#at least then i could put my fucking laundry away for once

[cathnospam]

Continuing from This Drabble about you and your BF Katsuki answering sex questions about each other<3

Black Female Reader x Katsuki Bakugo , mentions of panty stealer bakugo, slight smut???

“Okay uh, how do you rate your partners kisses 1-10.”

“9”

“9?! Muthafucka I taught you how to kiss—-“

“You always push back first like you can’t handle it, it pisses me off.”

“I like breathing.”

“So.”

Rolling your eyes, “I was ganna say 12/10, but since you’re being a bitch—“

“So, 12/10 got it. Next.”

“Does your partner have any dirty secrets?…oooh.—-”

“M’going to bed.” Bakugo immediately gets up to take off his tank top seeing as he was going to sleep in your dorm tonight, but as the shirt clung to his semi flexing biceps you grab him, “No, y/n.”

“Oh c’mon boy are the secrets THAT bad?! I’ll tell you mine at least—-fuck.” He considers for a moment. Curiosity weighing heavier than his will to sleep at the moment, “You ass.”

“What did you call me—“

“I think…” You place two fingers on his soft lips, “One secret is that……….one time, when you were out on work study you left your black tank top in my room….and….i missed you….and i was ovulating so i….put on your tank top and ….played…with myself.”

The air was thick, it’s as if Bakugo took it as he grew closer to you while speaking, there wasn’t much to make him speechless but dammit that’s a new one.

Fuck. That’s actually more sexier than he wants to admit right now. He crossed his legs, hoping a tent won’t form in his grey sweats and noticed your eyes wandering at every part of your room but his eyes.

“I…moaned your name too.”

“You…you damn….pervert fuck—-“ His voice almost broke into a groan, looking away also embarrassed you knew he didn’t mean it in a malicious way from how he looked back at you, Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down, “Stop acting fucking weird. You did it. Who cares. As long as it was MY name you moaned.”

“Of course dumbass. I only want you…”

Bakugo felt his ears burning, already annoyed he was flustered once he groaned, “I took your panties once.”

“What?”

“Why the hell would you wear that lacy frilly shit during class in that short ass skirt? It’s like you want those idiots to see you.”

“That CANNOT be the reason—“

“IT IS. If you’re ganna wear ‘em wear them IN OUR dorms you dumbass.”

“…well.”

“Well what.” He pouts.”

“Well where the fuck are they I like wearing them after I get waxed.”

Bakugo hesitates, not wanting to actually answer mainly because he doesn’t just have ONE pair of panties. But a few. “I’ll show you later.”

“Tch.” You mock his sounds, “Ever use ‘em to masturbate?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You giggle, you can only imagine what his perverted ass has done with them. And the last time you seen them was in your hamper so you assumed they got lost somewhere in the laundry. Honestly it’s kinda….interesting he’s telling you this.

“Does your partner have any no’s during?”

“I’m not calling you a bitch.”

“Aw.” You sarcastically sigh, “Why.”

“Why the hell would I call you out your name—“

“You called me your slut yesterday.”

“…Slip of the tongue.” He crosses his arms like a child, making you giggle. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize it was hot.” You say adjusting yourself closer to him, you could actually feel the heat from his body rise as you kept speaking, “It’s fine. Degrading isn’t something I’d need from you anyway.”

“I don’t get that kink, who the hell likes to be disrespected by someone they…are y’know with.”

You shrug, you understand why certain people have kinks, but it’s hard to put in words for someone like Katsuki. He’s a very simple man when it comes to relationships. Almost traditional and old fashion which is what charmed you the most about him. He never even called you a bitch before in any sense nor has he ever told you anything that would genuinely hurt your feelings, “Some people are just into that.” You concluded, your boyfriend looks at you with an unresolved look, but accepts it anyway. Weirdos.

“I wouldn’t hit you either. Like in the face or anything. Only on the ass”

“Good because my face is too pretty for that.” Katsuki smirks at you, you’re absolutely right you’re too pretty for him to hit.

“Nobody else.”

“Hm?”

“…Nobody else is allowed to join us.”

Squinting for a moment his statement clicks , “OH! No threesomes and stuff. Oh yeah of course not. If I see you with any other girl I’ll kill you and her.”

Katsuki swallowed his laughter, masking it with a clearing of his throat, your eyes not tearing from his making sure he knew you were serious. You don’t scare him typically, but he knew the moments when you genuinely had an aura about you that screamed “Fucking try to play with me.” And this was one of those moments. “You look at me like I didn’t just fucking say —“

“I know.” Your voice cracked a little trying to cover up the jealous tone you were about to spew out. Just the thought of Katsuki touching another girl had you upset.

Little did you know it was the same for him with you.

“Anything else?”

“I won’t do race or age play.”

“What the hell…?—-“

“Well I am black so obviously no and then you have age play which is just a cute way of saying you like children—-“

“WHAT?”

You pause to cover up his loud mouth with your small hands, “SSSHH! Before we get in trouble again!…anyway moving on!”

Not wanting to argue, he takes your laptop and smacks your hand away, “What is something you DONT like that your partner does during sex.”

“Take my laptop away from me.”

He strikes you and look, he doesn’t say anything verbally but he says “quit fucking around” with his eyes, admitting defeat that he won’t give you back your laptop you sit back and think for a moment.

“Eh…Oh! I don’t like that you won’t let me ride you.”

Damn it.

He had a feeling you’d say that too. Bakugo scratches the back of his neck roughly while letting out a groan. Throwing his head back a little he side eyes you, “Why do you wanna be on top so bad. I’m the man I should—“

“It’s not even about dominating you or anything you can still fuck me from below, ‘Suki. You’ll still have all the power.”

Bakugo has seen porn videos where the guy fucks up into the girl. Even some where the man is straight up holding the girl up and pumps her full. It’s so erotic he couldn’t even finish the video, but even though he enjoys vanilla sex, he is quite certain riding him isn’t too far off from what he likes.

Besides he loves having your tits bounce in his face and feeling your nipples practically bounce into his mouth makes up of great reason.

“…Fine. But when I’M ready.”

“Yaaaayy mkay….now what is something YOU don’t like about me.”

“You’re ganna be pissed.”

Your smiles immediately transforms into a straighten line, “Uh oh.”

“I don’t …like when you cum too fast.”

It was a bit embarrassing yet confusing to hear. Clearly that means he’s doing a good job so why —

“Because I want to keep fucking you.” Bakugo speaks up as if he read your inner thoughts, all you could do was blink a few times at him, and he continued more, “Even though I don’t cum until after you do which isn’t that long, sometimes I wanna keep going. I’ve timed it, the moment I start fucking you sex only last about 6-8 minutes.”

“That’s average. Some people are 2-3 minutes.” You spoke with an unimpressed and deadpanned voice mostly because this sounded ludicrous to you and Bakugo seen it in your expression causing him to sigh in annoyance. “Shouldn’t your ego be filled knowing you make me cum fast?”

“Yeah, but —-fuck sue me for wanting more. And don’t say some shit like I’m a nympho or some shit because that’s fucking disgusting and those freaks are usually only in a relationship to fuck—-“

“OKAY OKAY CALM DOWN, BOY!” His voice kept getting louder and louder and you refused to have another write up because you have him in your dorm past curfew…again. “I get it though.”

“You want to be overstimulated.”

What? Bakugo scrunched yo his eyebrows. He never heard that term before used when talking about sex.

“Overstimulated means …well… showing you is actually better than telling you.”

In an instant Bakugo’s furrowed eyebrows soften, his gaze transitioned from confused to darker and subtly lustful. You felt the vibe of the room change so quickly you practically had to clear your throat to make him focus again.

“So the next question…”

“Nah, show me.” He firmly shuts your computer and places it on your nightstand. Arms still crossed, “Show me what that word means or should I look up a video and figure it out myself.”

“….y’can.”

It wasn’t ideal for your evening to end like this with him, but it’s just you and your slightly horny boyfriend watching porn videos.

What’s the worse that can happen?

[dulceamore]

love hangover

pairings oldman!joel miller x sunshine!reader

summary you talking to joel’s dick like it’s a human being and calling it ‘princess sofia’ catching him off guard. “does princess sofia wanna come out and play?”

tags grumpy x sunshine, minors dni cuteness overload. established relationship, unspecified age gap, jackson era. drunk reader, joel becoming confused as fuck, explicit language, dirty talking. joel calling you sugar, baby, & sweetheart.

masterlist

joel fumbled with his keys at the door, trying to keep his balance while holding you up. you were leaning against him like a sleepy sloth. the party that tommy had sponsored had been wild.

joel hadn’t even had more than one beer, but you? well, you had lost count somewhere between the fourth shot. the world was pleasantly blurry and the ground beneath your feet shifting when you least expected it.

joel sighed, opened the lights, and kicked the door shut behind him, amusement lining his words as he muttered something about your inability to pace yourself, but his grip was unwavering.

joel caught you elbow just before you walked directly into a coat rack.

“easy there,” he said with a chuckle. “that rack ain’t done anything wrong to you, sweetheart,”

sensing your unsteady sway, without hesitation, swept you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style. the sudden lift made your stomach flip in surprise, but his grip was steady, firm, effortless.

“you alright, darlin'?”

“i feel like i’m on those things that goes round and round on a horse? a merry-go-round, yeah, that one, ”

“you’re hopeless,” he murmured. you barely had the energy to protest, only managing a content sigh as you pressed closer against his chest. he smelled like fresh laundry and the lingering traces of cologne.

with you in his arms, he moved through the dimly lit livingroom, lowering you carefully onto the couch. the moment your head hit the armrest, a satisfied hum escaped your lips.

joel lingered for a moment, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch feather-light.

“stay put,” he said but you seem to be in a different planet.

“i love you,”

“i love you too.” joel smiled, kneeling to unlace your boots.

with a tired sigh, joel finally let himself sink onto the couch beside you. the cushions shifted under his weight, his arm naturally draping over the backrest as he tilted his head back, exhaling slowly.

he let his hand rest lightly against your thigh, his fingers absentmindedly tracing invisible patterns.

you leaned into him, warm and soft and buzzing with end-of-the-night chaos.

then you looked down and paused.

you leaned in close, “i’ve been thinking…”

“that’s ‘lways concernin’.”

you pointed at his crotch. “we need to talk about her.”

joel blinked and looked at you. “who?”

she grinned devilishly. “princess sofia.”

there was a beat of stunned silence.

joel squinted. “am sorry but who the fuck is princess sofia?”

“princess sofia. that’s what i’ve just now decided to call your—” you waved vaguely at his groin.

“what? ain’t no way you’re s’posed to go namin’ things while being under the influence.”

“but she’s been hidden away all evening,”

you poked his hip with exaggerated gentleness. “you’ve been hiding her from the world, joel.”

“...my pants?”

you didn’t answer. instead, you sat in his lap with your legs in between joel's. your fingers moved up to his chest, swift and mischievous, and began unbuttoning his shirt. fast and precise.

joel blinked, startled. “whoa, sweetheart, we doin’ this right now?”

“shh,” you said, still working on the buttons. “this is important.”

“what?”

you looked up at him, eyes gleaming, then dropped your gaze once again and whispered with all the sultry seriousness you could muster.

“i miss you,” you said dramatically, now addressing his lower half as if it is your lover instead.

"damn sugar, i'm over here,"

before he could protest further, you leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his bare stomach, just above his waistband.

joel inhaled sharply, his hands grabbing hold of your waist.

you pulled back, looking up at him with faux-seriousness.

"that was for her. princess sofia.”

he stared at you, stunned. “am i the one ya callin’ princess sofia?”

“she deserves affection, joel,” you whispered, fingers gently grazing his chest. “she’s been neglected. lonely. cold.”

“she’s ain’t cold— i'm not—” he tried to argue, then stopped himself, rubbing his hand over his face.

“baby— you’ve had plenty enough of wine.”

you grinned devilishly, your gaze dropping, and your focus locked below his belt like you were staring at a treasure chest, ready to claim the crown jewels. then you leaned in.

“does princess sofia wanna come out and play?” you whispered, full of playful mischief.

joel froze, eyes widening in horror. “wait, what?”

“whoa now—ya talkin’ ‘bout my—" joel sputtered, clearly trying to process what was happening, his eyes darting around like he was trapped in some bizarre dream.

“no, no, no... ya ain’t—”

“your member, joel.” you looked at him and leaned in even closer, voice rich with seriousness. “the meat wand?”

joel just stared at you in wide-eyed disbelief. his face contorted in an expression of utter confusion.

joel continued to sputter, face red.

“who… who are you?? what happened to my sweet, normal girlfriend who don’t go throwin’ words like ‘meat wand’ ‘round?“

you smiled innocently. “she evolved.”

joel buried his face in his hands. “this is the weirdest... funniest... most terrifying thing that’s ever happened to me,”

you paused for a moment, “are you denying princess sofia her royal liberation?”

“ain’t nobody ever talked ‘bout my thing like this before. this some weird dream?”

“let’s make this dream come true then,” you said, eyes twinkling.

but you were already moving. your fingers dropping to the front of his pants and before joel could catch up, you were hurriedly unbuckling his belt, the metal clinking as you tugged at it like a woman on a mission.

“whoa—baby, wait—” joel stammered, caught entirely off guard, eyes wide as your fingers worked fast.

“she’s waited long enough, let her breathe, joel.”

joel caught your hands before you got the zipper undone.

“okay, alright—time out, princess. we ain’t doin’ this while ya narratin’ my junk like it’s a medieval artifact.”

you leaned back with a sigh, dramatically resting your head on his shoulder. “you never let me have anything.”

joel wrapped an arm around you, kissing your temple. “you can have breakfast. and a very intense conversation about your namin’ conventions tomorrow.”

“she’s going to file a complaint.”

“she can talk to hr.”

“her royalness is hr.”

joel just shook his head, grinning as he tucked you under his arm.

“goddamn help me, i love you.”

you smiled into his chest. “and she loves you, too.”

the next morning, joel was flipping pancakes, grinning as he caught a glimpse of you, wrapped in a blanket, trudging into the kitchen.

as the two of you sat down to eat pancakes, the tension of last night melted into something warm and easy.

joel handed you a syrup-covered pancake and you bit into it. “just for the record, though... i wouldn’t mind a bit of princess sofia’s return.”

you narrowed your eyes at him as you chew the pancake joel had fed you. “do not remind me of last night.”

joel’s brown eyes twinkled as he grinned, clearly yearning for you.

“princess sofia doesn’t mind playin’ today.”

you raised an eyebrow, feeling a mischievous spark.

“oh? how does princess sofia want to play today?”

joel chuckled, then leaned in close. “ain’t sure but princess sofia deserves the world. she’s earned it.”

“well, maybe your huuugee intimidating friend, princess sofia, can get it… after breakfast.”

[dannyriccsystem]

HII HELLO UM CONGRATS ON 1K!!! could i get 41, 46 & 47 with charles leclerc? thanks twin love ur work🤟🤟

HOW MANY SECRETS CAN YOU KEEP?

1K SPECIAL - CL16

Panty stealing + Overstimulation + Femdom

SUMMARY: You catch Charles snooping through your things, and you decide to teach him a proper lesson…

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

WARNINGS: Handjob, overstimulation, Submissive Pervert!Charles, panty sniffing, smut, this was filthy omfg

FEATURING: Charles Leclerc x Reader

NOTE: First Charles fic? I actually can’t believe it. I love Charles :(

IT STARTED AS A ONE TIME THING. That’s how most bad habits begin—little accidents that turn into a sort of addiction. Charles didn’t mean to, but when he was gathering your clothes to take down to the laundry room, he pocketed a pair of underwear that fell out. It was unintentional, and he meant to put them in with the rest of the clothes, but it totally slipped his mind.

Later, when he was missing you bad, he just happened to stumble across them again. He pulled them out innocently, but the smell hit his nose as something feral churned within him. He brought them to his nose, desperately inhaling the scent that lingered: Your delicious pussy.

He didn’t mean to, he swears, but he found himself stroking his own cock, your panties wrapped tight around his shaft. He threw them in the wash after coating them in his sticky cum, promising to never commit such a filthy act again.

But he did anyway.

The next few times just… Happened, you know? You guys finished up, and when he went to gather a towel to clean you up, he just kept scooping the panties up and stuffing them into the pockets of his sweatpants, using them once again—long after you had fallen asleep, full and satisfied. Charles couldn’t believe how oblivious you were. You’d ask him if he knew where your underwear disappeared to, he’d deny it, and then a day later they’d appear in your drawers like nothing happened. You didn’t have a clue.

Or, at least he thought that.

You were fully aware of what he was doing. You knew because one day you happened to wake up after he had essentially fucked you to sleep, your ears immediately met with his stifled groans and whimpers as he jacked off into your lacy undergarments. You found it amusing, so you let him carry on, wondering how far he’d take it.

A lot further than you expected, that’s for sure.

It was nice having Charles play the dominant role, but eventually it got to be tiring always being the one out of control. So, you decided to confront him about his little… Thievery.

You opened your bedroom door, poking your head inside. There he was, shuffling through your underwear drawer like he was looking for a specific pair. You leaned against the frame, your arms crossed over your chest. He had yet to notice you until you cleared your throat.

The racer froze.

“Whatcha doin?” You smirked. Charles slowly spun around, staring at you with wide, unblinking eyes. You could see the gears turning in his head as he tried to spawn in some excuse.

“I, uh…” He cleared his own throat and scratched the back of his neck. “I was just putting your clothes away.”

“What clothes?”

“The ones I washed…”

You blinked, shaking your head. “I did the laundry, Charlie,” You purred, swaying your hips as you walked towards him. “I know what you’ve been doing, I’m not stupid.”

“What… What do you mean, mon ange?” His breath was light. Charles looked down at you, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. He was slowly beginning to crack.

“You know what I mean.” You grabbed him by the collar, pushing him back against the bed. He fell back to sit on the edge, tilting his head back to look up at you. “You’ve been stealing my panties,” You began as you climbed onto his lap, trailing your fingers up his chest. “Jerking off with them.”

He swallowed thickly, scooting back further with your guidance. Charles had his back against the headboard, his legs sprawled out in front of him. He wanted to say something—come up with a witty remark and turn things around—but he couldn’t. Not when you were climbing over the bed like an animal in heat, kissing his neck so sensually.

“I think you deserve to be punished.” You nipped at his earlobe. Your delicate hands pawed at his pants, palming his erection and drawing out a whine from his pillowy lips, wet from his own saliva after he darted his tongue out nervously.

“Please-” He shuddered, eyes squeezed shut.

“Please what?”

You watched as his head tilted forward, eyes opening just to stare at his growing erection with heavy eyelids. “Please punish me.”

You giggled, tugging on his hair. You forced his head back, making him lock eyes with you. “Good boy.”

You freed his aching cock so mercifully, your soft palms dragging up and down the underside of his pretty cock. The tip was leaking pre-cum, painted a soft rosy red from the strain against his clothing. He groaned, gripping the sheets and trying to restrain himself from fucking his dick against your hand. Be cool, Charles.

“Yeah, you like that?” You hummed in a sweet honeyed tone that nearly made him bust prematurely.

“Yes,” He whimpered, his mouth slightly agape and his eyebrows knitted together. You giggled at the sight, pressing a kiss to his forehead as a form of appraisal. He shuddered upon contact.

You wrapped your hands around him now, applying just slight pressure on the base. You ran the thumb of your other finger across the tip, and Charles let out the most delicious little cry. His hips jerked upwards, desperate for friction.

“You’re so pretty, Charles.” You tilted his chin up. “Look at me, pretty boy.”

You started to stroke him, and every muscle in his body twitched. His moans were beautiful, making your own arousal grow. You then applied your other hand to the equation, which only made Charles get louder. He was close. You could tell—his breath got caught in his throat, and his loud cries turned into breathy little whines.

And then he came. His cum shot out from the tip, coating your hands in the sticky white substance, as well as his own stomach, which was now visible as his shirt rode up. You hummed, tutting with disappointment.

“You’re supposed to tell me when you’re gonna come, Char.” You sat up on your knees, shimmying out of your pajama pants. He eyed your pajamas, eyelids heavy as he came down from his previous orgasm. “Let’s try again.”

You slid your panties off, and brought them to his nose. He greedily inhaled your scent, a shaky hand grabbing the garment to further press it against his nose. You let go, and he continued to hold on for dear life.

You started to stroke him again, nails raking the sensitive skin. His sounds were muffled this time, teeth gripping the skimpy fabric. He rutted into your hands, desperate to come again. You smirked, whispering praises of encouragement.

“You gonna come, Charles? Use your words, baby.” You sped up, and so did his noisy cries.

“I’m coming, mon ange-! Please, let me come!”

“Good boy. Come for me, yes,” And with your approval, he released yet another spurt of his seed. He slumped back against the headboard, eyes shut. His consciousness was slowly slipping away. Charles gasped and panted for breath.

“Please, no more…”

“You did so good, Charles.” You wiped your hands on his thighs, kissing his cheeks and nose gently. You peppered him with loving kisses. “I hope you learned your lesson.”

[bernardsbendystraws]

You Don’t Own Me

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8 P9 P10 P11 P12 P13 P14 P15 P16

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: Mentions of death, crying.

A/N: This is like 12 pages long. Enjoy the girthy chapter!

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P9: Get it? Got it? Good.

Stay away. Chris isn’t even my friend, it shouldn’t be so hard to keep myself distant from him. But it’s already proving to be beyond difficult. The second my tired eyes opened and my hand reached to my nightstand, I realized I already fucked up. 

My fucking phone is in his room. Of course.

The lotion on my face is less than soothing. My reflection in the mirror makes me feel more tired, the bags beneath my eyes darker than usual. Even though I fell asleep pretty quickly once getting home, I kept waking up throughout the night, stressful dreams I can’t even remember causing my body to toss and turn for hours on end relentlessly. 

Being without my phone feels weird, but the anxiety building up in my chest makes my mind search for tasks to procrastinate going over to their house. What if Matt opened the door? Or worse—what if he only saw me in the midst of getting my phone from his brother's room with no explanation? 

He’s my friend, I know he’s trying to look out for me. I don’t want him to think I don’t trust him. And I definitely don’t wanna lose a friendship for something I didn’t even know how to describe. It’s not like losing Chris would be losing a friend. 

My body jolts, my finger scratching along my cheekbone from a sudden pounding on my bathroom door. 

“Move your damn laundry!” Bayeln seethes, a movement on the lower half of the door letting me know he fucking kicked the wooden material. Again. 

I don’t get it. He’s always just so angry—but only at me. He never acts like this with my mom. Something changed when we were kids. I remember it started a little before my dad passed away, but no fight between us was memorable enough to be a possibility of his hatred. At least not to this extent. 

My nose scrunches as I see a small red line imprinted on my skin. I look like I got scratched by a fucking cat. Great. 

The sound of his door clicking makes me sigh in relief as I walk out of my bathroom and towards the laundry room. I pile my clothes into my hamper quickly, scurrying off and catching a couple stray socks as they threaten to fall out of the basket. My back shut my room door behind me. I dump the bin on my bed, the array of clean clothes creating a mountain on my sheets. 

I’m so tired. And I want my phone. Usually, I could play music or watch some sort of video. 

“What’s the point?” I huff, sliding on my shoes before cracking open my window fully and climbing outside. There’s no reason to put off getting my phone any longer. If anything, it was just making me more anxious. Explaining to my mom why I was leaving sounds stressful. And even though I could lie, I didn’t have the energy for that right now. I just want my phone, folded laundry, and a damn nap. 

The sun is too bright. Everything is so vibrant and lively, almost feeling fake as I walk slowly down the sidewalk. My eyes squint towards the ground. I can barely see. 

And then I hear it—the familiar trot. 

It can’t be him. It can’t. Please for the love of—-

“Need your phone?” 

Fuck.

My hand shields the beaming sun rays as I look up, finding Chris with Trevor’s leash in one hand, my phone in the other. I’m not even all the way down my street. The walk was supposed to mentally prepare me to face him. So much for that idea. 

“Thanks–”

The creases on my face deepen, my eyes squinting from more than just the intensity of the sun. What the fuck is he doing? 

“Uh-uh.” he tuts, pulling my phone to his chest before sliding it into the pocket of his hoodie. Chris walks even closer to me, placing Trevor’s leash in my hand before starting to take more steps in the direction I just came from. 

The fuck?

“Chris—what the hell? Are you gonna give me my phone?” I ask, jogging slightly to catch up to him. He shrugs next to me, humming contently as we pass by my house. This was supposed to be a quick trip—get the phone and leave. I can already tell this is gonna take a while. 

His strides seem to get slower. I look up, seeing the neighborhood playground buried in trees. Why are we here? 

I follow cautiously as he walks on the dirt path that’s slightly overgrown with weeds. The rusted swings creek in the wind, the morning air becoming quieter as we stride away from the streets and neighboring houses. 

I hate it here. It showed me things I didn’t wanna see—things I didn’t wanna remember. Coming here as a kid was so pure. And now it was just a reminder—nothing is the same, nothing will ever be the same. 

Rusted swings, overgrown vines, chipped paint, and eerily barren. A lot of the neighborhood liked to joke that this place was haunted. And it was. Maybe not by spirits or ghosts, but by me. My hatred was enough to make the place feel different. 

“C’mon, Trevor likes to go on the play set.” Chris explains, snatching the leash from my hand. My hands grasp each other in front of my chest. I dig my feet into the patchy grass as I watch him take off Trevor’s leash, the dog immediately trotting over and climbing on the playground stairs. I wince watching him pee through the patterned holes. Ew. 

My eyes narrow as Chris gently tugs my sleeve. Turning around, I follow him as he sits on a swing, his head nudging to the one adjacent to him, urging me to sit. Grabbing the metal chain, I clasp my fingers around the cold material, cautiously sitting down. The shriek of rust makes my stomach curl. I let my feet dwindle on the ground, gently starting to push myself around. 

Looking over, I see Trevor happily sniffing the entirety of the play area. His nose twitches furiously, his snout digging into corners as he inhales. 

“Does he always do this?” I ask, peeking over my shoulder to see Chris slumping, his arms lazily wrapped around the swing chains. 

“Pretty much.” he answers. I gaze back towards the dog, my lips curling upward as his paws curiously slap onto the built in X-O wall of rotating blocks. 

It’s odd, but it’s adorable. 

I hear Chris clear his throat from behind me. My eyes stay trained on the sight of Trevor playing around. “Why did you, uh—why’d you leave last night?” 

Oh. 

My body turns until I’m facing him. The edge of my nail gets caught in the chain for a brief moment, my finger running over the now rigid edge as my lips smack open and shut. 

Chris kicks the soft dirt beneath his swing. “You…I just—-I woke up at like three in the morning, so you must’ve walked home in the middle of the night. And I…I…” 

His voice softens into a whisper, his words disappearing as he lets out a heavy breath. 

“Matt walked me home.” I say. The words are rushed, but calm. I see his shoulder raise with a deep sigh, falling as he relaxes and looks over at me. “I, um—he told me about his night with Mia.” 

“He couldn’t have told you later?” Chris puffs, rolling his eyes as he itches the side of his head. 

I shrug. “I guess.” 

Silence waves over us. The faint sound of Trevor’s collar jingling making me hyper aware of Chris staring over my shoulder to monitor the dog. Matt’s voice looms over my shoulder, my lips pursing together as I chew into the side of my cheek. 

I need to leave. I shouldn’t be here—not with him at least. 

My knees flex as I go to stand up. “Can I have my phone? I need to go fold my laundry and—”

“What’d he tell you?” Chris interrogates, his jaw clicking tighter. His eyes avoid mind as I look over at him. I relax back into the swing, my hands clasping around the cold metal as I try to take a deep breath. 

“He just—um, he got a really cute picture with Mia—”

“That’s not what I’m asking.” Chris points, his tone falling lower. “What did he tell you? What’d he….what do you know?” he asks. 

I stare at the side of his face while swallowing thickly. “Chris, I don’t know if I should—” My lips stutter shut as his eyes dart into mine. His gaze isn’t as cold as it usually is, but something about it makes my lips feel loose, the words spilling out before I can spare a second thought. “He told me about your mom and—and your other brother.” I answer. 

Chris narrows his eyes at me, his face relaxing as he inhales sharply. “Okay, but what did he say? I…can you just…tell me?” he asks, his eyes softening as his hand grips tighter onto the swingset. 

My pursed lips seem to make him sigh louder. He blinks slowly, his head turning to me but his eyes glued to the ground. “Can—-just—”

I interrupt his struggling words, my hand landing on his. His eyes flicker up to mine, his tongue licking over his lips as he swallows. “I….he told me that I—-like, he doesn’t want me to…um….”

How do I say it nicely? 

“He told you to stay away from me, didn’t he?” 

Nodding slowly, I watch as Chris runs his hand over his mouth, shaking his head with disapproval. “-course he did.” he huffs. 

My feet dig in the ground as I shift uncomfortably. Trevors sniffs are the only sound besides the drifting leaves and branches, the creeks of the rusted metal only a faint suggestion within the chaos of the quiet. 

“So?” Chris asks, staring at me with blunt eyes as he raises a brow. So what? As if reading my mind, Chris licks over his lips to speak again, “So are you gonna listen to him?”

The clarification does little to ease the swarming thoughts pulsing through my brain. “Chris—I don’t know. I mean, I trust Matt and he’s your brother. I don’t wanna be in the middle.” I explain, my chest feeling heavier as he licks over the ridges of his teeth. 

“He doesn’t get to make decisions for me—or you.” 

I shrug, letting out a sound of disbelief. “I’m confused. Chris—we’re not even exactly friends. The only good interactions we’ve had…they’ve always ended poorly—you’re always pushing me away like you don’t even want me around most of the time. Why do you even care?” I push. 

“I let you sleep in my bed.” he mentions, grumbling. 

My eyes widen, my body tensing as I sit up straighter. “And then you practically tried to kick me out the next day! I—-I don’t know what you want from me, Chris. I really don’t understand you.” I exclaim, my voice getting quieter as I settle back into the swing. My head shifts from side to side as I stare out onto the surrounding trees. 

“I was coming to give you back your phone—” The tips of my nails pinch my palm at his words. “Which you still haven’t given me back.” I point out. 

Silence waves over us again. Trevor plops on the ground, tired and panting in front of us. 

“I just…you’re…” Chris trails off, his words halted by a deep sigh. 

“I’m what? Chris, I’m trying to understand, but…you’re not exactly making this easy.” I say, reach my hand out and brush his shoulder. Chris shifts at the touch. I retract my hand into my lap, watching as he stares at the movement before letting his eyes stare into mine. 

“You’re the only one who isn’t treating me like I’m…I don’t know—”

“Fragile?” I fill in, watching as he gnaws on his bottom lip, nodding slowly. 

“Yeah…fragile.” he repeats, his gaze sinking to Trevor in front of us as if he’s searching for comfort. 

Maybe he isn’t so hard to understand. Part of me feels like I’m looking into a mirror, the tired reflection so familiar that it’s confusing. But it’s not confusing. It’s just…sad. 

“I get it.” His head turns to me at my statement, his eyebrows shifting together as his lips part slightly. “My dad—-I…when he passed, everything changed. Hell, I fucking changed schools just so my friends would stop asking if I was okay. They all loved him, he—nevermind.” 

My gaze shifts up to his face again. “I get it, though. I really do. My mom and brother refused to really mourn him like I did, they sent me to therapists—therapists who kept telling me the same thing. Time heals, let yourself feel sad, but—” 

“But it doesn’t bring him back.” Chris says, interrupting me as I feel my lips pull into a tight line. “Yeah.” I agree, kicking the dirt beneath as my feet hover on the ground. 

The tension of confusion fades into a calm silence. I haven’t talked about my dad or really thought of him for a while. Reliving happy memories didn’t feel nice. Every good moment felt like a loss. And that feeling is just unbearable to bathe in. The drought of forgetting the happiest moments of my childhood were a lot easier to deal with than drowning in mourning. 

“Here’s your phone, you, uh—you can go fold your laundry or whatever you want to do.” he says, holding out the device. 

Reaching forward, I clasp the small rectangle and stuff it into the pocket of my zip up. My knees straighten as I stand up. With a small peek over my shoulder, I see him staring at the ground, holding out Trevor’s leash and putting it on the dog as he trots towards him. 

Chris stands up, dusting his hands off on his baggy sweats. As his eyes flicker up, his face furrows with confusion. “Aren’t you, uh—gonna—”

“Do you wanna come fold laundry with me?” I blurt, biting my tongue as I see his lips pull into a slight smile. 

“Laundry, huh?” he teases. 

Oh god. Why did I say that? Is laundry that fucking important to me?

“You know what, you can continue your walk with Trevor and I’lll—” As I start turning around while rambling, I feel his hand grab my own. My entire body stiffens at the touch. His bare skin on mine is warm, enticing. It seems to travel up my arm, leaving a tingle over my shoulders and behind my ears. 

His eyes are gleaming directly into mine, whatever words resting on the tip of his tongue resting silent. 

And then a sharp bark makes me jump. 

My eyes go wide as a muffled yelp leaves my lips. I hear Chris laugh, looking over to see his gaze trained on our tangled hands. 

“Oh—sorry.” I heave, snatching my hand away as I realize the sudden scare had left me helpless to realize I fully grabbed his hand, clutching onto it like a scared child. Chris laughs harder at my reaction. He hunches over, grabbing at his hoodie as my cheeks burn with warmth. 

“AHAHHAHAHA—-YOU—-” Chris heaves, clutching onto the outside pocket of his hoodie as he struggles to stop laughing. 

It’s kind of…cute. Well, not cute. I didn’t find him cute, no. Not at all. It’s just…different. 

“Can you shut up?” I mutter, rolling my eyes as I try to keep a straight face. It’s probably because his laugh resembles Matt’s stupid giggles, but it’s so contagious. 

“Sorry, sorry—-yeah, let’s—fuck, sorry—-let’s go fold your laundry,” he sighs, placing a hand over his chest as he tries to catch his breath. 

___

The mountain of clothes on my bed was intimidating. But, with Chris’s entertaining commentary while sitting on my bay window, it passed by quickly. We had taken Trevor and dropped him off at their house. I didn’t wanna know how my mom would react to a boy in my room—much less a dog too. 

“You dropped your…” his eyes flicker down as I shove in a pile of sweatshirts to a shelf in my closet. I huff, pushing the neat pile in further before setting it in place and dusting off my hands. “What?” I ask, looking at him as his finger points towards the floor. 

“Oh my—fuckin’ Matt touched it and now it’s cursed—”

“What the fuck—why was Matt touching your bra?” he questions, his eyes burning with emotion as he waves his hand in the air. 

Oh.

Oh.

That sounded bad. Very bad.

“No, no—it’s not like that. He was helping me pick an outfit for our date and…I’m gonna shoot myself, oh my god. This doesn’t sound right.” I exclaim, sitting on the edge of my bed and burying my face in my hands. 

It wasn’t our date—-it was a double date, but my rambling lips were only making my body cringe more. Silence seems better than the chaos of anxiously and poorly explaining. 

I feel the bed sink next to me. A reassuring hand rubs on my upper back, making me freeze as I unshield my face hesitantly.

“You mean your double date.” he says. I nod, letting out a sigh as I sit up straighter, the feeling of his hand resting on my shoulder making my body lean a little bit closer to his. But I don’t mind it. He smells really good. “-and I’m gonna assume it was an accident. Because—well, it’s Matt.” he says, laughing lightly. 

The shift in his demeanor allows my body to relax enough to take a deep breath. “True.” I huff, laughing at the memory of Matt freaking out. He’s so stupid—in a good way, but he’s stupid. 

Fuck. 

The mention of his name makes my mind replay his words. Stay away. I was supposed to be staying away from Chris, but now I’m closer than I’ve ever been before. 

My shoulders stiffen as I slowly scoot away from Chris. This is wrong. His hand drops from my shoulder. I hear him let out a huff of confusion, his hands twisting on my sheets as he pinches the fabric. 

“This…this isn’t right, Chris. Matt said—-”

“Why is Matt so much more important to you than me? It’s not like you’ve known each other very long, and you sure as hell aren’t dating or anything. So tell me—why do you care so much?” he asks, his eyes burning into the side of my head as I keep my gaze stuck to the floor. 

“Chris, I think you should leave.” I whisper, my face scrunching as I feel a sting of pain in my chest. It hurts to push him away. It hurts to feel so lost—like there is no right answer. 

“No. Tell me why you wanna listen to him like a fuckin’ dog—”

My head whips over, my eyes narrowing as I watch his lips tighten into a straight line. “He’s my only real friend, Chris. The only real friend I’ve had in years. Would you rather I lose him as a friend and go back to walking home in the middle of the night? You don’t….” I shake my head, my nose scrunching as I watch his jaw tighter. “You don’t get it.” I say, crossing my arms over my chest as he stands up. 

“What about us?” Chris questions, staring down at me with disapproval. My eyes float around the room, my lips parted but silent. “Are we not friends now?” he asks. 

As I look up towards him, I feel something change. Heat rises through my cheeks, but not with embarrassment. My mind is a mess. I’m so tired. I don’t know what to do. 

I don’t even know how to feel. 

My lip quivers as I try to keep my eyes on him. Chris drops his hands to his sides, his eyes widening as I feel a tear strike down my cheek, falling down my neck and into the neck of my shirt. It’s an uncomfortable feeling, but my hands refuse to move. My fingers are intertwined tightly, twisting and binding as I try to open my mouth and take a deep breath. 

“I—” The words are cut off as I let out a sharp cry. “I don’t know, Chris—-I’m tired and this is—it’s so confusing and I—-” 

Taking a step towards me, I feel his arms loop around me. One hugs my shoulders to him, the other cradling the back of my head while my tears sink into his hoodie. I don’t remember the last time I’d been held. And I don’t know if it’s the realization or the nostalgic comfort of his touch, but something seems to shatter as my face floods with more tears. 

“Hey, I—I got you, I—come here.” Chris sits on the bed, and hugging me even closer. I feel his cheek rest against the top of my head, his hand gently stroking the back of my head;

“I got you, it’s okay. I just—I…I’m sorry.”

[crystalbeetle888]

Second Chances Pt.2

Dog-hybrid 141 x Autistic-coded reader

Your world is turned upside down, when a stalker forces you to adopt a support-hybrid, leading you to meeting his friends and possibly biting off more than you can chew.

Word Count- 2600

Warnings- minor stalker/stalking, threats of violence, course language, descriptions of managed anxiety and depression, consumption of alcohol,

Master List

The next few weeks feel like a blur. You and John find your rhythm in the mundane things. He wakes up before you, making a pot of tea to share when you get up. You cook the both of you a well balanced breakfast, before doing the daily chores. Feeding your rabbit Pluto, doing a load of laundry, washing the morning dishes. You then take a short walk with him to your city center, dropping him off at the gym while you sit at a cafe across the road. You usually use this time to read, work on illustration commissions, or work on writing your books.

You sip on your iced-chocolate as you type away at your newest novel, a forbidden romance between a man cursed to be a werewolf and a woman disgusted with the world. You had your noise reducing earplugs in, so you didn't notice when an unwelcomed figure approached you from behind.

The tap on your shoulder frightens you, causing you to yelp and take out you ear plugs before turning around. There stands Derek, a guy you had only been on two dates with before he insisted on you 'spending the night' with him. As fucking if. Two measly pub meals, where you could barely even hear him over all the noise, and he thinks that's grounds for sex. What a fucking joke.

"Hay, I've been thinking about you lately. What a coincidence meeting you here," he smiles down at you. You try to stifle a grimace with little success, "Yeah.. I highly doubt that" you say bluntly before turning back to your laptop. He chuckles at you "You know, that dry humor of yours is gonna hurt someone's feelings one day".

You roll your eyes "Oh no" you say flatly. Derek chuckle again, before moving around you, sitting down across from you at your table. You look at him with annoyance, eyes wide and face twisted, like you just smelt something awful and slightly concerning.

"I don't remember inviting you to sit", "I just wanted to talk about how we left things..", "I don't want to talk to you. I'm no longer interested in you at all" you insist.

He nods his head slowly, pursing his lips in thought.

"I'm going to put my earplugs in now. I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to contact me anymore".

After he had tried to persuade you into spending the night with him, you turned your phone off and went device-free for a few days, just to clear your head. It disturbed you at how easily this man thought luring you to his house would be. And how casually he had lied about his true intentions with you. All that bullshit about 'building real connections', and being 'avidly against hookup culture'. He didn't give a shit about hookup culture, he liked hookup culture, he just wanted to trick you into participating. Which is super fucking wrong!

And once you turned your phone back on, you were bombarded with a bunch of freaky ass texts. 'Please I didn't mean it, I'm just having a rough time', 'You led me on, the least you could do is pay me back', 'Sorry about that last one I was drunk'.

What a fucking loser.

In the end you just decided to just block him with no explanation. But now he’s here, bothering you again.

You go to reach for your earplugs case, but he grasps your hand to stop you, “Just hear me out” he insists. Your body tenses at the unwanted contact, like you just touched something mushy in the bottom of the sink. “Let go of my fucking hand!” You raise your voice at him, not aware of the onlookers around you. His grip tightens, coiling like a snake, “You need to calm down, this isn’t a big deal..” “Let go!” You stand abruptly. Your chest heaves with adrenaline, your heart pounding in your ears as you give him an fiery stare.

Derek’s face goes pale as he stares back at you, or really, as he stares over your shoulder. “Everything alright?” John steps up beside you. Unsurprisingly, Derek let’s go of your hand at the sight of your hulking hybrid friend. Fucking coward.

“Everything’s cool man, no need to go all beast mode on me” Derek laughs nervously, throwing his hands up in defeat.

John doesn’t laugh, or really move at all, asides from hovering his hand over the small of your back. His pointed ears twitch as his sharp blue eyes remain focused on the man across from him.

Derek looks at you one last time before slowly backing away.

You let out a shuddered breath, you didn’t know you were holding in, “Thank you” you whisper. John’s hand gently ghosts your back “You alright?”, you nod in response “Yeah just a bit shaken up”.

“Let’s get you home then” he suggests quietly.

John hovers next to you as you pack away your belongings. Taking your bag and slinging it over his shoulder, he offers you his arm. Hesitantly, you place your hand on his thick forearm before beginning the walk back home.

From this position, you are made keenly aware of his altered physique. His form seemed larger, stretching his shirt tightly across his chest and bulging biceps. He also somehow seemed taller? You weren't sure, everything about him just seemed to be enhanced now, his features seemed sharper. John turns to look at you, snapping you out of your stare “Everything alright?" he asks.

You turn your head forwards, face flushing with embarrassment "Mhmm" you hum. Your heart beats uncomfortably fast and your stomach tingles with nerves. You weren't familiar with this bodily sensation. It felt somewhere between being happy and being anxious. You didn't like it. It was new, and new things frustrates you.

Finally arriving home, you let yourself in before making a B-line to your room. Stripping from your clothes, you quickly hop into the boiling hot shower, washing away any remaining feelings or smells of Derek. Despite that he only touched your hand, the fact that you didn't explicitly invite him to, makes you feel icky. Like, a full body disgusted, bugs crawling on the skin, slimy feeling, kind of icky.

The hot pelting water soothes your tense muscles, finally allowing you to relax.

Once you’ve been sufficiently decompressed, you toddle out of the bathroom, putting on some fresh trackie pants and an oversized shirt, before making your way back downstairs to continue with the rest of your day. “Are you alright?” John stands from the couch when you enter the room. “Yeah I just needed to clean myself, he had sticky hands” your body physically shivers at the thought of Derek’s touch.

“Anyways, I was thinking maybe I should try to get in touch with your pack members, organise a meet up or something” you swiftly change the subject, trying to put him out of your mind “So you can socialise and all” you say nonchalantly as you prepare lunch.

John stares for an uncomfortably long moment before nodding “I think that’s a great idea. I know who you can email to make that happen”

And after much back and forth emailing between you and Kate Laswell, she finally just offers to give you Simon’s number. Probably sick of being the middle man.

-Hi, this is (Y/N), I’m Johns guardian. Just wanted to reach out and see if we could organise a catchup sometime. Let me know when suits you. Hope this message finds you well.

-This is Simon. We’re free Saturday. Does the Duke Hotel at 1800 work?

-Yes! That works for us. Can’t wait to meet you guys, we’ll see you there!❤️

You weren’t sure if it was appropriate to send the heart, but all well, you’re sure he gets the point.

Your body is practically buzzing when Saturday finally rolls around, with excitement or anxiety, you weren’t sure. You pick out some casual and comfortable jeans, an oversized shirt that you tied at the front, your special ‘going out’ boots, and a large plaid shirt to throw over the top. Before making your way downstairs where John was waiting.

“Ready to go?” He asks, dressed nicely in some casual jeans, a fresh tee, and a dark grey coat. “Well don’t you look handsome, aye? I’m ready to go when you are” you say casually to him as you grab your purse off the hook. “Come on” you march out the and into the cool night, heading towards your car. Having failed to make the appropriate level of eye contact for the conversation, you completely missed John’s flushed expression. He wasn’t expecting you to compliment him so boldly and suddenly.

His tail stands stiffly in attention, his ears and eyes honed in to your movements as you walk past him to your car. Your earthy smelling body oil wafting through the air as you do. He watches you, like a predator stalking its prey. “Hello? Are you coming?” You call out to him.

Shaking his body he lets the feeling dissipate. ‘Not the right time’ he thinks to himself. Given your current situation and obvious sensitivities, John thought it’d be best to let any possible feelings have time to grow first. He wasn’t blind though, he could see you were an attractive person, and just knew the boys would make a move on you tonight. The thought irritated him.

The drive to the hotel was short, parking just up the road the two of you hop out before making your way up the street.

John stopping you just outside the door “Before we go in, I just wanted to say thank you, for putting in the effort” he gazes down at you, hand pressed gently to your upper arm. As not to scare you off.

Your heart swells “Oh that’s alright. You need to socialise too ya know?” you laugh, slightly flustered and not entirely sure what to say. John smiles down at you before opening his arms slightly “Can I..” he trails off hesitantly. You nod your head enthusiastically before pulling him into a hug. His thick arms enveloped you tightly, pulling a squeak out of you as he gives you a squeeze. The pressure, along with his naturally high body temperature is comforting. Pair that with his general earthy-musky smell and you’re in sensory heaven.

Pulling away, you are left feeling more grounded than before. “Let’s not keep them waiting them, aye love” placing his hand on the small of your back, he leads you inside to a table where three dog-hybrids sit.

A Doberman-hybrid, with blond hair and brown eyes, wearing a dark hoodie and medical mask.

A German shepherd-hybrid, with dark curly hair, deep brown eyes and a trimmed moustache.

And a Cane Corso-hybrid with a brown mowhawk, and fresh cut facial hair.

“Evening lads” John pulls out your chair, before sitting down beside you. “It’s good to see you cap” the German shepherd-hybrid pats him on the shoulder. “I knew they couldn’t break you” the Cane Corso-hybrid smiles wildly at him, his thick Scottish accent echoes in your mind. The Doberman-hybrid doesn’t say anything, but raises his beer to his friend.

“So.. this is the lass taking care of you” the Corso looks at you eagerly. “Easy there Soap” John warns him.

“This is (Y/N), she’s my guardian now”, you smile at them shyly, suddenly forgetting your nerves “Hi, it’s nice to meet you guys”.

The three men size you up, the Scott sniffing the air intently. “This is Kyle or Gaz, Simon also known as Ghost, and..” “And I’m Johnny, or Soap if you’d prefer” he winks at you, offering his hand. Kyle scoffs at him “Control yourself mate”.

You laugh nervously, shaking his much larger and rougher hand “You guys have such interesting nicknames”

Johnny chuckles “Aye, you wanna know how I got mine”. Kyle groans. “She doesn’t give a shit mate” Simon grumbles, shaking his head, “It’s cause I can clean up the enemy” he boasts, flexing his pecs at the table. Mostly at you though. You and John laugh at their drunken antics.

The atmosphere was light tonight, with good drinks and easy conversation, you get along with John’s pack easily. However all those drinks have to catch up with your bladder at some point. “Excuse me for a moment” you whisper to John, who nods in acknowledgment. Getting up, you make a B-line for the bathroom.

John turns to his pack once you’re out of hearing range, “I need you lads to do me a favour” he says, his voice suddenly becoming serious. The three hybrids shift at their friend’s sudden change in attitude. “Whatever you need cap, we’ve got you” Johnny responds.

“I need you to deal with someone who’s bothering her. He’s becoming a problem” John explains. “Human?” Simon asks, John nodding in response. “Sounds easy enough then” Simon chuckles.

“She can’t ever know though, got it?” John stares at each of them with a hard glare. They all nod in agreement.

“So.. have you two mated yet?” Johnny grins cheekily at his pack mate. “Piss off” John barks, causing the table to erupt with laughter. “I fuckin bet that you two won’t last more than two weeks without doin it” Johnny teases.

“Leave him alone Johnny, you’re fuckin drunk” Kyle points at him from across the table.

“You’re wrong..” Simon says, capturing their attention, “They won’t last more than one week”.

The men laugh loudly as you approach the table, letting out a long yawn as you sit back in your seat, the day finally catching up to you. "Seems like it's time for us to go lads" John says, rising from his chair he lends you a hand to stand. "Oh I'm fine if you want to stay out longer" you respond. "Nah It's getting late, we should head in too lass" Johnny insists. Shrugging, you take Johns' hand and stand up.

The groups shares some quick goodbyes before parting ways. The journey back home was a blur, stumbling through the door you kick off your boots before trudging tiredly upstairs. John following close behind. Entering your room, you quickly change into your nighties, ready to jump straight into bed.

However, a knock at your bedroom door interrupts you. Opening it up, John stands there awkwardly “I just wanted to say that I’m grateful for tonight love. Thank you”.

You pout at him, feeling tired, drunk, and sentimental. “Oh John, it’s alright” you mumble, as you cuddle up to him for another hug. Hugging status unlocked. His strong arms embrace you again, rubbing comforting circles on your back. The sensation causing your eyes to droop and body to relax into him “You’re not falling asleep are you?” His hot whisky breath fans across your face.

You grunt in response, causing him to chuckle.

He leads you back to your bed, opening up the covers for you to crawl under. You, letting out little giggles, as he tucks you in and kisses your forehead. “Good night love” he whispers to you, before sneaking out of the room.

John wanders off to his own room, settling in his bed for the night. His thoughts drift back to his friends and what they said earlier. They were wrong. John intended on waiting for you. He was a patient man, and knows that the best things in life take time to grow. And he was more than willing to wait for someone as good as you.

[cod-dump]

Sickness

PriceGraves, NikPriceGraves

___

Graves doesn't get sick easy. He has a very strong immune system. Yet when he does get sick...

"Remember hot summer days with a flat beer? Steaks on the grill, cicadas screaming. I miss those days... Will I ever see them again?"

"For fuck's sake, Phil, you're not dying."

Price has never met a man, a soldier, so dramatic while having the flu. You would believe he was dying, with a red nose while spread out in bed like he was trying not to smother. It was pathetic. Nik was whiny but at least he didn't try his damnedest to convince his partners he was dying.

"I could use affection," Graves whined, making a weak attempt at trying to grab Price.

"You could use medicine, soup, and sleep."

He stepped away and Graves fucking sobbed. Price had to remind himself he loved this man, no matter how annoying he could be. Price turned back around and leaned over, pressing a kiss to Graves' forehead. Damn he was burning up.

"You definitely need medicine."

Graves grunted as Price left to get some. He already had soup simmering on the stove, clean sheets in the dryer, a load with pajamas in the washer. He had to check on Graves at least every twenty minutes or he would start whining about being 'abandoned'. He was starting to compete with Nik on clinginess.

Price checked the soup, it smelled bland yet good. He didn't want to upset Graves' stomach after he noticed him dry heaving earlier that morning. The sheets were done drying and Price took them out and folded them. They would replace the current bed sheets after Graves takes a bath and changes his clothes.

"Joooohn," came the whine and Price sighed. He quickly shoved the wet pajamas in the dryer before returning to den of the dying man.

"I'm hungry," he didn't even cross the threshold when Graves cried.

"Soup is almost done. How about a bath first?"

It was like he had a toddler. Graves grumbled a 'no' and turned away from him. Price sighed, Nik was never this bad.

"Bath, then you can put clean clothes on, eat, and get in a nice clean bed."

Graves grumbled again, not making an effort to move. Price decided he was going to have to move him himself. He's been wanting manhandle him since he started the 'I'm dying' shit. Price left to run the bath, warm with soap, before he braces himself and returned to grab the man it was made for.

"Phillip," the sweet approach first, typically he hadn't need to go past it, "A bath will help make you feel better."

Graves seemed to melt with his tone, it might just work. So Price gently took his shoulders and coaxed him into sitting up and moving to the edge of the bed.

"Come on, love."

Graves was easy after that, he went to the bathroom without issue, only some hesitance to take his clothes off and get in the bath. Once he was settle Price gathered the sweaty night shirt and pants and threw them in the hamper.

"I never had such an issue of getting you out of your clothes."

Graves snorts, settled in the water and visibly relaxing. Price assumed it would be safe to leave him there while he finished the laundry and got the soup off the stove and into a bowl.

"I'll be right back, don't forget to clean your hair."

Price chose to not acknowledge the glare coming from Graves as he left the bedroom. Pajamas were clean and folded, he set a set aside to give to Graves to change into. A portion of soup ladled out for Graves, it would be cooled enough for him to eat by the time he was out of the bath.

Conveniently, he had a moment to breathe. No whining Graves, laundry done, no soup cooking. A true moment of silence. Then his phone rang. Price admits he groaned in frustration.

He grabbed his phone from the table and answered without looking, "Price speaking."

"My love!"

Price couldn't help the smile twitch onto his lips, "Yes, Nikolai?"

"You don't sound very happy to hear from me," god he could practically hear the pout.

"Sorry, dear, but I've been a bit preoccupied with a very needy Phil."

Nik laughs gleefully. Graves had gotten sick only once before since he got with them, Nik had the pleasure of caring for him while Price was on duty. Price mocked him when he told him about Graves' over the top dramatics while stuck with a cold. Now he was realizing his husband was, in fact, not exaggerating.

"Give him kisses for me. I'm still in Moscow. Not sure when I'll be home."

"You can give him your own kisses, he's been living off mine just fine."

Nik laughs, Price smiling at the sound. He saw Graves walk out of the hall, naked, in a half-asleep state. Price tried to suppress his sigh.

"Love, pants."

"WHAT!?"

Graves was dazed, looking at Price with a pitiful look, "Where's the PJ's?"

Price motions to the set he left aside for him before returning to his call with his husband.

"I have to go, have to make sure this gremlin eats."

"Fuck you," Graves muttered half-heartedly as he weakly grabbed the pajamas next to Price, dressing himself slowly.

"Fine fine, I will leave you be."

Price snickers, "Phil, Nik's on the phone."

Graves waddles over and leans against Price, reaching for the phone. Price let him take it, holding him by the waist. Graves practically melted against him as he mumbled into the phone.

"You should be here."

Price could faintly hear Nik reply sweetly, "I will be soon! I will come with plenty of kisses!"

"Promise?"

"Of course, любимый."

Graves hums, satisfied. He gives the phone back without another word and slips out of Price's hold, heading straight to the kitchen.

"I think he's done for now. Love you, travel safe."

"I'm flying, I'll be fine."

Price laughs before the call ended. He watches Graves take the bowl set aside for him and slumps over it, face stuck in the bowl, spoon laying forgotten by the bowl. Price groans, he's drinking it like a dog.

"Phillip-"

This was going to be a long week if he doesn't get better immediately tomorrow.

[wtfsteveharrington]

love love love your writing, could you do something with luca? maybe reader gets hurt in the kitchen and he has to help her

a/n: thank you so much :’) i went a different kitchen than you meant probably but i hope u like <33

warning!! contains non-graphic mentions of accidental cuts, blood, and a physical injury.

The apartment is peaceful. Candles lit, soft music playing from a playlist you both curate, and it was pretty enough outside to leave the windows cracked open for a breeze.

You’re turning around with a stack of t-shirt’s in your arms, only half paying attention when you feel yourself bump into something that promptly shatters to the ground and disrupts the peaceful environment.

“Shit!” You both echo at the same time from being startled.

Luca’s wrapping a towel around his hand, leaving everything in the kitchen behind as he hunts you down. “Darling? What happened? Are you alright?” He took just enough time to realize that the knife had gotten him when he jumped, acknowledged he was alright, and quickly went to check on you. You’d always come on the top of his priority list.

You’re standing in a pile of glass, a deep set frown on your lips as you look around at mess made by a broken vase. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I was trying to put away our laundry and forgot I moved the vase to the edge of the dresser earlier when we were cleaning. Just caught the corner and it fell.”

Looking up at him with a little pout, “I’m sor-“

You’ve honed in on his towel wrapped hand, the hint of blood soaking through the thin material.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Absolutely fucked my hand.” He gives you some sort of ‘What can you do’ look while shrugging his shoulders. Luca has had his fair share of kitchen incidents and was much more accustom to injuries. It was deep enough to need stitches, just needed to be rinsed and bandaged.

You, however? Very much not used to seeing your boyfriend like this.

A gasp falls from your lips as you rush over to grab his wrist, taking a peek under the towel and wincing. “Luca!” He doesn’t have time to respond before you’re dragging him back into the kitchen to get him taken care of.

You’re standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the sink, trying to fight the urge to panic at the sight of him injured due to a mistake you made. He can see the way your face is all twisted up with concern and he hates it.

“M’alright… Done much worse to myself before. Won’t even leave a scar.” A scar? You frown more as you make sure the cut is clean and step back to go fish out the first aid kit from the bathroom.

“Stay put, please.”

Luca, a man, stands there as he’s told but does admire the sway of your ass as you barrel away. He then gets to admire the swell of your cleavage under your top and - “Shit!” He hissed out as you’re grabbing his hand again to apply a bit of ointment.

“Shoulda paid less attention to my boobs and you would have seen this coming.” You tease while trying so hard to keep the mood as light as you can muster. There was still a course of guilt running through your veins as you continue patching him up.

“I truly am fine, you know? Comes with the job territory. Won’t be the last time I get cut.” He leans in to press a tender kiss to your head and you gravitate towards the touch. You know it’s not a life or death situation but between being embarrassed over both breaking the vase and indirectly injuring Luca you were a little solemn to say the least.

“I know, just hate I caused this.” The bandaid is smoothed over his skin and you give it another once over before bringing it to your lips, kissing over the bandaid. Luca allows you to continue fretting over the injury for a moment until he’s moving his hand to cup your jaw and make look up at him.

“It was an accident, no?” You both nod. “Exactly… I’m fine, you’re fine, we’re both fine. Don’t want you beating yourself up over this.”

You take a deep breath and allow his words to sink in for a moment before nodding once again. Eyes flickering up to his before you lean in and press a tender kiss to his lips. “M’sorry you got hurt…” Another kiss. “Was kinda hot how well you handled it though.”

Luca laughs against your mouth, a wide grin on his features as he feels your anxiety finally start to settle. He steals one more kiss before stepping back to acknowledge the state of the kitchen, giving your waist a squeeze before he goes.

He glances over the cutting board that was the culprit of injury and the food that started to burn while he was tended to. Shrugging his shoulders, turning to smirk at you with pure love and devotion in his eyes.

“Fuck it, let’s go have a date night out instead.”

A hand claps against the flesh of your ass as he passes you to go get changed.

[archangeldyke-all]

can you write something about sevika getting chubbier by skipping the gym because she's focusing on you and other priorities in her life. and finding out she's pleasantly surprised by the extra weight

YES I FUCKING CAN!!!!!!!

men and minors dni

since you've moved in together six months ago, sevika's put on some weight.

she's a tall woman, and she's ripped with muscle, so it's hard to tell at first. but... over time you begin to notice a bit of a change.

her hips are a little plusher beneath your grip, her ribs aren't visible anymore, her sharp jawline gets a little softer.

it makes you so fucking happy.

when you first met her, the woman barely ate. besides whiskey and bar nuts, her appetite mostly consisted of eating whatever scraps jinx leaves behind on her plate after lunch.

you made it a habit to shove snacks in her hands at any chance you got. trail mix, granola bars, sliced fruit: just whatever you had near you that you could give her. she always digs in without hesitation, never tries to deny the food, so you start shoving snacks in her pockets when you do her laundry, and her beg when she's not looking.

as you guys grew closer, sevika started blowing off her nightly visits to the gym to visit with you instead. you asked her once over dinner if she missed her hobby, and she'd just shrugged, smiling at you. "i'll still get a pretty good workout in with you once we get home, babe." she teased. you snorted and elbowed her, shoveling another bite of cake in her mouth, and she smirked as she spoke around a glob of chocolate frosting. "gym's not as fun as you, anyways."

she's still just as strong as she was before; if anything, the extra fat on her body just gives her more fuel to last longer during her fights-- more padding to block and diffuse her opponent's blows.

as much as you love the visual confirmation that you're feeding your girl properly, and she's treating herself a little softer these days; most of the time you don't even notice the weight gain. it's still sevika: the love of your fucking life. she's never brought it up to you, and you've never brought it up to her.

but now, she's standing in front of the mirror, pouting down at her pants.

you blink up from you book and watch her for a second, her hand groping the little pouch of fat she's put on her lower stomach. her lips twitch up at the side just a bit, just for a second, but it still makes your heart flop over to see.

"sev?" you ask.

she turns around to look at you. "my pants don't button anymore." she pouts. you chuckle, making grabby hands for your girlfriend from your shared bed. sevika launches herself in your arms without hesitation. she huffs against your tits, nuzzling your chest.

"i'll alter 'em for you. i know how attached you are to those dusty things."

sevika chuckles, pinches your side before she glares at you. "you like these dusty things too-- they show off my ass."

"mmhmm, real well." you say, nodding and smacking her ass on top of you. sevika giggles and collapses against you again.

she's quiet, drawing a pattern on your skin with her finger. you know she's got something on her mind, you just wait patiently for her to find the words.

"y'know i've gained, like, forty five pounds since we met?" she asks.

you raise an eyebrow at her.

"yeah?" you ask, trying to read her mood. sevika smiles.

"yeah." she says. "i've always been skinny-- at least, since i started puberty. i was a chunky kid, though." she chuckles. you grin at the image of a chubby baby sevika toddling around.

"are you... upset?" you ask quietly.

sevika chuckles. "fuck no." she says. "it's... nice?" she asks. you grin down at her.

"yeah?"

"yeah. i dunno. it's just... i don't feel like i have to train everyday anymore. i don't feel like a fuckin' failure if i skip a day at the gym. i don't get migraines or hangovers as bad anymore, and..." she trails off, looking away from you. you nudge her, recognizing the flustered look on her face and dying to know what's got her blushing. "i dunno." she whispers, chancing a glance up at you. "when i look down and see my stomach's soft... it just makes me think of all the nice meals i got to eat with you to get this way." she says with a sweet smile.

you choke a bit on your breath, then flip the pair of you over, groaning as you bury your face against sevika's giggling throat. "sev!" you whine.

"what?" she asks, laughing.

"you can't just say sweet shit like that baby, you'll make me cry." you whimper against her.

sevika kisses you head and smacks your ass, her free hand drawing patterns into your back. "you can cry babe. i'll hold you."

this does nothing to stop your tears. you groan and pinch sevika's soft side, relishing in the squeal it pulls from her, and the way her rock-hard abs are covered in a nice layer now-- all 'cause of you.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352 @artinvain

[kittykattropicanna]

it's 2 am and i should sleep but i just read your prison penpal!ghost now it's rotting my brain!!!! ><

reader would so try to send him gifts if they're allowed. special holidays aren't miserable for him anymore as he would be accompanied by reader's sweet little presents!!!

Sleeps for the weak baby, sleep when you’re dead ;)

Of course you're going to look after your man, he does so much for you, the least you can do is send him some money to treat himself!!! maybe a gift or two you dirty girl :3

I know I promised to upload this last night after work but I was sleepy. IM SORRY PLEASE FORGIVE ME

TW: edging, Si fucks himself with your dirty panties, smut, masterbation (Reader and Simon) its just fucking disgusting and dirty, but also kinda sweet <3

PrisonPenPal!Simon masterlist

Regular masterlist

Absolutely, holy shit. After your first phone call, you’re his, he makes that so unbelievably clear through his next letters. :)))

Telling you how much he craves you, how you’re the only thing on his mind, describing in intimate detail how his gonna touch you, kiss you, fuck you :((((

His so fucking desperate for you, to the point he actually gets enraged knowing he can’t touch you. Just the thought of you being on the other side of the wall makes his skin crawl, you’re right there, only thick cement dividing him from you :(( 

Its even worse knowing that he can’t do anything about it >:(

Si’s a problem solver, he prides himself on being able to weasel his way out of practically any situation without a problem, if that’s  reducing his sentence down to basically nothing or getting away with his little late night phone calls with you. He always finds a way to make it work, but for the first time ever, he can’t fix this, his stuck here. No exceptions, no sweet talking to get what he wants, no amount of calculated manipulation could get him out of this situation, and it makes him go absolutely mad. 

At this point he has a year left of his sentence, his so fucking close to being let back into society, so close to finally being with you :(((

Letting his emotions (and dick) cloud his judgment, driving him to think about making stupid decisions such as an attempted jail break would be absolutely the worst idea of his entire life.

Ohhhhh, but its so tempting :(

But it would just put more time between you and him, as much as he wanted you now, he knew it was only going to rip him away from you again in the long run :/

And that’s if his even successful, one night with you would mean the world to him, but it wasn't worth being thrown back in jail, only separating the two of you for longer :(

He just needed to sit tight, let the days roll on and try not to think about your soft moans through the shitty speaker of the prison phone. :(((

He absolutely asked you to be official after speaking to you for the first time. It drives him crazy knowing when guys try and hit on you at the bar, you smile brightly and tell them that you're his, his to keep. 

One of the guards asked him what’s the first thing his going to do when he gets out, with a dopey smile he chuckles a little

“See ma’ missus mate” his so fucking cute, his actually so obsessed with you, so proud that you’re his ;))))

Of course the other inmates wouldn’t know, and technically he most definitely shouldn’t of told a guard, news spreads, but he couldn’t help it, it slipped out, and you know what, he was fucking proud of it :)))

You 100% would send him money and gifts, Si makes a little money, about £35 a week either cleaning, laundry duties, basic maintenance, basically anything the job program can offer him. 

The only issue being when he first signed up, he made sure that all his money was payed into Price’s bank account. He didn’t want to risk using it, the whole reason he started the work program was because he wanted to try and set himself up once he got out, at least have some type of savings waiting for him on the other side. Every now and then he regrets it, but he knows its for the best :/

Learning that Si was so strict with his money that he didn’t treat himself to anything didn’t sit well with you….and its not like you’re struggling financially, you work a good job and your daddy is always willing to send money if you ever needed it!!!!

A hundred odd pounds a month isn’t going to leave any sort of dint in your bank account, so of course your going to send Si some money to treat himself!!! You’re such a sweet, sweet girl :(((, his sweet, sweet girl. 

You start sending the maximum amount each month which comes out to about £150, its the least you can do!! His your boyfriend! he might be a felon, a little perverted and rough around the edges, but to you, his perfect :)))

His so grateful as well :(( treating himself to snacks :((( chocolate bars, skittles and gummy’s, buying himself a book or two, replacing his flat, stained pillow and ratted blankets, getting himself some actually nice soap and a new toothbrush, buying clothes that actually fit him!! 

His muscles have grown so much since being locked up :3 there’s nothing else to do besides lift weights, work and sit around :((((

“Sweetheart, I want ya’ to know, the second I get out of here, imma treat you real nice, give ya’ everything I can, look after ya’, protect ya’”

and

“The minute I get ya’ home, its all about you, yeah? Imma lay ya’ down and eat ya’ like a starved man, overstimulate that little cunt till ya’ beggin’ me to stop, fuck ya’ so deep and hard that you’ll forget ya’ fuckin’ name, whatever ya’ want darlin’ its all yours, been lookin’ after me so well….. imma show ya’ how much I appreciate it, as ya’ can probably tell, i’m more a man of action, poetry an’t ma style baby ;)”

Definitely learns origami from other inmates, makes little paper swans and hearts for you, the paper always being a little stained from his dirty fingers, obvious crease marks showing his folded it the wrong way and had to reattempt :))))

God he knows how to treat a women :33333

But what I really want to get into are the gifts you send him…..;)

As I established in my last fics about you sending things to Si, you absolutely send him innocent gifts. 

Photos, one of your favourite gold necklaces, an oversized tee that smells like your perfume…. Cute little personal things so he can have a piece of you, nothing crazy :3

I feel like you were reading a spicy romance book. It mentioned the main character stealing his lovers used panties out of her dirty laundry basket, very quickly and idea clicked in your brain :((((

You wanted it to be a surprise for him :(((( you didn’t mention it to him in your letters, only telling him your working on a little something that’s crafted just for him ;))

Waking up in the morning you make sure to fuck yourself with your fingers :(( 

Covering your panties with your juices, making sure their absolutely soaked in your cum :((

Rubbing your thighs together while you’re at work, soaking through your panties with your arousal :((( thinking about Si eating your pussy just like he promised while in important meetings, loosing focus…. your boss pulling you aside and asking if you’re okay :(( 

Scrambling to find an answer to explain your distracted behaviour and flushed cheeks >:(

He ends up sending you home because you’re distracting everyone with your aloofness :(( putting the rest of your team behind because you're a selfish girl with a dirty mind >:( can’t even focus in your workplace because Si’s dirty words have taken over every aspect of your thoughts >:(

At the end of the day your panties are ruined with your slick, soaked  all the way through and smelling of your orgasm just like you planned ;))

And when Si received your thong obviously used??? :000000 he let out a low grunt....

Just the idea that you did this for him, fully confirming in his mind that you wanted him, craved him just as much as he craved you made something animalistic set off in his mind….

Because he received your package in the middle of the day, he couldn’t hide and tend to himself like normal >:((((((

He needed you now, he needed to fuck his cock NOW, not wait till his cell mates were asleep, his heavy balls ached and he knew if he didn’t relieve himself soon, his blue balls would become unbearable >:(((( aching and hurting with each step, uncomfortable and frustrated :(

Purposely being a dick and coursing havoc with his inmates so he can be locked up for his disruptive and disrespectful behaviour ;)))))

A shit eating grin when his in handcuffs being walked to his cell, knowing your panties are tucked into his boxers ;))))) his won yet again ;)

Like I’ve said before, and I’ll say it again, he ALWAYS gets what he wants :)))

The second his cell locks his ripping his hard, leaky cock out and wrapping your used panties around himself :((((

Pumping his fat dick, the friction of the fabric making it that much more satisfying :((((

Closing his eyes and imagining you walking around all day, turned on and flustered for him >:((((( the idea of you restricting yourself from fucking other men because you're his, knowing all you want is to be filled with dick, have the feeling of a real cock fucking you, not your cold, rubber dildo >:(

His precum mixing with your juices only turns him on more, knowing that this is the closest he’ll get to fucking your cunt for now :(( 

As his big hands slowly pump his dick, wanting to savour the moment, he lets out animalistic grunts, slowly speeding up and then slowing his pace, he edges himself almost whimpering when he refrains from his release yet again :(((

Something about holding back satisfies him, his training himself for you, getting ready for when he fucks you for the first time, wanting to hold out long enough that he can rip orgasm after orgasm out of you, forming a white rim of your cum around the base of his cock :(((

Grunted whispers of your name falling from his lips as he tries to hold back yet again, legs twitching and face getting hot as uncontrollable ropes of cum finally release from his vainy cock :(((

His never cum that much in his life, your panties damp with his semen, dick so sensitive that even the feeling of the fabric from his boxes makes him flinch >:(((

You’re such a good girl, always knowing how to please him, feels like you know him inside and out already ;)

You just wait until he gets his hands on you sweet girl ;))) 

Y'all are so fucking obsessed with each other I CAN'T

PrisonPenPal!Simon is open for requests so feel free to send them throughhhhh, add to the AU, ask me expand on certain topics, whatever floats your boat >:)

!Disclaimer! - Above is NSFW content - MDNI - If you follow my blog without your age in your bio, you will be blocked - If you are under the age of 18, you are not welcome here, otherwise, enjoy :)

Cat divider sourced by @positively-mine from Pinterest - Pink line divider by @eloquentreverie - MDNI divider by @cafekitsune

Basic blog housekeeping -  fic requests guidelines, boundaries and my rules for minors

[binsito]

Kitty, what're your thots on pervy stepbro!skz? Cause just thinking about it has me going woozi (hehe)

AHHHHHHHHH (those are my thots)

cw: stepcest!!!!!!! dni if uncomfortable, i warned you. proceed with caution,

slight voyeurism/exhibitionism (or mentions of it), mentions of drinking, masturbation, dirty fantasies involving the reader, sex and oral sex (or suggestive scenarios involving it), slightttt noncon situations due to pervertedness, mentions of assplay, cum, all characters are adults who's parents got married later on in their lives (thought i'd clarify just in case). i think i hit the major ones, pls lmk if i missed anything super important

okay bye

bangchan: he is soo sweet. he's incredibly helpful around the house, always offering to clean the dishes after dinner. your mom absolutely loves him. he's perfect, minus his one dirty little habit of asking you to help with the chores. it's not like he needs the help, he just gets a little excited when he sees you bend down to pick something up or go through the laundry because he gets a peek of your pretty thong.

'two of us get things done quicker' he usually says, and of course you don't mind helping him, he's fun to talk to and you also have to carry some of your own weight if you're going to keep living with your mom while attending college.

'i'll treat you for helpin' out' but what he really wants to say is he'll fuck you up against the laundry room's door. couldn't you get the hint? his cock was always rock hard around you, it was painfully obvious. couldn't you hear him through the walls fisting himself while you were both home alone? he didn't care to be quiet at all and he knew you were just choosing to be oblivious.

he was so good! why couldn't you just reward him? he mows the lawn, cooks if he has to, throws out the trash. the least you could do was give your sweet stepbrother your mouth to use around his cock after a long day of hardwork around the house!

and he hates the way you're licking the ice cream he got you for helping. hates the way you look at him and giggle because he knows you know what you're doing to him.

minho: he was bored out of his mind at the wedding reception for your parents. at least his dad was happy for once.

he glanced over and watched you order a drink from the bar, sipping it as you looked towards him. he quickly looked away and chuckled to himself, hoping you didn't notice how his eyes trailed down as he checked you out in your pretty dress. would it be disrespectful to put moves on his new stepsister?

he could ask you to dance, right?

he made his way over to you and leaned against the bar, smiling towards you.

"could i have the pleasure of dancing with you?"

you giggled at him and waved him off, explaining to him that you were to shy to dance.

"well then let's go somewhere private where no one can see us?"

the implications of his words made you flustered. this was your step brother now. did he mean his words in that sense or were you reading into it too much?

(he definitely meant his words suggestively.)

his eyes basically undressing you as you swallowed thickly. he could take you to the family restroom and no one would even know the two of you were missing.

he could easily slip past the huge blend of both families and fuck you outside behind all the cars.

he could make you hold his cum the whole night until your parents went their separate way to their honeymoon together. you could have the whole house to yourselves, fuck on every surface imaginable and no one would ever have a clue.

changbin: he's normally shy, very respectful. very gym oriented - going as far as setting up all his equipment in the garage with your dad's permission. you were interested in his work out routine, asking him if you could join him one day.

he didn't know why that made him so flustered, sputtering while he talked to you and letting you know it was perfectly fine that you used his stuff and joined him. you were surprised how disciplined he was, how heavy he could lift. he was trying hard to keep his composure, trying hard to push down the thoughts he was having of you spotting him.

the idea of you basically straddling his head while he benched was making him see stars. or what if he had you bench press? what if he was the one straddling your head, having you look up at him and see how his cock protruded from his gym shorts, the obvious outline giving away how hard he was.

what if he had you do russian deadlifts, coming up behind you to help with your form, cock brushing up against your ass while he tried explaining how to position yourself properly.

all changbin wanted to do was hold you open over him while he laid on the bench, licking at your cunt eagerly. all he wanted was to take you from behind while you tried to finish doing cable tricep pushdowns.

keyword on tried because he wanted to make sure he'd leave you dumb enough to even forget what number set you were even on.

hyunjin: hyunjin started to catch feelings well after your parents got married, you two just clicked, friendship quickly burning into something so much more.

but he knew you probably wouldn't feel the same, would probably be grossed out by him if he told you he loved you. he didn't want to ruin the family dynamic so he kept his feelings harbored deep within himself.

but his heart absolutely shattered when you brought another boy home, begging him to not tell your mom because you weren't sure if she'd approve of him.

all his hope of maybe one day confessing to you was thrown out the window. did he read you wrong? he could've sworn that maybe there was something there..

and he couldn't sleep that night, tossing and turning as he heard you through the walls, giggling with that other guy and hushing him. warning him that although your parents weren't home - hyunjin was.

but the hushes and scolding did nothing because hyunjin could still hear everything clearly. how you kissed him sloppily, how the bed shifted when he climbed on top of you, how you gasped out when he pressed his cock inside of you.

hyunjin closed his eyes tightly and to save himself from his misery, he pretended it was him between your legs, his hand reaching down to touch himself as he listened in on the both of you. he pretended it was his name that you were chanting. he took note of the pitches of your moans, how they got higher when you were about to cum, how breathy and incoherent you became.

he would do anything to see how your face twisted with pleasure.

at least he could pretend to be the one to bring you to your peak whenever he heard you through the walls.

jisung: living with jisung was definitely something to get used to. unfortunately with the sudden growth of your new family, there was not enough space for both of you to get your own room. you'd be sharing a space until your parents found an adequate place.

jisung didn't mind but you clearly did. having to share the en suite bathroom in the mornings was a challenge.

why did he have to take so long in the damn bathroom?

"jisung! c'mon i'm gonna be late, can't you please hurry up!?"

he always managed to beat you to the bathroon, always waking up early to start his day.

what you didn't know is he was taking care of his aching cock in the shower, fisting himself to the image of you sleeping soundly. he had gotten bold lately, picking the sheets carefully off your body to get a peek at your body, tugging your sleeping shorts to the side to reveal your panties, moving them aside to finally be met with your cunt.

how was it so wet?

could he give it a lick?

he didn't want to be caught.

rubbing himself through his shorts until he couldn't take it anymore, rushing to the bathroom to chase his release.

felix: he knew he shouldn't but he just couldn't help it.

watching you from his bedroom window inconspicuously as you tanned by the pool in your backyard. you looked so pretty, so unaware that he was jerking himself to the sight of you in a skimpy bathing suit. that dumb bikini top leaving little to the imagination, it wasn't your fault you didn't want annoying tan lines. he watched intently as you turned face down in the lounge chair, reaching behind you to untie the straps of your bikini top so they wouldn't leave a pesky mark. you were basically naked, your tits were basically on display for him, couldn't you just sit up and show him? flash him really quickly so he could finish in his hand?

it was torture - having to watch you from afar when he wanted to be down there with you. would you quickly cover up if he were to go join you? or would you barely acknowledge him and continue to enjoy the sun? would you ask him to reapply sunscreen on you? would you let his hands wander, trailing down to your ass to massage them? would you protest if he pulled your thong down or would you let him play with your ass a little?

he wanted you bad.

spurting cum all over himself and making a mess as he let out a loud groan, it must've been loud enough for you to hear and look up from your spot, making eye contact with him through his blinds.

goddammit.

seungmin: your mom wouldn't let you go out to that dumb frat party unless seungmin tagged along and drove you there.

you agreed because you didn't want to lose the opportunity to go talk to that football player you had the hots for.

seungmin thought it was funny, watching you fix your makeup one last time in his car's mirror. there was nothing to fix, you looked perfect in his humble opinion.

he knew you wanted to go to this party because of that guy, he wasn't fond of him at all. you were too good for him and in all honesty, seungmin wanted you for himself.

he wanted you to be his but it was complicated given the fact that your mom was married to his dad.

his advances didn't go unnoticed when he laid his hand on your inner thigh as he drove. impulse thoughts racing through his mind - what if he just turned around right now and took you in his backseat? he wanted to make you forget about that stupid jock.

"minnie?" snapping him out of his thoughts at a red light.

"you're quiet." you choose to say instead of bringing attention to the obvious hand on your thigh

"sorry, just thinking about the one hundred ways i could fuck you and how it would be so much better than that guy you're pining after." he speaks up, driving towards a turn lane to make a u-turn.

jeongin: he always thought you were pretty.

he had seen you around campus but was always too shy to approach you. how would he even start a conversation with you. when his mom told him she had found someone new, he was excited for her but the last thing he ever expected was for the 'someone' to be your father.

you, the girl he so helplessly daydreamed of was soon to be part of his family.

he didn't know if this was a blessing or a curse.

could he push down all the thoughts he's had of you or would he fail miserably. how was he ever supposed to tell you he liked you now?

when your families decided to spend the holidays together, he knew he was going to struggle. cock hard in his slacks as he watched you reapply some lip gloss that had gotten wiped as you drank wine and talked to people.

he felt hopeless.

he decided that socializing would be too much for him in this state of mind so he snuck upstairs, finding his way into your room.

there was a picture of you on your vanity, a pretty bow adorning your hair as you smiled widely. jeongin wanted to make you smile like that, wanted to tell you how gorgeous he thought you were but soon his thoughts became dirty, imagining how he wanted you to smear your lip gloss all over his shaft, peppering his cock with delicate kisses.

he shoved a hand into his pants and pulled his cock out, stroking it gently as he grabbed the photo with his free hand.

fuck, you were perfect to him.. the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

his brain became foggy, only thinking about you and you only as he pumped himself-

"jeongin?" you stood at your door, he nearly jumps out of skin, pathetically cumming all over your photo, face burning hot as he looks over at you.

oh fuck, how was he ever going to live this down? how would he even explain this predicament?

please refrain from reposting, modifying, translating, copying or stealing my work. - © binsito

[astarionbraiinrot]

Last Call

Chapter 6: I Need Some Sleep (Astraea)

(Tarsakh 2, 1493 - 2 Weeks Old)

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I need some sleep

You can't go on like this

I tried countin' sheep

But there's one I always miss

- Eels, I Need Some Sleep

The cats have nestled close to their kittens

The lambs have laid down with the sheep

You are cozy and warm in your bed, my dear

Please, go the fuck to sleep

- Adam Mansbach, Go the Fuck to Sleep

His daughter was crying.

He wishes that this was a new development, but no. No, they’d been at this for… hours? Hours. He’s pretty sure.

Of course, he hasn’t tranced more than one hour in every ten for the last five days, at least, so he wasn’t really sure he could trust his own assessment of how long he’d been walking his screeching daughter in circles through the living room, dining room, kitchen, and back again while she did her level best to melt his eardrums out of his skull.

There was no rhyme or reason to it. She’d been fed. She’d been burped. She’d been changed. She was neither too hot nor too cold. She wasn’t sick. She wasn’t hurt. She wasn’t comforted by her blanket or her little stuffed bat. There were no loud noises keeping her awake, outside of her own crying. He’d rocked her. He’d walked her. Swaddled and unswaddled her. He’d talked, and sang, and begged and pleaded.

But she wouldn’t stop crying.

And he was very sure at this point that if she didn’t stop and go to sleep soon, he was going to start crying.

He didn’t understand! Babies sleep! It’s what they do! They have exactly three activities: Eat! Poop! Sleep! They’re famous for it!

She’s tired! He knows she’s tired! Because he’s tired!

But she

Just.

Won’t.

Sleep.

Five days of this, or maybe six, he doesn’t know because he doesn’t know what day it even is anymore. He’d made a quick run to the market this evening once the sun was down, and returned to find Tav in their bedroom, sat on the floor next to the cradle, face in her hands, weeping as Scratch tried to comfort her and Astraea wailed like the world would end if she stopped.

He hadn’t needed a Speak with Animals potion to understand the “Please make it stop” in the dog’s laid-back ears and pleading whine as he belly-crawled across the floor to Astarion’s feet.

So he’d put Tav to bed, where she’d fallen asleep almost before her head hit the pillow. Then he’d picked up his daughter, brought her downstairs, let Scratch outside, and prepared himself for yet another endless night filled with the sounds of his daughter’s crying and his own bare feet wearing a path in the wood floors.

Pausing in his pacing, he lets out a long sigh and runs a shaking hand through his hair, which he immediately regrets. It’s dirty, the curls falling in stringy clumps, but he can’t remember the last time he even bathed, let alone had the energy to actually do something with it. He’d lost his shirt at some point, having taken it off and tossed it somewhere in the living room when Astraea had spit up on it. He hadn’t bothered to find another; it would just be more laundry to contend with.

Gods, he was a wreck.

“Please, little love, please,” he tries again, rubbing her back, “I know you can’t understand me, but I’m begging you, please go to sleep.”

When that doesn’t persuade her, he tries bargaining.

“I’ll do anything you want. Buy you a pony, topple a government, endure endless circus clown performances. Anything! I’ll promise to give you everything you ever ask for, spoil you rotten and let you turn into a bratty little goblin with no manners or decorum. I’ll let you run wild with Mol’s little gang of thieves, or- or… I’ll give you all my gold and set you loose in a sweetshop. Whatever you could possibly ask for, I’ll do it,” his voice cracks as he presses his face into her hair and whispers, “just please go to sleep.”

His offers fail to entice her, and her wails only grow louder.

“Fine, fine, okay, you don’t even have to sleep!” He tilts his head back, blinking away tears, “Just- just stop crying, please.”

But she doesn’t, and he wonders if this is what insanity feels like.

Looking out the window, he judges it to be somewhere just past midnight, the full moon high in the sky. It’s a lovely night, cloudless, stars shining like diamonds. The trees at the forest’s edge sway gently in the breeze, and just beyond the crying in his ear, his sensitive hearing picks up crickets and nocturnal forest birds calling. It used to be, when he was feeling restless at night, he would walk the game trails for hours in the quiet dark, picking up the occasional snack as he went, until the world didn’t feel like it was pressing in on him so tightly anymore.

He hadn’t done that for a while.

And right now, running out into the forest to hide for a few days or maybe forever was looking more tempting by the second.

He looks down at the girl in his arms. Her tiny hands alternate between clenched fists balled up tight where they press against his chest and uncurling to let surprisingly sharp little nails dig into his skin, leaving angry red marks behind them. Her face is scrunched up, brows furrowed and eyelashes clumped from her tears, chubby peaches-and-cream cheeks gone splotchy red from the force of her wailing her unhappiness for all the world to hear.

Before he even realizes, he’s outside, crying daughter still clutched to his chest, walking up the path from their porch to the street. He’s barefoot, dressed in naught but his sleep pants, and his hair is a mess, and he doesn’t know where he’s even going.

But he walks.

Time passes. Every few minutes, Astraea’s cries start to taper off as if she might settle, and he gets his hopes up that she’ll finally close her eyes and rest. Only for that hope to come crashing down again when, each time, without fail, something sets her off again, and she resumes her crying at full force. He doesn’t even know what’s doing it, at this point. Maybe he stepped wrong on a cobblestone. Maybe a dog barked in the distance. Maybe the light from a tavern window they passed was too bright. Maybe nothing at all. It doesn’t really matter, because the last few days have been ample evidence that she doesn’t really need a reason to be crying anyway.

He walks, fatigue slowly clouding his mind.

And she cries, unwilling or unable to let herself be soothed.

It’s a light in his face and the sharp, sleep-roughened rasp of a familiar voice that snaps the world back into focus, and he finds himself standing on a familiar doorstep, in front of an open door blocked by an even more familiar figure, the lantern in her hand lighting the space between them. Jaheira’s face morphs from tired, to irritated, to concerned as she takes in the exhausted man and screaming child in front of her.

He stands there, bare feet cold on the stone step, the hems of his pantlegs wet and dirty, hair askew, wailing daughter clutched to his chest, unable to speak as he shivers against the night’s early spring chill.

Jaheira reaches for him, a hand placed on his cheek. “What is it, cub?”

After a moment, he manages to choke out a wet, “I don’t know,” before he finally can’t hold the tears in anymore and his sobs join his daughter’s as they fill the night air with their cries.

── ･✩*₊˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖₊*✩･ ──

The next thing he’s aware of is being sat on Jaheira’s couch, a warmed glass of what smells like pig’s blood in his hand, blinking up at Jaheira as she moves around the room with a bouncing sway, talking to the baby in her arms.

“There now, damia,” she coos, “you have been giving your poor Ada and Amme a hard time with all your caterwauling, little gremishka. But it is not so bad as you tell it, I think. Let I’osu hear your troubles, and we shall soon see them set right.”

I’osu. Grandmother. His ears twitch at the word, and there is the briefest flash of memories; warm, weathered hands holding his much smaller ones, kind lavender eyes in a smiling sun-wrinkled face looking down at him, dove-grey hair twisted in an intricate knot, giggles on his tongue and sticky roseapple jam on his cheeks and the smell of freshly baked bread. It’s gone as quickly as it came, but it leaves him with a little knot of warmth in his chest.

He could object to Jaheira’s use of the word. It’s not just any Elvish word for “grandmother,” it’s specifically the Old Elvish term for one’s father’s mother. And she’s not.

But, for some reason, it makes that little knot of warmth burn even brighter.

As if she can hear his thoughts, Jaheira turns and catches his eye for a moment, and when he makes no objections, she continues talking to his daughter. And whatever she’s doing, it’s working, because Astraea’s still awake, but her wailing has quieted to a tired fussing interspersed with little hiccups, and just a few short minutes later her eyes fall closed as she finally, finally, drifts off to sleep.

Jaheira stays where she is for a little longer, swaying in place and softly humming some lullaby, before she whispers that she’ll be back in a moment and carries his daughter upstairs. When she returns empty handed a few minutes later, she pours herself a glass of wine, bringing the bottle with her when she sits down on the couch next to him.

She doesn’t speak, and he’s grateful for that, because after the minor miracle he just witnessed, he might start crying again if she does.

After a while though, she chooses to break the silence with a question. One he hadn’t considered until this very moment.

“Does Tav know where you are?”

“No, she’s asleep, or she was when I left, anyway. I didn’t really plan it, but Astraea just- she just wouldn’t stop, and it’s been days, and so I just… started walking and I-”

Oh.

Oh no.

Shit, fuck, and damn it all to the hells.

He hadn’t left a note or- or anything. Tav was going to wake up to a silent house and her partner and baby missing and absolutely lose her mind, if she hadn’t already!

He drops his head into his hands, the heels of his palms pressing hard into his eyes. “Jaheira, I think I fucked up,” he rasps.

Jaheira laughs and pats his arm. “You did, cub, but considering the circumstances, I think you can be excused this once. And anyway, it is easily corrected.” Standing, she walks over to the desk in the corner, writes something on a piece of paper, and folds it several times. Then, she gives a low whistle, and a rat runs out from her office to where she’s crouched down, taking the folded paper in its mouth when she holds it out. “Take this to Tav in the Outer City. Yellow house, blue door, near the edge of the forest.” Instructions received, the rat scurries out the door, and Jaheira returns to the couch.

She takes another sip of her drink, then begins speaking again. “Now, I think the ‘why’ of what has brought you to my door at such an hour is obvious, so instead I will only tell you that this is normal, and it will pass.”

“NOR-” he starts to yell, but cuts himself off as she shushes him. He waits a moment, but there’s no sounds from upstairs, so he continues. “Normal?!” he hisses, “what do you mean this is normal? Tav was on the edge of a breakdown this afternoon, and the only thing that’s been stopping me from throwing myself into the harbor is the fact that I can’t actually drown! How can this be normal?!”

“I said it is normal, not that it is enjoyable, or easy. Babies pick up on your emotions, and they mimic them. The last few days have been very hard, I am sure. You are tense and overtired, and she can sense that, so she is too.”

“Te-!” He takes a breath and scrubs his hands down his face to keep from exploding, “Jaheira, this has been going on for five, maybe six, days. She’s not even two tenday old! She’s been crying nonstop for almost half her life, I think we’re well past tense!” His voice drops to a growl, “’Tense,’ oh yes, very helpful, thank you so much for the advice!”

Jaheira just clicks her tongue, “Do not take a tone with me, Astarion. I am understanding, but if you wish to bare your fangs, remember that I bite back.”

He bites his tongue in an attempt to stop the scream of frustration that’s building in his chest. When that fails, he grabs a throw pillow from the couch, shoving his face into it as the scream rips from his throat. He stays like that for a while, face pressed tight to the pillow to muffle his voice as he looses every horrible, guilt-inducing thing he’s wanted to yell the last few days.

Jaheira waits until he’s quiet but for the angry breaths he’s heaving into the pillow, then waits a few moments more, before she speaks. “Do you feel better now, cub?”

Her voice is so calm, so unphased as she takes another sip from her drink, and if it weren’t for the fact that she’s apparently some sort of magical baby-whisperer, he’d bite her purely out of spite.

He’s silent for a long minute, and doesn’t bother to lift his head when he finally answers. “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

“Welcome to parenthood. Get used to that feeling, you will be experiencing it far more often than you will like.”

He raises his head after a while, roughly brushing frustrated tears from his eyes. Elbows on his knees, he slumps forward, head hanging as he says, “I just… I didn’t expect it to be easy, I knew it wouldn’t be, but it didn’t expect it to be this hard. Tav and I did everything we could think of, everything, but nothing we did helped, and Astraea just wouldn’t stop, and then I bring her here and you have her asleep in- in minutes. And I love her like I didn’t think I could love anything, I do, but I’ve also had to keep talking myself out of just… sticking her in the coat closet and shutting the door, and what kind of monster does that make me?”

He barks out a little half-mad laugh, “Hells, I’m a vampire, for gods’ sake! And- and I’m a mess! Look at me, a few rough nights and I’ve dragged myself through the city, unwashed and half-naked, because I can’t handle one infant. I’m- I’m irresponsible, emptyheaded, contrary and ill-tempered. Lazy, untrustworthy. The first sign of trouble and I’ve dropped it on someone else, just like I always have.”

“What if…” and he can’t stop the crack in his voice as he finally admits the thing that’s been haunting his thoughts for the last few days, “what if I’m not cut out for this? What if I can’t do it?” He pauses to blink back tears, voice rough from the lump in his throat, “Gods, he was right, wasn’t he? I’m really no good for anything else. No one in their right mind would put me in charge of myself, let alone a child.”

“That is not true, and I will not have Cazador’s falsehoods in your head or in my home,” Jaheira’s voice startles him, sharp as a blade. “The man spoke far too much for someone who never said anything of value, in life or undeath. You have proven him wrong on every count too many times for you to give any import to his words, especially now that you have done the world a service by ridding it of him.”

Jaheira’s sigh is weary as she sets her drink on the side table and turns to him, voice softer now. “You are not alone, cub. It will bring you no comfort, I think, to know that everyone who has ever been given charge of a child has felt this way, but it is true. It is no easy thing, to care for someone who is brand new, whose every experience is both their worst and their best because it is their first, who must be taught how to do all the little things we do with no thought at all.” Her fingers tap a rhythm on her knee as she continues, “You will find that there are many stages in a child’s life that will be difficult, maddening, terrifying, and often times all three. This is merely the first. There will be more. You will not know what you are doing, you will second-guess your every decision, you will feel like you are doing everything wrong, and sometimes you will be. You will make mistakes, and you will lose your temper, and you will say and do things you wish you had not.”

He rubs his tired eyes with a scoff, “Is this supposed to be encouraging?”

“In its own way.”

Her touch is gentle as she takes his chin in her hand and turns his face to look at her.

“You will also learn from those mistakes, cub, and you will try again, and you will do better the next time. Life has been cruel to you, I know, and now may not have been the most ideal time for a child, for you or for Tav, but she is here now, so it is the time you have. You will learn together, grow together, and that is no bad thing. This is your first trial of many, and you have all survived to see another day, so you may count it a success. And I promise, one day, when she has grown like the summer thistles and is off on her own adventures, you will look back and this will not seem so terrible, and you will wonder how the time went by so fast without your notice.”

“And what if…” he drops his eyes to look at his hands, before looking back at her, “what if I was very tempted to leave one of us in the forest, and I wasn’t entirely sure whether it was her or me?”

Her laugh surprises him, and she lets go of his chin as she turns and reaches for her drink. “Then I would say you are in good company.” She takes a sip and continues, voice almost wistful, “Rion was only four days old when she came to me. This was long after Khalid had died, so it was just the two of us, rattling around this house. Oh, she was a fitful, angry little thing, no less demanding or opinionated then than she is now. She did not give me more than an hour’s peace at a time for two tenday, and I do not think I got even a half-night’s rest for the first three months.” She laughs a little at the memory. “I must have cried almost as much as she did, and there were many days where I found myself wanting to set her on the porch and go hide in the basement.”

“That desire goes away eventually,” she says with a wink. Then, tossing back the rest of her drink, she shrugs. “Mostly.”

He doesn’t know how long they stay there on the couch, but he must fall into his trance at some point, because the next thing he knows he’s awakened by the weight of a packed backpack being dropped into his lap, courtesy of Jaheira, who’s standing in front of him with a sleeping Astraea in a sling on her chest.

“Carry that,” she commands, nodding at the bag, “dawn is in half an hour, and my rat has not returned, so either it has been eaten or Tav is spoiling it with snacks as we speak.”

It takes him a second to make sense of the words, and by the time he’s on his feet, bag clutched in one hand while the other scrubs the sleep from his eyes, Jaheira is already walking out the door.

His tongue stumbles over too many questions as he catches up to her, following her down the steps and out into the street. “Wait- what- where-” He decides to start with the easiest one, holding up the bag as he jogs to keep up with her brisk pace, “What is this for?”

“To carry my things.” Her tone tells him she thinks that that should be obvious.

“Well, yes, but why am I carrying it?”

“Because my hands are full with your child.” Okay, fair, she has him there

 “But… why do we need it?”

Here she finally turns her head to look at him, “Unlike you and the rest of our former campmates, my days of parading around camp in the nude are long past me, so I will need something to wear during my stay.”

“Your stay? … At our house?”

She huffs out a laugh, amused. “Yes, little vampire, at your house.”

And it’s not that he minds, but, “…Why?”

“Because you and Tav need help, and when you came to me that day in the Elfsong, I promised to help you.” She slows her walking as she turns her head to look him in the eye. “I apologize that I have not done so already. I know what it is like, how difficult the first few tenday are, and I should have made an effort to check on you three rather than waiting for you to come to me.”

He wasn’t expecting an apology, so he doesn’t have a better response than, “It wasn’t your responsibility.”

“Maybe, but I am making it my responsibility now. It is often said that it takes a village to raise a child, and that is certainly not a requirement, but it never hurts to have an extra pair of hands to help. So, I will stay for as long as you need me.”

And just like that, he feels a knot unclench in his stomach and a weight lift off his shoulders. Jaheira knew what she was doing, and she was right, it would be nice to have another person there to help. Someone who could be there with Tav while he went hunting, or be there with him while Tav went on a walk. Someone to keep an eye on Astraea while they got some much needed rest, or help them clear the laundry pile that had been left untended for the last tenday, or just reassure them that they weren’t irrevocably fucking everything up.

Someone who actually knew how to cook and could maybe teach the pair of them, because gods knew that they were both useless in the kitchen and Tav had been living entirely on sandwiches since Astraea was born because it was the only thing either of them could make and the one time they’d tried to use the stove they’d nearly set the house on fire.

Tav was going to be ecstatic.

Dawn is just starting to wash the stars from the sky when they reach his front door, and a question from earlier pops back into his mind as he holds it open for her to walk through and follows her in.

“Jaheira?”

“Yes, cub?”

“Did you actually used to parade around camp in the nude?”

Her answering laugh tells him nothing, but as they make their way up the stairs, he decides they can wait to revisit the subject until after he’s spent the next twelve hours unconscious.

Next Chapter

[ceasarslegion]

Please tell me about the guy in your college dorm who got scurvy, I love a good modern day scurvy story. Like bro, have a delightful lemon-parm chicken

So in uni I lived in a co-ed dorm building where we had single-person rooms and shared a common room, washrooms/showers, laundry, and a kitchen. We also had a dining hall that we could purchase meal plans from (which i also had all 4 years, because i juggled full time school and 2 jobs at the same time. I did NOT have the time to cook for myself and I would not have done so in that kitchen to be frank). The building was split up into a bunch of different houses which we took personality quizzes to get assigned to in order to limit the amount of conflicts that would happen in this living situation. I was put in the smallest house (there were only 20 of us) and it was full of real chill like-minded people who liked to watch movies with me. This guy was the next door away from me, but wasn't my immediate next door neighbour because the stairwell broke up our house down the middle.

He was the house shut-in. He didn't really join any of the hang outs in the common room, or go out clubbing with us, he just kinda shut himself in his dorm room and never came out. Eventually we stopped slipping invitations to things under his door like we did with everyone else because there was no point. But I saw him in the dining hall and I saw him swiping a meal card a few times so I knew he was on the meal plan, meaning i KNEW he had access to fruit and veggies and even just like, juice. The food wasn't good but you had all the opportunities in the world to make it good FOR you, if that makes sense.

One of my jobs at this point was as an overnight security guard for an apartment building. I would come back around 4am and then crash out until 11 or 12 and then go to my afternoon and night classes. This is relevant because I was coming back into the building after a shift once in full uniform while he was sitting on the front steps and looking like he was hungover to the point of near-unconsciousness. I ask if he's feeling okay, if he needs anything, he waves me off and says he just needs some air. I'm like okay well, you know which doors mine if you change your mind bud.

He was an enigma who never spoke to us so I waved the situation off as too much college partying or something.

Over the next few days this becomes a common sight among everyone, who says they would also come back from their part time jobs or outings to him nearly passed out on a courtyard bench or something, a few people said they heard someone throwing up in our floor's shared bathroom.

About a week later I come back from my shift as usual and crash in bed until noon, expecting to wake up and go to my classes as usual. I grab my school bag and throw my regular coat and boots on and walk to class. I liked to sit in the back of that lecture hall because that prof had a rule that you were allowed to eat in his class as long as you sat in the last 3 rows, so I'd bring my breakfast and coffee in one of the dining hall to go boxes. I did not end up eating my breakfast or drinking my coffee.

In fact I did not make any notes on my laptop.

In fact, the house discord server blew up while I was asleep.

This guy, this fucking guy, had gone to our don (RA, basically) and told her he needed to go to the ER and then passed out on her couch. She doesn't have a car because none of us did, so everyone who was there and awake ended up dragging him to the closest hospital that was a few blocks away from campus on foot. Why they did not call an ambulance or at least an Uber is beyond me, but panic does weird things to people.

Reading through this in the corner of my eye before class starts, I have forgotten about class entirely. I have forgotten about my breakfast and my coffee. A few people were asking if they should ask for the don's master key and wake me up, thinking that i might have training in these things from what my job was (i did), and then others shut them down saying "no, let him sleep. He gets home at 4:30 in the morning" (WHY DIDNT YOU WAKE ME UP I WOULDNT HAVE CARED IF YOU SAID SOMEONE WAS HAVING A MEDICAL EMERGENCY. I COULDVE AT LEAST KEPT YOU ALL CALM AND DELEGATED TASKS)

I send a message in just saying "guys I'm up now what is going on" with an @everyone attached.

Instantly get "several people are typing." That's never a good sign.

So this guy was in the ER for hours getting IV-fed. Because he had scurvy. And they had to vitamin C infuse him. Because he hadn't eaten a single fruit or vegetable or anything derived from a plant the entire school year. He got SCURVY. IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2019.

Bro eat a fruit. EVER?? But he just didn't. He just never did. He had fucking scurvy. He passed out and had bleeding gums and his teeth almost fell out. Because he had scurvy.

He did not come back the next school year because his parents pulled him out of the dorms on the basis that he couldn't be trusted to take care of himself after that incident. And I do not blame them at all. Ma'am your kid can't be trusted to eat one (1) orange all year.

[littleadaline]

Once Upon A Time [P.G6]

Warnings: NOOOOONE [just fluff] Uncle!Gavi

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: Took me 3 miserable days to figure out the ending but here she is! Enjoy 😽

———————————————————-

The house was awfully quiet. Putting your bag down in the entryway, you made your way to the living room. To your surprise, the tv was on, an unfinished game of FIFA left on pause. Your boyfriend’s slippers were next to the couch, a sign that he wasn’t far away.

“Gavi? I’m home!”, you called out but no response. Your heartbeat quickened, fearing the worst. Unsure, you made your way upstairs as silently as possibly. If Gavi felt like fooling around, you wanted to catch him in the act and save yourself the lame excuses. Entering your shared bedroom, you took notice of the mess that had replaced the neat room you had left in the morning. “What the fuck is going on?”, you said to yourself as an expression of confusion replace that of fury on your face. Perplexed by the events, but exhausted from your day, you began to undress, peeling off your work attire for a pair of Gavi’s sweater and a pair of worn-out sweatpants. A shuffle coming from the hallways made you stop halfway. 

“Gavi? Is that you?”. No sound was heard, aside from the buzzing of the AC, working overtime to keep up with the Barcelona weather. 

Having had enough of the mess, you grabbed your clothes and headed down to the laundry room, simply wanting to put away the eyesores that were the scattered clothes. Turning on the light in the laundry room, a small giggle came out of the hamper. Concerned, you grabbed the first item you could get your hands on, fearfully approaching the laundry basket. Peeling away the layers of clothes, your hand came in a contact with something soft… hair? 

“Joder! What the fuck!”, you yelled out in shock. As quickly as your hand retracted, the small figure of a child jumped out. The brunette-haired child stared at you; a grin as wide as the world highlighting her missing front tooth. “Beatriz! ¿Qué haces aquí?”, you asked the toddler, your heartbeat slowly getting back to normal. 

“Tia Y/N! You’re home! Uncle Gavi and I are playing hide and seek…. Shhh.”, she said, placing her chubby finger on your lips in an attempt to shut you up. 

“¿Beatriz? Where are you?” a man’s worried voice rang through the house. Soon enough, Gavi was running down the stairs to the laundry room, where he found the toddler in your arms. 

“Playing hide and seek, huh?”, you teased your boyfriend. 

“I… I euh, can explain!” He said, embarrassingly rubbing his head. 

“It’s because tío Gavi kept beating me at FIFA. He’s a bully.” Beatriz ratted out your boyfriend. 

“Alright missy, enough mischief for today. How about a quick nap before supper?” Gavi didn’t wait for Beatriz to answer, swiftly whisking her away upstairs for her afternoon nap. After untying her pigtails for maximum comfort while she slept, he quickly kissed her on the forehead before closing the door of your shared bedroom. Jogging back downstairs, he found you cleaning the remnants of their afternoon. 

“How was work?” He said kissing your temple. 

“Not bad! We met our new project leader today. She seems very… energetic, to say the least,” you said, sighing. “She’s invited the team for an introductory supper, next week or so. Please be my plus one! You know how I feel about work dinners.” You whined into his arms. Gavi chuckled. 

“Vale princesa, I will be your plus one. By the way, sorry I didn’t tell you that Beatriz was staying over. Aurora and Javi had a work emergency out of town, and Bee was already at daycare. I picked her up and brought her here.” Gavi said, snaking his arms around your waist and planting a kiss on your neck. 

With Beatriz napping, you and Gavi got started on supper. Pulling the final touches of the dish, you heard Gavi’s footsteps followed by the tiny patters of Beatriz. 

“Look who’s up! How did you sleep, princess?” You asked the toddler while placing her in her highchair. 

“Muy bien!” Her face still bared pillow marks, an indication of excellent sleep. Her hair, while still short, was fusing in any and all directions, making it resemble the mane of a lion. Pushing away the brown locks, you handed her her plate. 

“Blow on the food, Bee. Like this.” You showed the toddler before handing her the spoon. 

Supper went down smoothly, with the light chatter of Beatriz filling the room. Chuckling, you got off your chair to pick up the leftover dishes. 

“Let me.” Gavi stopped you, taking away the plates from you. “Bee needs help brushing her teeth. Can you please help her out? Aurora and Javi won’t make it for tonight. Traffic is too intense, so she’s sleeping here. “I’ll make you a cup of tea once you’re done.” He said, quickly kissing your lips. 

“Come on Beatriz, let’s go brush our teeth!” You grabbed your niece by her hand, slowly leading her upstairs. Kneeling down in front of the bathroom cabinet, you pulled out the basked you kept in the case Beatriz slept over. Shampoo, hairbrush, hair ties, toothbrush-. Content, you grabbed her Spider Man toothbrush before handing it to her. 

Downstairs, Gavi had finished cleaning up the dinner table, slowly putting away the now clean dishes. The cup of tea he had promised you was cooling off on the coffee table. 

Back in the bathroom, Beatriz engaged in chatter, something the entire family was used to. After she was done, you led her to the guest bedroom, where you handed her some pj’s you had kept from her last visit. Admiring Olaf on her robe, Beatriz rubbed her eyes, defeated by her need to sleep. 

“Come on Bee, we have time for a bedtime story. Why one would you like me to read?” You said shuffling through her books. 

“How did you and tío Gavi meet?” 

Taken aback, you put down the books on the nightstand and snuggled in. 

“Well, my oh my, let’s see if I remember correctly….” You giggled. “Vale, it was 5 years ago, we were both 19.” 

“This many?” Beatriz interrupted, showing you the numbers with her fingers. 

“Correct, Bee! Where was I? So, 5 years ago, I met your uncle through your mamá. We had a similar class during university, and one day, my bus was late. We had a presentation that morning, and your mom was so so stressed. Obviously, she didn’t take it well when told her I was gonna be late. So, she sent your tío to pick me up-“ 

“And it was love at first sight,” a man’s voice interrupted your tale. Gavi joined you on the bed, his arms around your shoulders. 

“No, it wasn’t,” you giggled. “We didn’t like each other at first, your uncle was a bit cold.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t say cold, per say… more like, intimidated.” He reiterated. 

“Anyways, I forgot my phone in his car and Aurora gave him my address. He knocked while I was making dinner, and I ended up inviting him in. During dinner, a thunderstorm came over the city, and he spent the night at my place. We watched movies, had a mini party with music and my mini projector. Long story short, he asked me out a few weeks later after hanging out together during all our possible free time.” 

“Been in love with my nena since day one”, Gavi said, kissing you tenderly. 

“Ewwww” 

“Vale princesa, you’ve got daycare tomorrow and I’m driving you on my way to practice. So, it’s lights out and away we go.” Gavi said, kissing his niece’s head, followed by you. “Buenas noches princesa”. 

“Buenas noches.” Beatriz answered sleepily. 

[monsterswithimagines]

Sailor Song (Nathan's pov) - part 3

Nathan Young x Female!Reader

Summary: After Nathan is buried alive, things aren't all rainbows and unicorns for him. One night, after a particularly bad nightmare in which he's back in his coffin all over again, he calls his ex–you.

Masterlist

~

Another restless night.

It was a Saturday, and the community centre had that lonesome feeling to it that it always did on weekends–abandoned. Even the emergency lights, which during the week would at least light up the hallways at night, were off. Everything was completely dark save for some lights coming in through the windows.

Nathan came awake clawing at his own throat. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust, and it was only when he noticed the ceiling–far away from him, not just a hand’s width above his eyes–that he remembered he was no longer buried.

His heart still pounding, he became gradually aware that his panicked breathing was not the only noise up on the mezzanine. His phone was buzzing somewhere.

He reached blindly for it, answering without glancing at the screen.

“H’llo?” he muttered into the phone, still not really breathing right.

“Hey.”

Nathan sat up, but made himself stay on the thin mat that served as his mattress because it was ridiculous to go running from his own bed every night, and glanced at his phone screen. Then, he pressed the phone back to his ear, frowning.

“(Y/n)?”

“Did I wake you?” you asked. You sounded… not quite right, but Nathan couldn’t put his finger on what was wrong.

“No,” Nathan lied.

He hadn’t rang you yet, though this time he’d really been planning to. It was just that another superpowered freak had got in the way, and then his mum had had him over for tea (and to do his laundry) and apparently she and Jezza were getting married–

So that had been a thing.

He’d had a very busy week, was the point. And that wasn’t even counting the fact that he’d also died again. Twice. Once because he’d been murdered, and then once because he’d slipped in the shower, which had been dumb.

Still, he hadn’t expected you to beat him to actually picking up the phone. He hadn’t thought you’d bother to ring him at all. Hadn’t the ball sort of been left in his court?

On your side of the line, you sniffed, and Nathan realised all at once why you’d sounded off.

Your voice had been thick from crying.

“Sorry,” you said, as if you knew he’d now realised you were snivelling in his ear. “I didn’t know who else to call…”

“What’s wrong?” Nathan asked, biting back his instinct to joke that there were probably thousands of different people you could have gone to before thinking of him.

You took a shuddering breath. There was a police siren in the background. It was far away, then closer, then far away again. You were outside somewhere, which wasn’t too strange for you, but you didn’t sound like you’d been partying. Why were you outside in the middle of the night if you weren’t out with mates?

“Things are just so fucked right now,” you finally said. “I did something bad.”

“Been there,” Nathan said, hoping he sounded at least a little soothing.

You made a choking noise, either holding back a laugh or a sob, and then breathed deeply again. “I really am sorry I woke you.”

“I told you, ya didn’t,” Nathan insisted. “Honestly, I was awake, watching violent gay porn and cranking.”

“C– cranking?”

“It’s a crying wank,” Nathan said, puffing up his chest to add a bit of bravado to his voice. He faked a sob and mimed wanking off, even though you couldn’t see him. "It blends emotion with pleasure."

“You never change, do you?” you asked, sounding tired.

“It’s my gift and my curse.”

You cleared your throat. “Well, I should go.”

“What? No phone sex?” Nathan asked, flopping back against his mattress. Hearing your voice had made him feel better, his dream now hovering only at the edges of his awareness. “Or y’could come over and we could have a proper shag.”

“Bye, Nathan.”

You hung up.

Nathan sighed, dropping his phone beside him and turning onto his side.

He hoped you were okay.

It took a long time to get his worries out of his mind enough to go back to sleep.

-

The next day, Nathan didn’t have much to do.

Sunday meant no community service, and he didn’t want to stick around the centre by himself, so he wandered around the estate aimlessly, listening to music on his iPod.

Around two pm, he went to buy lunch with a tenner his mum had given him, and then sat on a park bench and ate it slowly. It only took a little bit of internal debating before he had his phone pressed to his ear, listening to the dial tone.

After last night, he needed to know that you were okay.

Which you seemed to be, because you answered on the second ring, sounding casual: “Hey.”

“Hiya. D’you remember when we got fucked up that one time and you went absolutely mental over that one statue at the park?” Nathan stared at the statue in question. It stood in the middle of the park–or well, Wertham’s sorry excuse for a park, which had exactly six trees–a tiny man, kind of like a leprechaun, only with none of the typical features of a leprechaun and dressed half like a pirate and half like a businessman. “You were right, that thing is right weird.”

You chuckled.

“So I was thinkin’,” Nathan continued, finishing off his sandwich and throwing the wrapper in the general direction of the bin. He missed. “You an’ me, we should get together sometime.”

“Should we?” you asked.

“Yeah. What’re you doin’ right now?”

“Oh, uh,” a pause. “Now’s no good. I’ve got a thing I need to do.”

“Oh,” Nathan said, a little put out.

“Tomorrow, though?”

“I’ve got to do my community service.”

“I know, I meant tomorrow night,” you clarified, then coughed awkwardly. “We could go to the pubs, have a couple’a drinks.”

“I’m sort of between pay slips right now,” Nathan said vaguely–a lie. He hadn’t had a job since… ever. He’d debated getting one recently, considering his whole being-a-homeless situation, but it was hard to find honest employment when he spent all the usual working hours paying back the community for his antisocial behaviour.

“I see,” you said after a beat. “Well, you could always come ‘round mine. But no funny business,” you rushed to add, before Nathan could even think of a fitting comment. “Just drinks. Maybe a film.”

“That sounds nice,” Nathan said, because it did.

“Right then,” you said. “Seven-ish?”

“I’ll be there.”

You said your goodbyes, and Nathan hung up the phone. Once he did, he stuffed it in his pocket and stood, then went up to the weird statue he’d been looking at, leaning down to bring his face close to it.

“Y’er a freaky lookin’ fella, aren’tcha?” Nathan asked.

He straightened and kicked at an empty beer can, his hands in his pockets. He had no idea how he was going to spend the rest of his afternoon, but then…

Nathan…

The voice was like a whisper, only not exactly. It was like it’d been carried to his ears on the breeze.

Nathan looked around, his first thought that one of his mates was out here, had spotted him and was now calling him. But that was ridiculous. That voice hadn’t been one of his mates. Also, other than him, the park was completely empty.

Naaaaathaaaaan…

Nathan shivered against a wild gust of wind, drawing his jacket tighter around him.

He stood around for a bit, waiting for something else to happen. Nothing did.

Eventually, he slinked back off towards the community centre. He could have sworn someone whispered his name again as he left the park.

[jonny-be-gewd]

I Just Want to Forget

By jonny-be-gewd

Rated: Explicit for sexual content and adult language

As I sat there in nothing but a bathrobe watching the washer spin my clothing in red-tinted water from another man’s blood, I realized, maybe for the first time in the last few weeks, how very fucking out of my depth I actually was.

I had so many questions and absolutely no answers. Like who had bashed in the head of Paul Levitt and why did I feel like it was somehow my fault even though I knew I wasn’t the one who had done it? I couldn’t stand the fat fuck but I didn’t kill him. With that being said, everyone at Nick’s party had seen mine and Paul’s little, altercation, and how would that look once the police started asking questions?

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

I nearly jumped out of my fucking skin at the insistent knocking at my door, and why wouldn’t I? I had literally just stumbled over a dead man and into a pool of that man’s blood, came up coated in said blood, was currently watching my blood-soaked clothing spin in my washer, and now someone was knocking on my door in the middle of the night.

“Coop, open the fucking door already!”

It was Elena. What the fuck was she doing here? After the way she had verbally handed me my ass and left me on the side of the road earlier, I didn’t expect I would be seeing her again that night. Probably not for a few days at least, after she had had time to cool off.

I scrambled to my feet, tied my bathrobe, and tried to look normal and calm. I opened the door to find the tiny, pissed-off looking Latina in sweats and an oversized t-shirt. “Elena, what are you doing here?”

“Unfuckingbelievable,” she said, shaking her head and pushing right past me and into my house. “You texted me, Coop. Now tell me what the fucking emergency is because I swear, if I find out this is some stupid game you’re playing to try to get back on my good side I’m gonna punch you in the dick.”

“Texted…you?” Why would she think I had texted her? Was she lying to get me to talk? Had she been following me? “Elena, I didn’t -” And then I remembered. I had texted her.

I reached for my phone in my pocket only to remember that I wasn’t wearing my jeans and the robe had no pockets. I hurried to the laundry room where I found it lying on the floor right by where I had just been sitting so I grabbed it and checked my text messages.

Me: Elena, can you get here NOW? I need you. It’s an emergency. PLEASE! I don’t know what to fucking do.

I did fucking text her. “I guess I hit my head harder than I thought.”

“Hit your head? Coop, what are you talking about? What happened? Did that pendejo come after you after I left?”

My vision suddenly narrowed. The room seemed to shift beneath my feet. I staggered and Elena swooped in, tucking her small frame beneath my right arm. “Whoa, Coop. Don’t fall, your ass is too big for me to hold all your weight. Let’s get you to the sofa.”

She guided me to my sofa where I basically flopped onto my ass and once off my feet, the room did seem to right itself and stop spinning. She sat down beside me but facing me, putting the back of her hand against my forehead and then my cheeks. “You don’t feel warm,” she said, and I focused on her face and her lips as they moved, anything other than everything else. “Your pupils look good but you could still have a concussion. If you did hit your head like you say you did. Coop…what happened? Why am I here?”

I was about to speak, to say something though I’m not entirely sure what, when her mouth formed an “Oh” and her cheeks turned a rosy red. Following her eyes, it was then I realized my robe had fallen open when I had plopped onto the sofa and my cock and nuts were on full display.

She was stunning with a blush and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t already noticed how incredibly beautiful she was but at that moment I could think of little else. I didn’t want to think of anything else. I needed to get my mind as far away from the body of Paul Levitt as I possibly could and Elena was there and she was blushing at the sight of my cock, which hadn’t been hard when she had first noticed it but that was quickly changing.

Honestly I had figured she would consider me too old for her. How old was she anyway? She looked like she could be in her late 20s or early 30s, I wasn’t sure. But then at the club she had rubbed her ass on my dick and wrapped her arms around me and held onto me and I figured it was the alcohol and the cocaine but…was it maybe something more?

“Coop, you should cover yourself,” she said, trying to avert her gaze but she couldn’t seem to fight the urge to keep glancing back at my nakedness.

Instead I untied the loose knot of my robe and slipped it off my shoulders. “I don’t want to. I want you.”

Her head snapped back towards mine so that our eyes met and she looked furious. “You did NOT text me to come here and fuck you.”

I shook my head. “No, no I didn’t. But I saw something that…I want to erase from my mind and I know that I can’t and…I just want to forget about it for a little while. Please. I’ll tell you all about it after but please…you wanted me back at the club. Didn’t you?” I grabbed my cock, now fully erect, and began stroking it, keeping my eyes on hers as I rested my back against the back of the sofa. Fuck, I could cum with her just watching. “Oh fuck, Elena…I want you.”

She looked at my hand stroking myself and licked her lips and that simple gesture elicited a deep moan from my chest.

The next part happened really quickly. She stood up and began undressing, not stopping to tease me or give me a show. Maybe because she sensed how desperate my need was or maybe because her own was, I don’t know. Then she was straddling me and when the tip of my cock grazed her slit I found she was already slick with desire.

I grabbed her hips and forced her down at the same time I thrusted up, filling her with my aching cock.

There was no Paul Levitt. Fuck, there wasn’t even a Sam Levitt. There was only Elena.

Warm, and wet, and beautiful Elena. Tiny and fierce, taking my big cock like a champ Elena.

She wrapped herself around me and clung onto me as though she too needed to forget something. And forget we did. Lost in the beautiful mixture of her feminine whimpers and my desperate grunts and the sound of her gushing around me, we fucked like we were starving.

Maybe we were.

Maybe we would never be full.

[panda-writes-kpop]

What does a demon and a function have in common? (You can test both of their limits!) - l. yb.

a/n: happy dami day! i know the timeline of this fic is messy, but just pretend that it's all okay and I will too :) also I wrote this because I was trying to understand my feelings as an aroace person towards love and I'm still really confused... but at least we got a good fic out of it! ❤️

tw: demons, undefined magic, lots of mentions of death, implied aroace! reader, a bit of religious trauma

word count: 2.6k

summary: you're in distress over your math homework and the pretty demon that helps you with it, and you're reluctant to let your heart do the talking since it ended pretty badly for your friend and her demon companion.

related fics: Demon! SuA - Tainted Love

♡ Masterlist ♡

You shouldn't do this.

You glare at the leather-bound book in front of you as you furiously erase another answer from your sheet of scratch paper. The book was a gift from a friend, one that had struggled with a demonic relationship before.

You hadn't heard from them in a year and a half, and from what you heard from mutual friends, they weren't doing too well. Although you weren't positive that the book was bad news, you had never seen your friend so desperate to remove an object from their grasp.

After doing a bit of research, you realized that it was a cursed tome. There were seven different markings on the cover, which meant that seven different demons were tied to the book. Luckily, only one had been released when your friend had opened the book.

Now, you had to be the one to safeguard it. To make sure that no one would ever be hurt by the book again.

But, as you stare at your Calculus homework, you realize that you have no idea what you're fucking doing. And at 10 p.m. the night before an exam, the tutoring center is closed and the professor is probably counting sheep while their students are stressing out.

You're well aware that it's a stupid, very dumb, unintelligent idea to open a cursed book in order to understand Calculus, but what other choice do you have? Do you fail this exam then fail the class, which would put you a year behind?

What would your peers say?

What would your family say?

A shiver down your back, from the looming threat of parental disappointment, causes you to drop your pencil and reach for the book. Your hand gently traces the seven etchings on the cover, and you notice that one isn't filled in with color. 

The demon that took my friend away.

You really shouldn't be doing this.

You think about the laundry list of concepts that you have to master by 10 a.m. tomorrow, and your decision has never been easier.

I'd rather stick my hand in an open flame than do another problem with no help.

When you open the book, you realize that you're blissfully unaware of how to summon a demon. Do you say a bunch of random words in Latin? Do you do a little hand motion? Do you need an offering?

You decide that your best option at summoning a demon that won't smite you immediately is to plead with the book.

Because desperate never goes out of style.

“Listen, I don't know who I'm talking to, if I'm even talking to anyone in the first place. I'm having a problem. …Well, it's not a ‘the fate of the world rests in your hands’ type of problem, but I still could use some help.”

An orange trail of smoke leaves the book in your hands and swirls like a tornado in an empty spot in your living room. Objects start flying around because of the tailwind, and you have to duck before you take a pencil to the eyeball. 

“Who knew Calculus homework could be deadly?” You joke as you try to not think about the magnitude of the situation that you're in. You haven't even met the demon yet, and the smoke that it creates(?) it is trying to kill you.

Not a good sign.

Once your apartment is messy enough for your demon of choice, the book in your hands shuts itself as the orange smoke starts to dissipate. 

You set the book aside as you gawk at the woman- no, demon that stands in your living room. 

She's dressed in all black, ready to go to a funeral.

You just have to hope that it's not yours.

“How can I assist you?” She softly asks in a semi-uninterested voice.

“I need help with Calculus.” You blurt out as she clocks her head at you.

“I beg your pardon?”

~

This demon was exceptionally smart, which was good for your tired, mortal mind. She also didn't kill you on the spot - a good thing, you assume, unless the murder is waiting for you on the other side of the Calculus homework.

She was taken aback by your request, staring at you in utter surprise until she joined your side and helped you with your homework.

Her voice was gentle and smooth, and you would've fallen asleep if you weren't thinking about being killed in your sleep.

“Thanks.” You rub your eyes as you set the pencil down as you check your phone for the time.

You're proud of yourself for putting your phone on dark mode (you've flash-banged yourself in the past, it's a one time mistake) as you realize that it's only one in the morning. With a few hours of sleep and a large container of your favorite caffeinated drink, you'd be fine for your exam.

“Is that all you needed? …A bit of guidance with math?” The woman sitting beside you is in disbelief as you nod your head.

“Is there something wrong with that?” You joke, momentarily forgetting that she's a demon.

“Forgive me, but the people who usually hold the tome are more demanding… and a lot less cute.”

“Okay, back into the book you go.” You toss the book her way before trying to hide her embarrassment. 

She chuckles softly before running her fingers over the spine.

“You have no idea how any of this works, right?”

“Uh-huh.” You nod your head before starting to put your school stuff away.

“Right, right.” Her eyes meet yours for a moment. “Dami.”

“Huh?” You tilt your head at her, but she snaps her fingers and disappears with the book in an instance.

Well, that damn book is out of my sight and I now have a chance to pass my Calc exam. I'll take that as a win-win.

~

You don't remember climbing into bed last night (this morning? The days are blending together at this point).

Before leaving your apartment, you say a small prayer before grabbing your pick-me-up of choice from the fridge. You might have this exam on lock.

As you walk to class, you recite Calculus formulas in your head. Partial derivatives swirl around your mind along with the thought of the mysterious woman.

Dami?

She's not a directional derivative, so you should focus on something else. 

You, at least, had the demon situation under control.

 ~

This semester, you officially renounced your academic weapon status; instead, you were an academic victim. Although you most definitely messed up the first problem (why do all of the problems have the same wording yet completely different solutions?), you had the rest of it down.

Your confidence evaporated when the two classmates behind you started discussing their answers and got completely different answers to you. 

Maybe another semester here wouldn't be so bad?

“You did fine.” 

You jump as your eyes lock with the demon from the night before.

“Sorry, sorry.” You apologize to the two people behind you as you step to the side to speak with Dami. “I like your confidence in me, and I wish I had a fraction of it for myself.”

“There's nothing wrong with having a little pride.” She shrugs as the doors to the lecture hall open.

“Well, at least there's another exam a few weeks after spring break.” Ryujin shrugs before closing the door and walking towards you. “How'd the exam go for you?”

“It was okay.” You softly shrug as you glance between Dami and Ryujin.

“You're too humble for how smart you are.” Ryujin scoffs before turning to Dami. “You new here?”

“I'm just visiting someone.” Dami winks at you, and your eyes avert her gaze afterwards.

Ryujin sighs before adjusting her backpack and clearing her throat.

“They're not interested in guys or girls…. or anyone, for that matter.”

You playfully smack Ryujjn's shoulder before she pretends to be in extreme pain from the hit.

“It's not an absolute thing. I'll know if there's someone I'm interested in.” You nonchalantly say as Ryujin checks her smart watch.

“Oh shit, I've got class in fifteen minutes halfway across campus. See ya!” Ryujin waves to you both before offering a nod to Dami. “Nice to meet you.”

She runs off in another direction as your attention turns to Dami.

“Why are you here, if you don't mind me asking?”

“I haven't been out of that book for centuries. I just wanted to see how humans lived.” Dami folds her arms before walking to you. “The world is so much different… better, if you ask me.”

“You're not like any demon I've heard of.” You blurt out before biting your tongue. “Sorry, that's probably really mean to say-”

“It's okay, and to be honest, I'd be surprised if I was like any other demon that you met. Not all demons fall from the sky, you know.”

~

It's been three hours, and you're still trying to come to terms with the fact that Dami’s a fallen angel. Who says that to someone after only two interactions with them?

Dami, apparently, because she's been watching you like a hawk as you sit across from her in the campus library.

“You think of me differently, don't you?” 

You don't look up from your computer as you tap your pencil against the desk three times.

Click. Click. Click.

“I don't.” You calmly say before writing an equation in your notebook. “I should be honest with you, though, since you were honest with me. It's only fair.”

You pause for a moment as Dami folds her arms and leans against the chair. She's trying to remain cool, but a small twitch in her left eye tells you that she's more interested than she appears to be.

It's cute.

“I had a friend who summoned a demon from that book… I don't know her name, and I don't want to. She ruined my friend’s life, Dami.” You explain your friend’s story, going through agonizing detail as told through their family and other friends.

You have to pause once to wipe your tears, and Dami offers a comforting hand as the other drops to her side. You, albeit hesitantly, take it. 

She should be cold like ice- undead, unfeeling. But there's some sort of warmth in her touch that can't be explained by the hellfire that she resides in.

Perhaps she's already gotten attached to you. You feel it too, you want to trust her. Can you, though?

She hasn't torn your arm off yet, so you're starting off on the right foot.

Trauma dumping counts as bonding, right?

You bite your lip before shaking your head, feeling the uncertainty of everything crash against you. What are you doing, trusting a demon that hurt someone that you care deeply about?

I can't do this.

“I should go.” You pull your hand out of her grasp as you quickly try to pack your things up. “I'm sorry, I'm probably shit-talking one of your friends that you've known for centuries.”

As you reach for your pencil, Dami grabs your wrist.

“I can't promise that I'm a ‘good’ demon or person,” She softly exhales before looking in your eyes, “but I won't betray you. Not now. Not ever.”

Something pounds, but it's not your head, swimming from the thoughts of your friends and the demon in front of you.

It comes from deep inside you, a feeling that you thought would be forever foreign to you. A magical feeling that “normal” people got to feel. The thing that makes them human, after all.

Your heart pounds.

This isn't you. You need to leave. Now.

Without exchanging another word, you run off into the afternoon light. You know she might follow you, but you hope she'll give you some space. 

I hope she doesn't hate me.

You need to get a grip, and fast, before you rock the boat that's been steadily keeping you afloat for years.

~

Five hours. That's the longest you can last in a little internet cafe before you put your tail between your legs and head home. You know Dami will be there, and you don't want to sleep on a park bench, so home it is.

Will she be mad at me?

Who cares? You're not in love with her, you just like her. 

As a friend. 

As someone you can hang out with. 

Someone to share secrets with.

Friends can kiss, right?

You've known her for less than twenty-four hours. You need to find where your sense of reality has gone and reclaim it before you head into your apartment.

But the key is already in your hand.

Your feet walk up the stairs without your brain telling them to.

You unlock your apartment door to see someone quietly sitting on your couch - the same spot where she helped you with your math homework.

Your stomach and heart fill with dread as you slowly take off your shoes.

She's been kind to you, and you ran off because you were upset about your own feelings.

You felt like a petulant child.

“I'm sorry for running off. I got upset thinking about my friend, and I should have talked through my feelings like a fucking adult. You're not like the other demon, just as I'm not like my friend. Feeling trapped by someone else’s opinions of you is rough,” You toss the keys on the counter before shedding your coat, “trust me, I know.”

Dami looks back to you, and the moonlight casts her in an angelic glow - she was ethereal and you didn't doubt that she was once an angel. You'd be more surprised if she wasn't one of God’s favorites.

Why was she here, instead of in the sky? 

You don't want to pry, but Dami’s the first one to walk towards you.

“I was worried about you,” She softly admits, “a demon, a former angel, a creature much older than you could comprehend, was worried about the safety of a mortal.”

When she is close enough for you to reach out for her, she reaches out her hand.

“I'm not an evil demon or a perfect angel. But I can promise you-”

“I think I like you.” The words spill out of your lips before you can truly think about what you're saying. “I mean, of course I like you, but it's not how I've liked anyone before. I like Ryujin as a friend, she's nice to me and we get lunch sometimes. But you… you're different. And being different scares me. It's not just because you're a demon, it's who you are. It wouldn't matter if you were a demon, angel, or human because I'd still feel the same way.”

You pause to take a breath.

“I'm not normal, and I'm probably not like any human you've met. I don't want a traditional romance with a wedding or kids. I don't want physical intimacy with someone who won't appreciate me. Hell, I don't even know if I want a partner half of the time. The only thing I know,” You take her hand before pulling Dami closer, “is that I want you to be by my side. As a friend or as something more. Whatever we will be, I know we'll figure it out together.”

“I want you by my side as well.” She softly mutters as you place your forehead against hers.

You're both quiet as you envelope yourselves in the serene environment that you've created.

“So, do I meet your devilish friends now, or do I have to take you to dinner first?”

Dami laughs warmly before pulling you close to her.

“Whatever you want.”

You're in deep. She has in her talons sunk deep under your skin, in less than a day. 

She could betray you.

You had to learn how to trust her.

And in time, you will.