#and it’s a word like ‘cold’ or something dumb LMAO

[icyblogs]

i fear i have forgotten how to write

[bamfkeeper]

You were taken and Kurt does everything he can to to get you back.

I wanted to write something like this since the post where he sees you get hurt and goes nuts. This is sorta like that but more extreme. A little darker than what I've written before. Please skip this one if the warnings make you uncomfortable. There might be a part two that features more recovery, maybe. Idk yet we will see.

Warnings: Gender neutral mutant!reader, kidnapping, descriptions of injury, creepy soldiers, violence, mutant prejudice (the term 'mutie' is used), mentions/descriptions of physical abuse via soldiers to reader, good ending I promise, unedited (at this point please just expect it lmao I never edit my writing bc I'm lazy).

WC: 3.4k

It happened so fast, a blur of motion and confusion. You barely had time to react before you were snatched from the comforting surroundings of your bedroom and forcefully shoved into a heavily armored vehicle. The interior was cramped, filled to the brim with men in imposing uniforms, their expressions stern and unyielding. You looked up at all of them, your heart pounding in your chest.

Your powers were gone, they had put that damn collar on you, the one designed to nullify your abilities. In that moment, you felt completely and utterly helpless, stripped of your defenses and at the mercy of your captors. They knew it too.

"Poor thing. It doesn't know what to do, does it?" one of them snickered at you, his voice dripping with mockery and malice, making you shiver with a mix of disgust and fear. The man's voice was so vile it made you want to vomit, and the way he looked at you made you feel profoundly uncomfortable. You were helpless, bound on the cold, hard ground of the van, as all of these soldiers kept their disgusting, predatory gazes glued on you, watching you squirm in agony and distress on the floor.

The air was thick with the stench of sweat and metal, amplifying your sense of dread and making your situation feel even more hopeless. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears as you desperately wished for some form of escape, but there was none. The soldiers' laughter and jeers filled the back of the van, and you felt even more distressed.

"You're a cute mutie, you know that? Most of 'em you can tell are filthy things, but you...you're one of the attractive ones, aren't you?" one soldier spoke. His words were condescending and cruel despite what he said. The tone of his voice carried a sharp edge, filled with disdain and mockery. He looked you up and down with a sneer, observing you with distain and annoyance.

His comrades stood by, chuckling and nodding in agreement, their eyes filled with the same mixture of contempt and amusement. His expression growing more malicious with each passing second, his boot lifted and kicked you slightly. "Are you going to speak, or are you mute, just like a dumb animal?" he asked sharply.

You took a sharp inhale, your chest rising and falling quickly as you tried to steady your nerves. The air felt thick, almost suffocating, as you made a conscious effort to avoid interacting with them at all. The last thing you wanted was to provoke them and risk any form of retaliation.

Your throat was dry, and you could feel your heart pounding in your ears as you swallowed thickly. "N-no..." you managed to let out in a quiet, shaky whisper, barely audible but enough to convey your reluctance and fear.

A sharp sting to your cheek as one of them swung their baton across your face, the impact reverberating through your skull. The blow was so hard it jerked your head to the side with brutal force, and your temple slammed painfully into the cold, unforgiving floor of the van. You could feel the rough texture of the metal against your skin, the scent of dirty leather and iron filled your nostrils, adding to the disorienting pain.

He scoffed, the sound filled with disdain, his eyes holding nothing but cruel amusement and a twisted sense of superiority. "Pathetic freak," he spat, the words dripping with contempt and malice.

The ride was unbearably long and dreary, stretching on for what felt like an eternity. You laid on the cold, hard floor of the van silently, trying to block out the incessant comments and remarks they made about you and your appearance. Their voices dripped with eager malice as they spoke about the brazen and disgusting things they wanted to do to you, each word sending a shiver down your spine and making you want to curl up into a tight ball and hide from the world.

After what seemed like endless hours of discomfort, the van finally slowed to a stop. You were roughly dragged out of it, your legs refusing to cooperate after being forced to lay in such an uncomfortable position for so long. The sun had set the world into a foggy darkness, the only lights illuminating the area were from the large bunker that was build into the wall of a large mountain, guarded with armored vehicles and more men in uniforms.

You struggled to regain your bearings as they pulled you forward, your body aching and your mind reeling from the ordeal. They forcefully walked you inside the huge doors that were drawn open, jerking you around with a roughness that made it hard to keep your composure. Their hands grasped you firmly, their hands groping your body as you struggled against their grip, trying desperately to maintain a calm façade.

Your brave face was beginning to falter, and it became increasingly evident that your terror was rapidly growing. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't hide the fact that fear was taking over, creeping into every corner of your mind.

They walked you to a wall of cells, which stretched endlessly in both directions, each one containing a mutant. Some cells already held mutants who were caged and looked absolutely horrible, as if they had been there for a long time. The conditions of the cells varied greatly; some were sterile and clean, while others were more run-down and dilapidated, as if the guards had no fear that the mutant inside would ever escape.

The air was thick with the smell of decay and neglect. Most of the mutants didn't move or look up; they were either lying down or sitting in a posture of utter defeat. Their eyes were vacant, their spirits broken, and it seemed as though hope had long since abandoned them. The overall atmosphere was one of despair and abandonment, a stark reminder of the cruelty inflicted upon them.

"What is this place?" you asked, attempting to sound firm and confident. However, your voice betrayed you, emerging as meek and afraid instead. The man holding you chuckled in amusement at your fear as he opened the heavy, creaking door to your chosen cell.

"Your new home, mutant. Get comfortable," he sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. With a rough shove, he threw you onto the cold, hard ground. The impact knocked the wind out of you as you landed with a thud. The man then unsheathed a gleaming blade, its edge catching the dim light.

He began to cut through the coarse ropes that bound your body, each slice of the blade careless. He didn’t care if he nicked you, and he did a few times. You flinched as the blade cut your skin, the sharp jerks and sawing through the ropes stabbed into you as you let out sharp hisses and pained gasps.

The man continued as if he weren't hurting you, and he scoffed with each noise you made. "If you sat still this wouldn't have happened," he grabbed one of your bleeding arms and he held it up.

"What do you want from me?" Your voice whined out, desperate for answers. None of their uniforms gave their organization away, and you had no idea what they wanted with you. The room was dimly lit, casting eerie shadows on the walls, which only added to the sense of dread you felt. The man just stood up, shrugging nonchalantly as if this entire situation was a routine matter for him.

"Nothing important. Whatever the boss wants," he replied, his voice dripping with apathy. "We do anything to your kind, and no one will come for you. We won't be charged with any crimes, you aren't people. You're nothing to us, and soon we will exterminate your species and we will be the supreme race on the planet again."

His words cut through the air like a knife, making it hard to breathe. You could see the cold determination in his eyes, a reflection of a deeply ingrained hatred. It was clear that they had been planning this for a long time, and you were just another pawn in their grand scheme. The thought of being part of such a ruthless plan made your stomach churn, but there was nothing you could do but listen and hope for a chance to escape.

The days melded together in an indistinguishable blur, and your concept of time dissipated. Every single day, you were visited by the men, who would unceremoniously drag you into a sterile lab filled with cold, clinical instruments.

There, a man wearing white would subject you to various invasive procedures, poking and prodding you with sharp tools that seemed designed to maximize your agony. They took many things from you—blood, tissue samples, and even bone marrow—leaving you feeling increasingly depleted and always somewhat wounded and weak.

Your time in this nightmarish place was exactly what mutantkind was afraid of, what you were afraid of, filled with relentless suffering, and they showed no sign of compassion or concern for the excruciating pain they inflicted upon you.

You were beaten regularly, just like the rest of the mutants being held captive in the facility. Every day, they came to your cell with their batons, mercilessly laying into you until your skin changed colors from the bruises. They were relentless, you were kicked and hit repeatedly, dragged by your hair across the cold, hard floors, thrown against the walls, and tossed around like a ragdoll.

You were barely fed, only given tasteless slop that had the consistency of old paste and looked anywhere from white to grey mush. This so-called "food" was just enough to keep you from starving, but not enough to ever feel full or satisfied. The meals were infrequent and meager, purposefully designed to keep you in a state of constant hunger and weakness.

They wanted to ensure that your body remained perpetually frail, as if the collar around your neck didn't already make you harmless enough for them. This deliberate deprivation was a method of control, a way to break down your spirit and ensure that you remained too weak to resist or fight back.

You were so tired.

The torment seemed endless. You swore that if they didn't need to take samples from your body nearly every day for their experiments, they would have taken pleasure in killing you outright. The relentless abuse was a constant reminder of your helplessness, and the fact that you couldn't fight back killed you inside.

Collared, drugged, and experimented on like some kind of helpless animal, it seemed like there was no end to the torment. They groped and touched you in ways you didn't want, and it was clear they had no regard for your consent or well-being. The very sight of your discomfort brought them pleasure, and they made sure you knew it every step of the way. Their methods were devised and precise; deeply psychological torment designed to break your spirit and make you feel utterly powerless.

As much as you hated it, it worked.

Their methods proved to be highly effective, gradually wearing you down over time. You could feel yourself slowly succumbing to their demands, submitting to what they wanted from you. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism that your brain instinctively resorted to in order to cope with the relentless torture and abuse. After enduring for such a long period, you found that you had no fight left within you, completely drained of the will to resist.

Red alarms blared loudly, their piercing sound cutting through the silence and yanking you from a rare slumber. Startled, you blinked awake, though your vision was slightly corrupted by the bruises and swollen skin, especially around your dominant eye, which throbbed painfully.

Groggily, your head rose from the cold, hard floor, confusion flooding your mind as you tried to process your surroundings. The distant sounds of fighting drifted to your ears from the direction of your cell, adding to the disorientation and making you wonder what the hell was happening beyond the confines of your small, dimly-lit prison.

You felt your body flinch violently as something large and heavy slammed into the room where the cells were located. The sudden noise echoed through the small, confined space, sending a chill down your spine. Instinctively, you crawled into the nearest corner and curled up there, trying to make yourself as small and inconspicuous as possible.

You had learned from experience that the precious visits from the men were less painful if you were already huddled against the wall, minimizing the areas they could hit with their fists or batons. The cold, hard surface of the wall offered a strange sense of comfort, even as fear and uncertainty gnawed at you.

The the heavy, metallic sound of your cell door creaking open, and instinctively, your entire body tensed up, bracing for yet another brutal attack from the armed men who derived joy from taunting and tormenting you. You prepared yourself for the rough hands and the mocking jeers that usually followed. But this time, instead of the expected harsh touches and cruel laughter, you were met with something entirely different—a voice you hadn't expected to hear again.

"Liebe..." the voice whispered weakly, the word hanging in the air like a fragile thread of hope. Puzzled and intrigued, you slowly pulled your head out from its tucked, defensive position and glanced toward the source of the unexpected whisper. The sight that met your eyes made you freeze.

Kurt stood in shock, his eyes glued to your fragile, timid form curled on the floor. The scene overwhelmed him, causing his breath to hitch in his throat. He slowly knelt down, every movement deliberate as if sudden actions might shatter the fragile peace. His hands, steady yet trembling with restrained emotion, gently set his swords on the floor with a quiet clink that echoed in the silence. "Liebe...y/n..." he rasped quietly, his voice a soft whisper, trying his best to sound calm and composed despite the complete internal storm of rage and anguish brewing within him.

His heart ached with as he reached out, his fingers hovering just above your form, not wanting to startle you further. You stared with uncertainty, your body naturally flinching away, so used to a heavy hand and harsh touches that left you in anguish. For some reason, your brain couldn't differentiate between your lover and the men who had been torturing you.

"I-It's me, Kurt..." he said with a pained strain, his voice cracking as if it hurt to speak, "It's okay...I'm here now." He muttered, his hand gently touching your bruised body, his fingers trembling slightly as if afraid to cause you more pain. You made a quiet whine, a soft sound that conveyed both your relief and your lingering fear. Looking at him and realizing that he had come to you, that he was truly here, you felt a wave of emotion wash over you.

He was here, and you were safe.

The room around you seemed to blur as the significance of his presence settled in, the promise of protection and care easing the tension consuming you. A cry escaped your throat and you fell into him, his arms instantly wrapped around your body, his tail following suit. "Shh, sh...Es ist okay, ich bin jetzt hier." he whispered, trying his best to soothe you while your cheeks dampened with tears.

He held you tightly and let you cry, feeling the tremors of your sobs against his chest. He could hear the terror and desperation in your muffled wails, each one a heartbreaking testament to your pain. Your arms and hands gripped him, but your hold was weak, your strength sapped by the inhumane treatment you endured. You were in dire need of medical attention, evident from your pale complexion and labored breathing. Despite this, he didn't want to let go yet; he wanted to keep you in his arms, so afraid to let go and lose you again.

"You're safe now, liebling," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "Oh... I was so scared... so terribly scared I might not reach you in time." His heart ached with the memory of the fear and helplessness he had felt, and he vowed never to let you out of his sight again.

"Let's go...hold on..." he said, gripping you tightly as his tail moved and wrapped securely around his swords. With a swift motion, he teleported you to the jet. The floor beneath you was hard and unyielding, but the environment around you was far more welcoming and comforting than the cold, harsh cell that had been stained with your own blood.

He leaned back to grab something, his arms unwrapping from your body, but your grip grew stronger on him. "No...no, don't go," you were desperate for him, so terrified of his absence, your mind was in pieces, the aftermath of the torture you went through on full display as you became more and more attached to his presence. Needing him like he were the only thing keeping you from drowning in the thrashing waters that plagued your thoughts.

"I'm not going anywhere, schatz... I am just getting a blanket for you," Kurt soothed reassuringly. His tail, nimble and gentle, reached out to grab the blanket so his arms could remain wrapped securely around you, providing a sense of comfort and stability that you desperately needed. He carefully grabbed the soft blanket and draped it over you, making sure you were warm, and continued to hold you close against his body in a protective embrace.

The presence of the other X-Men in the jet went by unnoticed by you, They started up the jet and began the flight back towards the mansion where you could be properly treated. Right now, your only focus was on Kurt, his presence and touch being the only things grounding you in that moment of anxiety.

As you finally began to give in to the much-needed sleep your body was desperate for, your eyes caught a glimpse of the swords Kurt had carried with him into the facility. Their brilliant, silver shine was now dulled with the stains of crimson, splattered and smeared across the once pristine blades, telling a silent tale of what transpired before he found you. You blinked, trying to focus more on them, but his tail pushed them out of view, obscuring the unsettling sight.

Kurt didn't want you to witness the sheer carnage he had wrought, as he was completely blinded by a bitter and relentless rage that consumed him entirely. In his fury, he slaughtered so many men that he lost count, not even realizing the extent of his actions. All he could think about was wanting you back in his arms, where you would be safe and protected from the horrors that had befallen you. His blades were stained with the hateful blood of those men who had caused you so much harm, and he felt a twisted sense of satisfaction, even though deep down he knew it was wrong.

But he didn't care about the morality of his actions, not now at least. Seeing you so badly hurt had ignited a fire within him, a burning guilt that was only somewhat lifted by the vengeance he exacted. His mind was clouded, but in the chaos, all he wanted was get you home safe where you could be treated. None of the other X-Men dared say a word to him about what happened, by the time they arrived to help Kurt had already went through the men with ease, his blind rage driving him to kill to get to you.

He carefully adjusted his hold, making sure that you could lay your head more comfortably against him. He wanted to ensure that you couldn't see the gleaming blades. His expression was a complex mixture of trouble and deep worry, reflecting the weight of the situation and his concern for your well-being. Leaning closer, he whispered softly, "Rest, liebe... we will get you fixed up soon. Just hold on a little longer..."

You couldn't argue with him now. Your body was in need of rest and you finally felt safe enough to fall asleep. It was such a relief to sleep without worrying about someone coming in and hurting you. You closed your eyes as he held you tight, whispering sweet nothings to you as you slowly allowed your body to fall into a deep slumber. All you knew now was that you had a long recovery ahead of you, and he would be by your side the entire time.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight and @/strangergraphics

Tag List: @southside-otaku

If you want to be part of my tag list, please leave a 💙.

[mcondance]

he loves me (lyzel in e flat) — tim laflour

tim x fem!reader, reader is referred to as a girl, general discussion of tim sex wise, missionary, dirty talk, praise-ish, he says he loves you uh that's it, it’s a lot of elaboration abt how much he loves sex with you LMAO, title from this song (i love you jill scott <3)

tim likes sex, to get that out of the way. on the outside and to people who don’t know him, he’s a little dumb, a little odd and he seems like he’d fumble around these types of things, but he does not.

tim likes sex with you, way more than he should.

he likes digging in your guts, bumping your body up the bed every time his hips kiss the back of your legs, sticky and slippery from the mix of fluids flowing from you two.

with deep purrs pushed hard from his chest, the sounds of a man who’s in love with what he’s doing, he splits you open so good, ripping pathetic, guttural cries out of you, whiny moans that make fucking you so alluring. your arms clasp tight around his neck and you’re trying to ground yourself, and it’s always in vain, fingers gripping your own arms so tight the skin caves.

“belong here, baby, belong inside you, so so deep in you, go crazy when i don’t get to feel you,” he coos, almost singing it, his naturally ditzy tone laying an innocently genuine feel over his obsessed words. it's ridiculously pathetic, his admission of devotion to your cunt, to the clenches and drooling and soaking that your pussy delivers to him. velvety and gripping, he's a fool for it.

he’s telling the truth though, and you know it. you’ve seen what happens to him when he goes too long without bullying your pussy, fucking you like he hates you, like you owe him something. he gets all aggy, eyes all glossy and spaced out and he’s ticked off by the smallest things.

he needs to get his dick wet, needs you to get it wet, to let him fuck your body into the mattress and listen to your moans that have turned into pathetic little cries, spewing from your mouth with every jerk of his hips against you. hot skin hitting against yours, unforgiving thrusts sending shockwaves through your whole body, it's by pure luck that you and tim met, that you get to be pounded into his bed every time he gets the chance.

your pussy sings to him with every move he makes, honeyed melodies ringing out through the room, and it’s idyllic, perfect and so far from beautiful yet right there.

he fucks you like both need it, hard and messy like he loves what he’s doing to you.

he does love what he’s doing to you.

turning his head to the side so he knows you can hear him even over your enraptured keens, he lets his mouth loose again— "i love you, y'know, love you and your pussy so much, 's my favorite thing in the whole world, always so wet and tight and ready for me, always excited that i get to fuck you." he's elated, sure in the fact that you belong to him, that you are his to stretch and pound and fuck.

his lip ring is cold against your face and it doesn’t do much to help; it makes it worse, makes you really compute again that you’re being fucked dumb by a pretty punk who’s obsessed with fucking you.

it all sends another wave of pleasure crashing over you, and you're grasping tighter over his back, hands raking down the muscle. you almost growl, so keyed up and overwhelmed with feeling, good fucking feeling, rocking up the bed with every roll of his hips. tim's love for sex has opened you up, allowed you to partake in it at your most vulnerable level, unashamed and liberated in your euphoria.

he likes the way you take his dick, how you spread your legs and make space for him between them, how you let him fuck you to his heart's content, let him express his need inside you.

his big blues have drifted to something much darker, blue-black windows looking down at one of the best parts of it all, to where ropes of your cream span from your slick lips to his wild hair.

he huffs out a laugh, breathing "yeah, look at that,” dark eyes hazy and gleaming.

he knows you're being fucked too good to even give a fuck about what it looks like, but he's a talker, and he’s having so much fun, and the sight is just so fucking disgusting that he has to say something; something else that feels like a reward, like a deity has blessed him with it, the gift of sex that he so confidently uses, whenever he wants.

tim loves fucking you, loves dwarfing your body with his intimidating size, loves the sounds you make, loves the sounds your bodies make as they meet again and again, as he nestles his cock right where you both know it belongs.

devoted is what he is, a regular fiend, only made worse by the way you fit so tight around him. every push into you is so good to him, brain taken over by how it feels to be deep inside your welcoming pussy.

every little jerk and jump, every melodic whine, every word your slur into his neck, it’s everything to him.

[rarityroo]

Obviously Jax is bad at feelings; even worse with apologizing. He and his girl have their first big fight and she just gives him the cold shoulder to the point he’s frustrated. He’d definitely say something “Come on, doll face, I said I was sorry! What else do you want from me, woman?!”

Fumbling apologies

(Jax x Fem!reader)

Hi! Im sorry this took a bit, I sadly have strep and feel like I ate a cheese grater lmao. This isn’t proof read so please forgive me if this is wonky, I honestly really like writing for Jax so I’m very happy I got this request! If you like this please lmk, Enjoy!

You didn't mind Jax's crude nature, more often than not you found it funny. Sure his jokes and such were mean but he had a certain air about him you found so enjoyable. Until this moment at least...

"I just don't get what the big deal is!" Jax says in a dismissive tone. Your eyes flashed with frustration, was he serious? "It's not just about saying sorry, Jax. It's about meaning it! You can't just toss around apologies like they're nothing. I need to feel like you actually understand why I'm upset." Jax crosses his arms, a stubborn glint in his eyes. “Come on, doll face, I said I was sorry! What else do you want from me, woman?!” Jax said exasperated, he just wanted this to be over.

You shook your head, unbelieving. "I want you to acknowledge why I'm upset! I want you to understand how your actions hurt me." You were so sick of his insensitive jokes, or dismissive attitude whenever you try to talk about how you feel. He was so mean sometimes, but you still loved him.

Jax's frustration finally boils over, and he snaps, "Well, maybe if you weren't so damn sensitive, we wouldn't be in this mess!" "

Your eyes widen, hurt flashing across your face before it hardens into resolve. "Y'know what, fine. Jax, if that's how you feel, maybe we need some time apart." You started to regret those words, you didn't want him to go, you didn't want space but you were so exhausted from the constant back and forth. This has gone too far.

For a moment, silence hangs heavily between them, tension crackling in the air. Then, Jax's expression softens, regret seeping into his features. He knows he messed up. He knows he needs to make things right.

"I... I didn't mean that," he says quietly, his voice tinged with remorse. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't-." Jax was struggling to find the words, he doesn't like apologizing, he thinks it's a waste of his time and that it's below him although he knows he's wrong for what he said. You look at him, maybe he finally says a decent apology instead of brushing it off, maybe it was different this time.

You meet his gaze, your expression softening slightly. "Do you really mean that?"

Jax nods earnestly. "Yeah, I do." He said his eyes earnest, he looked embarrassed. "I know I'm not great at this stuff, but I want to try. I care about you alright? I don't want you to be all sad because of some dumb thing I said, I care about you or whatever." He finalized with a huff. You internally softly smile at that.

You take a deep breath, calming yourself, "I care about you too, Jax. But we need to communicate better. I don't want this to happen again."

He reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. "I promise I'll work on it. Starting with this." And then, with a tenderness he didn't know he possessed, Jax leans in and presses his lips to yours in a sweet, apologetic kiss. In that moment, the tension melts away, replaced by a warmth that spreads through you both. You may not be perfect, but you were willing to try, together.

[doki-doki-imagines]

Hello <3 I have an idea for a request. Linkuei trio (and if you want other characters too) are having an argument with the reader, but suddenly she gives them a kiss to silence them. How would they feel or react? Sorry if this is stupid, I saw it in a novel and I liked it 😔

author note: this is not a stupid request, you idiot(lmao)! It is a scrummy idea that oiled my brain gears, so thank you🫶🏻. One last thing, the reader is already Tomas s/o in his part.

Bi-Han:

-Sektor, your friend, finally has a date with his crush. Honestly you are happy for him. It's already a miracle someone could suffer him for more than 12 hours and still wanting to kiss him dumb. -But between him and his date there is an obstacle: Bi-Han, your boss. -Your work is pretty different from theirs, but Bi-Han saw in you a precious resource, so he decided to keep you after Sektor brang you to him. -Being a precious resource means that you also have to hear him yap and throw a tantrum in your and Sektor shared kitchen, walking left and right like a madman waiting to block the scientist from his romantic date. -"They aren't right for him." "I should be his only thought." "They aren't even Lin Kuei!" -You listen to him, his words entering from an ear and exiting from the other without being elaborated in your brain, your ass sit tight on the chair with no real intention of standing up to calm him down. -It's unbelievable how you got a crush for this man-child. -"Why can't Sektor be happy? Having a distraction is nice, plus his brain can have more stimulus interacting with someone else." Bi-Han opens his mouth and you are sure he tells you something but your brain shut down the moment his lips open, not being ready to hear another chant of "No Lin Kuei" "He cannot-" and blah blah blah. -But you have a mission, one that you accepted after seeing Sektor getting on his knees and begging for your help. "Please distract Bi-Han while I run out from the house." -Clock is ticking, and you know the hour of the date is approaching. You are already tired, the flood of words from the usually silent grandmaster filled your ears for the year to come. -Then you decide to act. -"Plus they can't be good because-" Words hang in the air. You finally lift yourself up from the chair, just to grab the collar of Bi-Han uniform and kiss him, or better kiss his upper lip since his mouth was wide open. -You break the touch, hoping that now his scolding will be directed to you long enough for Sektor to escape. -What you don't expect is to see the kitchen twirl, and to find yourself cornered between the fridge and the kitchen island, back on the cold wall, front against a even colder chest, icy mouth sucking yours, teeth playing with your lower lip. -His fingers grip is hard, leaving indents in the back of your thighs trying to pull them up, around his hips. -You follow his implicit order, like a doll in the owner hands, his crotch now dangerously close to yours, tongue overpowering yours, their dance played in your warm mouth. -Bi-Han end the kiss, his thin lips just an inch away from yours, a heavy breath coming out from his nose. "You are not doing this to distract me from Sektor, right?" You try to look around, then your eyes land again on his face, on his dark and deep eyes. "Totally. Do you wanna stop?" "Absolutely not." His lips are back on yours, devouring you as a delicious meal. -Sektor is able to sneak away, between your shared groans and mewls, a smirk on his face. He is happy that his friend was finally able to get with Bi-Han. -Do you have a crush for Bi-Han? Well, you will be astounished when you'll find out he has been obsessed with you for far longer.

Kuai Liang:

-"Liang listen to me!" "No! I've already decided." -You follow him through the chambers of his mansion as best as you can since he is almost running. -"It is an important package, and I'm the only one free that can deliver it to Lord Liu Kang. Let me-" "For the last time, no." Liang finally turns around, eyes firm and eyebrows furrowed, making you take a step back for how big and imposing he looks right now. -"But why…I know I'm not a strong warrior but-" You feel your voice breaking and you hate it, but as a side effect Liang expression softens up. His hands that were tight on his side now reach for your cheeks. "Don't cry." "I'm not. But the world is at risk Liang! My life has no value compared to-" -You can't finish the phrase, your grandmaster soft lips shutting you up. Liang removes himself immediately, your kiss lasting as long as a blink of an eye, his soft black eyes looking at you. -He even crouches a little, waiting to understand your reaction, his thick fingers drawing circles on the apple of your cheeks, removing some tears that slip your eyes. -Liang decides to be the first to talk, breaking the silence. "There is no world for me if you aren't in it. No world matters if you don't live in it. Don't go 'till I get back." His forehead knocks against yours, eyes now closed, and his feelings for you now clear. -You gasp, no words leave your mouth, no muscle moving. Not until Liang opens his eyes again, and finally, your body works. -And Liang sees it, the same fire that burns him alive every time he looks at you, that turns to ashes any thought that isn't you, monopolising his entire being. -This kiss is way more intense, your hands grip his collar, pushing him close to your body, not a single gap for air. His right hand rests tight on the back of your head while the other slips lower, massaging and groping. -If only he had a bit more of time… -"I have to go now, fireball." Liang whispers to your lips. "Don't go until I'm back. Be good, and we will be able to do this and much more." He smirks, eyes full of mirth. -You nod. This time he won.

Tomas Vrbada:

-"You are wrong and being stubborn." "I know what I'm talking about. You are being contrarian!" -You both are walking at Madame Bo restaurant, customers long gone, just the two of you arguing. -Why? Who remembers, you just know you want to be right and Tomas is on the same wavelength. -"You know I am right. You are just being childish." He tells you, with that damn finger pointing at you. Of all the habits he could take from his big brother, the finger-pointing one irate you like nothing else. -You look at him, Tomas looks delightful, cheeks slightly red from anger, his eyes magnetic, and he reeks confidence. Maybe you don't mind this side. -"You always want to win. You are such a younger brother." You can't hear it, but you see something snapping in his brain. You struck a nerve, and his mind is ready to throw a reply that will literally devour you. -But your mind is faster, finding a solution that won't make you win, but also won't make Tomas explode. -Your lips push against his ones, and after a second of surprise Tomas reciprocates, much angrier than you, much more forceful. -You soon find your back against one of the wooden tables of the restaurant. Tomas grips an angle of tablecloth and pushes it down, the tableware following, breaking into pieces. He doesn't seem to mind, breaking the kiss just to push you on the table. -Madame Bo will kill both of you. -Tomas starts to kiss down your neck, kisses soon turns into small bites. "T-Tomas." He looks at you, mouth still dangerously close to your neck. "Do you even remember why we started arguing?" His smile wicked, his usual angelic face looking devilish. "Fuck no. For sure, it wasn't as good as this-" You gasp, Tomas teeth sinking into the skin of your throat. "I agree with you." "Then come back here, I haven't finished kissing you." "Yes, ma'am." -Fingers skillfully untie the strings of his uniform, your pants being pulled down as quickly. -You are right at the end. The method of fermentation of Tomas' favourite radish isn't as interesting as this.

BONUS:

Anon don't gatekeep, say the name of the novel.

No fr I'm curious.

Maybe if I read I can also yk, improve lol.

[springlockscars]

clueless (stepfather!w. afton/fem!reader)

pairing: stepfather!william afton | steve raglan/fem!reader content tags: daddy kink, size kink, age gap, praise kink, multiple orgasms, loss of virginity, hand jobs, blow jobs, grinding, first kiss/making out, inexperienced, come swallowing, vaginal fingering. summary: your stepfather is finding it harder and harder to resist you, while you remain entirely oblivious. PREFACE: the reader in this fic is 18+ in age. while phrasing like "little", "baby girl" and "daddy" are used, this terminology is not indicative of the age of the reader. the reader is 18+. minors do not interact. word count: 6,411 tags: @dilfkiss read on AO3

18+ content below cut. minors do not interact.

note: I took "dumb!stepdaughter reader" to mean oblivious as to how horny she makes stepfather!william, I hope thats ok! also I know you only asked for a oneshot but I got so carried away lmao. enjoy! ♡

William was so engrossed in his work that he didn’t even hear your knocks on the basement door. You cracked the door open slightly when he didn’t respond to see him hunched over his workstation. Flashes of light routinely flickering in front of his eyes as he solders metal to metal.

You sneak through the entrance and tiptoe down the stairs, stopping right behind him. You wait for him to put the soldering iron down before hugging him from behind, pressing yourself against his warm, broad back. William startled, too distracted to even realise you were there.

“Honey!” he exclaimed, “what’re you doing? Be careful, you could’ve gotten hurt,” he turns around pulling off his visor to look at you, but his eyes lock in place when he sees you. Your legs, bare to the upper thigh, hips covered by the thin fabric of your pyjama shorts, top half covered by an oversized sweatshirt he recognised as one of his own. He swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry,” you removed your arms from him, “I just wanted to come see you, see what you were working on.”

He couldn’t resist your pouting face, “c’mere, let me show you,” William patted his lap, encouraging you to take a seat. You settle down and turn to face the worktop which was covered with bits and pieces, metal and wire.

His hands rest naturally on your hips, feeling just how thin the fabric of your shorts really was. William had to stifle a groan when you wiggled in his lap to get comfortable. He immediately felt his blood rushing south, his length twitching under your backside. Taking a deep breath, he rested his chin on your shoulder and stroked the bare expanse of your thigh. There was something about seeing you in his clothes made his dick twitch in his trousers.

“What is it?” you asked curiously.

He cleared his throat, “it’s an elbow joint that belongs to one of the animatronics. Some parts needed replacing, and it needed oiling. The movement was too… stiff,” he was thinking about what else was stiff.

“That’s so cool, it’s so clever how you make these things,” your voice was full of wonder, like a kid on Christmas. You picked up the cold metal in your hands and shifted on William’s lap trying once again to get comfortable.

“Thank you honey, that m-means a lot,” his breath caught in his throat as you wiggled again.

Something was definitely poking you, and William knew exactly what it was. You, however, were none the wiser, entirely distracted by playing with the elbow joint in front of you.

William rested his forehead against your shoulder, relishing in the feeling of you pressed against him like this. He thanked whatever god may be out there for the good fortune of your mother working out town for the week, he knew he’d be in big trouble if she were to barge in right now. He’d be in big trouble if she ever found out about the thoughts he had about you, his stepdaughter.

He knows he shouldn’t feel these feelings or think thoughts like these, but how is he supposed to resist with the way you’re grinding your ass into his erection right now. And to top it all off, you had no idea just what you were doing to him. Completely clueless.

“Are you tired?” you ask over your shoulder.

So naïve, “a little, yeah. How about we go back upstairs, hm? Relax and watch a movie maybe?”

“Sure!” you hop off his lap, the cold night air filling the space you occupied. He once again felt his dick twitch and strain against the fabric of his pants.

“You head on up and pick something out for us to watch. I’ll be right there; I just need to do one more thing.”

“Okay!” you shouted cheerfully. William turned to watch you go, your shorts riding up your legs as you ascend the stairs, revealing the curve of your ass cheeks at the very top of your thighs.

You close the door behind you, turning the basement dim again. William leaned his head back against his chair and groaned, deep and desperate. He hastily shoved his slacks down his legs and freed his now rock-solid cock from the confines of his underwear, wasting no time in pumping the appendage with a rough hand.

His lips parted, hot breaths escaping his lips, William imagined you on his lap once more. How you’d grind against him, no clothes, skin to skin. He imagined your moans, soft and pathetic, just for him. He imagined caressing your breasts, rolling the nipples to hard points, how you’d toss your head back as you rode him and screamed his name. He imagined his hand was your pussy, hot and wet, gripping and squeezing him until he came. How tight would you be? How deep could his length reach inside you?

It was bad, his own innocent stepdaughter. But it was the innocence that really turned him on. William wondered how much experience you had. He imagined being your first, the first cock to split you in two, the first one to hear you come.

Sensing the apex of his climax, William bit his lip and thrusted wildly into his hand, “that’s it baby, that’s it, you’re gonna… ungh, make daddy come.” He dug his nails into the leather arm rest as his hips stuttered, breathing ragged, until he finally comes hard all over himself.

His moans are high pitched and broken, head slumped back against the chair with the adrenaline of his orgasm dissipating through his body.

William now has an answer to a decision he didn’t even realise he had to make.

He was going to fuck you.

-

William finally gathered the strength to clean himself up with the tissues on his desk and compose himself enough to meet you in the living room. When he enters however, he has to grip the wood of the door frame to keep himself from collapsing right there on the floor.

“Honey… what are you doing?”

“Trying to fix the DVD player, the cable came out,” on your hands and knees underneath the TV stand, ass in the air. William could see the mound of your pussy through your- he shook his head, as though he could physically shake the dirty thoughts from his mind.

“D-do you need a hand?” he manages to choke out.

“No, I almost got it,” you spread your legs wider to bend down further, looking for the perfect angle that would allow the cable to slide into the slot, “I don’t think I need a degree in robotics and engineering to fix the TV,” you teased.

William takes a seat on the couch right behind you. From this angle, he can see right up underneath the sweatshirt you were wearing, his sweatshirt, seeing the faint outline of your breasts. There was no way you didn’t know what you were doing to him. There was no way someone could be this oblivious.

William began daydreaming again. Oh, what it would feel like to take her by the hips at this angle, slowly pressing into her tight-

“Got it!” you exclaimed, leaning back on your knees to check the TV.

Snapping back to reality, William snatched a pillow from the couch and placed it on his lap before you could turn around. Despite bringing himself to a climax a mere few minutes ago downstairs, he could feel himself hardening again already.

“Okay! This is one I’ve wanted to watch for a while now, but I’ve been too scared to watch it on my own,” you sit down on the sofa right next to him, leaning comfortably into his side.

-

The movie opens with a blonde woman making popcorn on the stove, before getting harassed on the phone by a mystery man and ultimately murdered in her own yard.

“Oh my god!” you flinch away from the gore to bury yourself into your stepdad’s side.

William chuckles, “don’t worry baby I’m here,” he wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer and leaning his cheek comfortingly against the top of your head.

In your panic, you had wrapped your arm around his midsection. William felt his dick respond to the proximity of your hand. He tried desperately to steady his breathing while stroking your back.

William thought for a moment that the horror movie would be able to distract him from the way you were pressed against him, until the teenage couple on the screen began making out and groping each other in bed.

Feeling emboldened, he decided to tease you a little, “now, don’t you be getting any ideas young lady. I don’t want to open your bedroom door one day and find you tangled up with a boy like that.”

You whipped your head up to look at him, arm still draped over his waist, “no way! I don’t even like any boys like that. They’re all weird anyways.”

“Weird how?” William probed.

“Like…” you thought for a second, “they’re all so dumb and immature. I want to find someone like how mom found you.”

Someone like him… Twitch. “That’s sweet, honey.”

“I wouldn’t even know what to do anyways,” you turned back around and laid your head in William’s lap against the pillow.

His brows furrowed, “what do you mean?” he rested his hand on your waist, stroking light circles into the fabric of his sweatshirt.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, “like kissing and stuff. I’ve never done it… I would probably be really bad at it.”

William was dumbstruck, you really were completely innocent just like he thought. “So,” he started tentatively, “you’ve never kissed anyone?”

You shook your head in his lap, his breath hitching as you pressed the cushion further into his building erection. You didn’t notice.

“And you’ve never… gone further than that? Nobody has touched you?” he was pushing it now; you were bound to catch on.

You shook your head ‘no’ again, “I’m scared it’ll hurt…” You were silent for a moment, before sitting up suddenly turning on your knees and facing him, the movie long forgotten at this point. “Does it hurt? Is it supposed to?” Your eyes wide with curiosity, just like they were down in the basement.

“I- um,” William cleared his throat, painfully aware his hand was still at your waist, “no. No, it’s not supposed to hurt. If your partner is mature enough, and, you know, pays attention to you and what you need, it should feel like the best thing in the world. For the both of you.”

You nodded, deep in thought.

“Have you really never kissed anyone before?” William asked again, still not quite believing it.

“Never,” you shook your head, “how do you do it?”

William’s breath caught in his throat, “w-what?”

“How do you kiss someone like that,” you were serious.

He closed his eyes and braced himself, now or never, he thought. “I can show you, if you’d like.”

Your eyes widened once again and you nodded rapidly, “please,” you begged, scooting closer.

William brought his large palm to your cheek, caressing the soft skin gently, his other hand still resting at your waist, “close your eyes,” he ordered. You obeyed dutifully.

He glanced down at your plush lips, parted as your breathing quickened in anticipation. William leaned in closer and pulled you towards him to meet him halfway. His own eyes fluttered closed as your lips connected. Softly at first, then the hunger overtook William as he grasped your face in both hands, pulling you even closer towards him as he deepened the kiss. He couldn’t stop now.

He licked at your lips, earning a gasp which he quickly took advantage of. Pressing his tongue desperately against yours, you moaned at this brand-new sensation.

Instinctively needing to be closer to him, you shoved the cushion off his lap and took its place, your knees either side of his thighs. You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, surrendering completely to your stepdad’s mouth.

Teeth and tongues clashing, William bites your bottom lip. This is everything he’s been dreaming about. You melting against him so deliciously. His erection grows harder still, now he’s sure you know exactly what it is because you’re grinding down against it in his lap.

William pulls away from your mouth, chest heaving. He has to push you backwards by your own chest as you try to chase the kiss. “Slow down baby, slow down,” he strokes your face with his thumbs.

“Is kissing always like that?” you pant, still gripping onto his shirt for dear life.

William chuckles, “it should be,” his hands drop to your waist as he buries his face in your neck, placing kisses there too, “I can’t believe you’re this innocent.”

He feels you lean into his touch, “you know, you look so pretty in my sweatshirt, baby girl,” he slides his hands under the fabric to touch your skin.

You’re completely drunk on his touch, mind empty, you don’t know how to respond.

“I’ve thought of touching you like this… for a long time,” he says between kisses.

“Really?” you ask, dumbstruck, “why me?”

William pulls away to look at you in the face, “are you serious?” he searches your eyes, “oh honey, you’re so beautiful. Everything about you drives me insane.” Hands still massaging the skin beneath the sweatshirt, “and seeing you in this, in my shirt and these tiny fucking shorts. Oh my god,” William leans in once again, latching onto your neck and sucking a bruise into the skin.

The stimulation sends jolts through your entire body, traveling down to your core between your legs. You grind on William in an attempt to relieve the pressure. He leans back, kissing along your jawline, “does that feel good?” he asks.

You only whine in response.

“Nuh-uh baby don’t play dumb. Use your words, tell me what you feel.”

“Feels good,” you whimper softly. The sound of your desperate voice making his dick strain harder in his slacks.

“Where does it feel good? Tell me.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, “in-in between my legs.”

William runs his middle finger over your clothed mound, “right here?” he asks teasingly, applying pressure to the area he knows your clit will be, and by the pitch increase in your voice he must’ve guessed right.

“Ah! Y-yes!” you press your hips against his touch harder, chasing the stimulation.

William pulls his hand away but before you even get the chance to protest, his fingers are sliding below the waistband of your pyjama shorts. “Right here?” he asks again, running two fingers down across your clit.

You buck uncontrollably against his hand, almost overstimulated having never been touched there in this way before. Not even giving you time to respond, he slides his fingers lower, finding your entrance completely soaked with your arousal.

“Oh baby, you’re so wet for me already. Just for me,” he buries his head in your neck again, inhaling your scent.

William can’t believe he’s really touching you like this, and he’s the first. Your first. His cock pulsing harder at the very thought.

He rubs your pussy slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you too quickly. There’ll be time for that. He spreads your slick all around and up towards your clit, circling over the little nub tenderly.

“A-ah,” you cry, “daddy!”

William groans deep in his chest, “what did you just call me? Say that again,” he demands.

“D-daddy! It- it feels so good…”

“Yeah? You like your daddy touching you like this?” he can feel heat rising all the way to his ears.

You whined against his fingers and pleaded, “please.”

William pulls his hand free from between your legs. You cry out and grind down in his lap harder, trying to get the stimulation back. You look at him with watery eyes. He holds eye contact with you as he brings his fingers coated with your arousal to his lips, before running his tongue over them and sucking them into his mouth. Your jaw goes slack as he moans around his own digits, then pulls them from his mouth, now clean.

“I’ve dreamed of what you might taste like, but the reality is even sweeter,” William cups the back of your neck and pulls you in for another desperate open-mouthed kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue and begin rocking back and forth against the bulge in his trousers.

He pulls back and leaves quick pecks against your lips, “do you want to try touching me, honey?”

You nod quickly, kissing him back every time his lips meet yours.

“Scoot backwards a little,” William takes one of your hands in his, finally releasing your death-grip on his shirt. He presses your palm against his bulge between your legs, sighing at the pressure, “pull the zip down, that’s it.”

You eagerly pull the zipper down and undo the button at the top, your hands freezing when you don’t know what to do next.

You look back up at William for guidance, his gaze dark with eyes full of lust, “you can touch me, it’s ok,” he reassures.

You caress his bulge lightly through his underwear with your fingertips. It was hot and hard, and it made the heat pool between your legs. Carefully, as though it were a dangerous animal, you pull down his underwear over his hard length, freeing it for the second time today. But not that you knew that.

His cock all but sprung out of his underwear, eliciting a guttural moan from William. Unprompted, you take him in your small hand and begin to slide it up and down.

“O-oh fuck, baby girl,” his head falls backwards against the couch cushions, his hands moving to grip you by the thighs, “just like that, a little harder don’t be shy.”

You followed his instructions, pumping his length in one hand with the other pressed against his chest for support. Pearly white liquid seeped from the hole in the tip, and you had the irresistible urge to lick it like an ice cream. Your eyes travelled up William’s body, settling on the expression of pure pleasure on his face. It made you happy that you were able to make your daddy feel good like this.

William couldn’t think straight. Here you were, his beautiful little stepdaughter, sitting on his lap and pumping his cock. He gazes down at you and his heart thuds in his chest watching you lick your lips.

“Here, move down here,” he slides his hands from your thighs to your waist to help you stand, then kneel on the carpet in front of the couch, William caresses the back of your head from where you are between his legs, “why don’t you give it a kiss, hm?”

You lick your lips again, then eagerly lean in closer, pressing your lips to the inflamed tip. Once, then again.

“A-ah! Oh fuck, b-baby,” William’s voice is desperate, he’s never been so aroused in his life, “keep going, don’t stop.”

His dick is hot against your lips. You dare to lick the pre-come from the tip, earning a tighter grip on the back of your head from William’s hand as you swallow down the salty taste. Eagerly wanting to please him, you become bolder. You lick a thick stripe up almost his entire length from base to tip, William watching through hooded eyes. You do it again, and again, flattening your tongue against the hot flesh.

“Here, baby, put it in your mouth,” he instructed, “wrap your lips around it like that I- oh! That’s it, that’s it!”

You take him into your mouth, sucking on him like an ice lolly on a summer’s day. The sounds he’s making prove to you that you’re doing well. You take the bottom half of his cock, the part your mouth can’t reach, and begin pumping him again.

“Oh my god!” William grips your hair in his fist, guiding your mouth up and down faster and harder, “ungh, just like that, just like that baby you’re doing so well. Taking my cock so well.”

He begins thrusting up into your mouth, penetrating deeper, and deeper into you. With one hand remaining on his length, your other hand grips onto his thigh to steady yourself. With tears building in your eyes, it’s almost too much for you to handle but you don’t want to pull away.

William, fucking into your mouth, has lost all sense of morality. His wife, your mother, could walk through the door right now and he would continue to choke you on his cock until he came. Nothing in the world could stop him at this point.

For the second time today, he feels his climax approaching. Chasing the high, he’s entirely consumed by thoughts of you. He no longer needs to imagine scenarios to beat himself off to, he has the real thing on her knees, devoted to him.

He feels your tongue pressing flat against his length, the increase in blood pressure as you suck him in. The lewd sounds you make as you gag around him and saliva dribbles down your chin.

“So close… I’m so close baby girl. Are you gonna swallow all of daddy’s come, are you gonna take what I give you?”

You hum in response around him, and the vibrations are enough to tip him over the edge. William grips your head firm in his hands, holding it still as he fucks into your mouth two… three, more times, before finally stilling mid thrust, and emptying his load into your mouth and down your throat.

The salty liquid hits your tongue, and you swallow it down instinctively. Licking and sucking the hot appendage, making sure you don’t miss a drop.

William relaxes, arms going slack, and he sinks deeper into the couch cushions. You rise from the floor, crawling back onto his lap to be close to him.

“Was that good, daddy?” you ask, voice quiet and shy.

“Oh baby…” William caresses your back and wipes the saliva from your chin. He then pulls you against his chest into an embrace, “that was incredible, my love. You made daddy feel so good, I’m so proud of you.”

You both lie still for a moment, William coming down from his high, and you listening to the thud of his heartbeat through his chest.

William brushes your hair back, away from your neck, before placing a kiss there, then another, then biting softly, “do you want daddy to thank you, hm?” his breath is hot against your neck.

Once again beginning to squirm in his lap, you nodded your head against his chest. He pushes you up to a seated position, sliding his hands under his shirt to caress the skin of your waist again, “I want you to use your words, baby girl. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to make me feel good too, daddy. I want you to touch me again…”

He pecks you on the lips, then pulls his sweatshirt over your head in one swift motion, revealing your bare chest right in front of his eyes. Wiliam places a kiss to the centre of your chest, right on the breastbone, before moving across to the left, to suck and nibble at the plush flesh of your breast. His right hand sliding up your body to cup the other one on the right side. Your breathing immediately becomes laboured, William sucking a nipple into his mouth, biting and leaving bruises in his wake.

You were soft beneath his fingers. He felt a twinge in his crotch, becoming aroused all over again by the way you moaned and arched your back into him. William kissed his way lower, as low as this position would allow, before scooping you up in his arms and laying you flat on your back on the couch.

Your eyes widened but were filled with desire as he loomed over your small frame beneath him. He resumed his pathway, tongue trailing down over your abdomen, finally reaching the prize between your legs.

William wasted absolutely no time, whipping off your pyjama shorts, leaving you bare save your white panties. He pressed a kiss to the fabric covering your mound, moving lower and pushing your legs further apart. His mouth watered at the smell of your arousal, eyeing the dark spot on your panties where it had soaked through. He licked a stripe up your soaking cunt through the material, just like you had done to his cock earlier.

“Oh! Oh fuck,” your back arched, your walls clenched around nothing, and you gripped the cushions tight in your hands to ground you.

The taste on his tongue sweet and a little bitter. Your panties clung to your skin, the large man between your thighs making them wetter and wetter with every swipe of his tongue.

With one hand, William pinned your hips down into the soft couch cushions, the other one pressing firmly against your pussy through your panties. He circled his fingers around your clit, high pitched moans tumbling from your lips as you try to grind forward seeking some kind of release.

William, deciding he couldn’t wait any longer, hooked his fingers in the waistband of your soiled panties, pulling them down your thighs and all the way off your legs, discarding them on the ground.

He couldn’t believe the sight before his eyes. Your pussy, swollen and glistening with your arousal, right in front of him. Close enough to stick his tongue out and taste you, and that’s what he did. He buried his face in your cunt and ate you out like a man starved.

You cry out, high pitched and needy. You’ve never felt anything like this before, the way the hot muscle of his tongue slides expertly through your folds, the tip circling your clit, moving back down to poke at your entrance.

The heat was pooling between your legs rapidly, jolts of pleasure were coursing through your body, building in intensity. More, and more. You had no idea such an intense pleasure existed.

William tentatively pressed an index finger to your entrance, you felt your walls stretch and flesh burn as he pushed in deeper, and deeper. You twitched and squirmed under his grip, until the digit was pressed inside you all the way to the knuckle. He pumped it in and out, slow at first, then picking up the pace.

“How does that feel, sweetheart?” William’s voice was heavy with arousal.

The muscles in your stomach twitched, “A-ah, s’good,” your voice was hoarse, “feels so good, ‘ve never felt t-this before, ah!”

“Yeah? Do you want daddy to add one more?”

You can only manage a groan in response.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” William pressed kisses to the flesh of your thighs, his beard scratching your skin, before slowly working another thick finger into your cunt. Taking it as a success when you scream his name and press yourself down harder against him.

William thrusts his fingers firm and deep, curling them every now and again to catch your G-spot, you probably didn’t even know what that was, he thought. He brings his lips to your core again, gently flicking his long tongue over your clit, pressing flat against it, circling around, sucking it into his mouth and biting lightly with his teeth.

You twitch and writhe in place, feeling pressure build within you. Your thighs flex by his head, one of his hands gripping the flesh there hard enough to bruise.

“D-daddy,” you cry.

William raises his head, “I know baby girl, let it happen. Just relax and let go for me,” he goes back to sucking harshly on your clit, fingers fucking into you a little harder than before.

The air feels cold against your skin, the pressure builds higher and higher, your legs tense and toes curl. Your muscles tense more and more, and tighter and tighter. William flicks his tongue over your clit one last time, then all of a sudden, your entire body is convulsing. Your thighs flex and spasm at either side of William’s head.

You scream out and shudder under your stepfather’s touch, “shh that’s it baby, that’s it. Come for daddy, that’s it beautiful,” his pulsing fingers slowed as you rode out your first orgasm, hips rolling against his hand.

Just like William earlier, you go limp against the couch. You can feel aftershocks pulse through your body and down your legs. William pulls his fingers out slowly and you watch through exhausted eyes as he sucks them into his mouth and licks them clean, devouring every morsel of your arousal that coated them.

William holds you by the waist and leans over you kissing your neck softly, moving up to your jawline, before finally connecting his lips to yours. The kiss is deep and full of desire.

He pulls away briefly, “you did so well for me, my little bunny,�� then kisses you again, “did that feel good?”

You couldn’t speak. Fatigue engulfed every cell in your boy, all you could do was kiss him back lazily.

“Ohh, did I fuck my baby dumb with my fingers, hm?” William strokes his thumbs over your nipples, your body twitches and you whimper beneath him.

Your whole body was still on fire, you ached for him to touch you again. To bring you to the edge over and over, senses filled with only him. Your fingertips brushed the fabric of his dishevelled shirt, pulling him down closer to you.

Not even fully aware of your own actions, your fingers found the buttons of his shirt and began undoing them, one by one. Lust burned within William; you don’t want to stop… you want more. His lips meet yours once more, with an intensity this time.

He pressed that long tongue of his into your mouth, exploring every curve, devouring you ravenously. After releasing the final button, he shrugged out of the crumpled yellow shirt and tossed it on the ground where your clothes lie. Smoothly, without breaking the kiss, William hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and pulls them down along with his trousers. He kicks them off and kneels over you, entirely bare on the couch.

William parts your legs to wrap your thighs around his waist. He shuffles forward, a deep, guttural moan spilling from his mouth into yours as his cock, hardening once more, makes contact with your soaking cunt.

Your hips react instinctively, rolling and grinding your core into his. William rocking his own hips rhythmically, sliding deliciously through your folds. The tip of his member bumps your sensitive clit inciting a whine from you in response.

Both of you are a mess of whimpers and groans, grinding and thrusting furiously against each other. A sweat breaks out on William’s skin. He pulls back away from your mouth to kneel up straight, gazing down at where your bodies connect with blurry eyes.

He takes his solid cock in his hand, feeling the blood pulsate through the skin, “I don’t think I’ve ever been so hard in my life… for anyone,” he presses the tip directly through your folds, gathering your arousal. “Do you see what you do to me, baby girl? Look at how hard daddy is for you.”

You lean up on your elbows and follow his gaze down between your legs. William sliding his cock through your slick is a sight to behold. Feeling his heat pulse and throb against your sensitive skin.

You only now realise just how big he is in comparison to you. Knowing full well how much you struggled to take him into your mouth earlier, you feel a sense of panic begin to rise in your chest.

William notices this, and cups your face in his large palm, “don’t worry, honey. Remember what I said? I’m going to take good care of you.”

He takes your hips in both hands and begins to press directly against your entrance, immediately feeling resistance there.

“Oh… Oh my god,” you collapse down onto your back again. Legs parting wider as though that’ll help to accommodate your stepfather’s girth more.

“Breathe for me, bunny. I need you to relax,” William’s voice is thick with need. The need to pound you with all his strength, until your voice breaks and you spill all over him. But he must be patient.

He slides through your folds again, tip bumping your clit a couple of times and making you spasm beneath him before pressing against your tight hole once more. Pushing further and further. More and more.

The pressure ten times more intense than when he entered you with his thick fingers. Curse words spill from your lips, your hands grip William’s arms where he’s holding you firm by the hips. Your breasts squeezed together and heaving with the intensity of your breaths.

One of his thumbs moves to circle your clit, trying to ease the tension in your body. You whine and writhe and beg, a litany of “please”, and “oh god”. William presses harder still, until the bulbous head of his cock pushes through. Your entrance finally yielding to him.

He continues to strum your clit soothingly and gently, allowing you time to get used to the intrusion.

“Talk to me, how does it feel, baby?”

You pant desperately, “s’good… I-ah!” your hips twitch, “It feels so good daddy, you feel s-so good!”

“Oh, honey… I told you it should feel good. You’re being such a good girl for me; I love hearing your beautiful voice.”

William pulls back slightly, and tentatively pushes into you further, groaning when his length does indeed penetrate you deeper. You’re so tight. Never in his life has William felt a pussy like yours, it’s like you were made just for him. He could probably come inside you right here and now, but he fights with all his strength to supress the urge.

He pulls out a little, then slides in again, and again. Over and over. Around half of his length is inside you now, and you’ve never felt anything like it before.

The burn, the stretch… It should be uncomfortable, but it isn’t. Your back arches and your hips rock. You want more. All you can think of is more. More of him, your daddy. More of his kisses, more of his cock, more pleasure. More, more, more.

Tears spill from the corners of your eyes, the feeling is so intense. William picks up the pace, spurred on by the wails slipping past your lips. With every thrust he dives into you deeper, exploring the uncharted territory of your walls, whimpering himself when he feels your cunt squeeze him even tighter.

With every thrust he reaches deeper into you, until he realises his cock is sheathed entirely inside you, “Ah! Oh baby, my baby girl…”

William pulls out, leaving only the tip still buried inside, then plunges back into you all the way to the hilt.

“Daddy!” you cry, feeling every bump and ridge of his length stretch you out.

That word provokes him further, he’s pumping into you relentlessly focusing on chasing his own building high, that knot getting tighter and tighter in the base of his cock.

“Are you close, baby? Are you gonna come again, all over your daddy’s cock this time?”

“P-please daddy, please,” you cry, “I n-need… I want-”

William takes your thigh in his hand, pressing your leg back towards your chest to achieve a deeper angle inside your cunt, “what do you need my bunny? Tell daddy.”

The stimulation you’re receiving leaves you speechless. You babble obscenely and incoherently, fists gripping onto anything you can reach. William’s arms, the couch cushions, your own breasts to pinch at your nipples.

You are completely drunk on the pleasure your stepdad is providing you. Feeling the burn inside begin to peak again just like when he fucked you with his fingers, “daddy, I’m gonna… Oh! I’m gonna-”

“That’s a good girl, come for daddy. Come for me,” William pants, his thumb rhythmically stroking across your clit, assisting you to the peak of your climax.

Arching your back, feeling your walls begin to clench, the heat intensifies until it’s a burning, white hot fire inside you. You scream as your orgasm wracks through your body, wilder than the last one, your whole body shaking and spasming uncontrollably. Your mind delirious with pure pleasure.

William’s grip on both your thigh and hips turns bruising as you come violently on his cock. Your walls pulsating and gripping him, pushing him over the edge of his own orgasm. He pulls you forcefully down against his hips one final time, before stilling, and emptying his seed deep inside you.

He stays there for a moment, until his dick is no longer twitching, and he collapses down on top of you. Both of you breathless and writhing, riding out the most intense orgasms you’ve ever experienced. William holds you by your waist, his face once more buried in your neck. You both cling to each other, skin sticky with sweat, eyes closed as the rush dissipates.

William strokes your skin soothingly, “you’re such a good girl,” he praises, “such a good girl for your daddy.”

You sigh and curl into his embrace. Perfectly content.

“Now baby,” he leans up to look you in the eyes, “this is very important, okay? You can’t tell your mother what we did tonight. It has to be our little secret or we won’t ever get to do it again, do you understand.”

You nod curtly, “I won’t tell, I promise.”

“Good girl,” William presses a kiss to your lips, pulling back when you turn to yawn. “Do you want to come upstairs to bed with me? You can sleep in daddy’s big bed, but we have to keep that a secret from mom too, okay?”

“I’d love to,” your eyes sparkle.

William kisses you once more, before sitting up again and gently pulling out from inside your hot pussy. Your muscles pulse and you sigh at the loss of contact.

“Are you okay?” he checks.

“Just a little sore,” you confess.

“Oh baby,” he pulls you up to a sitting position and strokes your cheek, “come upstairs with me. I’ll take care of you.”

[angel-eyes05]

a spider in the snow

pairing: fem!reader x miguel o’hara

summary: you help rehabilitate an injured miguel after he returns from one of his late night patrols…in more ways than one

warnings: nsfw, fluff then smut then fluff, handjob (both m and f recieving), blood mention, an incy wincy tincy bit of angst

word count: 2.5k

notes: heyyyyy i've come back from the dead. i don't really write a lot of one shots so go easy on me for this one. just like every horny person on the internet, i’ve fallen head over heels in love with miguel o’hara. this is me giving into my impulses lmao. sorry if i do anything thats out of character idk him that well so just work with me here. i also don't know everything about nueva york and if names are different than here or something so im just gonna pretend they’re the same. if they are, great! if not, just go with it lmao. one more thing, despite being cuban i am a no sabo kid (rip me) so i had to use a translator for some of this so apologies in advance if some things aren't super accurate. ok lets get on with the show.

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Snowy nights in Nueva York have always been one of your favorite parts about moving up north. Seeing all the lit up buildings illuminated in the snow, all the people ice skating in Rockefeller Center rink just below your apartment window, the reminders of Christmas coming soon. It kept your heart warm against the freezing temperatures outside. You also loved the feeling of being able to bundle yourself up in blankets and hoodies, a mix of yours and your boyfriend’s, having an excuse to make hot chocolate, and finally being able to use the fireplace that normally laid dormant in the middle of your living room. The one con about the snow was when it would land on Miguel’s patrol nights. Your already nervous mind was only heightened by the added uncertainty of everything that could happen while he was out there. What if he got too cold while out there and it affected his ability to fight? What if it started snowing too hard and he wouldn’t be able to find his way back to the apartment? You knew some of your concerns were probably dumb, but they felt serious to you. 

This was one of those nights. One of the nights where you would sit on your couch, next to the cracked window, unable to sleep until you could see him come back safe. You flipped through the channels of the tv aimlessly, trying to find something to keep your mind off of the growing cold outside. You eventually turn it off after coming across the weather channel, claiming a snowstorm would be rolling into the city in about 15 minutes. Deciding there was nothing you could do about your situation, you walked over to your bedroom and wrapped yourself in your massive duvet to shield from the cold. Worries dashed around your mind about everything that could happen. Despite being verbally supportive about Miguel and his…hobbies, you really hated the idea of him sneaking out in basically pajamas almost every night to “beat up the bad guys” essentially. Even though he had explained everything to you by this point, having been dating for about three years now, you still couldn’t quite understand everything. Radioactive spiders? Corrupt businesses? Fangs and claws? Mutations? A multiverse? It was a lot to wrap your head around. But, despite all of this, all of your worries and concerns over Miguel, you stayed. Because you knew you didn’t start dating him because of his whole superhero business or whatever. You were dating him because you loved him. The real him. The way he would always press gentle kisses into the crook of your neck. How on his days off, you would be woken up to the smell of eggs and bacon cooking in the kitchen just for you. How he would always whisper sweet praises to you while you would give him head. How easily he could be crumbled down beneath his rock hard exterior. The Miguel underneath the red and blue spandex. You dreamt of this as you slowly fell into a calm slumber. You fell asleep bundled up in all the blankets on your bed, arm outstretched to the opposite side the bed, almost as if you were reaching for something that wasn’t there. 

After some time had passed, you’re not sure exactly how much, you were awoken by a thud coming from your bathroom. You lazily rubbed your eyes and grabbed your alarm clock to check the time. 3:47 am. Yeah, that’s definitely Miguel in there. You dragged yourself out of bed to help him out, throwing one of this hoodies over your tank top for extra warmth. You also liked how it still smelled like him after three times in the wash. You opened the door, eyes squinting from the bright fluorescent light. And there he was. You found it endearing. How Miguel was trying, and failing, to reach this massive scratch on his back to clean it instead of just waking you up to ask for your help. You look to the floor to find a bottle of hydrogen peroxide sitting there on the rug, probably what caused the thudding sound. You stood there leaning in the doorframe, waiting for him to notice you, even though he probably already heard every step you’ve taken from the bed up to the door now. “You need any help there?” you ask him, jokingly. You had seen him in much worse conditions, so you took moments like these to be more comedic, an attempt to lighten his mood sort of. It didn’t usually work. “No, I got it. Please go back to sleep,” he said, still attempting to wrap his arms around himself. You rolled your eyes and walked over to sit behind him, picking up the hydrogen peroxide off the floor and grabbing a couple of cotton balls from the first aid basket. “Mi amor, please go back to sleep, I promise I can do this by myself,” he argued. Before he could get another word in, you poured some of the hydrogen peroxide over his wound. He groaned in response and squeezed your thigh to help level out the pain. “That’s for worrying me all night,” you said to him, just over the volume of a whisper. As you began to dab the blood off of his cut, he responded. “You know I don’t want you to worry.” Once you could see he was turning his head around to look at you, you turned your eyes away. You didn’t really want to look at him right now. It’s not that you were mad at him. Ok that’s a lie, you were a little mad. But it was more of a helplessness you felt when you would see him like this. Beat up, cut, scratched, bruised. And there wasn’t anything you could do to help. Not until after at least. And it wasn’t like you were a trained nurse or anything. You dreaded the day that he would come stumbling through the window, too injured for you to take care of yourself. Or worse. The day he wouldn’t come home at all. “Yeah, well that doesn’t mean I don’t,” you said sort of coldly. You stood up from your position, waiting to patch up his back until after he showered. You changed your positions to sit from behind him to in front, ready to take care of his front side now. “I don’t want to talk about that right now tho-.” You cut yourself off when you finally saw his face

Cuts were scattered across his face, one above his eyebrow still dripping blood catching your attention first. He also had a bruise quickly forming on his left cheekbone. Once you moved your eyes more, you saw his nose marked with a deep cut going through the middle. His beautiful nose. It was one of your favorite parts of his appearance. Done scanning his face, your eyes moved down to his chest and his torso. His chest was marked with similar cuts to the one on his back. You kept your eyes on his chest in an attempt to hide the fact you were holding back tears right now. “I’m sorry mi cariño. I really am.” You knew he was. But sorry wasn’t going to keep him safe. This was one apology among many. It didn’t really matter. He wasn’t sorry for getting hurt again and again and again. He was sorry for the fact you had to see him like this. If you wouldn’t have seen that he was injured, he wouldn’t have said anything And you knew after this apology as well, he would go out tomorrow night and do the same thing over again. You didn’t respond to his words. All you could manage to do was pull him into an embrace and apologize when he winced from your hands hitting his cuts. You sat there for a bit, running your hands through his hair and trying to hold yourself back from crying. He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck and planted gentle kisses there, each a little apology from him. Once you finally pulled away and wiped your face, you started to clean the scrapes on his face, this time more gentle than his back. You dabbed the cotton ball on his forehead as he held you straddled on his lap. He admired your features as you concentrated on him, rubbing your back with his fingers in the process. You didn’t say much, only a simple “sorry” if you were a little too rough with cleaning. Despite the stern face you were putting on, Miguel knew you secretly liked the way he would grab at your thighs and hips with his claws when you did something that hurt.

Once you were finished, you silently put the first aid equipment away and left the bathroom so he could take a shower. He planted a soft kiss into your forehead before you left the room. Once you crawled back into bed, you sighed to yourself. How did you end up here anyways? There’s no way you were expecting all of this when you first saw Miguel at the concert bar that day. Some days were amazing with him. Others were much harder. And while you’ve definitely had worse days with him, today was leaning on the latter option. You contemplated all of this until you heard the door to the bathroom behind you open, Miguel stepping out of the steaming room with his towel wrapped around his lower body. You were very quickly reminded of one of the reasons you’ve stayed with him for so long. The way his wet curls were laying around his head. How his chest glistened while it was damp, despite currently being tattered with cuts at the current moment. He sleepily shuffled over to the bed, dropping his towel before crawling up close to you in bed. The warmth of Miguel’s freshly showered body against yours helped to melt the majority of your worries away. It also helped that you could feel his his cock getting harder against your leg while he cuddled against you. You finally turned around to face him, cupping his jaw in your hand and rubbing your thumb across his face. He grasped your hand and pressed soft kisses into it. “I love you so much Miggy,” you finally said, breaking the silence and drawing his eyes towards you. “I really do, and I’m sorry if I ever make it seem like I don’t. You just…you scare me sometimes.” You quickly realize those weren’t the words you meant. You begin to stutter and take back your words a bit, until you see that Miguel has given you his full attention. You take a deep breath and continue. “You don’t scare me. It’s more of what you do that scares me. I never know when you’re gonna come back or if you even are. If you think I take joy in taking care of you after you come back, I really don’t. I hate seeing my boy like this. And it makes me scared that one day you’re gonna come back in a shape I can’t fix. It scares me so bad Miggy you don’t even know,” you say, choking back your tears. Once Miguel notices you’re about to start crying, he wraps his arms around you immediately. “Shhh it’s ok preciosa,” he comforts as you quietly cry into his broad shoulders. “I’m so sorry for making you worry,” he says in between kissing the top of your head. “I promise I’ll make it up to you, and I love you too.” 

You pull away from his hug and stare into his beautiful crimson eyes as he wipes away your tears. You suddenly fall into the overwhelming urge to kiss him. He returns the kiss with even more passion than you put into it. You quickly found yourself exploring his body with your hands, moans escaping his lips whenever you would graze over one of his wounds. You drew yourself closer to him to absorb more of his body heat, though you were quickly reminded of his bare cock as you could feel it hardening on your leg. Your hands eventually made it down there, teasing Miguel along the way as you felt him up on the way down. You then took his hard, already wet cock into your hands, caressing every ridge you could find on it. You could hear more moans exit his mouth and slide into yours as you handled him like putty. He would let out messier sounds, even a growl at one point, and jerk forward into your hand when you would tease around his tip. “F-fuck baby. Y-you’re s-so good to me. ‘N pr-retty too,” he would blurb out Feeling his cock get increasingly hard in your hand began to make you slightly wet as well. This only increased as Miguel began to take off your underwear as well, sliding two of his fingers into your pussy and placing his thumb to draw circles onto your clit. Your grip on his length becomes lazy and sloppy as you’re stimulated as well. You’re surprised at how quickly Miguel is able to find your clit, but then again you expect him to know your body so well after three years. After both of you have been at it for a while, you’re the first one to get close to your orgasm. “Fuck M-Miggy, I-I’m gonna cum,” you manage to moan out. His kisses on you get sloppy as he reaches his as well. It’s over for you once he begins to put more pressure onto your core. You let out an inhuman noise as your stomach fills with the white heat of your orgasm, shaking your entire body. Miguel takes his fingers out of your entrance and licks your cum off of his fingers. It’s then over for him when you eventually put the pressure of your fingers onto his cock. You hand is then covered in his cum once he reaches his climax in your fist, moaning intensely into the air. While he’s in the middle of his orgasm, his claws pop out of his fingers and into your hips and underneath your thigh where his hands are placed. Then, he lets out his fangs and uses them to leave hickeys into your neck, making sure not to let out any of his poison while doing so. “Just stay here with me Miggy,” you sigh out, his fangs deep into your neck. “You don’t ever need to go back out there again. Just stay here with me forever.” He simply nods at first, still sucking into your neck. Once he lets go and and begins to calm down, he responds with “Forever and always mi corazón,” whispering the words into your ear as he lays more kisses along your collarbone and neck.

You stare outside the window at the falling snow, hoping this time he’ll keep his word, but knowing deep down that he wasn’t going to. But for now, you could just appreciate your time with him now. He was all yours right now. Everything. And that was enough.

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A/N: uhhhh sorry but i didn't feel like proofreading this cause its super late for me rn sorry not sorry lmao

[hijackalx]

MALE BG3 COMPANIONS TURN ONS/KINKS +18

FEMALE BG3 COMPANIONS

NON-COMPANIONS/NON-ORIGIN COMPANIONS

A/N: i limited myself to just 5 per companion otherwise this would get wayyyy too long lol but if u guys want pt. 2 let me know 💗

ASTARION

CORRUPTION

ok this is mostly because he has more than one instance in the game where he mentions virgins lol. i think he would totally get off on "corrupting" someone inexperienced and sweet, like i can see him loving the idea of teaching u or showing u new things. will poke fun at how innocent u are and the whole time he's ROCK fucking hard 😭😭

BRAT TAMING

this man loves to play games. he likes people who have nerve but mostly because it feels so good to put them in their place. the act of MAKING u obey is so hot to him and soooo fun (he’s also into how it humiliates u by making u submit)

AGE DIFFERENCE

NOW LISTEN !!! LISTEN he is OLD !!!! as FUCK !!! he's been alive a longggg time. i think it probably turns him on to be more experienced than u not only in bed but in general. ok i will come clean i'm thinking of the conversation he has with wyll about the word "agog". like secretly he probably loves that ur so young and dumb 💗 (even if ur not actually young, just young in comparison to him) he feels some kind of superiority when he bestows his old man wisdom upon u ⚡️🧙‍♂️ also it prolly adds some "forbidden" or "taboo" feeling to the sex that he likes 🤫

BONDAGE

the fact that u trust him enough to do something like this is so hot. he likes to watch u struggle against the restraints while he teases or overstimulates u. probably the type to use silk or fluffy handcuffs lol. afterwards he’ll kiss any bruises/marks left behind (the best part)

DACRYPHILIA

I ALWAYS SAY THIS IM SORRY but since he has that sadistic side i genuinely think he's into seeing u cry. the sounds/faces u make and seeing u reduced to such a vulnerable state. will try to overstimulate u to the point of tears so he can wipe them off ur face and make u clean them from his fingers hehe 💗

GALE

TEMPERATURE PLAY

OF COURSE this mf is using magic for this. he'll get pretty creative with it too— ooh wait bondage using ICE restraints??? yes ??? no ??? can he do that ??? anyway. he will tease a lot by switching between hot and cold, mostly because he loves watching how u react. likes if u use it on him too but not as much as he likes using it on u.

EXHIBITIONISM/VOYEURISM

i think he’s the type of dude to want to watch u touch yourself. and vice versa. will also want to jerk off while watching clone!gale fuck u. he’ll want to fuck in places where u guys might get caught too, mostly because he wants to show u off and make other people envious

SEX TOYS

^^ like i said before he’ll want to watch u use toys on urself, also might like it if u let him tell u how to use it. he’ll use some too, but usually only if u want to watch him use it on himself (or if u use them on each other obv). he doesn’t really use them much alone. the exhibition part is what’s most exciting to him

FACESITTING

probably one of his favorite positions honestly. he just really likes to eat u out and he’s soooo good at it. loves the feeling of ur weight on his body and how u grind against his face. it also gives him lots of access to ur thighs so he can squeeze and kiss them 💗💗

CLONING

i already mentioned how he’ll watch clone!gale fuck u. but he will also want to tag team/double team u with clone!gale 😭😭. can he do clones of other people? if he can he might also like making a clone of u too. that would be the craziest foursome ever holy shit LMAOO imagine getting fucked by URSELF (he would be so into watching that honestly that’s a gale top 3 fantasy moment)

WYLL

BREEDING

i think he wants to have so many babies. and to stuff u full of babies. filling u up with his cum is so hot to him and he will go multiple rounds just to really get it in there LMAO also really likes the way his cum looks when it’s leaking out of u 💗

PRAISE

he loves to give AND receive praise. he will tell u how ur doing so good for him and how beautiful u look. BUT he also wants u to tell him how good he’s making u feel and how handsome he is (he’ll lowkey get kind of insecure if ur too quiet, he really feeds off of how u respond) he also likes praise in the form of noises too if ur too shy to say anything lol

ROLEPLAY

i think he would he into roleplaying a little bit. particularly him being a knight and u being his prince/princess. will want u to dress the part and everything. he really gets off seeing u in the regal get up— i don’t think he would go too overboard with the knight thing though (like putting on an entire steel knight outfit 😭😭 that would take too long to get off. he’d combust) but he’ll prolly put on a little chainmail or something if u want.

CLOTHED SEX

yeah he’s going to want to fuck u with the princess/prince fit ON. but also i think he’d really be into dry humping tbh….. like if he’s saving himself until marriage then i don’t think he sees dry humping as real sex so it’s okay ooohh that’s so naughty wyll 😈😈 probably loves to watch u get off on his thigh through ur clothes

SENSORY DEPRIVATION

THIS…… might be far fetched…… but i feel like he’d be into this. like blindfolding (yes he’d let u blindfold him too), wearing gloves when u touch each other and etc….. wait the gloves is actually so hot though like leather gloves? imagine he blindfolds u and then touches u with the gloves on…. ooh baby

FEMALE BG3 COMPANIONS

NON-COMPANIONS/NON-ORIGIN COMPANIONS

[slytherinboysappreciation]

SMUT REQ LESGOOOOO

Male reader and Tom are from the Wool's orphanage and they grow together, so ofc it would be natural for Tom to think that they would end up together, right? To have reader standing beside him as he becomes the Dark Lord? Wrong. Reader never considered him more than a best friend or a brother that should be protected. So when there's a rumor abt reader dating someone Tom was furious, he went to search reader to confirm the rumor (which is not true) but alas, he's too furious to listen so he fuck him dumb, and Tom started speaking parseltongue while getting it on

Bruh idk how to explain this lmao, English is hard 😔 But hey u can make the setting for this one when Tom was alr a Dark Lord (daddy) or when he's in the 7th year.

Rumor - T. R. x male!Reader

A/N: I’m so sorry for taking so long to get to this 😅 My writing motivation has been a little skewed lately. However, I did it! And I hope you like it!

I changed the parseltongue part to him speaking it when he gets angry enough because it just helped the story along more. I hope that’s okay.

It’s unedited with no use of Y/N. I think I tagged everything, but let me know if I missed something please! 💛

And of course, this fic contains explicit sexual content so ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS!!!!

CW: Possessiveness; mentioned failed love confessions; angst; a mention of horcruxes; anger, lots of anger; murder mention; Tom gets a bit physical with reader; dubcon touching; dubcon sexual content, (consent is there, but not referenced); handjob; doggy style, I think?; Tom ties reader’s hands with a belt; anal sex; anal penetration; no lube mentioned; dirty talk; aftercare; slightly fluffy ending; also, this takes place after Hogwarts so Tom and Reader are both of age!!!!

1676 words

You were Tom Riddle’s best friend.

Everyone knew it. He’d made sure of it as soon as your friendship had been born. You were his friend. First and foremost, above anything else.

You were his. His friend. His follower. Almost his lover even.

Not anymore.

From as far back as he could remember until his seventh year of school, you’d been by Tom’s side. The two of you grew up together. Shared classes together. Practiced dark magic spells together.

And then graduation came and ruined everything.

He hadn’t meant it to. When he’d confessed to you, he’d thought you’d felt the same. Thought you’d felt the spark between you. The feverish heat that came with late night talks and too long glances.

But no.

You hadn’t seen Tom as anything more than a friend. Even worse, you’d called him your little brother. It had made him sick, to think that all that time he’d been pining after you, you’d never even looked his way.

So he’d cut you out of his life. Carved you out of his heart and left a bleeding hole there instead.

It hurt every day you weren’t there.

But he’s stronger now. He has Abraxas and Bellatrix to take your place.

He never finds himself clutching his chest, gripping so hard his knuckles turn white from how strong the pain is of missing you. Never. Not even once.

Not even making a horcrux hurt as badly as missing you.

But Tom was content. He was fine. He had other followers who were just as loyal as you’d been. He didn’t need you anymore.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

It all changed the moment your name fell from Abraxas’ lips.

Tom’s head snaps up immediately, eyes cold and intense. “What did you say?”

Abraxas blanches, as if realizing his mistake. “My Lord. I just— I didn’t mean—“

“What did you say?” Tom’s voice is low, almost a hiss of warning.

“I— I said that Lestrange saw him out with someone. A— A woman, it looked like.”

The fury is slow building, but its intensity could’ve fueled countless more murders. Tom rises slowly. He stands, his aura sucking the life out of the room.

“I will return.”

With that, he sweeps out of the room, a cold blaze of fury and betrayal following in his wake.

Neither Abraxas or Bellatrix try to follow.

He finds you in your house. Whether he knocked or not, you’re surprised to see him all the same.

“Tom?” You stare in bafflement, maybe even awe.

He’s not surprised. Tom’s been told many times of his physical beauty, something that only heightened over the years. And it’s been many years since he’s seen you.

You look… very much the same as ever. New hairstyle, perhaps. Your face has matured a bit, making you look a little older. But you’re still you.

“Hello.” He spits out, barely able to hold back the rage and flood of feelings that fill his mind. Anger, betrayal, hurt; as if the rejection had been mere moments ago.

“What are you—“

“Who was she?” Tom demands, interrupting you. You blink.

“Huh? Who was who?”

Tom grabs your shoulder, his fingers digging into your shirt. “The woman you were with.” His voice is venom, pure anger in his tone. His voice shakes with it as he speaks. “Lestrange saw you with someone. Who. Was. She?”

You blink, visibly confused. Then your expression clears. “Oh. Her? She’s just a friend.”

“I don’t believe you. Who. Is. She?” Tom grabs your other shoulder, barely holding back from shaking you.

“A-Aurora Greengrass,” you stammer out, looking even more startled by his anger. “I swear, we’re just friends—“

‘Just friends.’

That’s exactly what you’d called Tom’s relationship with you. A ‘just friends’ thing.

He doesn’t even listen to the rest of your words. Blind to everything but the fury in his veins, he starts rummaging through your shirt pocket. Looking for something. Anything to prove you wrong.

He only finds a pack of cigs and an old lighter.

He tosses them to the side and hauls you over to the nearest wall. Slamming you against it and holding you firmly in place with one hand. “Who is she to you?”

You stammer, unable to form words. Tom grips your shoulder tighter, pressing closer to you. “Answer me!”

“I— I can’t understand what you’re saying!” You cower in the face of his anger. “I can’t understand— Ahhh!”

You yelp and shudder as Tom’s hand grazes your groin. He ignores your reaction and digs into your pants’ pockets, looking for anything at all. There’s nothing but fabric and a single money bill.

Still, his hand continues to search, roaming from pocket to pocket like something will appear. Nothing does.

It only heightens his anger, makes his jaw clench with fury. His words coming out in a hiss. “Is she your lover? Your wife? Or is she just another useless little toy for you?”

You let out a pathetic little moan, hips jolting a bit. Tom’s vaguely aware that his hand has stopped wandering where it’s supposed to be. But he can’t be bothered to look.

“Answer me!” He spits out. “Who is she to you, really?”

“I can’t—“ Your voice comes out as a pathetic whine. “Tom, please! I— I can’t understand you!”

Your hips jolt again and Tom finally looks down. He’s groping you, hand wandering across your half-formed hard on. Unconsciously feeling you up.

And you’re not pushing him away.

In fact, you’re stifling a moan, resting your head back against the wall. Eyes half closed. As if you’re… enjoying this.

A plan forms in his mind. A wicked, wicked plan. If you’re not willing to answer him… he’ll just have to fuck the answer out of you.

“Couch,” he hisses, “Now!”

He yanks you after him, relishing the way you stumble. You don’t deserve his kindness right now; what you need is to be fucked dumb.

Tom pushes you down against the couch and reaches for your belt. You don’t even protest. You just whimper softly and let him do what he wants.

He pulls your cock out, sliding his thumb along the tip. You moan and arch up, precum coating his thumb.

“T-Tom!” You gasp as he fists your cock, gripping tight enough to make you see stars. Your hips thrust up automatically, fucking into the sweet pressure of his hand.

“Shut up!” Tom hisses, eyes narrowing. He starts to move his hand and you choke with pleasure.

“I can’t— fuck!” Your head is thrown back against the couch, hands gripping the cushions tight enough to make your knuckles white.

You moan and writhe under Tom as he guides his hand along your cock, shifting and changing the pressure until he finds what makes you gasp.

And then, he pulls back.

Making you almost sob from the loss.

You reach for him, voice cracking pathetically. “Tom, please…!”

He bats your hands away, manhandling you until you’re kneeling on the couch. Pants around your ankles.

You grip the back of the couch tightly, practically clinging to it as Tom undoes his own belt. He grabs your hands, looping the thick leather around them. Pinning your hands together. You’re tied up now, unable to free your hands.

Tom frees his own cock, lining himself up with your asshole. You shudder and whimper, face flushed red. “Please!”

“Needy little bastard,” Tom hisses. “Can barely even wait for me.”

You just moan and press back against him. “Fuck, that’s so hot…”

Slowly, Tom sinks into you. Inch by glorious inch, he slides his cock into your greedy little hole. You clench hotly around him, making his breathing stutter.

You feel divine.

Hot and tight and perfect.

He bottoms out, cock buried deep inside you. He grips your shoulders, resting his forehead against your back in an effort to keep from cumming on the spot.

You’re a moaning mess, soft pleading babbles mixed with whimpers and gasps. Tom can barely understand you, you’re so incoherent.

It’s exactly what he wants. You fucked out enough that you forget how to speak.

Finally, he starts to move. In and out, each thrust getting faster and more aggressive. Slowly building up until you’re sobbing underneath him, mindlessly whining with pleasure.

You look glorious. Perfect.

It’s like a dream come true, you underneath him finally, just like it was always meant to be.

The thought makes his hips stutter and he grips your cock. He won’t last long like this; you’re clenching around him too tightly.

With a couple good firm strokes, you’re spilling onto the couch, cumming with a loud cry.

Not even moments later, Tom thrusts into your ass, filling you up with a gasp of his own. He shudders and leans against you again, struggling to catch his breath.

Slowly, he pulls out of you, absently rubbing along your back. The rage is gone from him, leaving him feeling tired and drained.

“Are you…” Alright doesn’t seem like the right word for the situation.

But you just moan softly. Roll over onto your back and gaze up at him with dreamy eyes. “Fuck yeah…”

Tom chuckles softly, almost tenderly. He can’t help it. It’s you.

Gently, he undoes his belt around your hands. They flop uselessly to your sides, as boneless as the rest of you. You just melt into a puddle of dreamy gazes and soft smiles.

He literally fucked you dumb.

As you continue to bask in the afterglow of your fucking, clarity starts to return to Tom. This is his opportunity. His chance to look around and see what you’ve been doing with your life since he cut you out of his.

But…

Gazing down at you…

Tom settles himself on the couch next to you and pulls you into his arms. You happily snuggle into him, burying your face in his neck.

Snooping can wait.

It’s been forever since he had you all to himself like this.

And he’s planning on taking advantage of every moment he can get.

[fcthots]

it is i...🏍️ anon...finally online when your inbox is open lmao. ty for the love on the motorcycle ask!

lately i've been thinking about being in a fight w jason and you're both ignoring each other all day but he still pulls you close the second you're both in bed bc he just instinctively has to hold you and ask if you're warm enough and tell you he loves you even if he's grumpy about it and refuses to say anything else

also thinking about makeup sex

(p.s. my crazy orange cat says hello, he's not quite gus but i think there's a spiritual connection)

Omg tell knockoff Gus I said hi

also omg YES ur back and with amazing asks as always <3

The fight started bright and early that morning. Jason was in a bad mood and said something dumb so you went defensive and said something insensitive. It was the same song and dance that had happened a thousand times.

Jason blew off steam during patrol and it was nearing 3 am. When you talked, you fought, so you remained silent. Brooding. Maybe you spent too much time around the bats.

You sigh as Jason takes his shirt off before bed. You aren't really mad at him, you're just annoyed. And stubborn. This "fight" would have been long over if you both weren't the most stubborn individuals on the planet. In your defense, he started it.

He lays down in the bed and closes his eyes. You figure that's that. You'll just go to sleep and see how you feel in the morning.

The second your weight is shifted onto the bed, Jason has you wrapped up in his arms. Night routine is still on then. The only difference is that he doesn’t look at you.

A slight shiver runs down your spine at the cold sheets. "Are you warm enough or do you want me to turn up the temperature?" His voice is gruff and lacks the usual softness, but the word themselves still warm your still salty heart. Even when you're fighting, he still cares for your comfort.

"'S fine." Your voice is tired and slightly clipped but the way you hugged his arms closer to you betrayed your care.

Usually he'd make you face him so he could kiss your forehead, but tonight he places the kiss to the crown of your head.

"Love you," he grumbles, eyes still closed.

"Love you too." You don’t think either of you would be able to sleep if the words were left unsaid.

He hums in acknowledgement and gently runs his fingers up and down wherever he can reach until you both pass out.

Tomorrow, he'll make you breakfast in bed and it'll be like the fight never happened. Tomorrow, he'll look you in the eyes and tell you he loves you. Tomorrow, he'll look you in the eyes as he undoes you.

But, for now, you'll smack him when he shifts to get more comfortable, just to be petty.

[anifever]

maybe some Dallas Winston OR Sodapop Curtis dating headcanons? :3

Dating Sodapop Curtis HCs ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Sodapop Curtis x Fem!Reader

୨୧ : HC’s of dating Tulsa’s pretty boy

A/N : I see soooo much of Dallas all over tumblr so I picked Soda 😭 may do him next tho. Also Rob serves sm face

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🥤 ˚₊‧⁺˖

୨ SO attentative

୨ I wrote this for Darry too but he loves having his hands on you at all times

୨ I think handholding or a hand on your hip would be the most common

୨ PDA is scared of this man.

୨ Loves sleeping with you; napping, etc, he just likes knowing you’re with him

୨ Most of his jokes are awful so you laugh out of pity or are simply the only person that finds them funny

୨ Steve makes fun of his ‘charm’ around you all the time

୨ He always gives you his flannels whenever you get cold (or if there’s even a slight breeze… he might be showing off a bit)

୨ He’s also the type to lay his jacket on top of a puddle for you when you could easily walk around it LMAO

୨ He’s just a gentleman in general

୨ Carrying bags for you, opening doors, etc

୨ You also get piggybacks from him constantly even if you could walk by yourself

୨ You get spoiled whether it’s with affection or items- doesn’t even matter that they’re kinda poor

୨ You definitely get flowers every date night (whether he bought them or picked them himself)

୨ You have to care for him every time he digests dairy

୨ Drinks chocolate milk every morning anyways even tho he knows it’ll kill his stomach

୨ Also comforting him whenever he gets dragged into one of Pony and Darry’s fights

୨ You guys definitely dance around in the living room or something

୨ It’s pretty playful yet still romantic

୨ Protective.

୨ He also gets jealous pretty easily whether you wanna say it’s because of Sandy or just in general

୨ You get hugged CONSTANTLY, usually from behind

୨ You always come to visit him after school- or on the weekends- as he works at the DX

୨ You usually sit with him behind the counter but sometimes you have to go to the break room because he gets too distracted whilst working 😭

୨ On top of all that, you bring him lunches with you as well (along with ones for Steve)

୨ He remembers every little detail you tell him

୨ Like even if he’s a little dumb (😇🫶) he somehow knows what your favorite pre-school teacher’s name was

୨ He writes you short and cheesy love letters from time to time

୨ Yes, half the words are always spelt wrong but who cares??? You can’t make fun of that pretty face

୨ The gang almost never hears him call you by your actual name

୨ It’s always a pet name unless he’s talking about you to them and other people

୨ You eventually get used to/enjoy the smell of grease and gasoline from how often he gets covered in it

୨ You guys def shower together on a pretty regular basis whether it becomes sexual or not

୨ Baking together!! (he makes the biggest mess in the world and is kinda bad at it but you help him)

୨ You guys definitely get red and blue slushies from the DX and both have purple tongues an hour later

୨ You always offer to wash his clothes for him which seems kinda weird but it’s just because you want his clothes smelling like you/your detergent

୨ He definitely started letting you do it constantly from then on

୨ He’s literally the embodiment of “THAT’S MY GIRLFRIEND!!!!”

୨ He’s just such a sweetie- sodapop I wish u were real 💔

[weebsinstash]

As much as I want to have children by this man, let's take a moment to sip our platonic yandere Miguel juice

-i can't decide which sex he'd be more partial to in a 'child'/you since in the movie there was Gabriella but in the comics he eventually has a son who becomes the next Spiderman but--

-as a girl i just naturally think of a lot of those sorts of gender specific ideas 👉👈 he's this big scary hulking intimidating threat and his "daughter" is the one melting his cold exterior

-doesnt matter if you're a grown ass woman, Miguel sees you struggling to braid your hair and suddenly here he is, full dad mode, doing it for you,and depending on how close you two are, maybe he disguises it with "ugh, stop spending so much time messing around with that. If I do it for you will you get back to work? 🙄", but really it's just your new self proclaimed dad/tio wanting to help braid your hair and help you feel pretty and, oh, how he can fondly remember the last time he helped braid "his daughter's" hair...

-of course this evolves to him just loving to do things with your hair. Braid it, wear it natural, style it, use products on it, hes got you. you were just trying to put your hair in a lazy updo like a ponytail or bun and this man doesn't let you leave until he's got you completely combed out, hair braided with ribbons, and of course this entire time youre awkwardly sitting there in a chair in his absolute cave of a workstation with this gargantuan 6'9 man there, "so how was your day? Staying out of trouble?"

-really I mean. Is stealing other people's kids NOT technically in character for him. You're unfortunate enough to trauma bond with this man and you're never getting rid of him

-you hear Miles Morales call him tio (as in the tio meaning dude) and you jokingly teasingly start calling him tio, which Miguel secretly pretends is the version that means uncle. You're just constantly joking around or looking up at him with these big pouty eyes, "but tio 🥺 can't I PLEASE--" and its like. Lmao people know that if they need to ask Miguel for a favor, that it increases their chances to have you ask in their stead

- I mean, as a female adult abused as a child by my own father, raised by a single mom myself, like...

Reader flinches away when Peter B goes to give you a supportive pat on the back or comes in for a high five after a mission and you force yourself to laugh because you're feeling more than just a little awkward and in the spotlight. "Oh, sorry, that was dumb!" And they eventually get you to kind of anxiously word vomit "my dad used to just kind of, rough me up sometimes when I did something wrong! It-it could've been a lot worse honestly, but, it-it just makes me kinda jumpy around guys sometimes! It's not a big deal, or personal or anything. I'm sorry if I made you feel bad 🥺"

Peter B, Jessica, and Miguel all there as older parental figures and also literal parents, immediately exchange looks and agree like "oh hell naw, don't like that" and you get silently adopted by all three of em right then and there

-if it's a physically abusive father and you're still the victim of abuse, I imagine your dad had some suspicious figures suddenly show up in the middle of the night to terrify and threaten the shit out of him and suddenly you aren't getting as manhandled anymore

-can you imagine, like, you show up to Spider Society one day with a black eye "oh, this? It's, it's nothing. My dad is just, he's about to make police captain and he's really stressed about it is all" cue all your friends mentally high fiving around the table because your abusive piece of shit dad is going to die and you don't even know. When it happens they'll all be "oh no, sweetie, I'm SOOOO sorry :(" meanwhile they're thrilled bc now you don't have any parents and they can weasel in there as your new family, schedule your birthday parties, monopolizing more of your time, things like that

-goddd I just imagine it could become some kind of weird fucked up enmeshed scenario where the structure it's providing for your life is actually good for you meanwhile Miguel is like, retroactively kind of soothing some of his trauma both from his own childhood and what happened with the second universe he broke that it's just like. You're a grown ass adult and this man is tucking you in goodnight and saying "te amo, mija" at the doorway and you bet his ass is going to stand there and not let you sleep until you say it back. He knows you're just absolutely seething at him and he'll still refuse to leave without a grumbling "te amo, papá 🙄"

-He eventually just has you doing so much shit and depending on him so much that it starts to become second nature to you. one day you're in the Society doing one of the odd jobs you're allowed to help with and suddenly you're thinking, "Ugh I actually don't know what to do next, I wish Papá was here to-- WAIT SHIT NO I MEAN MIGUEL--"

-lmaooooo as a non Spanish speaker I keep thinking of how awwwwwful it would be if he actually forces you to learn Spanish. Not inherently because there's anything wrong with Spanish, but, I'm not always smart, and I can just SEE him quizzing your ass, forcing you to have entire conversations in Spanish, always clicking his tongue or chuckling at you when you make a mistake and he just thinks you're so cute struggling to learn 🥰 man hears you're trying to take extra lessons from Miles and he instantly drops everything he's doing to go track the little scamp down. Insert meme "I can forgive being an anomaly but I draw the line at teaching Reader bad Spanish"

-siiiiiiigh eventually the day comes when you're in big danger and you need his help, maybe you disobeyed him and was hanging out with some other Spiders in another dimension when there was a sudden villain attack, and he comes to your rescue as a villain does something dramatic like has a gun to your head or a knife to your neck and the second you see him you're just overwhelmed wirh a sense of relief, calling out for him, calling him dad/tio/papá whatever, and he's just like 😭❤️ pumping his fist internally, like YES you are so grounded when you get back home but also 🥰 you finally called him dad without him having to twist your arm 🥰 nevermind if the "villain" who kidnapped you was actually a Spider who owed him a favor, and this whole thing was to teach you a lesson about listening to your Papá, that's not important ❤️

-Miguel who forces you to learn Spanish vs Miguel who forces you to be Catholic. I can excuse kidnapping and forced adoption but I draw the line at making me practice religion 💀 no but seriously, he probably does have certain morals and values he instills/forces upon you if he thinks you need them, and he'll probably be one of those fathers, "are you leaving the house dressed like that? Go change" and orders you not to hang out with certain people he doesn't approve of or thinks have bad character (like hobie lmao)

-bruh you two will be on a super serious important mission and this man will be like "it's dark, hold my hand so we dont get separated"

Eventually it comes to a point where you're, not perfectly behaved but, just about. If someone finds Miguel, it means you're not very far away, or vice versa. Members of the Society quickly learn not to make any advances on you or make any "adult" comments unless they want to get suspiciously hurt during a personal training session by the big boss himself. You think you're safe just cause Miguel isn't around? Nah, cause then you have Peter B and Jess keeping an eye on you, and, not that YOU'RE aware of the extent, but, if Miguel ever gets worried, he can just ask Lyla what you've been getting up to, since your modified little daypass has her installed into it and she can track your every move ❤️ helicopter parent? Oh honey, you have NO idea...

[honeykyeom]

white noise / track 2: smoke

pairing: lee seokmin x afab!reader

series summary: seokmin had always been there for you. after a rough heartbreak, you find out he’s there for you in more ways than just one.

series notes: uni!au, best friends to lovers, friends with benefits, 97 line antics, 18+

chapter warnings: alcohol & food mention, mcu mention (lmao), the gang actually goes to class?? (not really but), seokmin kinda being dumb, mingyu being pouty (what's new), the full gang!! FINALLY!!!!!, mostly slight angst (not sorry)

wc: ~5k

a/n: after much anticipation, the second track (even though i'm nowhere near done with the third LMAO)! thank you so much for all the renewed interest and love on the first track, i really really REALLY appreciate it. seriously it means the world!

read track 1 here!

Walking out of your shared English Literature class with Jinsoul, you grab your phone from your back pocket, the light from the homescreen illuminating your face even in the cloudy daylight. The weather matches your mind: murky and foggy, obscuring your clarity. As you focus on the LED screen, zoning out Jinsoul’s voice and looking through the endless notifications you received while in class, there was one that was still noticeably absent. 

No messages from Seokmin.

It’s been about a week since the party, since that fateful night, with no word from Seokmin. You were left alone the next morning, waking up next to an empty space and cold sheets. You sat up in your bed, your mind running a thousand miles a minute with the finish line nowhere in sight. You felt lost on the track, stuck on where you two go from here and no chance to speak with him about it. 

Did he regret that night? Was it a mistake to cross that line?

“Hey!”

You felt a sudden pain on your arm, breaking your attention from your thoughts. You look over at Jinsoul, rubbing the sore spot that she playfully hit. “What?” 

“Are you even listening to me?”

“...Yeah, of course.”

Jinsoul rolls her eyes, your dazed expression making it apparent that you weren’t listening to her rant about your class. “Okay, you’ve been out of it all week. What’s up with you?” She asks you, an earnest shine in her eyes, treading lightly on the topic.

You falter in your steps, unsure of how to answer her question. You wanted to tell her, air out your frustrations, explain the current predicament you were in and finally get the heavy burden that was weighing you down off your shoulders. Something in your brain stops you from doing that, however, leaving you to twiddle your fingers and your thoughts taking refuge in the back of your mind. 

You settle with, “Nothing. Everything’s fine,” in a meek voice, avoiding Jinsoul’s worrying stare.

She can tell that you’re lying, your entire frame sinking into itself; it’s not hard to see your demeanor changing, but she keeps her mouth shut, not wanting to overstep her boundaries. Even if she wanted to say anything, her own thoughts are interrupted with your smile and wave to Haseul and Yves, who are both meeting you halfway in the courtyard.

Haseul is the first to greet you back, running up to hug you immediately. Yves saunters, a smirk on her face as she sits at the table that’s situated in the middle of your group. You move your attention to her, continuing to hold Haseul in a tight hug with an eager smile. “So… how was your date with ViVi?”

Jinsoul is even quick to change the subject, her excitement for her friend showing in her bubbly appearance. “Oh my god, yes! Tell us, please!”

“It was good… We just walked along the river and went to a coffee shop that wasn’t too far. Wasn’t like an extravagant date or anything.”

“ViVi asked to see her again,” Haseul adds, ever the overbearing mother, embarrassing Yves with her admission. Squeals contribute to her embarrassment as you and Jinsoul berate her with questions and requests for more details and Yves is unable to hide her excitement, her own screams joining the group. You’re sure to be annoying the sleep-deprived students around you in the courtyard, but nothing can dull the joy in your circle.

“What are we screaming about?”

Your chatter is interrupted by the entrance of Minghao and Mingyu, sliding in beside Yves. You notice quickly that there’s a missing body from the usual trio, only adding to your anxieties of the day. Why is Seokmin avoiding me, you think as the two men join the group.

“We’re screaming about Yves’ date with ViVi,” Jinsoul responds, a laugh coming out of her lips as she excitedly recounts the conversation. Mingyu wraps his arms around Yves when he hears the news, joining in on the celebration and Minghao has a smile of endearment gracing his face, a clear sign of love that’s bursting through the seams.

“It was just one date,” Yves mumbles through Mingyu’s tight grasp, still grinning from ear to ear. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Minghao interjects in the conversation, “So! You’ve been talking forever. It’s about time you two did something about it.” He brings his water bottle, which was encased in a decent amount of glistening water droplets, up to his lips and clears his throat once he swallows the liquid before he continues his sentiment. “We’ve seen how you’ve been around her. She makes you happy and that’s all that matters and we’re excited for you.”

A rare demure expression is seen on Yves’ face. A tight-lipped, shy and curved smile flashes as she responds quietly, “Yeah… It’s exciting.” Her body relaxes as waves of approval from the group assures her. She never needed your approval, nor does she ever ask for it, but you’ve seen her heart go through men and women, her confidence gliding through the acute pain she never spoke about. 

“Get more excited! It’s about time one of us got cuffed,” Mingyu comments, loosening his grip on Yves, but still keeping an arm around her shoulders and keeping her warm against his body. 

“Yeah, why isn’t it you, Gyu? Being a hopeless romantic and all that,” you retort, falling back into your playful banter with him to hopefully ease your own anxieties. 

“Why are you asking? Trying to cuff me?”

You scoff at his cocky expression, “You wish.” He returns your statement with a cheeky wink, playing up the faux attraction. The back and forth with Mingyu doesn’t make the thought in the forefront of your mind go away as much as you hoped. “Where’s Seokmin? Isn’t he in the same class with you guys?”

Minghao is the one to respond, “He said he had to leave for something. Not sure for what.. He’ll be at movie night, though.”

Okay, he’s definitely avoiding me, you think. He’s never been this MIA before, usually taking any opportunity to casually talk to the group but more importantly, you. 

The hole you were feeling in your life is greater than any heartbreak you’ve ever felt. No breakup, no fallout, nothing hurt like the slow disintegration of the friendship between you and your best friend, all because of a stupid decision. 

“Y/N?”

You look up to see everyone around the table looking at you expectantly. 

“I’m sorry. What was the question?”

“Do you need help with setting up for movie night tonight?” Haseul asks. “Minghao and I get out of class early so we can head over after?”

You bring your mouth up in a lipless smile, trying to muster all the happiness you can fake as you respond, “Yeah. Sounds great.”

At least you’ll see Seokmin tonight and maybe then you’ll get some answers.

“Have you guys noticed anything weird with Seokmin lately?”

Minghao stops setting up the blankets on your couch to catch your gaze, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. His expression matches Haseul’s, a slight frown forming when they meet eyes, trying to think about your mutual friend. Their heads come up empty, Minghao returning to look at you as he responds to your inquiry, “Nope. Everything seems normal to me?”

“Yeah, I haven’t noticed anything with him,” Haseul agrees. Her melodic work at making room in the fridge for incoming abundance of drinks fills the otherwise quiet room, the only other noise being the soft r&b coming from the television. She stands up from her kneeled position, slowly joining you at the kitchen island. “Why do you ask?”

Your body tenses, biting your bottom lip as your hands play with the plastic of the popcorn bags you’re prepping. The crinkling sounds fill your mind, playing with the static of your thoughts. You’re certain the pause is suspicious. Minghao and Haseul were naturally attuned to people’s emotions and you were no exception, no matter how hard you tried to hide them. You bring your focus away from the comfort of the plastic wrappers back to Haseul, attempting to steady your mind. “I just feel like he’s been avoiding me since the party. Like, outside of the groupchat.”

“That’s weird. Why?”

“I don’t know.” Lie.

“Did something happen during or after the party?”

“Not that I know of.” Another lie. 

Haseul’s hands rest on her hips, eyes downcast as she thinks over your responses. “Huh.” Her tongue comes out of her mouth, pointed out in thought and she looks over at Minghao, who has now joined the two of you at the kitchen island. “Minghao, did he say anything when he got back home?’

“Not at all. He made it back to our apartment before us and when we got back, he was already asleep.”

You were brought back to that night, after everything was said and done. 

You and Seokmin were quiet, his arm around you like a protective blanket, holding you against his chest. You couldn’t lie–his touch was comforting and while unfamiliar, not unwelcome. You two weren’t strangers to cuddling or being close, the behavior at the party making that evident, but this felt different. Maybe it was the obvious fact that you two crossed a line, a line that had been drawn in the sand for the both of you for the past two years–now, the small granules lifted in the air and swept away with the wind, blurring that already thin line.

Despite his own heart's pleas, Seokmin was the first to speak, his own voice small and faint. “I think I should go…  before the guys’ get suspicious.” His actions fail his words, not loosening his grasp. He wasn’t ready to go, not ready to leave your presence, but he’d rather rip the bandaid off now than later before he has to go back to reality–the reality that you two were just best friends and nothing more.

“Do you think they’d be suspicious? I mean you’ve stayed over before?”

He winces at your question, the hopeful lilt in your tone making his decision that much more difficult. He has to do this, he thinks. It’s for his own good. 

“I think it would be better if I go.”

Suddenly, there’s a knock at your door, breaking your memories and bringing you back to Haseul and Minghao, both of them still discussing the behavior of Seokmin. Their conversation stops when they hear the chatter of your friends behind the door. 

You leave the kitchen to open your front door, revealing the rest of your friend group, ready to join in on the festivities. Jinsoul is the first to enter, a bright smile gracing her face as she exclaims that she brought more snacks for the night, leaving the group with plenty of food to satisfy themselves. Yves and Mingyu are quick to follow behind her, carrying cases and paper bags. The clinking of glass and aluminum make it apparent that they did not disappoint with their task of grabbing drinks for the night. They greet you with loud howling, the excitement of the night and finally being able to unwind after a week of exams and assignments getting to them. 

You lock eyes with the lone straggler, the last person in the line of people joining you in your apartment. He keeps his cardigan close to him as he looks at you, a tight-lipped smile emphasizing the small dimple underneath his lips. You drink him in as you realize this is the first time you two have seen each other since that night. 

You almost forgot how attractive he was, the week apart making his features more prominent in your mind. 

“Hey,” you’re the first to crack the ice barrier between you two, hoping for it to thaw enough to make the night less awkward.

“Hey.”

You could cut the tension with a knife with how well this conversation was going. The air suddenly felt thick, so thick and dry that it sucked the moisture right out of you, causing you to swallow any saliva you could muster. 

Alright, you think. Here goes nothing.

“So, um… about that night-”

“Are you guys going to watch the movie from over there? Hurry up!”

Damn it, Yves.

Seokmin clears his throat and quickly moves past you in the door frame, joining everyone else in the kitchen to situate himself for the movie night. You watch him leave, turning around as your front door slams behind you. He grabs a plastic cup, opting for water for the night, much to Mingyu’s chagrin.

This is going to be much harder than you thought.

You didn’t think it was possible to care any less about the fight scene in front of you, but here you are. You thought that picking one of your comfort films, or one where you turn your brain off and ignore all the plotholes, would help with your uneasiness but the absence of a familiar warmth next to you makes your brain aware of how apparent the flaws of the MCU have always been. 

Mingyu’s big body acts like a heated blanket and the plush cushions of your sectional are comfortable enough for you to fall asleep if you wanted to. He happily took the opportunity to get close to you, saddling up to your side and enjoying Captain America trying to save his dear friend, Bucky Barnes and you wish you could do the same. It’s not that Mingyu’s cuddling wasn’t welcomed.

It just wasn’t Seokmin. 

You and him had always sat together during movie night, acting like two peas in a pod, attached at the hip. But now here he sits, on the opposite side of your couch fumbling his fingers with your fuzzy, lilac blanket. It’s hard to keep your attention away, trying to focus on your steady breathing as opposed to his movements. 

Soon as the movie dies down, Steve and Natasha breathing heavily on the doorstep of Sam Wilson, Seokmin stands up and wipes his hands on his jeans. Clearing his throat, he addresses the group, “I’m going to go to the bathroom.”

Although everyone moves their focus from the television, Jinsoul, who lifts her head from your shoulder, is the one to speak. “Do you need us to pause the movie?”

“Nah, you guys are good. It’ll be quick.”

Seokmin disappears into your bedroom, the door to your adjacent bathroom clicking shut. Everyone’s attention returns to the movie and you wish yours could do the same, but it was never there in the first place. You bounce your leg as the time passes, the scenes in front of you blending into one another. It’s not long before your mind settles on a decision, hoping for an end to this madness and before you can change it, you’re breaking away from Mingyu’s grasp and following Seokmin’s footsteps.

“Don’t wait up, I need to use the bathroom too.” You don’t even look back to see the group’s reaction or wait to hear their response before you’re entering your bedroom. 

Looking at the bathroom door, the harsh yellow glow of light seeping through the floor haunts you. The toilet flushes, the sound filling your own brain with water and your head gets fuzzy, almost like you’re underwater. The waves begin to climb, threatening to suffocate you.

It’s now or never.

“What the fuck?”

You slam the bathroom door behind you and you’re met on the other side with a shocked Seokmin. His hands were dripping with water, soap bubbles following the path of his veins that run down his skin. He looks at you incredulously, completely taken aback by your presence in the space that he’s taken refuge in from the increasing anxiety of your current situation. 

He knew it was only a temporary relief, but it was a moment to breathe–a moment away from you. He expected to have just a few minutes to collect his thoughts, regulate his breathing and try not to think about you being in his vicinity. What he didn’t expect was for you to break into that solace, infecting every piece of his mind.

“What are you doing in here?”

“Why are you avoiding me?” you ignore his question, rendering him speechless and babbling, trying to collect his thoughts. 

He walks over to your hand towel, the blues of the fabric bleeding dark from the water. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh ok! So, leaving me on read all week, walking away anytime I enter a room with you and saying 3 words to me face to face isn’t avoiding me?” Seokmin takes a deep breath, leaning against the faux marble counter. His eyes stay downcast, evading your accusing stare and he keeps silent. “You’ve been weird ever since last weekend… You promised nothing would change after everything.”

Walking Seokmin to your door, you keep his hand intertwined with yours. You can’t help but notice the change in atmosphere–the glow of your kitchen lights shine a more golden hue, the air around you has a different stillness and even the feeling of his skin on yours clashes with the usual relationship. It’s all subtle, but it’s enough to notice.

You stop in your tracks, Seokmin moving forward until you pull him back, not letting go of his hands. Biting your lip, you look up at him as he gets closer, eyebrows furrowing with confusion as to why you stopped.

“What’s up?”

After a beat of silence, you respond but your apprehensiveness remains, “Nothing’s going to change between us because of this… right?”

Seokmin’s eyes shine with sincerity and his mouth is slightly left agape as he ponders on his response. He’s never been one to be certain of the future, choosing to live in the moment and take each moment day by day–all with a positive attitude. Once he collects his thoughts, there’s  a finality to his tone, as if he’s never been more sure of anything.

He releases your hand, only to present his pinky finger. You chuckle at the silly ritual you two have, but at least you know he’s serious. 

“Nothing is going to change between us. Pinky promise.”

Seokmin can only stare at his reflection in the mirror, dirty water stains peering back at him. “I wanted everything to be normal,” he states, simply. 

“Well, why wasn’t it?”

“Because I liked it, maybe.” He breaks his gaze from the mirror and finally looks at you. The fine lines in his face are more apparent this close, like the stress from the past week had caught up to him. “I liked it. And I didn’t know how to tell you that or maybe, I didn’t want to admit it since it was just a drunk hookup.” Seokmin lets out a shaky breath, unsure how to continue, if he even should. The heaviness that has been weighing him down all week was lifted, his chest heaving from the truth that’s been released. 

You approach Seokmin apprehensively, closing the distance between you two. It isn’t until your hands are touching on the counter do you respond to him, ending the silence. “I liked it too,” you confess.

“Would it be bad to admit that I wouldn’t mind doing it again,” Seokmin’s voice is soft, afraid to break the glass of the situation. He keeps his eyes focused on your hands, not willing to meet your face again. The air around you two has shifted, a fluid current flowing between your hands. 

“Who says that we can’t do it again?”

He chuckles, shaking his head before he says, “The thing is I don’t want to stop.”

“Maybe I don’t want to stop either.”

Seokmin thinks he’s dreaming. When he looks at your face, there’s a playful spark in your eyes and the tone of your voice tempts him, as it always has. He could be imagining the smirk that tugs at the corner of your lips or the slight squeeze you give his hand and the small actions may cloud his judgment on how he should handle this situation, but he doesn’t care. He’s acting on pure adrenaline when he brings his hands to your face, connecting your lips together.

Everything about the kiss is different from the last time you kissed Seokmin. The shivers run down your body all the same but the soft nature of him has vanished, replaced with a fiery exterior. As his fingers leave your cheeks, falling to your waist and bringing your body closer to his, the touch kindles at your insides, your skin on fire. 

Your bodies meld together from the heat, pulling yourselves closer until it was physically impossible. Seokmin’s lips work feverishly, eliciting a moan out of you and your nails leave crescent moons on his skin from the grip you had on him. It all makes his head spin, somehow more than you already did. He was insatiable–confirming that last week, he was not only drunk on alcohol, but drunk on you. 

You feel like you’re floating, on the surface of a cloud, only to realize you aren’t 10 feet in the air when Seokmin pushes you against the bathroom door. His hands hold onto your waist tightly, making sure the impact isn’t too loud or painful. The only thing that fills the air is the heavy breathing shared between the two of you.

Between frantic hands and heated kisses, the two of you weren’t willing to break apart from each other. In the back of his mind, he begins to think of the others that sit in the room next door. 

He could stay like this forever, but he didn’t want anyone to get any ideas. Seokmin separates your lips, albeit reluctantly, and you’re quick to chase him, not wanting the moment to end. Labored breaths fill the humid air and your lips are red from the constant contact. Softening his touch, he brings his forehead to yours in a moment of solace, trying to clear the static in his mind and regulate his breathing. 

“We should get back to the others before they get suspicious,” he manages to get out through his dry throat. Seokmin’s voice is low, raspy and especially cautious, careful to keep his words contained to these four walls. “We should keep this between us.”

You only have enough sense in you to nod, agreeing to his statement. Head still foggy from the heat and dampness of the air, you finally open your eyes and respond, “I think so too…” You take a deep breath before you continue, “Don’t want to change too much.”

“It’s probably for the best.”

Seokmin internally winces at those words, the same ones that left his mouth when he had to leave your place last week. His statement cuts through his heart, exposing his flesh and reality–the reality that he’s helplessly in love with you, his best friend. 

Or best friend with benefits?, he thinks. There’s no way this won’t end in disaster.

But he can’t deny the lightness he feels or the way his stomach churns at the thought of holding you, kissing you, or having you moan his name amidst a dizzy spell from pleasure. The situation he’s bringing upon himself is selfish and foolish and everything he shouldn’t be doing when it comes to his adoration towards you, but your charm has him under a trance; one that he doesn’t know if he wants to leave. 

“I’m going to head back now,” Seokmin giggles with a shy smile, not taking a step away from you to do what he says.

“Okay,” you respond. Leaning off of the door and giving Seokmin room to leave, you return his smile with a coy smirk of your own. 

But before you can get too far, Seokmin pulls you back into him and brings your lips to his in another hasty kiss. It’s quick, it’s rushed and it still leaves you breathless all the same. It’s new territory for you two, deviation from a path you never thought you’d stray. It lights a fire within you to be exploring it with him.

He separates from you to say, “Okay. I’m actually going to go now.” His smile reaches his eyes, his signature wrinkles prominent on his face when removes his hands from your waist. “I just had to do that first.”

“Okay.”

“Bye.”

“Bye, Seokmin,” and with a giddy smile, he leaves you in the bathroom, the sound of a soft click of the door filling the air. The buzz of electricity from your lights adds to your daze. As you lean back against the door, feeling weightless from the pressure of Seokmin’s fingers through the cotton of your t-shirt, you think of how reckless this is and how destructive this could be–not only hiding it from your friends but how fragile it can make your friendship. 

It would be easy to go to a party and cling on to a random person for the night. It would be easy to bat your eyelashes and play with the hem of their shirt, adding a playful lilt to your voice and an air of mystery around you. It would be easy to lose yourself in the moans, chasing your highs and then easily forget each other, as you tried to do with Jaehyun. It would be so easy, so simple and so careful.

If everything could be so easy with someone else, why does it also feel even more effortless with Seokmin? As it always has been with him. 

Even through the carelessness or the secrecy, no random hookup made you forget like Seokmin had. His gentle worship and care of your body had you on cloud nine and seeing the galaxy. Your comfort was the most important thing to him, even after a few too many drinks. There was something about that night, something in the back of your mind, that guides you blindly through this winding road of uncertainty. You just hope that the road you were walking together doesn’t crumble beneath you.

“Sorry, you were gone for so long! I needed a new cuddle buddy.”

Of course, Mingyu couldn’t be alone for even just five minutes. When you return to the living room from the bathroom, Mingyu has his head on Jinsoul’s lap, her hands playing with the strands of his hair. He looks content, more relaxed than when he was on your shoulder, his huge body somehow compressed in the small space that you left. 

Jinsoul’s fingers stop their movements as she states, “I can move,” teasing the boy. 

“When did I say I wanted you to move?” 

Jinsoul chuckles at his retort, bringing her hand back to his scalp and a pleased smile returning to his face. You probably weren’t going to get your seat back if Mingyu’s comfort was anything to go by. 

“There’s room over here if you’re looking for a replacement cuddle buddy.”

Seokmin’s voice carries your attention, his smile hiding a sly intention that is imperceptible to the untrained eye. He does have tons of room. With Yves and Haseul huddled on the floor, a plush gray blanket covering their bodies, Seokmin is able to spread his legs on the sectional, taking up much of the left side. 

Nonchalantly, you shrug and give a casual grin, “I guess you’ll do.”

“Shut up.”

As you saddle up to Seokmin’s side, resting your head on his shoulder, slotting to him like a puzzle piece, you can’t help but notice the small side glances that Minghao and Haseul give you. The flash of confusion on their faces goes quickly, trying to wrap their heads around how the tense situation between you and Seokmin dissipated so abruptly. 

You’ll explain it to them later, you think. At least as best you can without giving you two away before there’s anything to begin with. 

With the movie drawing to a close, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson on a search for their friend and the Maximoff twins revealed, the atmosphere has a much lighter and relaxed feel–the weird awkwardness and walking on eggshells between you and Seokmin gone. There’s retelling of old stories, laughs that could be considered embarrassing to most, and the playful banter that is signature to your friendship group dynamic. From the outside looking in, you would've never known there was a bump in the road.

And to your friends, they were none the wiser as to why Seokmin stopped talking to you or how you suddenly made up. They don’t know the hidden tension that his hand being on your thigh holds, looking casual enough to be considered normal affection.

“What time is it?” Minghao’s voice cuts through the loud noise, everyone turning to him. His shoulder slacks as he relaxes, leaning back and blending into the soft gray of the sectional with his oversized sweats. 

Yves reaches for her phone, the device laying face up not too far from her figure. “It’s like 11.”

“Ugh… I need to head home. I love your sofa, but my bed is calling me.” Jinsoul gently pushes Mingyu off her lap, making a pout form on his lips from the loss of contact. “Can we please go home?” Jinsoul addresses Haseul, hoping that her roommate is ready to return to their own apartment. 

“Yes, we can go.” 

“Minghao?” Mingyu looks over at his own roommate, a pleading smile on his face.

“Yeah, fine, let’s go,” Minghao stands from the couch and turns his body to Seokmin, the remainder of their trio. “You coming?”

Seokmin’s eyes flash between you and Minghao before responding, “I was actually going to stay and help clean up.” He addresses you when he asks, “If that’s okay?”

At first you think, why would you need help with cleaning? The group has never made much of a mess, especially with Mingyu around. The most that needed to be done was putting away the extra drinks and snacks, finding enough room in your pantry. But taking another look at Seokmin, you read between the lines, his eyes glowing and mischief pulling at the corner of his lips. No cleaning is going to get done, not immediately anyway. 

“Yeah, that’s fine with me.”

[justice4billiam]

So I know everyone's always talking about nsfw with Billy and that's great but what if a girl just wanted to be his bsf? She (forcefully) move dhim in with her and she gets him Christmas presents, and she bakes and cooks for him and just loves him like soulmates, but not romantically??? You think he'd like this???

Now that I've dumped my Brain on you hi I'm Lillie <3 you don't have tow rite this tysm!

Billy Hargrove x PlatonicFem!reader

Word count: 6,083

Warnings: Nothing too bad. Just Billy being Billy. So, cussing but maybe even a little less of himself actually.

Author’s Note: GURL, I am so sorry. I held onto this for SO long and I didn't mean for it to be over 6k words lmao I am so hard on myself when it comes to writing but I decided to just let it free. Nice to meet you, Lillie. ❤️ I hope you like it.

Platonic Soul...Whatever

“Get in here,” you snapped, yanking your best friend into the living room by the scruff of his jacket.

He’d been holed up in the spare room, hiding out like an antisocial pussycat.

Billy huffed, his eyes rolling, clearly pissed at the night you’d planned. But he kept his mouth shut, letting you drag him in without a fight.

You were in the middle of having a housewarming party for the new apartment you moved into last week and the whole gang was there much to Billy’s dismay.

“What’s going on?” you asked, keeping your voice low to keep it just between you two.

Billy was always weird at the get togethers, but he had been getting better at it. Friendly even. But today he was different. Something was eating at him, and it was worrying you.

“And don’t give me ‘nothing.’ I’m not dumb.” You shot him a look that meant business.

He scrunched up his face, lips pressed tight, and looked at you like he was weighing his words.

“It’s nothing,” he said at last. “Just… the usual crap back home.” He shuffled his feet, looking anywhere but at you.

“Billy…did he—” you started, your eyes scanning him for any sign of trouble.

He shook his head quickly.

“No, not this time. But I gotta head out early tonight, okay?” His blue eyes were hard when he looked at you.

To anyone else, it might look like anger, but you knew it was something else. Sadness. And it looked all kinds of wrong on him.

You wanted to dig deeper, but now wasn’t the time, not with everyone else around.

You gave him another once-over, didn’t see any harm, and nodded.

“Alright, Hargrove.”

He let out a sigh of relief, probably glad he didn’t have to spill it all.

You noticed his hand twitch toward his pocket, then drop. He remembered the no-smoking rule in your place. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Alright,” you said, fixing his jacket and giving him a pat.

“Go have your smoke. When you’re ready, come back in.” You winked, letting him know it was cool.

Billy’s head shake was subtle, his face drawn tight. “But, its colder than balls out there.”

It was early December, and the chill was just setting in—nothing compared to what was coming. But Billy always had a thing against the cold. You almost laughed, suddenly thinking back to last winter when he’d ended up ass-first in a snowbank outside your old place.

The guy never gave a damn about rules, but here he was, actually listening to you for once.

You sighed, half-exasperated, half-resigned.

“Fine, light up in the spare room, but for God’s sake, open the damn window.”

He gave a snort, that smug look taking over.

“Cheers, darlin’. The fine women of Hawkins will be singing your praises for saving my… assets from frostbite.”

Classic Billy, always with a line.

“Ewe, dramatic much?” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you headed for the kitchen.

————

As it grew late, the place began to clear out. Nancy and Jonathan, along with their group, were among the first to leave.

You couldn’t help but feel an excitement for Nancy and Jonathan—they’d just spilled they were heading to Emerson College in Boston after the summer.

Nancy’s grip was firm, her eyes like deep pools in the dim light.

“You sure you won’t come with?” she pressed, searching your face for a sign.

Jonathan was all half-smiles and shrugs as he stepped up beside her.

“We could hide you in a suitcase,” he joked, his arm finding its home around Nancy’s shoulders.

You let out a laugh, a short, sharp sound.

“I’ll stick to my own bed, but thanks,” you shot back, catching Billy’s eye for a moment. He was leaning against the wall, a silent lookout.

You weren’t about to ditch without Billy. He was anchored here until Max was done with high school.

That was the unspoken rule between you two. Max was in the dark, but you and Billy had spent a night diving deep into that conversation—his fears of leaving her to deal with Neil alone.

Billy and Max’s relationship had gotten better since that October at the Byers’.

They still snapped at each other like firecrackers, but that was just their way. You’d grown to love having them around.

Max was like the scrappy little sister you’d picked up along the way.

But Billy was different.

He was your solid ground, your constant. You didn’t need to spell things out for him; he just got it. He could dial down your stress with a glance, and you could temper his anger without a word.

It reminded you of something you’d read in a dog-eared book that you checked out from the library: platonic soulmates.

That was the label for what you had with Billy—no bullshit, no fuss, just an unspoken understanding that ran deep.

Billy scoffed at the soulmate idea, brushing it off as a load of crap. But when the book you’d been quoting mysteriously disappeared after that heart-to-heart, you didn’t need three guesses to know who’d snagged it. You let it slide, settling the library fine without a word. It was a small price to pay for the bond you shared with your so-called platonic soulmate.

“The offer’s open,” Nancy reiterated, her voice trailing off as she and the others made their way out.

Mike and Will managed half-hearted waves from the doorway, while El gave you a tight squeeze around the waist before moving on to Billy.

He tensed up, his eyes darting to you in a silent plea for rescue as El’s arms wrapped around him.

You stifled a chuckle. El was the only one brave enough to tackle Billy with affection.

Maybe it was her history with real monsters that made Billy’s temper seem trivial. Or perhaps it was her upbringing with Hopper, another man known for his temperament.

Billy cleared his throat, a hint of discomfort in his voice.

“Okay, don’t need all that,” he mumbled, gently disentangling himself from El’s embrace and stepping back.

His expression grew even more puzzled when El simply beamed at him.

Max stepped in, her arm around El, guiding her towards the door.

"Yeah, El, don't you know?" Max exclaimed, looking over her shoulder at Billy, mischief twinkling in her eyes.

"He's like the Grinch or whatever." She continued, her hands waving about as they walked to the front door.

"He doesn't want to be hugged and cared for because his heart will grow too big for his body, and if you haven't noticed, he already has to worry about falling over with all that hair on top of his head." Her smirk was infectious.

Billy shot Max a flat, unamused look, but you and Mike couldn’t contain your snorts of laughter, which you tried to mask with a cough as Billy’s gaze turned to you.

El, puzzled, studied Billy’s unruly mane and then glanced at Steve’s voluminous hair in the kitchen.

“I don’t see any problem,” she commented innocently.

‘If anyone should be worried, I think Steve would fall over first.’ She glanced between Max, Mike, and you, her eyes wide with uncertainty.

You rolled your eyes as you watched Billy smile smugly as Steve turned toward them upon hearing his name.

Steve looked over, his eyebrow raised in question.

“What’s this about my hair?” he asked, his hand automatically fluffing his locks.

Mike, clearly over the day, rolled his eyes.

“Let’s go, El,” he said, taking her hand and leading her out after the others.

“See ya,” Will murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he followed behind, giving a small wave to the remaining group before disappearing into the night.

You caught a glimpse of his downcast eyes and wondered what could have made him so down.

Steve exhaled a weary breath, the kind that’s been through too many late nights and too early mornings. “Gotta head out,” he said, a half-hearted grin on his face. “New job at the Hunting & Camping store starts tomorrow morning.”

Your eyes narrowed, a quick glance thrown to Steve, then to Robin, who was playing cards at the kitchen table with Lucas and Dustin.

“What about Family Video?” you asked, your voice edged with a hint of suspicion, but it was Robin you were counting on for the truth.

You also worked at Family Video, but whispers of Steve quitting hadn’t reached your ears.

The thought alone was enough to unsettle you. Work with him was one of the few highlights in a job that could often be boring. You really hoped he wasn’t; you genuinely enjoyed working with your two close friends.

Robin didn’t even look up from her cards.

“Don’t worry, he’s still with us,” she called out, her voice steady over the clatter of the game.

“Royal flush!” She stood up, her shout a victory cry.

“Deal with it, boys!” she taunted, pointing at the boys who just shook their heads in defeat.

Lucas was all frustration and disbelief.

“How does she always pull this off?” he muttered, throwing his hands up in surrender.

Dustin’s chair scraped loudly as he stood, his face a mix of annoyance and admiration.

“She’s got some kind of magic or she’s cheating!” he accused, his finger jabbing in Robin’s direction.

Robin’s laugh was sharp and bright.

“I’m not cheating,” she shot back, her hands on her hips, her stance all defiance. “It’s just you two dinguses can’t play.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth.

“Take it easy, you three,” you said, the sarcasm dripping from every word.

You turned back to Steve, your expression softening just a bit.

“Two jobs, huh?” you said, the tease clear in your voice. “Looks like Harrington’s playing the adult card now.”

Steve’s smile was a blend of resignation and a challenge.

“Dad’s cut me off,” he admitted, a hard edge to his voice. “All about ‘earning my keep’ now. So, I’m doing it my way.”

You nodded, feeling that familiar tug of empathy.

Your own parents had given you the boot when you ditched the college route. They couldn’t wrap their heads around why you’d stick around this nowhere town.

Your fingers twisted together, the old sting of ‘failure’ creeping back up. But then there was Billy, his hand finding yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. It was his silent way of saying, “We’ve got this.”

You looked up, catching Billy’s eyes. They were a clear, steady blue, like the sky after a storm. His smile was quick, a silent conversation passing between you two without a word.

“Well, anyway…” Steve’s voice broke through as everyone started to pick up their stuff.

The goodbyes were thrown around, even Billy’s nod to Steve was surprisingly chill, a small sign that maybe, just maybe, there was some common ground to be found. You clung to that hope, that small nod, as the night came to an end.

After the rest left through the front door, you caught Steve’s arm before he could leave.

“Hey, I gotta tell you, I’m really proud of you,” you said, your voice carrying the weight of genuine respect.

“It’s tough, starting new,” you added, a glance at the nearly empty space to signify you really did get it.

Steve’s smile was quick and sincere.

“Thanks, Y/n. Means a lot, you know? And hey, we’re overdue for that movie night,” he suggested with a playful wink, pulling his jacket closer as a cold draft slipped through the open door.

Your eyes fell on the new TV, with its built-in VHS player—Steve’s housewarming gift to you.

It was a generous thought, but it felt like too much. You’d insisted he take it back, but the bulky set remained, a silent testament to Steve’s stubbornness. He’d assured you it was no big deal, that it was better off here, getting some use.

You acknowledged his gesture with a nod, your face stoic but your eyes hinting at a silent vow to make the most of his gift with endless movie nights.

As Steve’s grin widened, he stepped out into the night, his laughter blending with the voices of Robin, Dustin, and Lucas as they disappeared down the street. You watched from the doorway, the figures of your friends growing smaller in the distance.

Billy’s voice cut in from behind, a dismissive edge to his tone. “Count me out for movie night.”

You turned, a smirk playing on your lips.

“Too bad, Billy,” you retorted, the playful challenge clear in your voice. “You’re coming, whether you like it or not.”

He was about to argue when Max’s anxious voice interrupted.

“We should go too,” she said, her eyes darting around, signaling something was wrong.

A wave of concern washed over you.

“What’s the rush?” you asked, your voice laced with worry. “It’s not even eight.”

Billy’s curfew was a constant shadow, ten o’clock sharp, a little later if Max was with him. You knew the rules too well, had seen the consequences on his skin—bruises and cuts he’d dismiss with a hollow laugh.

But there was that one night, the truth spilling out in the dark, his voice a low rumble at your window. “My dad,” he’d said, the words heavy with unspoken pain.

“Max, get your coat,” Billy’s voice was tight as he flung the door open again. He pulled out his cigarettes, his movements tense.

His hands shook as he tried to light one, and you stepped in, your hand steady, lighting it for him.

“Billy,” you said, your voice low, “everything alright?”

He glanced away, then back at you, a forced smirk on his face.

“Just gotta be home early,” he lied, smoke trailing from his lips.

You nodded, the unspoken words hanging heavy.

“If you need anything…”

He gave a small nod, a silent understanding.

“I know. See you later,” he said, and then he was gone, his figure blending into the night, Max following close behind.

You closed the door, the silence of the apartment heavy around you.

In the quiet, you made a silent vow to always be there for Billy, to stand by him as you had that night he confessed. It was a promise made without words, one you intended to keep.

————

The clock’s red glare read 1:27 a.m., the only light in the otherwise dark room.

The soft creak of the door was like a whisper, but it jolted you awake.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you sat up, squinting into the darkness.

The light from the hallway cut a sharp outline around a familiar figure—Billy, the only other person with a key to your place.

“Billy?” Your voice was thick, still wrapped in the remnants of sleep.

As your hand reached out for the lamp, his figure moved closer, a shadow in the half-light.

“Don’t,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, and his hand was on yours, guiding it away from the lamp. His touch was cold, sending a shiver up your arm.

“Are you okay?” The words were barely a whisper, concern threading through them as you climbed out of bed, reaching into the darkness towards him.

He sniffed, a sound so faint you might have missed it if the room wasn’t so deathly quiet.

“I’m…” he started, his voice barely there, then clearer, “No.” It was a stark admission, cutting through the silence.

“Oh, Bill…” you breathed out, your arms finding their way around his rigid form. Your hands rested gently on his neck, and you felt him lean into the embrace, his own arms wrapping around you.

A shuddering breath escaped him, betraying the facade of control he always tried to maintain. His head rested heavily on your shoulder, and you could feel the tension in his body beginning to unravel.

The silence was broken only by his occasional shivers, and you felt the dampness on your shirt where his tears had soaked through.

“We’ll get this sorted,” you said, trying to infuse your voice with confidence as you reached out to touch his cheek.

But he pulled back sharply, a quick intake of breath hissing through clenched teeth.

You flicked on the light, and the room was suddenly too bright, too real.

The sight made you pause—a large, open cut above his eye, blood running down, sticking to his lashes, pooling around his now swollen-shut eye.

He raised his hand, a silent plea for patience.

“It looks worse than it actually is,” he insisted, his voice strained. You noticed his lip, swollen and split, distorting his words.

You stood there, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

This was more than just a late-night visit; it was a cry for help. And you were determined to answer it.

“Let’s clean you up,” you said firmly, ready to do whatever it took to help your friend.

“We’ll figure out the rest after.” The promise was unspoken but as solid as the ground beneath your feet. You were in this together, no matter what.

Billy’s nod, small and pained, told you he understood.

After the long, meticulous process of cleaning him up with the first aid kit, the two of you now sat at the dining table, the silence filled with the soft clinks of the kit being put away.

The tension had eased somewhat, replaced by the quiet understanding that always seemed to exist between you two.

Billy’s face, now cleaned of blood, showed the stark reality of his life at home, but here, in the safety of your apartment, he allowed himself a moment of vulnerability.

You were just about to speak when an urgent knocking on your door cut through the stillness.

You exchanged a puzzled look with him before you got up to answer it, Billy close behind you as you did.

Max stood there, her eyes wide with concern.

“I had to make sure he was okay,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Billy’s expression hardened for a moment.

“What the hell are you doing out so late, Max?” he asked, his tone a mix of anger and concern.

Max’s gaze flickered to you before settling back on Billy.

“I couldn’t sleep not knowing if you were… if you were safe,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

You stepped aside, letting her in, and she moved directly to Billy, her small hand reaching out to touch his arm gently.

Billy’s initial irritation faded as he looked at his sister, his eyes softening.

“I’m here, I’m okay,” he reassured her, his voice more gentle than you’d heard in a long time.

The three of you sat around the table, a makeshift family in the middle of the night, bound together.

You watched them, the siblings who had been through so much, and felt a fierce protectiveness rise within you.

“We’re going to figure this out,” you said, your voice firm, catching both their gazes. “Billy’s staying here now. He’s not going back to that house.”

Max’s eyes filled with tears, but she nodded, a look of relief passing over her face.

Billy just sat there, his eyes on the tabletop, his jaw clenched.

You knew he was wrestling with the decision, the weight of years of abuse and control not something he could shrug off easily.

But you also knew that this was the only way forward.

“You’re safe here, Billy. This is your home now,” you said, reaching across the table to place your hand over his. “We’re in this together.”

Billy looked up, his blue eyes meeting yours, and in them, you saw the flicker of hope that had been absent for so long.

He nodded, a silent acceptance of the new reality.

Max stayed for a while longer, until her eyes grew heavy with sleep, and you set up the couch for her to crash on.

As you turned off the lights and headed back to your room, Billy followed.

The room was silent, the kind of quiet that feels heavy, almost tangible.

Billy lay beside you, his body a rigid line of tension and unspoken pain. The darkness seemed to press in closer as he hesitated, then spoke into the void between you.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice was a low rumble, barely more than a breath. “Me living here… and Max. What if something happens when I’m not there?”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, you let the silence answer. You thought about the weight of his words, the gravity of the decision he was facing. It wasn’t just about him; it was about Max, too, about breaking away from the life he knew, no matter how broken it was.

“I’m sure,” you finally said, your voice a soft but firm counterpoint to the darkness. “You can’t keep putting yourself through hell. And Max… she’s safer with us than she is in that house.”

He was silent, and you imagined you could hear the cogs turning in his head, weighing your words against his own fears and doubts.

“And what about Neil?” His question was a whisper, but it might as well have been a shout in the stillness of the room.

You took a deep breath, feeling the resolve settle in your bones.

“We’ll deal with Neil if we have to. But you… you need to be safe first. We both know if you stay there, it’s only going to get worse.”

Billy shifted beside you, a rustle of movement in the dark. “I just… I don’t want to leave her alone with him.”

“Max won’t be alone. She’s got us, and she’s got you. And she’s always welcome here, anytime. This place is as much a home for her as it is for you.”

There was a long pause, and you felt the moment stretch out, a bridge spanning the gap between fear and hope.

“Okay,” he said at last, the word a small surrender to the inevitable. “Okay.”

You reached out, finding his hand in the darkness, and squeezed it. It was a promise, a vow made without words, that you’d stand by him, come what may.

The night deepened around you, but in that shared silence, a new understanding was forged. You and Billy, against whatever the world might throw your way. Together. And that was enough. For now, it had to be.

————

Your apartment was filled with holiday atmosphere, the first true place you both made your own. The smell of pine mixed with the smell of pasta sauce that was cooking, a new recipe you were trying out in hopes it would become an annual thing.

Christmas was right around the corner, and the excitement was as heavy as the garland hanging on the walls.

Billy was due back any minute from his second job at the auto shop, a position he’d taken up since moving in. The days were long, and the work was hard, but Billy told you he enjoyed the job. That was all that mattered, you supposed.

You had the day off and had spent it transforming the apartment to feel more festive.

Billy’s arrival was indicated by the sound of the door swinging open, his frame filling the entryway as he stepped in from the cold. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the festive transformation with a raised eyebrow.

“You’ve been busy,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips as he shrugged off his jacket, revealing the smudges of grease on his forearms.

“Yeah, but I left the tree for us to do,” you said, gesturing towards the undecorated tree standing in the corner.

He grunted in acknowledgment, a sound that was almost a laugh, and headed for the shower, leaving heavy footprints in his wake. You seized the moment to call Max, knowing she’d jump at the chance to join in.

When we finally sat down for dinner, the table was like a little patch of food surrounded by all the crazy decorations.

Billy’s first bite was met with a nod of approval.

“This is way better than Susan’s cooking,” he declared, the corners of his mouth turning up as he chewed.

Max chimed in, her voice muffled by a mouthful of pasta, “Yeah, beats the hell out of it.”

“If you keep cooking like this, I’m gonna end up fat,” Billy joked, patting his stomach, though his tone suggested he wouldn’t mind that outcome.

“That’s what the exercise equipment’s for,” you quipped, pointing towards the hulking mass of different metals that dominated half the living room.

When Billy first lugged his gym gear into the apartment, neither of you had really thought through where all of it would go.

The living room quickly became a makeshift gym, with dumbbells, a bench, a barbell, and weight plates claiming their spots among the furniture. It was a bit of a mess, but it was a lived-in mess, a sign of life happening in real-time.

You didn’t mind, though. In fact, you found a certain charm in the chaos. With the holidays approaching, you got creative, weaving tinsel and garland through the iron grips of the weights and draping festive cheer over the cold steel of the barbell. It was an odd juxtaposition, sure, but it worked. The living room was transformed into a space that was uniquely ‘you and Billy’—a little rough around the edges, but full of heart.

After dinner, the three of you approached the tree. Billy picked up an ornament, examining it with a critical eye before hanging it on a sturdy branch.

“Never had much use for these things,” he said, his voice betraying a hint of nostalgia he’d never admit to.

Max laughed, reaching for a trinket. “Come on, it’s not so bad. Looks good, even.”

The evening wore on, filled with the clinking of ornaments and the occasional deep chuckle from Billy as he recounted stories from last year’s Christmas you all celebrated together then too.

You noticed the way his eyes softened when he looked at the tree, the way his rough exterior gave way to a quiet appreciation for the moment.

It was a simple night, but it was laced with the promise of many more to come.

As you all stepped back to admire the now-decorated tree, Billy’s arm brushed against yours, a silent acknowledgment of the shared experience.

“Not bad for our first tree,” he said, and you could hear the unspoken thanks in his voice.

————

The oven’s chime signaled the cookies were ready, a sweet aroma mingling with the crisp winter air that Billy let in each time he cracked the door for a smoke.

He stood in the doorway, a barbell in hand, half-watching the MTV countdown, half-engrossed in his workout.

“You’re letting in a draft,” you said, pulling the cookies out and setting them on the stove.

Billy took a drag from his cigarette, the smoke swirling around him. “Well, if someone would let me smoke inside…”

With a playful roll of your eyes, you walked over to him.

“You know the rules,” you reminded him, standing close enough to feel the cold air he was letting in. “Besides, I don’t want our cookies tasting like smoke.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and warm.

“Wouldn’t want that,” he mockingly conceded, taking one last drag before you nudged him out the door with a laugh, quickly shutting it behind him to keep the warmth in.

You darted away, but Billy was quick, shoving the door open and dropping the barbell with a thud as he chased after you.

His laughter mixed with yours as you ran down the hallway, the playful chase a familiar dance between you two.

You ducked into his room, thinking you’d won, but a misstep had you tripping over something unexpected. Both of you tumbled to the floor, a mess of limbs and uncontrollable laughter.

“Clutz,” Billy teased, but there was no heat in it, just the warm humor that had become a staple of your interactions.

“It’s not my fault, it’s this—” you protested, sitting up to see what had tripped you. In your hand was the missing book, Platonic Soulmates. You turned to him with a triumphant smirk.

“I knew it!” you exclaimed. “You did take it!”

Billy scoffed, trying to maintain his innocent facade.

“Must’ve gotten mixed up with your stuff,” he said, but the sheepish look in his eyes betrayed him.

You shook your head, the smile on your face impossible to contain. Billy sighed, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance.

“Alright, maybe… maybe we’re like platonic… soul… whatever,” he grumbled, finally admitting to the bond you both knew was there.

The laughter had died down, leaving a comfortable silence in its wake. You both lay on the floor, the carpet’s coarse fibers imprinting on your skin.

Billy stretched out beside you, his presence a solid comfort as you both stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.

The world outside seemed to fade into insignificance, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of tranquility. It was a rare moment of stillness for Billy.

Then, his voice broke the silence, soft yet carrying a weight that filled the room. “Thank you.”

You turned to look at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “For what?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Billy’s voice was gruff, a stark contrast to the softness of the moment.

“Thanks for stickin’ around,” he said, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as if he was addressing the room rather than you.

“Seems like everyone’s always after something. Neil… he wanted me to fall in line. People at school just wanted to ride the wave of whatever popularity I had. And the girls, well, they didn’t look much past the surface, did they? But you… you’re different. You never wanted anything but to hang out. That means something. So, yeah… thanks.”

Billy’s words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered. They settled around you, heavy with the weight of a life that hadn’t been kind. You felt a surge of something fierce and protective, a sadness for the battles he’d fought alone.

“You don’t owe me thanks, Billy. That’s what friends do,” you said, your voice low and steady, cutting through the emotional fog.

Billy’s gaze met yours, a silent conversation passing between you. His eyes, a clear blue that had seen too much, held a gratitude that was raw and real.

You both took a moment, a silent acknowledgment of the weight of his words. It was a pause that said everything without a single word spoken.

“You’ve got me, no matter what,” you said, the promise as solid as the ground beneath you.

After a deep breath, you stood up, offering Billy a hand.

“Come on, I baked you cookies,” you said, a gentle nudge towards the simplicity of everyday life.

Billy took your hand, rising to his feet.

“Alright,” he conceded, a hint of a smile on his face. He paused, a playful challenge in his eyes.

“So, about smoking in the house—”

“Nope,” you cut him off with a chuckle, already heading to the kitchen. “Not happening, Hargrove.”

He followed, his chuckle a low rumble that filled the room.

“Worth a try,” he said, the mischief still alive in his voice.

————

Christmas morning broke with a spirited truth that no holiday movie could capture.

The apartment was quiet, except for the soft hum of the heater and the distant sounds of the outside world waking up.

You were determined to share this moment with Billy, to give him a taste of something genuine and heartfelt before the chaos of the party preparations began.

You found Billy still buried under his blankets, his room a stubborn sanctuary of everyday life among the holiday transformation of the rest of the apartment.

“Billy, come on. Just one present before we start the day,” you insisted, your voice cutting through the silence as you tugged at his arm.

His response was a gruff murmur, an indication to his dislike to mornings.

After a bit of coaxing, he relented and followed you into the living room, his body language a silent complaint against the cold that greeted his bare skin.

The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of Christmas lights, the tree standing like a flare of the season’s good spirits.

Billy, hair tousled and eyes half-closed, slumped onto the couch, clad only in his red plaid sleep pants.

You joined him, draping a throw blanket over both of you to fend off the chill. Then, with a gentle motion, you placed a small, wrapped gift onto his lap.

He eyed the present with a mix of curiosity and a hint of that guarded look he always had.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said, his voice still rough with sleep.

“Of course I did. You’re my best friend,” you replied, watching as he unwrapped the gift with hands that were more used to handling tools than delicate wrapping paper.

The keychain, a small silver house, caught the light as he held it up. It was a simple thing, but it was heavy with meaning.

“It represents us finding our place. Our home,” you explained, your voice low but clear in the quiet of the room.

Billy was silent for a long moment, the keychain turning slowly in his hand.

“I’ve never really had something like this,” he admitted, his voice a low rumble. “A place that actually feels like home.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you.

“Well, you do now. And we’re going to make sure it’s a damn good one.”

Billy’s smile was a rare sight, his brows furrowing as if he wasn’t quite sure how to handle the softer emotions.

He stood up, the blanket falling to the side, and shuffled out of the room with a gruff, “Hang on.”

You watched, curious and touched, as he disappeared down the hall. Moments later, he returned, something concealed in his hand.

“Got something for you,” he said, his voice rough around the edges.

“What is it?” you asked, leaning forward with interest as he sat down across from you.

“Just… give me your hand,” Billy instructed, his usual brass demeanor faltering slightly.

You complied, placing your hand in his, feeling the calluses on his palm—a testament to his hard work.

“Close your eyes,” he added, a hint of command still in his voice.

You rolled your eyes but did as told, a smile on your face. “Always so dramatic,” you teased.

There was a pause, and then Billy’s voice, softer now, “Alright, open.”

When you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of a bracelet made of sea glass on your wrist. The colors were a myriad of blues and greens, like the ocean he so loved.

“You made this?” you gasped, your eyes lifting to meet his. He looked back at you, a mix of pride and something similar to vulnerability.

“It’s from that beach in California I told you about,” he explained, his fingers gently turning the bracelet on your wrist.

“That place was my escape, you know? And now, well, you’re kinda like that for me here.”

You sat up, touched by his words and the sentiment behind the gift. “Thank you, Billy. This means a lot.”

He shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a half-smile.

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” he joked, but you could tell he was pleased.

In response, you reached out and pulled him into a hug, a gesture that spoke volumes more than words ever could. It was a thank you, a promise, and an acknowledgment of everything you’d been through together.

“Now come on, get ready,” you said, standing up and pulling him to his feet. “You’re helping me with the Christmas party food, whether you like it or not.”

Billy grumbled, a mock scowl forming on his face.

“You just like bossing me around,” he said, but there was no real annoyance in his voice, just the comfortable banter that had become the foundation of your friendship.

“Don’t be ungrateful,” you laughed, giving his arm a playful swat.

Billy’s laughter, deep and genuine, filled the room.

It was moments like these that reminded you why being Billy’s friend was worth every second.

[taintedcigs]

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

“Can’t you just— can’t you just go?” “I’m not leaving you alone until you’re okay.”

with stevie? bc i know my ass would say some dumb shit to push him away just to see if he’d choose to stay🫣🥺

ily hunny!!!

who could stay?

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader

word count: 700+

warnings: nothing rlly, steve comforting u, reader having a bad day anndd just some fluff! a little kiss, and VV cheesy!

a/n: kait you're so real for this and this prompt is just so arghhh and cute i wanna d word i love steve sm and i def feel u bc i would so do this and i hope i did it justice bb ily <33 also i listened to the archer when writing this it is heavily inspired by it lmao💗😭

join my birthday celebration!

you never knew what came over you when you were upset, ready to push away anything and anyone, at the expense of your own happiness.

you knew you didn't want to be alone, you knew you wanted someone to be there for you, comforting you, taking care of you.

but you couldn't help but push everyone away, just to see if they would see through you, if they could see through the cold front you put up, just to see if they would stay, even when you asked them to leave.

"'m fine..." you muttered, your eyes glossy as you avoided his, steve was gentle with how he treated you, sat next to you as his knees softly brushed against yours, his hand comfortingly placed on your thighs for reassurance.

he shook his head, he didn't believe you, he knew something was wrong, he knew something had upset you, and he wasn't going to leave until he was sure everything was okay.

he studied your face, taking all of your features in, his mind fuzzy with how beautiful you were, and worry took over him as he saw how your face soured and fell, he wanted to be there for you.

"you don't look fine, sweetheart." his voice was dipped in honey, ever so sweet and the nickname was enough to have your heart pounding out of your chest, but you didn't want him to see you like this, you didn't want to break down in front of him.

"you don't have to worry about it." your voice was cold, tone barely audible, but steve didn't mind.

and you hated that he didn't mind it, you didn't want to hurt him, you didn't want to ruin him with your own fucked up mind, you had a lot of bad days and you never wanted to drag him down with you, he deserved better than that, he didn't deserve to be sucked up in your own darkness.

"honey..." his hand was quick to caress your cheeks, "are you kidding me?" his tone was mellow as his finger tips gently grazed against your chin, lifting up to make you face him.

his dreamy eyes met your glossy ones, his brows furrowed with worry as he saw your bottom lip jutting out, smudged mascara and your puffy nose giving you away.

his heart ached at the sight of you, he wanted to help you, make you feel seen, take care of you.

"i will always worry about you, sweetheart." you winced when he said that, even though his words were warming your heart, you didn't want him to go through your pain.

"i don't want you to." your tone was avoidant, your eyes were anything but, you were wishing he could pick up on it, wishing he could see how hurt you were, but the words that escaped your lips wanted to push him away.

"can't you just..." you tried to stop your words, you knew the last thing you wanted was for him to leave, you wanted him to stay more than anything, but you didn't know how to ask for help.

"can't you just leave." you faced away from him, harshly, and steve's stomach twisted with how you were acting, he knew you didn't mean it, he knew you needed him, he saw right through you, even though you didn't realize it.

you expected him to leave you, you expected him to sigh at your stand off-ish attitude, leaving you all alone.

what you didn't expect was, "no." leaving steve's pouty lips as he shook his head at you. "i'm not leaving you alone, not until you're okay." his gaze was sympathetic, his tone soft and hands squeezing yours in a comforting manner.

"i'll be silent if you need me to, but i'm not leaving you alone, you're trying to push me away, but i won't let you, not until i know you are okay." his brows furrowed in worry again, not blinking as he observed you.

you couldn't help the small smile your lips twitched into, beaming at the fact that steve had chosen to stay, that steve didn't leave you alone. he saw you.

you couldn't help the sobs that escaped your lips, so raw and gut-wrenching that steve immediately wrapped his arms around you, his heart aching with sympathy as he engulfed you with his warmth.

you embraced him, and you let him take care of you, "thank you, stevie." you murmured into his chest between your sobs, he understood you in a way no one could.

"anything for you, honey." his touch was tender as he pressed kisses into your hair, telling you everything he loved about you as he murmured affections into your hair.

his sickly sweet tone and his comforting grip on you making you realize that, steve was there for you, always.

[abrcmswrld]

Treacherous | Mike Schmidt x Reader

Summary: Reader and Mike have been best friends since childhood. After a fight, Reader is given a surprise visit.

Warnings: General Angst, General Fluff, a suggestive make out scene in the nude but nothing too crazy, mentions of feminine clothing in one part but overall gender neutral

Author's Note: IM EDITING THIS RN SO PLEASE JUST IGNORE THE MISTAKES AND LIKE DUMB STUFF This is my first fic for Mike so bear with me! I tried so hard to adhere to the movie timeline but if it seems shaky please just ignore it lmao. I'm also bad at pacing sorry. I’d love to make this a series cause I’m in love with a good friends to lovers trope.

Mike had always been a bit of a mess. All of the time that you've known him, this has never changed. You can recall times on the playground of boys calling him names for his sensitivities. How were they to know the gravity of his situation? How were you to know? But you always felt called to stand up for him either way.

So you'd hound them off. You'd grab his hand and pull him off the dirt and to a quiet corner of the playground. The two of you would sit on the wooden border, picking at the grass and watching the other kids play.

His sensitivities would quickly turn to a certain hardness that you'd never fully come to understand, even in your late twenties. He'd open up the tiniest bit in high school, after his mother had passed away. He was only 17 years old. You were still children.

You have memories of standing uncomfortably in the dress your mother had insisted you wear to the funeral. You didn't know how to approach him then. He sat alone in a chair on the far side of the funeral home, a blank expression on his face. You couldn't say a word as you took tiny footsteps towards him. And he didn't say a word either, just looked up with bloodshot eyes. You'd hugged him then, feeling his shoulders shakes against you.

Soon it was time for the two of you to start thinking about college and your lives outside of the scope of small town high school. Talks of plans to find something new and excited were quickly stomped out by the failures of his father. You can recall a 23 year old Mike begging for your company on late nights when his father's drinking had reached a climax.

And you'd gladly show up for him. Abby was only six by that time, and Mike was all she had. Mike spoke about his father with disdain to you. Never crying the way he had as child, but you could see a sad anger within the conversations. And really, you couldn't blame him.

You can remember a night on the roof of your childhood home. It wasn’t your first time sneaking Mike through the window of your bedroom. It was a cold December night, and you were home for the holidays.

“I don’t think my dad’s coming back.”

Your knees were pulled up and under your chin as you rest your head and listened to his worries. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. “I mean, he hasn’t been back for three days and I think this might finally be it.”

You furrowed your brows and met his gaze.

“I’ll move back here.”

In that moment he had begged you not to. You were so close to finishing your degree and he insisted that he could not be the reason you didn’t finish. So you heeded to his wishes. You finished your final semester.

In the 6 months that you were gone after that night, his dad had not returned. Mike had stepped up to be a guardian for his sister. Family court would later assure this in legal documentation.

You had hugged him tightly the first night you were home and assured him that you would be there, for the both of them.

━━━

You would prove that to him when his original babysitter had ghosted him.

“Probably got tired of not being paid.” He had said when you asked why.

You don’t ask for pay. You had a day job that kept you stable enough to live. And as Mike’s hours were night shift, there was really no problem with the arrangement.

It would go on for a few weeks. You hadn’t seen pay, but you didn’t mind. Mike would cook you breakfast when he got home. That was payment enough for you.

But you could notice he wasn’t doing well. Dark circles had formed under his eyes. He had confided in you about the actions of his Aunt Jane. He showed you the papers with bold letters proclaiming a request for a change of custody. His stress and worry made sense to you now.

He would have to prove he was fit, a big ask in a court setting, especially for someone like Mike. You had encouraged him the best you could.

But everything had come to a head on a night when Mike had intended to actually pay you.

He woke you from your light sleep on his couch, alerting you that he was home. He sat his tired body on the recliner.

“There’s a 20 dollar bill in my jacket pocket.”

His eyes are closed as he speaks. It seems the night has been a rough one for him. “You don’t have to, but thank you.” You find the jacket lying on the kitchen table. You feel slightly bad as you reach your hand in to find the bill, but your guilt falls into confusion as your fingers brush the tiny bottle inside.

You let your eyes travel over the orange bottle in your hands. You furrow your brows. You turn to face the recliner he sits in.

"Mike."

He turns his head to face you, tired eyes falling on yours. He sees the bottle in your hands and you can see a sense of uncertainty and dread fall across his features.

"What are these? Sleeping pills?"

He immediately tenses, as if he had been avoiding this topic with everyone. But he responds quietly, “Yes.”

You fall silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. Realistically, there was nothing wrong with sleeping pills. People use them all of the time to sleep. But Mike seems hesitant to cover the topic of these pills and why he uses them.

An additional concern comes up in the way he had stuffed them in his jacket pocket. Why was he taking them to work? You hate the way your thoughts sound like the micromanagement of a mother, but all you can see is the bright yellow of the custody papers and Abby’s sweet face in your mind.

“Have you been taking these at work?”

He’s silent. It’s enough of an answer for you. You sigh as you sit the bottle down on the kitchen counter. You’ve known he wasn’t well. The incident that had gotten him fired from his last job, the dark circles under his eyes, the hardness about him, it all worried you. But you had always chose to let him live. Let him make his mistakes.

“Mike, talk to me. What’s going on with you?”

He lets out a spiteful scoff as if the conversation is beneath his worries at the moment. He lets out a shaky sigh. “I feel connected to him there. I don’t know why, but I do.”

There’s no doubt in your mind who he is referring to. His baby brother. The one he couldn’t save. You let him continue.

“If I can put myself into the right state of mind, I can see it. I can watch it over and over. And if I try hard enough maybe I might see who took him.”

He voice drifts off to a quiet and weak tone, “That’s all that matters to me.”

You can tell he’s hurt by the way that his voice comes out strained and weak, and it hurts you too. It’s not as if you couldn’t understand the pain of the situation. He’d cried to you all those years back when it first occurred. What you can’t understand is how he could let it ruin his relationship with Abby. Abby who is alive and well. Abby who, even if discreet, sees Mike as the moon and stars.

“And what about that little girl who sits around and draws you all day long?”

It makes you feel like a bitch to even say such a thing to him, but if it gives him a shake maybe it’d be worth it. “What about her?”

He stands still as a statue, emotions shifting across his face as he processes the words you’ve shot at him. You’re sure they strike like a bullet. His mouth opens and closes again, so you speak again.

“I know how badly you want to bring him back, Mike. To bring him back and be able to pretend none of that ever happened.”

He furrows his brows and you can the see the hurt flood his expression.

“But you’re going to lose them both if you don’t get your shit together.”

You sigh. You hate the way you sound like a mother scolding a child. You take a shaky breath. “Do you think that this job is really good for you? I mean-“ He cuts you off with a scoff and a laugh.

His tense attitude has you uncomfortable and defensive. You hate the way your voice becomes strained as you speak. “I just think it’s taking a toll on you.”

“I need this job, otherwise I’m never gonna see her again.”

And of course you know that. He needs a job to look good for a court that’s supposed to be able to decide if he’s right to take care of his sister. But what good does a job do on paper if the court can clearly see the way his mental stability is shaky? He hesitates and meets your eyes with a tense look as he speaks,

“You’re here to babysit Abby, not me.”

You stand silently in front of him for a moment before grabbing your coat. You turn toward him. You can see the quirk of regret on his expression, but he doesn’t speak, doesn’t take it back.

“It’s gonna take more than a shitty job that drives you crazy to keep her. I think you should find somebody else to babysit Abby.”

There’s malice in your tone and you hate it. But you can’t make excuses for him. You ignore his voice as he says your name quietly. You just let the door close behind you a you walk to your car. You wait for the door to open again behind your back. It doesn’t.

He doesn’t text you either. In fact, you don’t hear from him for another week and you wonder if he’s already replaced you and plans on holding the grudge.

You assume he must have. He must have found another babysitter for Abby. It seemed he was saving money to actually pay whoever took that role.

You can’t stop yourself from becoming more and more sad as the week goes on. You find yourself worrying more and more about Mike. And Abby. There’s no doubt in your mind that Jane was still adamant on proving in court that Mike was an unfit guardian.

You don’t know why you feel as though your presence could somehow remedy that. You don’t know why you feel an ache so deep in your heart. Friendship breakups are common. But Mike was different.

You still don’t let yourself text him. You would give him the power to choose that route. To choose you and the friendship you had given him since you were both children. And by the end of the week you have to force yourself to sleep.

And by the end of the week you get what you had secretly hoped for.

━━━

The knock on your door is urgent. You're half asleep as you rise out of the comfort of your bed. Your feet press against the cold floor as you rush to see who it could be. As you glance through the peephole you're met with those familiar black curls.

You open the door swiftly, shivering at the cool breeze that flows in. He looks like hell. Abby stands at his side. You're stunned, "Oh my God." You open the door wider and usher the two of them in.

Abby seems to be physically uninjured, while Mike's face is bloodied and bruised. You whisper to Mike,

"What the hell happened?"

He looks to Abby before he answers. "Abby should get some rest while we talk." You nod immediately. "Of course. She can sleep in my bed while I patch you up."

You lead the young girl to the bed and ensure she's tucked in. She thanks you quietly before you leave the room. You grab some first aid supplies from the bathroom cabinet on your way back.

"Sit."

You point Mike in the direction of the couch. He winces as you wipe the open cuts with alcohol wipes. You raise an eyebrow, “ You look like hell, Mike.” He scoffs in response.

“So you gonna tell me who did this to you, or am I just gonna have to keep wondering?”

Mike hesitates. You stop your movements to look at him with concern. He shakes his head, “You’re gonna think I’m crazy.” You sigh,

“Mike, I know you. Just tell me.”

And so he does. He explains everything down to the little details he can remember. It sounds crazy, it absolutely does. But you can’t bring yourself to think he’s faking it.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I know what I saw. She knows what she saw.” He points in the direction of the room Abby was soundly sleeping in.

“I believe you.”

He closes his eyes and exhales a large breath. You continue to clean the cuts along his face and head. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches.” He nods. There’s still an awkward tension between the two of you. He’s upset with himself for letting you leave the way you had, and you’re ashamed of yourself for letting him push you away. You break the silence at the same time,

“You know-“

“I’m sorry-“

You can’t help but laugh a little, and he smiles weakly back at you.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too.” You continue.

He shrugs. “You were just looking out for me. I understand that now.” It means a lot coming from Mike. He’s stubborn, not usually one to admit when he’s wrong. It makes the moment all the more sincere. You smile slightly, letting a hand brush his cheek where a bruise is blossoming under the skin.

“I wouldn’t have said what I did if I didn’t care about you.”

He nods slowly and leans his cheek into your caress. You can feel the warmth of his hand as he lets it fall to your hip. His voice falls to a whisper.

“I care about you too.”

You smile and swipe a thumb over his bottom lip, where the plush skin has split from impact and smeared blood across his pale chin. He groans as he leans up, it’s only then that you notice the large gash on his side.

He attempts to stand, hobbling on his injured leg. “Mike,” He turns toward your bedroom, ready to grab Abby and get out of your hair. When he turns his back, you can see the blood seeping through his shirt and the large tear across his back. You grab his hand,

“Mike.”

He faces you again, letting a quick glance fall to your now connected hands. “Let her sleep, she’s alright. Let me help you.”

He stands awkwardly in front of your bathroom counter. His muscles flex with each touch of your fingers around his wounds, his fingers gripping the counter until his knuckles are white.

“I think it’d be best if you took this off.”

You’re awkwardly fiddling with the hem of his long sleeve shirt. He meets your gaze in the mirror and you feel small. Your voice is nearly a whisper, “I- I just can’t see.”

You stare at the floor as he pulls the shirt over his head. The gash is messy, but not deep enough to require stitches. Regardless, it’s covered in a thick layer of blood and sweat. You usher him to turn, and you see that the cut on his side is not better.

He can see the way your eyebrows screw together. “Is it that bad?” His voice has a touch of dread hidden in its tone. “I mean,” You glance at him.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but you need to clean them or they’re gonna get infected.”

He swallows and nods. You walk to the shower, turning the knobs and adjusting the water to an appropriate and comfortable temperature. You clear your throat, “Here. I’ll, uh, I’ll let you…do your thing.”

You turn on your heels to give him privacy. As soon as your fingers touch the metallic surface of the doorknob, his hand catches your free hand, pulling gently. You turn toward him, meeting his eye. He pulls you closer and carefully pulls you into an embrace. You’re worried you’ll catch his wounds with your hands so you let them hover above his skin, not actually touching. But you want to.

You can feel his breath on your neck where he’s buried his face. He speaks into the sensitive skin, “Thank you. I don’t thank you enough.” That’s the moment you finally let your hands rest on his skin.

“You don’t have to thank me, Mike. I do it because I care about you.” You gently brush your fingers across his upper back, avoiding his cut. “Besides, you’d do it for me.”

He pulls himself from your neck, and you drop your hands from his back gently, expecting him to pull out of the embrace. But he stays close to you and only pulls back enough to see your face. Your cheeks are so hot. You can feel it and you know he can probably see it. He keeps his hands at your sides, just above your hips in a way that feels respectful. You allow yourself to put your hands on his forearms, thumbs resting in the bend of his elbows.

“Your water is gonna get cold.”

It’s a whisper as it comes out. He simply nods but doesn’t drop his hands from your sides. You smile shyly at him.

“Come with me.”

Your face is instantly hot and you’re suddenly hyper aware of the steam that’s building in the room and around the two of you. With your eyes wide and your mouth opening but no words coming out, he looks at you with hesitation, like he can’t believe the words actually left his mouth.

You can see the fear building on his expression the longer the silence drags on. Thoughts are racing through your head. You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought of this. You loved him. There’d always been a flutter in your stomach and a heat in your cheeks that let you know that perhaps it could be more than a friendship. You want that. But is this really how it’s going to happen?

You imagine the two of you going from childhood friends to becoming well acquainted with each other’s bodies in the span of one stressful night after not speaking for nearly a week. But there are no alarm bells going off in your head. You can’t bring yourself to feel ashamed.

So you kiss him. With his arms still around you and the heat from his bare chest creating a sense of protection from everything. With the whirl of water hitting the tub filling your ears. With the image of Abby sleeping soundly in your bedroom in your mind.

When you pull away, he looks at you with a sense of longing you’ve not seen on him before. You don’t want to say a word, not right now. It’ll be complicated. You know it will be. And you’ll have to have that conversation eventually, but right now the only thing you want is the heat of the water and the silk of his skin against yours.

So you finally unwrap yourself from him to begin working the buttons on your shirt. You’ve turned your brain off momentarily. Your fingers are on autopilot as they remove each article of clothing. If you allowed yourself to think, you’d surely turn in on yourself from the shame.

But when you’re finally bare and displayed in front of him, he doesn’t speak. He only looks with a fondness in his eyes that goes beyond a lustful stare. He slowly works his pants off his injured figure, wincing in the process, and soon he’s just as bare as you.

You’re shaking and cursing yourself internally for doing so. God, why were you shaking? You know he notices as he reaches his hand out to touch your arm lightly, grounding you in reality, and speaks, “Are you okay?”

You nod. More than okay.

The water feels heavenly as it beats against the skin of your back. Mike hobbles into the shower after you. He’s hesitant as you usher him to switch with you. It’s gonna hurt, but it’s necessary.

Your fingers lightly brush the wound on his back. He'd already been wincing slightly from the sting of the water, but your touch has him tensing immediately. You grab a cloth and dampen it enough to be effective in cleaning the general blood and grime from the afflicted wound.

The moment your cloth cover hand touches the  wound, he cries out through closed teeth, "Fucking- fuck!" His hands are planted against the shower wall in front of him. He bites his lip, holding in the whimpers of pain, trying his hardest not to wake Abby.

"Shh. It's okay, Mikey."

You let a gentle hand fall to his non injured side, brushing his skin. You're trying to sooth his tense and pained form as much as possible.

Soon enough you have both gashes cleaned up and ready to be bandaged. Mike turns to face you in the shower. His face still has a slight touch of discomfort to it, but he smiles weakly at you.

“Thank you.”

You smile back and nod. You’ve hardly said a word outside of attempting to sooth his pain with sweet words. The cold is starting to seep in from the tiny crack in the shower curtain. You can feel tiny goosebumps beginning to form on your skin. He frowns slightly and breaks the silence again.

“Did I cross a line…with this?”

Your head is already shaking before you can even comprehend the question. Like your body knows the answer before your mind does. “No, Mike.” He hesitates in his response, standing still and quiet before stepping towards you.

He seems to be able to move around a little better. You’re not sure if it’s the water cleaning the previously irritated wounds or if it’s the adrenaline pumping through his body. Either way you’re thankful as his hands are grabbing at your face and pulling you into another kiss.

It’s sloppier than the previous kiss you had shared, and he’s pushed you back so far that your back is hitting the cold tile of the shower wall. A fog has taken over your mind as you reach around his shoulders, digging your fingers into the plush muscle of his back.

The feeling of his tongue swiping into your mouth has sent you entirely mad. You’re whining slightly at the feeling and your eyes are half lidded. You can’t even think of the fact that this is your childhood best friend kissing you. Making you shudder. You can’t find it in you to care, you want him.

“Mikey…”

It’s a whispered moan as you let your head fall back against the tile, exposing the delicate skin of your neck to his wandering mouth.

Despite his injured form, his hands are tight around you. You'd thought of this before, in the heat of the night alone in your high school bedroom, hormones taking over completely.

You'd imagined the strong grip of his hands and the contrast of his plush lips. The bite of white teeth and soothing warmth of the hot water.

It’s absolutely divine, you think. He is divine. You know you’ll have dark bruises on your neck from the way he bites. You can’t help but run a hand through the hair on the back of his head and tug slightly. The moan is elicits rumbles through your neck and you want more.

You’re absolutely drunk off of the feeling of his body being this close to yours, nearly intertwined. You don’t even think when your nails swipe the cut on his back. That is until he lets out a yelp in the crook of your neck and promptly jump back.

You’re wide eyed immediately, realizing what you’d just done.

“I’m- I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Mike.”

You can still see the remnants of a wince on his face but he laughs. And you find yourself letting out a nervous laugh with him. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

You laugh again, holding the palm of your head to your forehead.

“We should probably get out. It’s getting cold.”

You nod.

━━━

You manage to sneak past Abby’s sleeping figure long enough to grab old clothes from your room. You find yourself thanking the universe than Abby is a heavy sleeper.

You’re also thankful that you hadn’t given Mike back an old t-shirt that he had left in your home years ago. He smiles at you when you hand it to him. He puts it on and examines the familiar print on the front.

“You’ve been holding this one hostage, huh?”

You gently nudge his shoulder and let out a chuckle. “Shut up.”

You’ve layered blankets in the middle of your living room floor. You speak as you lay pillows down on the makeshift palette. “Abby is sleeping peacefully, I’m not letting you drive home tonight, and there’s no way I’m letting you sleep on my tiny couch.”

You point exaggeratedly at the “bed” you’ve created for the two of you. “Ta-da.” You let yourself fall back onto the layers of pillows and blankets. It’s surprisingly cushioned. You sigh. “Actually not that bad, Mikey.”

He watches you with a smile from his seat on your couch. “You’ve really out done yourself.” He slides off the couch and into the layers of blankets and pillows next to you. He turns to rest on his uninjured side, facing you. It’s dark in the room, but you’ve left one lamp on. You can see his features glow under the warm light. You brush a hand on his cheek lightly.

“I’m glad you didn’t die tonight, Mike.”

He snickers, but you’re serious. The thought of his face on the news, just another tragedy at Freddy’s, haunts you. “I’m serious.”

He simply stares at you. “You’re not gonna go back there, right?” He closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly.

“I don’t know how I’m gonna take care of her. I can’t keep a job.”

Your thumb brushes at his cheek, soothing his tension. “I’ll help you. When have I ever left you alone in this?” You shiver as you think of the only time you’d walked out on him after that heated argument. You push the thought away and close your eyes.

“Really love you, Mike. You’re my best friend.”

You open your eyes hesitantly and you can see the shine of moisture in his. “Love you too.”

You place a kiss on his lips. It’s chaste, but full of a deep warmth. It leaves you wondering what comes next.

You tuck yourself in close to him.

“Goodnight, Mike.”