pick off your friends one by one, and what did they do to deserve that

"y/n... I'm hearing something in our kitchen" karlee mutters fear evident in her voice, your heart drops thinking of the worst thing that could happen, and your hands tighten their grip on the phone squeezing it impossibly tight

"fuck- , karlee stay put I'm gonna call the police" you frantically stutter, "no you wouldn't" you hear a menacing voice speak on the line, your face turns pale upon the realization

the next second you heard karlees blood curdling scream, the camera was pitch black but you can tell from the sounds of guts and blood that she was getting torn apart

you cried hearing the pain karlee was in — your hands shake as you kept hearing the splattering of blood, till it started fading

"y/n.." you hear karlees broken sob — "oh shut up" you hear the perpetrator spit after so stabbing karlee one last time taking the life out of the girl

you didn't know what to do, your tears fell in sorrow and fear — the police came asking you what happened and it was hard to say the least — just remembering how karlee screamed and how you couldn't do anything

the next day, daniela your friend asked to sleepover, saying her parents were out of town and she didn't feel safe alone, you lived alone and having someone around was good for you

"hi dani" you mutter letting daniela in — your eyebags were huge and your so shaky that even daniela couldn't help but feel a tiny bit guilty, "how are you handling things?" daniela softly asked as you two sat on your bed — "i don't k-know.." you sputtered before you ultimately sobbed

the latina immediately hugged you as you fell down on her, an odd sense of triumph ran through her, she knew she had successfully eliminated anyone who could stop her from having what she wanted the most — you

"shh, its okay — ill keep you safe" she whispers like a lullaby to you as you've finally calmed down a bit — "I'm sorry karlee died, y/n" dani follows

then it clicked for you — the police had kept karlees death a secret and its not like the latina was related to any authority figure

you tense up thinking of your safety, how you are probably hugging the killer, the very one who stabbed and killed your friends, the older woman realized how she slipped up and she right away tightens her hug on your torso

"y/n its either you stay with me or you're fucking next, i will do anything to have you" daniela spits, you freeze just letting her handle you she slowly hugs you again softing her voice

daniela holds your face in between her hands, "cause if you tell who'd believe you?, would they listen to the number one suspect?" daniela condescendingly mocks you

"if you dare try to escape me, ill fucking kill everyone in this place" she threatened still smiling sickeningly sweet, you wanted justice but is it worth losing more people to?

it haunted you how you couldn't help, how you couldn't tell anyone who the killer was, after that day daniela always had her eyes on you, she somehow planted cameras in your dorm tracking your every move

you hated her guts, you hated daniela avanzini — yet you knew one wrong move and you'll be bleeding in your dorm without anyone knowing why

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-spooktober.

Gravity Always Wins

Day #3 Prompt: Apples | Word Count: 6464 | Rating: M | POV: Eddie | CW: Language, Sex | Tags: Modern AU, Meet Cute, Apple Picking, Bakery Owner Steve, Sports Guy Steve, Smitten Eddie Munson, Platonic Stobin, Gareth, Good Uncle Wayne Munson

Also right here on ao3.

"Oh shit, oh fuck," Eddie says as the apple tumbles out of his grasp. He looks down in horror as it falls, like a slow-motion car wreck happening right before his very eyes, as it lands directly on the guy's head that was picking below him.

To add insult to injury, it hits with a very audible thunk. 

Shit, he shouldn't even be allowed on a ladder. That's like the first rule of the universe or some shit. Who signed off on this? Honestly.

"I'm so sorry, are you okay?" Eddie asks, coming down the ladder, watching as the guy, the very pretty guy, rubs at the top of his head, only slightly worried he's about to get his ass kicked in a goddamn apple orchard.

But the guy is laughing.

He's laughing, and gorgeous, and Eddie can't help but smile. 

"Goddamn you, Newton!" Eddie shouts, dramatically shaking his fist in the air, eyes trained on the sky, as if he had nothing at all to do with this, and that gravity alone was solely to blame.

"Gravity always wins," the guy says, then adds, "I'm good, honest, you just startled me. I never thought concussion number four would be at the hands of an apple. But here we are."

Eddie feels his face fall.

"Oh, oh no, I'm kidding. I was just teasing you. I'm fine. Look? It was just a little apple," he says, leaning over to pick up the offending piece of fruit. 

Eddie eyes it in his palm, "That's definitely gonna have a bruise."

"Like my head," he teases, and Eddie reaches out and pops him on the shoulder, making him pull back, giggling. His sweater is soft under Eddie's hand, and Eddie wants to reach out and stroke it again, but stops himself. Content to just stare a second.

He's truly something to look at. Goddamn.

Eddie just smiles at him, and when he straightens back up, he hands the apple back.

It is a little apple, and Eddie probably shouldn't have picked it in the first place, but he doesn't know what the fuck he's doing. He saw an apple, and picked it.

Looking at the bushel this guy has selected, though, gives him pause. They are evenly sized, and brightly colored. No blemishes at all. Perfect apples, for the perfect guy.

Eddie's are a little misshapen and odd. The freaks, if you will, but he thinks that's pretty damn fitting.

"Guess you'll have to make applesauce–" the guy starts, and then stops, clearly searching for Eddie's name.

"Eddie," Eddie offers.

"Eddie," he repeats. "I'm Steve."

"Well, Steve, I would make some applesauce if I knew how," Eddie laughs.

"You could always come by my bakery slash coffee shop," Steve offers, sort of shaking the basket slung over his arm, "That's why I'm picking apples today. So I can make some seasonal items with local apples. Customers eat that shit up."

Eddie thinks he's being picked up. Maybe. Or not. He's never very good at getting those signals right. Gareth says he's hopeless, and sometimes that feels more accurate than he'd like to admit.

Like, right now. Is Steve hitting on him, or trying to drum up business? 

Eddie decides he honestly doesn't exactly care which it is, "Sure, I'd love to be the guinea pig for your apple pie."

"Well," Steve says, lowering his voice in a way that makes Eddie feel funny in a good way, "I never said pie."

"Oh, well, in that case…" Eddie teases, trailing off, acting as if he's going to walk away.

But, Steve just laughs at him, and digs in his wallet, producing a little business card: Harrington's. Since 1955.

"My, you look awfully good for your age," Eddie says.

Steve laughs, "My grandma and grandpa ran it before me. And they didn't think they'd have anyone to take over the family business when they retired. And then I turned up, with nothing better to do."

Eddie nods. He's definitely going to stop by Steve's family business, not even for the not-pie, but just so he can see more of this guy, "Well, in that case. When should I show up?"

"Tomorrow, anytime after three?" Steve suggests, and Eddie is nodding along. Tomorrow after three sounds perfect to him. 

Eddie pulls up in the alley behind the back of the bakery, as directed, and can't really believe he's here. Like, what does he know about baking? He can't even bake a box of brownies without messing them up somehow.

But, Steve is gorgeous, and this isn't an invite he's about to turn down. He's a fool, but he's no dummy. Eddie pushes on the back door, and it's heavy, but slowly glides open. 

"Knock, knock," Eddie says, and then hears a commotion. Lots of yelling. Like a fight is happening. 

His fight or flight starts to kick in, and flight will always win for him, but…he pauses.

He knows that kind of yelling from Uncle Wayne, and as far as a fight goes, it's surely a one-sided one, because Steve's staring up at the mounted television over on the wall, screaming at the refs of a football game, as he stands inside an industrial kitchen, at a stainless steel prep table, peeling apples.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Steve the Baker is also Steve the Sports Guy? That wasn't advertised on the label at all. 

Eddie's been hoodwinked. The wool pulled straight over his eyes. Was bamboozled by a pretty face in a warm-looking sweater, right there in a goddamn apple orchard.

He's starting to plan his escape, when Steve turns to look at him, and smiles, waving his paring knife in the air, "Hey! You made it!"

"Hey," Eddie says back, shucking off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack by the door. Steve sounds excited to see him, and maybe the game is almost over. He could deal with it for a few minutes. Steve was very pretty in that sweater.

He squints at the screen, and the score is 0-0 and it's still the first quarter. He doesn't know a lot about sports, but he grew up with Wayne. He at least understands that this means the damn thing has just started. 

"You care if I leave the game on?" Steve asks, flashing him those warm eyes, and Eddie finds himself nodding along with that idea, like a damn idiot. No, he doesn't want to watch sports, but…that face.

That face will make him break his most solemn of vows: no sports. He just won't tell Wayne or Gareth. He'll gloss right over that part, and nobody will ever have to know that he spent the whole afternoon with football blaring in the background of his maybe date.

Because, as good looking as this guy is, and as much as Eddie would like to eat this guy, and his baked goods, alive, he's sure this isn't going to go any further than this afternoon. It can't. What would they talk about? Baking and football? Eddie doesn't know anything about either of those topics. But he can surely bumble through one afternoon. That'll be fine. Eddie can do anything for one afternoon. All the odd jobs he's ever held has proven that.

Hell, if he plays his cards right, maybe he can get one night out of it, too.

But long-term? He can already see the writing on the wall, and it bums him out, just a little bit. He hadn't been this excited about a guy in a while.

Steve hands Eddie a peeler, and Eddie goes to work, peeling the whole bushel of apples that Steve has washed and laid out on a towel. He does know how to work a peeler, at least. That was his job for potatoes at Wayne's, when he was far too little to do anything else.

"So, tell me about yourself. Do you always assault men with apples?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks over at him and smiles.

"Only the cute ones," Eddie flirts, and loves the blush that stains Steve's cheeks as he looks back down at the apples he's evenly slicing. 

"No offense, but you don't seem like the apple picking type," Steve says, and Eddie laughs. He's not wrong. "What brought you out there, especially all by yourself?"

"It's part of my contract. Free apples from the orchard and free pumpkins from the patch," Eddie says, then realizes that doesn't explain anything at all, adding, "I work nights at the haunted hayride. As a scare actor," Eddie says, then holds his hands up like a zombie.

Steve's eyes are big, and it's awfully cute as he laughs.

"So, free apples. I mean, how many apples or pumpkins can one man eat? But free is free."

"Maybe I'll teach you how to bake something using them," Steve suggests and Eddie nods. He'd like that. A lot, he thinks. Even if that's all he gets out of the day.

"Deal. So, what's on the menu for today?"

Steve grins, "Apple fritters. Cupcakes. There's this apple maple upside down cake I want to try. A cobbler. Someone suggested an apple pie."

"They sound smart," Eddie banters, and Steve just keeps smiling.

"Have you ever made a dessert pizza?" Eddie asks, meeting Steve's eyes.

"Like from Pizza Hut?" Steve questions, and Eddie nods.

"No, but we totally can. I've never thought to try to make it myself."

Eddie smiles at the thought. He imagines homemade would be even better than what used to be on the buffet at Pizza Hut when he was younger.

Steve moves from slicing apples to dicing them very small and fine. In perfect little squares that are very impressive to Eddie's eyes. He can barely cut anything evenly, so that seems like quite the feat.

Eddie watches as Steve goes between watching the knife in his hands so he doesn't cut his fingers off, and the ballgame. 

"You should come to the hayride," Eddie blurts out.

Steve smiles, "I don't really do scary things, or anything that risks a head injury these days."

It's just a trailer pulled around the grounds, nobody touches anybody. Couldn't if they wanted to, but if he doesn't like scary, he doesn't like scary. Then he remembers something Steve had joked about in the orchard after Eddie had beaned him with that apple.

"Have you really already had three concussions?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah," Steve answers, "at least three that I know about. But not from falling apples. I'm fine. I promise."

"How'd you get them?" Eddie asks, because he isn't sure how one gets that many concussions unless they've been abused, and his stomach drops. Maybe he shouldn't have asked that. Maybe it's none of his goddamn business. Maybe-

"I got one from a dickhead in high school that blindsided me during a stupid fight, and then the other two from football plays in college, a couple weeks apart. One was a dirty, on purpose, helmet-to-helmet late hit, the last one was during a quarterback sneak that went wrong."

Eddie has no idea what that means.

"What's that mean?" Eddie asks.

Steve looks at him, "Not a football guy?"

Eddie shakes his head adamantly, "Not an any sports guy. Sorry."

"That's okay," Steve says, "A quarterback sneak is when you only need to move a yard or two down the field to, say, get across the goal line to score, or get a first down, and the linemen in front of you, the big guys, push forward and the quarterback tries to carry it over himself. No hand-off. No throw."

"And you were the quarterback?"

"I was. I was a little too exposed, and one of the defensive players came in and hit me helmet to helmet in the dogpile. Snapped my neck backwards."

"I'm sorry," Eddie says.

"It happens. Most of the time you go into concussion protocol, and clear it. Mine wasn't even caught immediately after it happened. Not even by me. I hopped right back up, and it wasn't until I'd thrown a few uncharacteristic picks later, that they decided something must be wrong with me and pulled me out of the game and straight into the tent. Once the migraines started a few days later, and never really stopped after all the other symptoms went away, that was the end of the line. No more football. No NFL draft."

Eddie swallows, that's fucking rough.

"They forced you to stop?" Eddie asks. 

"Yes," Steve says, then must change his mind, "No. Not really. The specialists suggested it. I don't think they could have forced me to comply. Hell, they'll play you into the ground. But it would have been a risk to draft a known concussion magnet. So, it was a choice I had to make for myself, and I chose to stop, to preserve what I had left. Stop it at the occasional migraine. Of course Robin, my best friend, would have flayed me alive if I'd done anything else. She was the first to call it, and she was right."

"But you were good enough to go pro? If you hadn't taken those hits?" Eddie asks, quietly.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows?" Steve answers with a shrug, like he doesn't really care one way or the other, but he must care. He'd have to. Eddie knows he'd care if he couldn't play the guitar anymore, and he's never been anywhere near going professional.

"But you still watch it? Football? Even after losing the chance to play?" Eddie asks.

Steve smiles, "Hell yeah. I still love the game. Even if I can't play."

Then he points at the screen, "I'm friends with #52. In the white. We went to college together. It all worked out better for him than it did me, but I couldn't be prouder of him. A little jealous, sure. But really proud, too."

"Do you ever get to go to games in person, or is that impossible with the bakery?"

"I try to hit one a season, as that's about all the favors I can call in with my friends. Coming in at three a.m. to get shit ready is a hard sell, let me tell you," Steve laughs, "That and they don't know what they're doing. So, it's just easier to just stay here. Watch on television. Scream at the refs from home instead of the stands."

"I know all about the screaming. I live with my uncle, and he has a sport for every season, I swear it. Getting him to move to Indy with me was no small feat, let me tell you," Eddie laughs, "But he needed to retire from the plant. He still works, because he's a stubborn old man, but now he's at a local hardware store instead, bossing clueless jackasses around. His words, not mine."

Steve laughs, "He sounds great."

"He is, and of course you'd think so, you sports guys always stick together."

Steve laughs, nodding like it's true, and then they go back to work. Baking, watching the game, and cheering on Steve's friend to a close game win.

And that evening, Eddie goes home with a still warm pie, and a phone number for Steve burning a hole in his pocket.

They spend the next two weeks texting back and forth, with a few short phone calls sprinkled in for good measure, but it hasn't gone beyond that. Eddie isn't sure if Steve's just busy or uninterested in setting up a second date. He wishes he'd just tell him. They could just be friends, but Eddie would rather know that now, instead of later once he's already gotten swept away by the idea of dating him, for real.

Eddie looks at his phone as Chrissy does his makeup, "Eyes up, Munson."

Steve hasn't responded, but he's probably asleep. Eddie puts his phone on the table, "Yes, ma'am."

She laughs, and gets him ready for another night of a constant loop of visitors to the maze. They've done this for a few years now, and they're all good at it, and it's not bad seasonal work. It helps pay the bills for the band to keep trying, stay plugging along. 

Eddie knows they aren't gonna make it big, not now, that window has closed. But they still make music together, good music he thinks, so taking on odd jobs to still do that has been worth it. 

Maybe after thirty he'll have to settle down, but for right now? He's just having fun.

"Tell me about the boy," she sing-songs, then changes her mind, "No, keep your mouth shut until I'm done with your face."

Eddie laughs, and keeps his mouth shut, as directed.

"But tell me later, though."

And he nods. He definitely will. Gareth's sick of hearing about Steve, so if he has a fresh pair of ears to listen to him yap, he's definitely all-in on that.

It's actually gotten chilly tonight, but when the second-to-last trailer full of guests pulls around the corner at quarter to two, Eddie sees Steve sitting next to a woman that has to be Robin. She just looks exactly like what Eddie imagined every time Steve's told a story about her. And she looks very grumpy about being awake in the middle of the night.

Eddie is stoked, and rushes around from Gareth to Jeff to Goodie to Chrissy, pointing out Steve, and then hurrying back to his spot for the last trailer. They don't really care all that much. He's sure they're happy for him, but they definitely just want to finish doing their jobs and get the fuck out of here for the night.

Steve's lingering by the employees only sign when Eddie exits backstage.

"You came," Eddie says, makeup hastily scrubbed off his face. It's a big no-no to interact with the guests in character, even if it's the guy you've been playing phone tag with for the last two weeks. He wasn't sure Steve would stay, but he did, and Eddie's fucking thrilled to see him.

"This is Robin," Steve says, slinging his arm over her shoulders.

Eddie starts to say hi, when the door bangs closed behind him, and he turns to see Chrissy on her way out.

"Night, Eddie," Chrissy says, as she passes by them, her dirty dead cheerleader costume slung over her arm.

"Was she the cheerleader?" Robin hisses, and Eddie nods. 

"Hey, Chris, wait!" he hollers, and drags her closer, making introductions. He's no dummy, he knows what that question entailed, and he has no problem playing a hint of matchmaker. And if they're talking, that'll give Eddie some time alone with Steve. 

The fact that Steve showed up at all, late at night, was a sacrifice of sleeping time. Eddie knows it, and appreciates it. So, he won't keep him. He'll send him back home to bed, or straight to the bakery, wherever he needs to be next, so he can get ready to make the donuts as Steve likes to say. 

"I'm glad you came," Eddie says, running his hand up Steve's arm. 

"Of course, I couldn't resist the opportunity to see you as the evil undead."

Eddie grins at him. He really likes this guy. 

"The bats were really believable."

Eddie grins, and tells him all about how he helped design them with his friends. They built the pulley system in Gareth's garage on the cheap, but it works, and well.

Steve nods along, then pulls Eddie into the darkness, where the floodlights don't reach. Eddie goes, willingly, sliding his hands along Steve's waist. 

And then they're kissing, and Eddie couldn't be more fucking thrilled. 

Steve is interested. And Eddie is definitely interested.

Steve's tongue slides along his, and Eddie squeezes him tighter, pulling Steve into his body, wanting to be closer. As close as they can get here in this dark alleyway. 

When Steve pulls back, he presses his forehead to Eddie's, and Eddie tries to look into his eyes this close-up.

"I've wanted to do that since the orchard," Steve says.

"Fuck, me too," Eddie admits. He'd like to do more, too, but Robin is yelling that her alarm is going off, meaning Steve's got to get to the bakery. 

Steve's day is just beginning, and Eddie's is just ending. Their schedules couldn't be more out of sync if they tried.

But Eddie reluctantly lets him go, they say their goodbyes, but Eddie is already scheming how he'll get to see Steve next.

The next morning, Eddie forces himself out of bed at a normal hour so he can go to the bakery. Gareth follows him to the van, tagging along without an invite, but Eddie doesn't care, as long as he can see Steve, it's all good.

Steve's behind the counter, and he grins when he sees Eddie come through the front door, "Hey!"

"Hey, yourself," Eddie says back, looking at the handwritten menu board. "Suggestions are welcome."

And Steve just laughs, and then produces a piece of cobbler that looks sticky and delicious.

"Sold," Eddie replies, taking the plate from him, and then nodding towards Gareth, "and whatever he wants. This is Gareth."

Gareth is looking in the glass case, paying no attention to either of them.

"So, this is the famous Eddie?" a girl who is not Robin asks, sidling up beside Steve at the counter.

"That's Eddie," Steve says with a smile, then introduces her, "This is Di."

She makes a shooing motion with her hands, "Go. Sit with him for a minute. I'll watch the counter," Di offers, pushing Steve from behind the register, and Eddie's grateful.

"Thanks, Di," Steve answers, pulling his apron off over his head, showing a strip of bare skin as it goes. His stomach is hairy and Eddie gulps, probably audibly, like he's in a cartoon.

He wants, he wants, he wants.

Steve picks up his coffee mug, and grabs a piece of cobbler for himself.

"Hey kid, head's up," Eddie says, and Gareth looks just in time to catch Eddie's wallet as Eddie tosses it to him. "Pick something and pay the nice lady."

"Yeah, yeah," Gareth says, and goes right back to looking at all his options.

Steve leads Eddie over to a table in the corner, and they sit and get to talk face-to-face, for the first time since their first afternoon here. Yeah, sure, he saw Steve last night, that was just a brief hi and bye.

It's nice to sit across from him again, and even nicer when Steve slides his hand forward, lacing their fingers together. Miraculously Gareth doesn't come over and cockblock him like the little shit that he is, instead lingering by the counter. 

Eddie looks back at Steve.

"You know, I don't really date," Steve admits, "I mean, the bakery hours keep my nightlife non-existent. And I've gotten used to that. But I really like you."

Eddie feels his cheeks heat up. Is he blushing? That's absurd, but he thinks it's probably true. He likes Steve. A lot. And he can deal with weird hours for Steve, he's damn certain. Dates at three in the afternoon? Awesome. He'll have just rolled out of bed a couple hours before that half the time anyway.

"But, I'd like to try. If you want to," Steve says, and Eddie nods.

"Yeah, I want to. I really like you, too."

Then the phone rings, and it's something Steve has to take, and Eddie glances at him one more time before he holds open the door with the jangly bell for Gareth to exit.

Steve's still looking at him, watching him go, so Eddie winks, and it makes Steve smile.

There's no plan, but Eddie knows he's gonna date the shit out of Steve Harrington.

Turns out, the whole dating with opposite schedules idea was way easier said than done. Eddie works every weekend night, all fall long, because that's the busy time. He works some weeknights, too, but those are easier to trade around for with his friends. So, weekends are definitely out, and he needs date ideas that don't mess with Steve's sleep schedule.

He's reading the paper that Wayne left on the coffee table as he sits on the couch and eats his cereal, when he sees that the local high school football team is playing next week, but that's on Friday. Duh. Friday Night Lights. Even he understands enough about football to get that that's a reference to the night they play. He may have needed three senior years to graduate, but he's not that dense. He keeps reading, and sees that the JV football team plays on Tuesday and the junior high team on Thursday. That's an idea. He doesn't really know what that means, but he knows who would.

"Hey, Wayne!" he yells, and when Wayne rounds the corner Eddie asks, "Tell me. Which is a better game to attend: JV or Junior High?"

"Game of what? Tiddlywinks? Dragons and Dragons?" Wayne prods, teasing him. Eddie damn well knows Wayne remembers what DnD is. He bought enough of those books for him in high school, it has to be seared into his old man brain. 

But Wayne glances over at him from his recliner he's just sat down in, waiting for Eddie to spill it.

Eddie lowers his voice and mumbles, "Football."

"What'd you say, I didn't hear you?" Wayne drawls, but he's grinning like he heard exactly what Eddie said.

"Shut up, old man," Eddie teases, "I'm sort of dating a guy. He likes football. Used to play. I thought it might be nice to take him to a game, and I obviously can't do a Friday night game this year because of work. But I thought Steve might like to go to one of these other games?"

"Steve, huh? This Steve have a last name?" Wayne asks, and Eddie rolls his eyes. Wayne doesn't need to try to vet this guy like he did every single person Eddie dated in high school. He's a grown man now, almost thirty. He picks better these days.

At least, he hopes he does.

"Harrington," Eddie answers, "and you're ignoring the question. JV? Junior High?" Then points his finger at the newspaper, crinkling it, "Or the local flag football team plays on Sundays. Help a guy out. Jeez."

But Wayne is just staring at him, mouth slightly open. Eddie's never seen him this shocked in his life. And Eddie did some wild shit in high school that Wayne swears made him go gray and bald.

"Yes, yes, I'm willing to go to a game. We're all shocked. Make fun. I have it coming. But close your mouth before you catch flies."

"No. Just. Steve Harrington, Ed? You, my nephew, who hates all sports sight unseen, is dating Steve Harrington? Heisman Trophy winner as a sophomore, that Steve Harrington?"

Eddie just shrugs, "I don't know about all that. He runs a bakery."

Wayne lets out a breathy laugh, "Right. He runs a bakery."

"He does," Eddie confirms. 

Wayne picks up his phone, puts on his reading glasses so Eddie knows he's serious, and finally turns the screen towards Eddie, "This your boy?"

Eddie smiles. He's younger, but yeah, that's definitely Steve, "Yep, that's Steve."

"I'll be damned, I knew he was from Indiana, but I didn't expect him to come back to our neck of the woods to run a bakery."

"You know my boyfriend, Wayne?" Eddie teases, lilting his voice, and batting his eyes.

"Anybody that followed football in the last decade knows of your boyfriend, Ed. He was gonna be a star, a franchise quarterback, for any team lucky enough to draft him."

Steve had said he wasn't sure if he was good enough to go pro, and now Eddie is doubting the validity of that, "He said he wasn't sure if he was good enough to make it pro."

Wayne laughs, "That boy would've been a first round pick. He's just being humble."

"Oh," Eddie says, "that's pretty cool. It's too bad he got hurt, then."

"It is," Wayne agrees.

"If he was as good as you say, why didn't he just go pro right out of high school?" Eddie asks, thinking this over. He's really not sure why you'd take the risk playing college football before you could make the big bucks.

"That's not how the NFL draft works. You have to be three years past graduation from high school before you're eligible. And what else are you gonna do for those three years, if not play ball at college?"

"Oh," Eddie says, then adds, "Good thing I wasn't good at football. I'd have been an old man trying to enter the draft."

Wayne laughs. It wasn't so funny when Eddie was bearing down on twenty-one and still trying to get that damn diploma, but they can laugh about it now. Water under the bridge.

Eddie then asks, "So, about the game…"

Wayne steered him towards the JV game, but told him over and over that all of the options were beneath the level of football that Steve Harrington was used to watching, or playing. 

Eddie decides to take him anyway.

Eddie buys the four dollar tickets at the gate from a mom sitting at a card table with a metal cash box in front of her, a button with her son's face pinned to her coat. He gives her a ten, and tells her to keep the change when she holds it in her hand, unmoving.

But that's just because she's staring at Steve, kind of starry-eyed. He is attractive, that's undeniable, and Eddie puffs up a little that he's the one getting to date him tonight.

Then Steve is accosted for pictures no less than seven times on the way to the stands, and Eddie wonders if he's made a mistake here. He didn't think it through, didn't understand that Steve would be known here.

Eddie escapes to the concessions stand, and when he comes back, arms full, there's a group of kids surrounding Steve. And Steve's engaged, and giving them what they want, clearly, but this isn't a good date. This seems more like he's trotted Steve out for the wolves. 

Everyone else finally clears out as kickoff happens, leaving them alone, and Eddie takes his seat next to Steve on the bleachers.

"Uh, did I fuck this up?" Eddie whispers, handing Steve a tray of nachos.

"No. No way, this is great," Steve reassures, a big smile on his face.

"I truly didn't understand that you'd be recognized here," Eddie says, "I don't know anything about sports. I'm in over my head. I just thought, well, maybe you'd like to see a game. Even if it's just kids."

"This is great, Eddie. You did great, honest," Steve says. "I'm not recognized outside of football. Don't worry. This isn't an everyday occurrence. This is a very isolated incident, because of where we are. Some of these kids probably watched me play. I'm not that old."

Eddie laughs, some of the tension draining out of his shoulders. He definitely didn't want to make Steve uncomfortable.

And if he is, he never lets on. Instead, Steve explains the game to him as it goes, and it's a slow enough pace that Eddie thinks maybe he's understanding it. The football Steve had been watching on TV in the bakery had moved so fucking fast he had no hopes of following, not even when there was an instant replay to slow it down.

Steve's never seen these kids play before, but he can read them all like open books, calling plays, calling probable results before they happen. And he's right. Nine times out of ten, he's right. 

He should probably coach football. But maybe that's too painful? Eddie's definitely not gonna bring it up. 

They leave at halftime, and Eddie's sure it's only partly because Steve has to be up in less than eight hours. 

He still thinks it went well, because Steve leans over in the van and kisses him.

Eddie suddenly feels like he can't feel his face, even as he kisses back, hand cupping Steve's face, just wanting to touch him.

Eddie likes him so goddamn much, and as Steve pulls away, Eddie feels like they are no longer struggling to make a connection. They've done it. They're getting there.

Over the next few weeks, they have half-dozen more half-dates. Eddie catches the first quarter of a college football game, Steve's alma mater, on the television at the bakery with him before having to head to the maze for the night.

A few days later they grab fast food in Steve's car, and Eddie's definitely trying hard not to make a mess. Steve's car is nice, and Eddie's only used to his shitty van.

They carve out an hour to just lay in Steve's bed, kissing and touching, and eventually fucking before they need to part ways again.

Eddie wonders if they'll ever get to actually sleep in the same bed with shifts this ass-backwards from each other.

Spooky season comes and goes, and Eddie's back looking for some kind of other temporary work. He's complaining to Steve that nobody is hiring, even when they say they're hiring.

"Come work at the bakery," Steve says, "then maybe we'll finally get to see each other for longer than an hour at a time."

Eddie starts to say no, starts to deflect in a knee-jerk way, but then decides he'd really like to do that, "Really?"

"Really," Steve confirms. 

"I don't know how to bake, you know that," Eddie teases.

"You're not coming there to bake. Please, no. But you could run the register. Right?"

And Eddie thinks he'd like to do just that, so he nods and nods.

So, they work together, and sometimes go home with each other after. Both of them dozing on the couch while Wayne watches football, or cuddling up at Steve's place while Robin whines about it being her turn to cook dinner.

And Eddie ends up loving Robin, because working with her at the bakery might be almost as fun as it is working with Steve. She's not there all the time, but when she is, they run the front together, while Steve and Di have the back, and it's the least work feeling work he's ever done.

She's funny, and snarky, and loves Steve so much Eddie can feel it rolling off of her in waves. She kept him from getting hurt further. She made sure he'd be okay, even if Eddie's sure Steve felt anything but at the time.

He talks up Steve's baked goods, upselling easily, turning a half-dozen box into a full dozen more often than not. Eventually he sneaks around while Steve isn't looking, and hangs his own picture on the wall, labeled underneath as Employee of the Month, as a joke.

When Steve finally notices it, it stays. Eddie's part of the place, now. And he couldn't be happier about that. Harrington's is fun, and relaxed, and he's honestly never gotten this invested in a job before. He wants it to succeed, because he wants Steve, and the rest of his friends, to succeed. And yeah, he's sure Steve has a lot to do with that, but still, the fact that he's enjoying it is a bonus he hadn't foreseen coming.

He helps clean up every afternoon, so they can get out of there faster, together. Today, with the cold winter air blowing, snow flurries are blustering around, stinging his face as they hit. So, he hugs Steve from behind as he locks the back door in the alley where they park, hiding his face in Steve's coat.

"Hello to you, too," Steve flirts, and Eddie smirks as soon as he realizes this is gonna be a short afternoon, because when they get home, they are definitely going straight to bed. 

And they do just that. It's cold outside, but the warm winter sunlight is pouring through the windows, made brighter by the snow on the ground, and Eddie's in love.

Steve looks fucking gorgeous, the light hitting him that way, letting that glow he always has about him shine through from the inside out.

Eddie runs his fingers over his body, his athletic frame that sees no playing time, anymore. He runs to keep in shape, but Eddie thinks he'd run too if he had that kind of albatross slung around his neck. If he'd lost the thing he loved most, the thing he'd hung his whole hat on.

If he'd lost possible rings and millions of dollars.

Steve's almost twenty-nine. He'd be hitting his peak, his best years of play.

But Steve's happy. He's not a bitter guy. He loves his bakery, and he loves his friends and-

"What's," Steve breathes out, easing up on his pace, "what's with the face?"

"I love you," Eddie blurts out.

Steve smiles, so fucking wide it feels like it cracks open Eddie's chest, "Well, don't look so sad about it then."

And Eddie laughs, reaching up to grasp Steve's hips, helping him regain his momentum. The spiral he was headed down on Steve's behalf, broken.

Steve doesn't want Eddie dwelling on the past. Especially if he doesn't do it himself. There are no pity parties happening in Steve Harrington's orbit.

"I love you, too. Now fuck me like you're not gonna cry about it."

Eddie huffs out a laugh, so fucking charmed and delighted by this man that he loves. He'll fuck him all right. 

"Hold on then, big boy," Eddie teases, and thrusts upwards, carrying the weight of Steve with him off the bed.

Maybe instead, they'll just hit their primes together.

Eddie starts to become a morning person against his will as the months wear on, and Steve will have to pay for that, eventually. But not today.

No, today he's more than fine with going to bed at eight-thirty, dicking down his boyfriend, then afterwards both of them will be sound asleep by nine. 

Gareth is hanging around the bakery more and more, and before Eddie realizes it, Steve and Di have taught Gareth how to bake. And he's somehow good at it. Gareth eventually weasels his way into a full-time job, too. Which gets Eddie's wheels turning. Maybe by next fall, Eddie can surprise Steve with tickets to an NFL game to watch his friend play, because together they are slowly building up enough of a staff to run the store in their absence.

It doesn't have to just be Steve anymore. It can be all of them.

Next fall, Eddie thinks.

And he smiles.

He's planning ahead, now. Planning for a future, one that he intends to share with Steve.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-spooktober to follow along with the fun! 🍎

[theloveinc]

any hobie and/or miguel icks? 😟

whoever sent this: thank you + i ADORE you. i hope you don't mind i'm switching up the formatting/style a it in comparison to my older icks... shorter list, more detailed <3

(warning: some fem terms used at the end, such as “mama!”)

-

Miguel O'Hara

- This guy... has some long ass toenails. Type of toenails that poke you at night in bed, and tear holes in his socks.

It's maybe somewhat related to the claw thing he's got going on? Has a lot stronger and faster-growing nails than the average person... but the real problem here is that he's TERRIBLE about clipping them. Claims it doesn't bother him even remotely and that you're the one overreacting when you ask him to... but hardly anything gets through to him about it. You probably even offer to do it for him one day, thinking the offer of a foot massage would sway his thinking and that it'd actually work... but he fought you on that just as easy...!!!

...which is how you came to the conclusion that you have a man who'll even argue w/ you over toenails. Petty boy.

- Miguel is also tired 24/7. AND yeah, it's pretty hard to be un-sympathetic towards that, but he's tired in the... I'm-gonna-prioritize-this-one-last-email-over-saying-goodnight-to-you way. Which gets real irritating when you're asking him to help you out w/ anything, like cleaning up or answering a question or JUST HAVING A DAMN CONVERSATION W/ YOU and he's using "I'm tired" as an excuse when his response is shitty or distracted.

Like one of those stupid guys whose always squinting at their damn iPad when you ask what he wants for dinner... which is ironic given that he'll get snippy at you for not giving him your full, entire attention whenever he wants it. Type of man to start picking imaginary lint off your head when you're simply trying to finish up a text before engaging him so that you aren't distracted.

- Odd about Lyla. Not that he loves her or anything, but she'll like pop up to give him updates about whatever even if you're MID-MAKEOUT session and he won't change that setting. Pulling away from your lips all pouty and squinty only to glare at his watch for thirty seconds before trying to go right back into kissing you.

No. No sir.

(Lyla will also always say something to or-but-usually-and about you, which... Okay, she's an AI and doesn't Get It... but it's still weird because it feels like someone you don't know just walked into the room.)

- Picks his nose when he's too busy to find a tissue, and forgets to sanitize his hands after. Denies this when you tell him.. but you've witnessed this multiple times (he's weirdly kind of whiney for a dude and lazy for a workaholic LOL).

Hobie Brown

- Lovely boyfriend because he doesn't give a crap about your appearance or the idea of needing to "look nice" for a man... but also stupid, nuisance boyfriend because this means he doesn't give one hoot if you try to get all gussied up for him. Nags you about wasting time getting ready because he doesn't need you to do all that instead of just saying "THANK YOU, YOU LOOK NICE." Even probably complains about you feeding into gender stereotypes or w/e when you do something like shave your legs or pluck your eyebrows😭

You try to talk to him about this, ask if he even cares that you tried to look nice, and he skirts around admitting it because he has an argument for everything. "'oughta know I think you're pretty either way"-ass when you just spent an hour trying to look all good for him.

- Tries to share the most obscure music with you... which is like, sweet in concept, but weird when it actually happens since it's never like a generic love song but an eleven minute underground jam session.

Which isn't to say he has bad taste in music, usually it's fine if not fantastic... but you try to tell him you don't want to listen to some dude's first draft of himself banging on a drum set for a full album and he's like: "tsk."

HOBIE. TSK??? FUCKING TSK????????? WHAT ABOUT WHAT OTHER PEOPLE LIKE????????

(He'll also use his to get out of listening to your music. Claiming his "inconsistency" is why he liked your playlist yesterday but not today. Stop!!!)

- And you know I gotta say it, he's a punk, after all: absolutely refuses to clean his favorite leather jacket, and it smells RANK. He's genuinely sentimental about it, though... and if you even try to bring up cleaning it somehow (even if very gently), he's acting like you betrayed him. Goes through the five stages of grief over you asking him not to wear it on one of your dates, and teases you by TALKING to it:

"Mumma didn't mean that, jackie. She just doesn't understand our lifestyle, does she?" while giving you a (lighthearted) stink eye.

[hvly]

WINDBREAKER VIRGINS YOU SAY 👀👀👀

— ⋆｡˚｡⋆ ｡˚ 𓆩𖥔𓆪 ˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆ —

speaking : yep, you heard right 🙂‍↕️ every show/manga i read is gonna get hit with my virgin ray. "i love virgins, anon ! I LOVE VIRGIIINS !"

𓆩𖥔𓆪 — disclaimer ! these are just my opinions ! if you disagree, cool. let's keep it cute. tbh, they all could be virgins, but they’re the most pressing in my eyes.

Nirei Akihiko

Don't get me wrong, I like Nirei alot ! I think he's super cute and he's so sweet it makes my teeth hurt. But, until his confidence goes up, ain't nothing going down. i do think he has a separate notebook with sex tips that's he gathered from various sources. From friends he worked up the courage to ask, to Cosmo articles, to the pornos he watches on lonely nights. When he finally get brave enough to try though, best believe he'll be prepared for any possible scenario.

Sugishita Kyotaro

Again, I feel like perhaps because he's tall, quiet and handsome, y'all think he'd be laying pipe. I mean, the quiet ones are usually the nastiest in bed, right? extremely loud incorrect buzzer. It'd be a miracle to actually get a sentence out of him. And it'd be another miracle to convince him to come shake the sheets instead of playing Umemiya's shadow. The plants he takes care of have a better chance getting wet by him than you ever will.

Tsugeura Taiga

Straight up, he just scares away any possible suitors. Plus, he's a little slow on the uptake. Between being loud and a bit off putting, and his his inability to catch social cues, he is unfortunately stuck in perpetual virgindom. That's it, that's all.

Sakura Haruka

Now, put the torches and pitchforks down before y'all drag me to the town square. How do we as a collective think Sakura would react if he saw you naked? Stand there reveling in the majesty that is you, dick so hard he might pass out? No. He'd turn red and start yelling before you even get your shoes off. Get him more comfortable with being romantic/sexual, and i’m sure the yelling, stomping, flailing and cherry red blush will die down…in a couple years. Best of luck !

Saku Mizuki

Wannabe General Mizuki. The minute I saw him, I knew he was getting NO pussy. And that makes me sad for him, it truly does. He's too stiff. If, for some odd reason on your part, you decided to lay the moves on him, he'd probably lecture you on how it's inappropriate to shamelessly flirt with people. He'd kill the mood so bad. Plus that one dude called him ugly and he turned around..oof

Takiishi Chika

Take this one with a grain of salt, but from what I've gathered...he just would not be interested. I'm sure Endo has tried bringing it to his attention before. And I'm also sure he got the fire knocked out his ass as soon as it left his mouth. Now, if does decide to get his dick wet, I hope you're fully resigned to letting him do whatever he wants and possibly leaving unsatisfied. Utter anything that sounds like you're telling him what to do? Let's leave getting beat up to Endo, mkay?

Shuhei Suzuri

I think he finds fulfillment and joy in his hobbies and that's all he needs. Being able to cook for people and enjoy his games gives him the satisfaction he was missing when he was in extreme poverty. I'm sure he wouldn't really mind losing his virginity either way, but it's definitely not on the forefront of his mind. A consistently full belly and a couple video games is good enough for now.

Choji Tomiyama

He thinks everything is a game and plays entirely too much to just be fucking for real. And I think he's fine with that ! He's carefree and he's content knocking people's heads together. I do think you could probably get him to give losing his virginity a true shot if you compare him to Umemiya or make it a competition, though. But who's gonna do all that to nut? (I really just added him to make one specific person mad. Let me know if it worked <3)

Honorable Mention : Togame Jo & Umemiya Hajime

Just cuz I want to be the one to take their virginity. I have no real reason LMAOOO.

© 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘰 hvly 2024. 𝘋𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘧y.

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

Does methinks have more thoughts on alpha togame they'd like to share?

tags for gender neutral + afab!reader (no mention of specific secondary sex but they can smell togames scent), dubcon (just out of rut shennanigans), mean togame, rough sex, omegaverse fuckery, a mention of face-fucking 18+

SO GLAD U ASKED ANON...

__

Togame tells you about his rut two full weeks in advance and makes a point to emphasize that you're not allowed to see him.

He never tells you no, though sometimes he likes to pretend. His immediate, firm rejection of spending time together during his rut strikes you as odd. Even more, he's being totally unreasonable by refusing to explain to you. You try not to take it heart because Togame is by all other means, perfect. And the way he lets you down is the same as always - kind, relaxed playful. Tells you it's not a big deal but still.

Still. It's unusually serious and worries you all the same.

He won't explain why he can't be with you during his ruts either, doesn't bother with the details and smooths past it when youpry. You snoop around Shishitoren searching for answers, but every member who's been with Togame long enough to know just gives you wide eyes and dodges your question. Choji answers you after some prying, with a wide toothed smile and a shake of his head.

"He's not really himself," And then a little kinder. "He's probably just worried about doing something bad to you. His ruts are kinda scary."

If Choji is saying so, you can't help but believe it's true. Still, Togame is your partner and he's always good to you, albeit a little difficukt. It feels like the least you can do is to be with him through it so he doesn't have to go through it by himself. You try arguing with him but he's always firm, even jokes he'll lock you out of his apartment if you show up.

It's maybe a bad idea for you to go over, but you can't help it. It's the first time he's been in rut in your relationship and the thought of him being by himself troubles you. So you go, you even bring things he might need.

You can immediately feel the suffocating, oppressive air when you arrive to his apartment. It's so strong it makes your skin prickle regardless of your sensitivity to pheromones. They practically seep under the door, make the hairs on your neck stand. A signal to danger, telling you to run while you're ahead.

But you're stubborn, so you stay and ring the door bell. It takes a few times before Togame really answers.

The first thing you notice is how different he looks. His hair is down and his glasses are off and his expression is... hard to describe. Dilated pupils, heaving breaths - something wild about him you rarely see, not even in fights. You remember what Choji says about him not being himself and decide it's accurate. Togame barely looks like himself.

"Why're you..." He shakes his head, covering his face with his hand to cover his nose. "Go home. Now."

You're being stubborn, but it's frustrating. "Let me in. I just want to to help you—"

"Go home. I'm saying this for you. Go."

It's petulant but you shake your head and frown. "I'm not going home."

He gives you a long look, scrubbing a hand over his face. His scent gets stronger, intoxicating - makes you lungs feel hot and your chest tight. You let out a shaky little breath and cross your arms. It takes a minute before you feel yourself be tugged forward. It happens too quickly for you to make any sense of it. Your bag is dropped onto the ground, back pushed against the door while Togame pins your wrists between his hands.

His voice is thick, lacking his usual bravado. "Don't be stubborn and go home." He says, the force of his grip getting tighter as if to drive in his point. "I'm hanging on by a fucking thread right now,"

"I'll be fine," You make sure to meet his eyes. "It's fine even if you hurt me. I'm not gonna break into a million pieces. I'm here willingly because I love you,"

He laughs. There's something caustic to it. "You're really have a talent for testing my patience."

You can feel the threads of his control snap when Togame finally kisses you. It's rough, more teeth than lip - a harsh clattering, a desire to dominate that bleeds itself into the gesture. He rarely reveals so much of his desire towards you with so little coaxing.

His scent is so thick you cant breathe. It's oppressive, washes away your own with no remorse. Your pressed so squarely into the wall there's nowhere for you to go, nowhere to run now even if you wanted too. The fabric of your clothes tears like paper under his grip, leaves you gasping as he grips you. It's bruising and quick, makes your heart hammer half-way between fear and full blown lust.

His voice is muddled with animalistic need but the words - his convictions are spoken with unmistakable clarity. "I won't go easy on you." Another nip, a bite - a harsh hand coming down on your ass that makes you yelp. "I'll fuck you until you cry and make you wish you ran away. Even then, you won't get any sympathy from me."

True to his word, Togame shows you no mercy. He fucks you right at is doorway with your face pressed to the wood and makes you squirt on his welcome mat. Fucks you with a leg up in the entrance to his living room, pinning you down even when you want to run away. His entire house ends up soiled before you even make it the bedroom - cum dripping on his counters, saliva from face-fucking you staining his couch. He fucks you up against a window and holds you up while he does it once - telling you his neighbors are going to see if you don't cum on his cock fast enough.

By the time you get to his room, your whole body is throbbing from all you've endured. You catch a glimpse of yourself in his mirror and you're covered in bitemarks and hickies. Too fucked out in a daze, Togame is still relentless. Still hard after cumming in you so many times and still with enough energy to pin your knees up - fucking you with your spine at an angle with just as much aggression as before.

He's barely sober enough to collect himself when your gazes meet for the first time in a while.

He smiles at you and it should be scary but it arouses you instead. "My ruts last days," He tells you, meeting your mouth in a sloppy kiss - through drool and sweat "Let's do out best together."

You can barely breathe, nodding in a daze as you resign yourself to fate

[chuuyasheaven]

"Outsmartin' failed"— Fyodor & Dazai

"You have been having the weirdest dreams lately. Two handsome men, which were probably not human, have been appearing in your dreams a lot. In those dreams, they always try to seduce you. Since this started to worry you, you tried to just stay awake, but they were standing in front of you the next second. Was this a hallucination or real?"

Tags: Fyodor Dostoevsky, Dazai Osamu / afab! Reader, threesome, rough sex?, incubus! Fyozai, overstimulation, does this count as monster fucking?, idfk what's going on, oral sex (bj's and pussy eating), fingering, teasing, praising, pet names?, might contain grammar errors, discontinued and short, rushed probably, etc.

Notes: I want 2 experience this so badly tho idrk, also, this is gonna be left on Cliffhanger since I'm VERY busy atm . .

You're not sure if you're hallucinating or if this is actually happening, but either, this seemed to be better than any other dream, so why did you try to avoid it again? Oh, right, two demons, you're not really sure, kept appearing in your dreams. Not gonna lie, but they were attractive, which helped with their seductive attitude. Since it was kinda odd to you, you tried to stay awake to see what happens, which was one of the best mistakes you made that night. Because, they were suddenly in front of you, and the next thing you know they had you on your fours. .

On your fours, one dick in your mouth and fingers in your cunt. The brunette, Dazai, was the one fingering you. The black haired, Fyodor, was the one you were sucking off. And they were anything but gentle. Fyodor was grabbing your hair, forcing himself to go deeper into your throat, Dazai was behind you fingering you good. You tried to concentrate, you really did, but this was way to much to handle. "Awe, look at you, already drooling are we?", Fyodor recalled, drool rolling down past your lips. Your back was arching when Dazai found that one spot, you moaned around Fyodor's cock, leaving vibrations. As Fyodor was getting closer, you were seconds away from cumming with the way Dazai was fingering. Fyodor trusted into your mouth a couple times before cumming in your mouth. "Be a good girl and swallow,", he told you, you listened to Fyodor and did as he told you to. When Fyodor pulled out, there was some cum rolling down your lips, he wiped it away. "We can't let this go to waste, dear.", Fyodor held his finger in front of you with a little of his cum on it. You stuck out your tongue to lick it clean, holding eye contact with him as you did.

"Good girl.", you let his finger out of your mouth when Dazai hit that spot again, perfectly this time. Dazai was getting more aggressive with it, before you came all on his fingers almost screaming. You think that everything? Wrong, think again. They switched, Fyodor was behind you now, while Dazai was in front of you. Your breath hitched when Fyodor's tongue made it's way inside your cunt. You let your head sink at the pleasure, this did feel better than Dazai's fingers. Dazai grabbed your chin with his one hand, his eyes looking at you seductively. "Keep your eyes on me, 'donna, I have another job for you.", Dazai held up the fingers the pleasured you with, suggesting for you to lick them clean like you did with Fyodor. You fluttered your eyes close as you stuck out your tongue again, licking off your own cum, while Dazai was smirking at you shamelessly. Looking up to him to look at him innocently made him hard, what made him even harder was your moans those were caused by his partner. When your done, Dazai crouched to be on your level.

"Feels good, doesn't it?", he asked while staring into your eyes waiting for a response. Nodding, Dazai looked at you as if he expected words. "Y–yeah.", your flushed face amusing him. Dazai neared your lips until he was inches away. "You're so cute, y'know?", Dazai was kissing you before you could do anything else. He was kissing you roughly, his tongue now joining in, you moaned into the kiss while Fyodor found the spot with his tongue. Dazai pulled you closer, full on making out with you now, you were getting close to your second climax. Separating from the kiss for air, you were drooling again. "What, do I kiss that good?", he stood up with a smirk. "Are you done?", Dazai asked the black haired male. "Almost, as it seems,", Fyodor stated while his words sent vibrations into your cunt, which resulted into your second orgasm. Fyodor was making his way back to Dazai, looking down onto you with Dazai.

"—Who do you want to go first, me or Fyodor?"

I'm really sorry abt this, guys

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

can you write bachelors with a cryptid farmer? except they're not a cryptid, just a very strange person. and by that I mean the fact farmer will simply appear one day, start giving their love interest their loved items from the get go, character doesn't even know them! and then there's the fishing in weird places, always seeming to know where and what a character is doing, always running from one place to another, sometimes passing out in the deepest depths of the caves. very weird human.

I assume, dear anon, that you mean vanilla bachelors only. Hope I'm not wrong. Anyway, thanks for asking, and enjoy! 💖🫰

_________________________________________

SDV bachelors with a cryptid Farmer:

Well, Sam wasn't too surprised about favourite gifts - he's always a fan of eating something tasty, and pizza, as he thinks, is a win-win for almost everyone. So it's pretty easy to guess what to make him happy. Although the young guitarist sometimes thought that Farmer behaves rather recklessly and weird, the same words were said about Sam when he stuffed 40 marshmallows into his mouth on a bet. A bit odd, but Sam doesn't care, because Farmer is a good friend and, heck yeah, free food!

They're everywhere: at Marnie's ranch, at the JojaMart, at the Saloon. Shane is already afraid to look over his own shoulder, because there, with 99.9 % accuracy, Farmer will be behind him. No matter how much the chicken lover snapped at Farmer, no matter how much he calling them names, they stood like a statue, handing him a plate of pepper poppers. This weirdo is literally stalking him, but no-one's paying attention! The hell?! Although the peppers are tasty and spicy enough, can't argue with that. Wow, what a fucking life...

Poor Harvey has been sitting up late at night looking at Farmer's medical records and he's already getting a headache from trying to find some logic. Farmer still keep going to dangerous places, keep getting seriously injured (4 emergencies in a month!), and their wounds just inhumanly heal in a couple of days! How does that even possib- Farmer? How did you get in here? The clinic's closed. Oh, wine? For him? Why, thank you, it's his favorite- !!!! They- they just teleported right in front of Harvey.... The doctor won't need a wineglass anymore, he's gonna drink right from the bottle.

Yes, Elliott must confess: after a couple of instances when the writer had not even got beyond the threshold of his cottage and he had already been handed a duck feather and a basket of pomegranates by the Farmer, one could find them very strange. But you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Maybe Farmer just has a hard time finding the words to communicate and this is how they express signs of friendship? And fishing... What's the big deal about fishing? The valley is rich in fish, so why be surprised that there are fish almost everywhere? Anyway, Elliott decides to judge people for their actions.

Alex should probably be concerned about Farmer's strange behaviour, but he... didn't care? Pelican Town was already full of people the athlete considered a bit odd, so why should he be surprised by the new Farmer's odd behaviour? They go everywhere, they fish everywhere, so what? It's their life. Though to Alex's recollection, regular farmers don't seem to fight monsters deep in the Mines, but then again, maybe that's their hobby. Plus Farmer give him his favourite salmon dinner all the time, so what's there to complain about?

Sebastian never seemed to have mentioned to anyone that he liked obsidian and frost tear so much. So he has no idea how the new farmer might know about it. Though, on the other hand, they're always carrying a bag of various cool gems from the mine and decided to give him something, so maybe a coincidence. Later there was a case where they stood right under the door of his room to hand him sashimi (also his favourite?) and ran off somewhere. Okay, that's pretty weird. There's sashimi, though.

[bonny-kookoo]

I really really really love UNSTABLE 😍 can you please write a drabble where the ship enters a really cold place in the galaxy and OC goes to Jungkook for some body heat since her blankets aren't helping her and he cuddles her in the end? 👉👈 only if you want to, of course.

I'm so in love with your writing. ♥️♥️♥️

Thanks for accepting your veggies noni :( ♡

-> Masterlist

Cryon is a part of the galaxy that's known for its cold temperatures, due to the lack of intergalactic travel and planets.

And Jungkook is a member of an Alien species which tolerates the cold very well- body heat compensating for even the coldest climates, almost like a reptile. So you're jot even very surprised when he doesn't seem to have any kind of heating unit installed on the ship- temperatures so cold you can't find rest even under all of your blankets.

Fuck it. You don't care if he's gonna deny you or think you're stupid- maybe he'd at least arrange some space under his desk or something where the heat from the control unit's Servers would provide some comfort for you.

The door hisses open, and Jungkook does a double take, unable to mask his amusement as the corners of his lips twitch, brows furrowed in confusion while his eyes have a surprised hue to them. "Do you need something?" He asks, surprised to find you up at all considering you sleep quite a lot.

At least to him. He doesn't need eight full hours of rest like you do, after all.

"Its cold." You say, walking closer with your blankets wrapped around you. He nods, as if you've just said that the walls of his ship are made of metal.

"I'm aware." He answers, leaning back in his chair.

"Its too cold.!" You huff, your breath slightly fogging in the coldness of the ship.

Oh. Right.

"Ah, I see.." he mumbles to himself, checking the temperature of the ship, before he scratches the back of his neck, at a loss of solutions. The ship isn't really equipped with a full on temperature control system- it's too old for that. He could probably install one in the future- but right now, he's got nothing. "Hm, I didn't think about that. Do the blankets not work?" He asks, and you shake your head, having pulled the fabric up over your mouth.

He can't help but think that you look almost.. cute. All wrapped up in blankets he provided- you'd probably appreciate a good lair with pelts and-

Wait. No. What the hell is he thinking? It's not even mating season yet- so why are his thoughts so odd lately?

"Can I sleep on the server units, maybe?" You wonder, nodding towards the tall boxes. Jungkook cringes a bit. The chance of you getting hurt on those is too high- what if you turn in your sleep and fall off? Or what if the blankets slip and you burn yourself on the metal casing?

"Come here." He waves you closer, before he zips open his uniform jacket, a simple black sleeveless shirt underneath. You can even see some tattoos on his skin peeking out.

He pats his chest, and you're confused.

He rolls his eyes, clicks his tongue.

"My God, just get over here." He growls annoyed, unraveling your blankets before he manhandles you to somewhat sit on his lap, pushing your shoulder so you're resting against his chest. He then moves the blankets over you and him, both of them, before he pushes your thighs a little before adjusting his own legs. "There. Warm?" He asks, and you're caught off guard for a good second.

He is warm. He also.. smells really good, for some odd reason. And his heartbeat sounds kind of odd, one louder beat with another, softer sounding one like an echo. But it's almost comforting, the steady tact of his heart beating in his chest providing almost more comfort than his warmth.

So you nod, before you adjust yourself a but, finally settling in a somewhat hug-

And he can't deny the appeal of it. You're a nice weight against his body, making him a little sleepy now as well, as he yawns, turning on the autopilot.

Maybe he won't invest in a temperature control system.

Maybe this is a way better solution.

[lingulaca]

Don't you think the way TG actors service their fans is a little off, to say the least? Of course there is essentially nothing wrong with wanting to stay relevant and give their fans some "crumbs", but Olivia reposting stuff about Rhaenicent's dungeon sex, Gayle reposting comments like "If they follow the books, she'll be going down on Aemond" with the 👄 emoji, Ewan saying he likes helaemond and taking pride in asking for having a full frontal nude scene and Tom insisting on Aegon never raping Helaena while drunk (contrary to what we learn from the show) are too much if you ask me. I find it quite disturbing and ironic that Olivia, who, according to her stans , is forced to portray an extremely sexualised charcter, actual doesn't have anything against sexualising Alicent even more, let alone in fact sexualising her co-star. Gayle apparently ignores the character she plays is gonna be a victim of rape and seems eager to service Alys fans who want to reduce Alys to a sexy milf. She also talks stuff about sexual tension between Alys and Daemon (I fail to notice it, although their friendship is quite obvious). And Ewan, parading himself in mesh shirts and saying weird things about a broken boy Aemond who's gonna be fixed is simply annoying. Plus, I'll call helaemond either just a fanon ship (if I want to be nice) or straight up bullshit. White washing Aegon's rape-y ass is just unsavoury and his rabid fanwives are ridiculous

YES YES YES I WHOLEHEARTEDLY AGREE WITH THE THINGS U SAID SOMEONE CALLED ME CRAZY ONCE FOR SAYING THE SAME THING BUT I GET IT

in regards to rapegon, i mean his fans seem to just be coping hard asf especially now (since the dyana scene has already happened, poor girl) and they will jump through SOOOO MANY hoops to try and lie to themselves when the facts are right there

and yes, the push of alysmond and alysmon(? alys x daemon?) is SO FUCKING WEIRD. it feels like they're all missing the point tbh. and i'd rather them be silent than say random tone deaf things to please their freaky ass fans. alys x daemon is odd to me because she basically violated and humiliated him when she made him have that hallucination about his mom, and beyond her freaking him out multiple times they haven't really developed any deep mutual understanding/bond that would make me even see them as acquaintances, let alone bf and gf

the whole broken sad emo boy aemond is such a pathetic sympathy angle probably encouraged by how the showrunners have decided to portray him. "aemond just needs someone to fix him🥺" aemond just needs to kill himself how abt that

aemond's fangirls r funny, i think. fun fact, my mom is one of them 😭 but yeah they have a completely different version of aemond in their head, like in their head he literally is an emo soft broken boy and the show has manipulated them pretty much, it's shocking to witness irl i recommend talking to an aemond fangirl you will not be disappointed

and i agree with you, i have no problem with fan service though, i'll be the first person to admit that the harry collett calvin klein ad🤤, for example, was like totes boner inducing or whatever but certain things that certain members of cast will say r questionableee and it just makes me wonder "why is this the way you feel you have to serve your fans" like r your fans freaks to that extent ?

i personally consider myself a jace or daemon fangirl and i think i'm pretty chill when it comes to characterization ykwim like i don't lie to myself like aemond fangirls do bc their fave is trash.

but anyways about the tg actors, it's so interesting bc they'll do things like that (making statements that show that they don't understand the source material) then in other interviews they suddenly wanna come off as introspective UGHHH🙄🙄🙄 like don't talk to me about plot, subtlety, or themes when u were just reducing all the characters down to your weird ass fanfic that will only ever exist in your head🗣️

[suzukiblu]

excerpt from the one where Tim Drake goes to an alternate reality and decides to get his other self laid via the local Kon's bisexual awakening:

"Hey, remember when you saved my life earlier?" Tim asks. 

"Yeah, kinda," Kon replies in amusement. "Seeing as it was about two point five seconds after you rigged the evil alien robot army to self-destruct and helped save our entire literal reality's life, so I was definitely paying attention." 

"Flatterer," Tim says with a smirk even as he waves him off. The self-destruct function wasn't even that hard to hack, comparatively. That time he'd downloaded Lex Luthor's active IP files from his personal office while the asshole had been on his damn computer–now that'd been tricky. Interdimensional alien invaders barely compare. And the Brainiac incident still gives him stress migraines when he thinks about it for too long. 

Metropolis sucks and Tim frankly has no idea how his own Kon can stand the place.

But like, getting off-topic here. 

"Well, I was gonna say you should let me pay you back for that," he continues. "But since you bring it up I'll also accept a show of gratitude on behalf of your reality, whichever gets you off harder.” 

Kon laughs, because he is apparently adorable enough to have assumed that was a joke. Precious little moron, Tim thinks fondly. 

"You know, you're a lot less uptight than our version of you is," Kon says, grinning down at Tim before flashing Tim's other self a smirk. "No offense, Rob. Dude's clearly just doing more yoga than you or something. Maybe drinking more tea? Taking the occasional bubble bath?" 

"Silly me, if only I'd invested in more bath bombs in my life," Tim's other self says dryly. 

"It's probably my sex life, actually," Tim himself puts in with an easy shrug. Turns out when you stop pretending you don't have a ridiculously high libido and actually just indulge the thing, a lot of life's little annoyances become a lot easier to handle. Go figure. "Plus my boyfriend Bernard is really great, just his entire existence does wonders for my mood in general and he also makes me eat real food on occasion and monitors my caffeine intake much more reliably than I'm capable of doing on my own. The man is a living antidepressant and I don't even mean that in a fucked-up way, he's just that good." 

"Boyfriend?" Kon blinks at him, then puts on another grin. It takes, Tim cannot help but notice, exactly two beats longer than his real grin would've. "Ohhhhh, okay, so the problem is just that you're not getting laid hard enough?" 

"It is not," Tim's other self says dubiously, watching Kon just a little bit warily and obviously worried about his potential reaction to the word "boyfriend". Well, Tim never claimed to be emotionally intelligent about Kon, so no surprise his other self is also a dumbass there. 

"It kinda is, actually," he tells his other self. "I was tracking my cortisol levels the last time I went on a solo away mission and let's just say they were . . . concerning? Like really concerning. Like by the time I got back I was kiiiiind of convinced I was going to need to go on anti-anxiety meds again. But then I jumped my Kon in the Titans Tower med bay instead and that pretty much solved the problem." 

Kon . . . pauses, sort of. Tilts his head. Tim's other self looks a lot warier.

"'Jumped'," Kon repeats carefully. "Like . . . what, you dragged him to the gym to spar or something?" 

"Like I blew his back out so hard that when he came his TTK fritzed out and disassembled my recovery bed," Tim clarifies helpfully. "It really helped with the cortisol levels issue." 

Kon blinks. Tim's other self looks pained, but also desperately envious. Tim would also be desperately envious if their situations were reversed and so does not blame him for said envy in the slightest. 

"I thought you said you had a boyfriend?" Kon says after a moment, sounding a little odd in a very telling way. Or at least very telling to Tim, anyway. 

As is the way that he's not looking at Tim's other self at all anymore. 

"Open relationship," Tim says. "Also Bernard thinks you're stupidly hot and really likes hearing about the kind of stuff you let me do to you. I've actually been debating inviting you over for his birthday so he can watch us live for once but I haven't asked you yet." 

"What, so your Kon is the side chick?" Kon jokes, awkwardly putting on another just barely belated grin. 

"More like my kept boy, functionally speaking, but he's having a 'weird about commitment' phase right now so I've just been making a lot of sugar baby jokes to soften him up," Tim replies with a shrug. It's only sort of been working, but it has been working, and he's willing to take his time on it. It's not fair to expect Kon to only be easy, after all. "Long-term goal is to marry Bernard and ideally get Kon to 'live-in boyfriend' status somewhere in there, but that would also require him not being weird about commitment and also figuring out how well he and Bernard get along in the same space, so we'll just have to see how that one goes." 

"Uh," Kon says. "Why?" 

"Because you are incredibly important to me and also look like a very horny Renaissance sculptor made you out of calacatta marble," Tim tells him matter-of-factly, gesturing meaningfully at him. "Frankly it's criminal that you ever put clothes on."