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tinythebunni · 2 months ago

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perv!stebro!Rafe Cameron <3

you had to know what you were doing. there was no way you were this fucking dense that you couldn’t see what you were doing to Rafe. walking around in those tiny fucking skirts and thinner than a piece of paper crop tops and baby tees. and you never wore a bra. Rafe was 90% sure you were sent up here by the devil herself to punish him for something. but it really was just the fact his dad happened to wanna fuck your mom more than just as a one night stand.

you always seemed to be tanning outside right when he was about to leave for the country club. as if you were trying to tempt him into staying and fucking you into his mattress and bruising your throat. you wore low cut tops almost everyday and it made him fantasize about leaving hickies there. how you’d whimper and lift your hips to try and get some kind of friction. how you’d try and make him touch you but he wanted to spend his time making you wait. making you feel as insufferable as you acted.

the first thing that made him lose his cool was when you came downstairs while Topper and Kelce were in the living room. now sure Rafe was still getting used to you being in the house with him since the wedding. but you had come downstairs in the tinies bikini top known to man. with a barely there skirt that didn’t even cover the swell of your ass. he was sure his eyes were bugging out of his head.

“nah. who the fuck do you think is letting you out the house like that?” you tried changing his mind, jus bc you really wanted to go to the pier and shop! but he wouldn’t budge.

“you look like a whore, go change. ‘not dealing with bullshit while i’m sober.” you cried all the way up to your bedroom and slammed your door. while Rafe only sat back down in his chair, manspreading and rubbing his jaw.

“jeez man you were kind of harsh” Kelce tried to defend you but he didn’t get far.

“nah y’don’t know the shit i gotta deal with here. fucking teasing me all the time.”

the second time he almost lost his cool was when you decided you were going to go to one of Barry’s parties, which Rafe was not at all gonna let fucking happen.

Barry always threw crazy ragers that basically turned into fucking or orgies all night. you’d never been to one of his parties but Rafe knew some bitch ass little boy probably invited you, trying to get into your panties.

once again you tried your hardest to get him to let you go but he didn’t let up. “not letting you go to some party just so you can get roofied and traumatized for the rest of your life. ‘r too sweet for all of that and i don’t feel like having to kill anyone today.”

you stomped your foot and pouted up at him. “this is so not fair! you’re not even my daddy!”

hearing that name come out of your mouth had Rafe groaning and looking up at the ceiling for some kind of strength to grasp onto, so he didn’t choke you or fuck you against this door. he gave you one last look and reached behind you to lock the door. he could hear your breath hitch as his head was right by yours, locking his eyes onto yours as you heard the click of the lock.

“stay in the house. ‘m not fucking with you bambi.” he chastised, walking back to the couch without even glancing your way. you looked at him a little longer, watch as he palmed himself through his jeans and slid back in the cushions. you let out a sad sound and slouched back upstairs. crying all your pretty heart out into your heart shaped pillow.

the last time, Rafe couldn’t take it anymore. you finally started to notice his attraction to you. and boy were you happy. you’d been wanting to fuck him for months now! fingering yourself and rubbing your clit raw to the sound of his voice and the feeling of his hands on you. you were basically in heaven!

Rafe didn’t know what changed but all of a sudden your teasing got more evident. you’d drop the remote and bend over to pick it up, giving him a view of the plump lips you had hidden behind cotton underwear. sometimes you’d leave the bathroom door open so he could see you shower behind the steamy glass.

in the present day you asked him to bake cupcakes with you. something innocent and sweet, what could it hurt? but when you asked him to try it, that’s when it all went downhill. Rafe dipped his finger in the batter and brought it to his lips, sucking the flavor off and deciding if it was done.

“taste perfect bunny, now you try it.” and you did. you looked up at him, taking two steps forward, and grabbed his right wrist. He looked at you with a confused glint in his eyes, as you dipped his finger in the batter and wrapped your lips around it. tenderly kitten licking the tip of it and suckling as you let it pop from between your lips.

“sweet and creamy, just perfect!” you smiled, like a cheshire cat. he only stared at you, pupils blown and cheeks flushed. you began to get a little bit nervous. you wanted to turn around and rgo to your room to sleep for all eternity!

as you frowned and turned to walk away, he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you to him, and as you skidded to a stop he wrapped his hands around your waist and flipped you over his shoulder. he walked away from the oven preheating oven, turning it off of course, and up to his room.

“Rafe what are you doing! come on put me down!” you yelled at him. he only slapped your ass, effectively shutting you up. you felt shame, arousal, and nervousness creep into your gut as you could only watch his backside walk up the stairs and away from the kitchen.

you saw him walk into a room and when he turned around to lock the door, you saw he was in his room. you heard the lock click and felt him start to walk towards the bed, finally putting you down.

“do you know how much self control i’ve wasted trying not to fuck you against every surface of the house, just for you to kiss me in the goddamn kitchen?” he asked pacing with an angry look on his face. you shook your head with your lips parted slightly and eyes glossy. you felt like a bunny in front of an angry wolf. you couldn’t tell if it was sexy, scary, or both.

“i’ve tried so fucking long to convince myself that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t know how much of a fucking nuisance you were. how everytime you walked out the house in those tiny outfits, i’d go up to my room and jerk off to the thought of ripping them off of you.”

you were sure you looked stupid as fuck right now, only glancing up at him between your lashes and biting your lip. “say something bunny. speak up.”

“m sorry.” you whispered, choked up a little. he stopped pacing suddenly and turned to you. kneeling in front of you he brushed the single tear that fell from your eye off your cheek.

“oh baby, i’m not really mad at you. i’m sexually frustrated from the teasing you’ve been doing but i could never be mad at you sweet girl.”

he kissed both your cheeks and held your face in his hands. “lighten up baby. can’t give you what we both want if your sad.” he whispered, making you look up at him with only need in your eyes.

“what we both want?” you asked, albeit dumbly. “don’t play. i know you want me to fuck you. i can hear your moaning through the fucking walls bunny.” he began to mock your moans and whimpers as your whole face turned red and your chest flared with embarrassment. you finally stood up on your tip toes and kissed him. letting your lips collide in a feverish dance.

he kissed you at first, tenderly, tentative even. as if he was scared to break you. but the slight noises you’d let out as he applied pressure slightly made his thoughts go into a frenzy. he couldn’t keep up with his mind. his hands going from your waist, your ass, your neck, your back, and back to your waist.

he walked you backwards until you fell onto the bed where he crawled over you. “is this okay baby?” he asked as he kissed down your tummy between each word. you nodded with slight anxiety from what comes next.

as he slid your skirt up you yelled out a “wait!” he immediately pulled back as if he was burned.

“did i do something?” he asked, slight worry in his eyes.

“no no, not at all!” you replied, relief flooding through his veins. “i just, i haven’t shaved.”

he stared at you like you were dumb. “i don’t give a fuck. baby i’m a grown man, ion care about a little bit of hair.”

he kissed your clit through your panties after dat sentence and slowly pulled the down to your ankles. he tugged them off and wrapped them around your wrist to keep you still.

pulling a leg over each shoulder he licked one long stripe up your slit, kitten licking to wear he saw fit. this was what he was waiting for. drowning between your thighs. he could feel your arousal gushing out of you and mixing with the saliva on his tongue.

he laps at your cunt as if it’s his last meal, savoring everything he can. he’s mumbling gibberish, pussy drunk almost. babbling about how he needs this, how he wants to become full off of your juices and nothing else. he pushes his tongue inside of you and flicks at your g spot with his tongue. it’s a stretch but it’s worth the reaction it pulls out of you.

your back arches and your hands pull at the sheets next to you, looking for something to ground you. Rafe pulls a hand to your hip to hold you down, his dominant one going towards his pants. you can barely register the clink of his belt.

He pulls himself out of his confines and rubs his tip with b his thumb, spreading his precum around as lube. he tugs his cock in tandem with his long and steady licks of your cunt. he cums right before when you do. the groaning and moaning of his orgasm rushing through him vibrates on your cunt, making you hit your peak with a flame alight inside your whole body.

your orgasm rips through you and it’s blinding almost. you come to after he kisses your neck and lets his half hard cock sit on your tummy as he rubs your head trying to get you to come back to him.

“come on sweet girl, don’t tell me you’re sleep.” you drearily respond, barely there. he smiles starting a bath for you, grabbing a snack, and getting ready to take care of his best girl. only you.

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greatunironic · 10 months ago

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eddie wakes up in a strange room. this was not particularly unusual for him, historically: he’d spent most of his twenties waking up in new and interesting places (including a handful of jail cells). but after eddie, the label, and the los angeles superior court system decided it would be best if he stopped drinking and doing blow, it stopped being such a regular occurrence.

so it’s almost alarming to him, now, to be blinking up at an unfamiliar cement ceiling with the raging bitch of all headaches and generally feeling like he got hit by a truck, got whiplash in a crash with the way his neck aches. he’d think he was hungover like all those times before except for how sharp the pain is, bright.

he worries, briefly, he’s relapsed, or someone’s slipped him something. but he remembers what him and the boys had been up to, before this, and he thinks it’d’ve been a strange night indeed if someone roofied a c-list (b-list if he’s feeling charitable) musician at a fucking frozen four game.

because yeah, eddie remembers: they’d been third row, watching the wisconsin ladies clean up and cheering for jeff’s kid sister like she was about to get olympic gold. (she probably would, someday. her and that mayfield girl who played defense were looking down the barrel at a 2026 run apparently.

eddie’s been to a handful of games over the years, when touring and recording allows them to go. he’s resolutely never been a sports guy but he’ll admit, when pressed, that live hockey is pretty dope. to say nothing, of course, of how jeff would probably murder them all in their sleep if they didn’t rep the red and white for lottie.

(and also — and this is between eddie and his god alright — but lottie’s coach? standing back there in his suit, hair styled and dialed, snapping his gum, yelling at the refs? kind of doing it for him, okay. worth the price of admission, even if the tickets weren’t free.)

when he thinks harder — which hurts too — the last thing he clearly remembers was someone from the beavers scoring, bringing their lead to 5-1, and a slapshot from the other team getting out over the boards and nearly taking out some lady’s popcorn. someone behind them in the seats said, “jesus they’re getting desperate, eh?”

then shit goes dark on him, not even a fade to black, but a full on smash cut, roll credits black, and the post-credits scene is where ever the fuck eddie is at the moment. it smells like human and cold and icy hot, so obviously, he thinks, he died and went to hell like all the church ladies said he would back in hawkins, or probably just a locker room. what the fuck?

he blinks at the ceiling, at an interesting water stain on the cement texturing. he’s in the middle of wondering where the rest of his band has gone if he’s here alone, fucking abandoners, when a sweaty redhead with the bitchiest expression he’s maybe ever seen enters his field of vision.

“you’re alive,” she says.

eddie blinks again. “why do you sound so disappointed?”

“yo coach!” she shouts, already on the move away from him. “he’s alive!”

he tries to sit up, but that makes the pain in his head worse, and also draws attention to the fact that his back also hurts. he squeezes his eyes shut and makes a truly embarrassing noise of pain — if pressed, he’d call it a whimper — and a pair of big hands land on his shoulders.

“out, out ladies i got this! hey!, hey, man, don’t move just yet,” says big hands.

“yeah, no problem, i don’t want to anymore,” eddie says. he stirs up the will to open his eyes again and very nearly slams them back shut. because of course the person staring down at him is fucking coach hottie snackycakes himself. he’s even better looking in person, too, big droopy eyes, lips as pink as his bubblegum, and shiny, jesus christ. he’s still got eddie by the shoulders, hands warm through the thin cotton of his flannel and tee — because eddie’s always been more fashion than sense, wayne always said, and it’s even worse now that the paps are on him—

“oh, fuck this is gonna be all over tiktok later, isn’t it?” he moans.

“maybe not.”

“don’t lie.”

“listen, eddie — it is eddie, right?” asks coach hottie. “i’m steve. coach harrington. faughnsie — lottie, i mean — she said you’re eddie. her brother’s guitarist? what do you remember?”

“more like he’s my singer,” he says, “but sure. and not much.”

“well, you’re gonna be okay,” says coach hottie — steve. “it really wasn’t that bad, and it was probably too fast for anyone to get it, unless they already had a camera on you. you took a puck to the head when one popped up. i’d apologize but it wasn’t one of my girls who did it, so. anyway — you weren’t out for long, which robbie says is good — she’ll get a look at you in a second — but you got your bell rung pretty good. and you’re gonna have quite the shiner, trust me.”

“speaking from experience?”

“oh, yeah. closer and faster too.” he gently raps his head with his knuckles. “too many concussions too early ended my nhl days, in fact.”

“oh. oh shit, sorry, i—“

“don’t worry about it, man, it happens,” he says. “and if it hadn’t, i wouldn’t be here.”

“at the frozen four.”

“yeah, sure, that too.”

“what?”

“what?” steve waves him off. “anyway, i’m just glad to see you up, ish, and talking. looked pretty scary, from the bench.”

“i really don’t remember,” says eddie. “but i’m sure i’ll see it on tiktok later, like i said — at least, my unconscious, bleeding form.”

“i got up there pretty fast, so i doubt it,” says steve.

eddie blinks, twice. “you—?”

“you were behind my bench, and you. well,” he says with a shrug, but he’s clearly a little embarrassed, finally putting those hands away — weapons of eddie destruction, he thinks — and shoving them into his pockets of his tight slacks. “i should be getting back out there.”

“do you? you’re murdering them pretty good, unless i black out and missed them getting four more goals,” eddie says.

the corners of steve’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. eddie thinks he might just pass out again. “no, we’re still gonna cinch it, i think. looks bad, though — first time coach missing the final period so’s he can hit on the cute musician who got his clock cleaned by the biscuit.”

“oh,” he says. swallows. “uh.”

steve’s crinkly, smiley eyes go wide. “unless—“

“no less!” eddie shouts and then immediately winces. at a better, less damaging to his more than slightly concussed noggin, volume, he says, “more, actually. because pretty sure i shouldn’t be left unsupervised, and i’ve clearly been abandoned by the band, so—“

“so,” says steve.

“coach, two minutes!” someone calls.

“so, i was hoping maybe i could keep hitting on the hot hockey coach back at his?”

“i’m at the ramada inn,” he says, “and i got tape to watch for the finals.”

“i live for room service,” eddie tells him seriously. “and i’m suddenly very into wisconsin sports teams.”

“coach! go time!”

“yeah?” he asks.

“yeah.”

“COACH!”

he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “i gotta — but, uh, later?”

“pick me up in twenty?”

“probably more like half an hour, with stoppage,” he says.

someone bangs on the door. “COACH!! let’s boogie!!”

with one last look, wide eyed and smiling, steve leaves. eddie watches him go. he’d heard hockey players were caked up but lord — eddie is about to convert to a new religion, or maybe found one, over the stretch of those slacks.

“damn,” he says quietly.

“gross,” a woman says. eddie startles and looks to the side, where a lanky brunette with a bob and an undercut is staring at him, unimpressed. she’s in some get up that screams athletic trainer, and there’s a white board in her hand.

“how long have you been there?” he asks.

she raises an eyebrow. “long enough, and honestly, i don’t know if that counts as a you rule for him, or a you suck for you,” she says and does not elaborate when he asks. “also don’t look at him like that. it’s steve. he’s basically my sister.”

“yeah? any tips then?” asks eddie. “i promise i’ll only use them for good. well. mostly.”

“god,” she says with an expansive eye roll. “you’re gonna be a nightmare, aren’t you?”

a cheer goes up outside the room as the teams, presumably, take the ice again. eddie, head throbbing, concussed, embarrassed, grins. “sure hope so,” he says.

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #rockstar au #hockey au #two great tastes that taste great together tbh #cross posted on twitter #might clean this up later + pop it on ao3

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viasdreams · 4 months ago

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Nightwalker ཐི❤︎ཋྀ

'No human blood' is an extremely grueling rule for Donghyuck to live by, his fledgling vampire urges consuming his every thought. Some days, he finds himself struggling to hold onto his humanity, constantly fighting against his insatiable cravings. His human facade slips one night when he passes you, your bloody hand unknowingly guiding his monstrous actions.

or haechan accidentally sucks your blood and drama ensues

pairing: vampire haechan x fem! human reader

genre: social media alternative universe (smau), comedy, fantasy, angst

warnings: slight gore, lots of talk about blood, profanity, sex jokes, jokes about death, actual death (not character death but all the vampires are technically dead) kys/kms jokes

a/n: ahhh my first smau !! is this an excuse to make jokes about that favorite era pic of haechan? YES IT IS !! this will be a very silly story and not like horror/serious just so we're clear, i just liked the black aesthetic lol. ill still be posting one-shot texts so don't worry your pretty little heads :))

status: ongoing !!

taglist: open !!

profiles (1) ~ profiles (2)

01 milkies boy 02 live tweeting his crash out 03 hyuck finally kicking the bucket (written) 04 one wet dream about mark 05 ive read some nasty fanfic about him 06 r u jorking my shit rn?!?! 07 ok throat goat!! (written) 08 bad case of the squirts 09 clock crazy hours on the toilet 10 raises gun to mouth 11 my girl weiner hard rn 12 you're going shit butt 13 NEED one to maul me 14 the hottest of all the smurfs 15 plz shoot me and not with that gun (written) 16 main ingredient in that yummy manwich 17 do you know how to tie a noose? 18 i hope you get roofied every day!! 19 im jisung, your new owner (written) 20 bleeding in my tweak zone 21 especially you anime mfs 22 just lost all desire to cum 23 chugged a thing of toilet bowl cleaner (written) 24 hyuck's unbrushed tongue 25 hot girls stay fartin 26 i wanna know what vamp dick feels like 27 contributing to my spank bank 28 fine ass dad (written) 29 he got you goonin 30 and what if i shaved my gooch 31 my girl looks like a bloody tampon 32 shes worth like six cows

bonus: who's blood/dick do i have to suck | im not a sexbot, just a guy | yank on their peanits

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bibluebutterfly · 11 months ago

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Hoo boy. Now I've made it known multiple times on my blog that I LOATHE the whoobiefication of Vox, but lets get into why/how Vox is NOT a good person nor a baby that needs protecting and why he's all the better for it. Buckle up ladies and gentlemen, this will be long.

Now, why isn't Vox a good person? Easy. Because he (along with the other Vees) is supposed to be the bad guy of the story. Shocking, I know. Vox was NEVER intended to be a good person, and some of y'all just need to accept that.

Now for the long part: HOW is he not a good person?

Well, first of all, his literal introduction is an ad selling drones HE DESIGNED specifically for stalking,"peeping on the neighbors has never been more stylish"

Right off the bat, this tells us he doesn't care about people unless he can profit off them.

Which is also backed up by the point that he ADVERTISES Val and Vels "love potions" which are basically just roofies.

Again. This man ONLY cares about profit first and foremost, screw the people who can get hurt/SA'd by his products.

Next, he has a power of hypnosis which he is NOT hesitant to use. He can take away someones free will at a glance and uses that to his full advantage.

He's also very willing to give Val his lowest earners to shoot. Notice that he does so with no hesitance and no regret.

Also, (and most significantly) he's a huge, HUGE enabler. This guy has cameras EVERYWHERE, ESPECIALLY when Valentino is involved. He's got cameras in Val's room, Angels old room, at Vals corner of the club (which moves when Val does), there's NO WAY he DOESN'T know that Val is a r@pist.

And DESPITE that, he still sleeps with the man, is very likely in love with him, and oh yeah, FUNDS HIS WHOLE DEAL. The cameras Val uses are Voxtech cameras.

Val may be the one who does the dirty work but Vox willingly and knowingly makes a profit off of that. He doesn’t just know and do nothing, he actively HELPS Val out and obviously has no second thoughts nor regrets about it.

This is not a look of disgust or discontent, this is fondness. Genuine fondness. For Valentino. As a PERSON. Let that sink in.

There’s also the implications that Vox is jealous of the attention Angel gets from Val. Angel gets abused constantly by Val, Vox KNOWS, and still hates Angel because of the sheer fact that he takes up so much of Vals attention.

Not to mention the HEAVY implications that he gets off on watching people suffer.

“Well Vox can still do better than Val!!”

While I’m at it, I guess I should bring up the fact that BOTH Vox and Val are MASSIVE red flags.

With Val, aside from the obvious, he’s also a huge attention whore for Vox and isn’t afraid to break Vox’s property if Vox doesn’t pay attention to him. Yeah Vox gets frustrated with him, who wouldn’t be when their lover is throwing temper tantrums every other day?

With Vox, again, aside from the obvious, isn’t afraid to handle Val roughly when he’s mad, and literally screams about how watching his arch nemesis/obsession get the crap beat out of him is better than sex. Right in front of Val by the way. In regular circumstances, 9.98/10 that’s gonna get your ass dumped in a second.

Not to mention the mutual condescension ation towards each other.

And as much as fans (including myself admittedly) like to shit on Val for being a man child, Vox is literally no better.

Plus the explosive tempers.

Seriously. Vox LITERALLY cannot do better than Val. Vox is the only one who can put up with Vals BS and vice versa.

OH YEAH and lets not forget one last thing: VOX ALSO ABUSES HIS OWN EMPLOYEES.

This dude is scared of him, and it’s NOT because he’s worried about getting fired.

So yes. Vox is not nor HAS EVER been a good person.

And for me personally, I love that. I love that he’s entertaining yet awful. I love his dynamic with Alastor, and I love his relationship with Val even more.

If you’re wondering why I personally love Staticmoth, it’s because basic couple rules do not apply to them. They’re both toxic narcissistic red flags and therefore they can be as awful as they want to each other, and the other will simply shake it off. Yet there’s still heavy trust between the two (never being scared of each other) and they still have little moments together where they’re genuinely happy. It’s unique, and something I’ve never seen in media before.

Basically, if you liked Vox better when you thought he was a poor little baby being abused by Val, read a fan fiction. There’s a lot of them out there.

But people really just need to accept the fact that he’s an awful person. Always has been. He’s not better than Val by ANY means. He and Val are both evil pricks who deserve each other.

And guess what? LIKING AN EVIL CHARACTER DOES NOT MEAN YOU SUPPORT THEIR CHOICES. IT’S OKAY TO LIKE VOX EVEN IF HE IS EVIL.

But don’t go on saying that Vox was “ruined” as a character when all signs have always pointed to him being terrible.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox x valentino #valentino hazbin hotel #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino #voxval #staticmoth #character analysis #long post

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yandere-daydreams · 4 months ago

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well since you brought up gojo…

geto (who has been with a girl before) teaching gojo (pussy virgin who is eager to pop his cherry) how to fuck a woman using y/n (the cute little girl they roofied at the bar and brought home to be their demonstration doll)

just... UGHHHH. suguru showing satoru how to eat. telling him to watch close while he does it. pay attention to how he's using his tongue as he makes you cum. they sit there for hours as suguru lovingly instructs his boyfriend on how to tongue fuck you, running his fingers through his hair and reminding him that he needs to be gentle because girls are more delicate than boys. cooing all sorts of sweet nothings to his good boy as he makes you cum for the fifth agonizing time. (practice makes perfect~ suguru says)

and satorus so eager. too eager. he has a hard time containing his excitement on a normal day, but he’s going to fuck a girl for the first time tonight so he’s just that extra bit more animalistic (he is humping the bed like a bitch and snarfing up your cunt like a dog that hasn’t eaten in a year. you never know if his teeth or tongue are going to be grazing your clit at any given moment. you can no longer tell if it feels good or bad.)

by the end you’re so overstimulated you feel you might pass out, the pleasure in your tummy boiling so violently you feel nauseous. so when suguru coos out to satoru you’ve been so patient baby. such a good boy. look at how nice you made her feel~ i think she should return the favor, hm? something inside you dies

and then suguru walks satoru through fucking you step by step, instructing him on when to go faster and slower (although not even suguru can keep him from being too rough at this point), showing him how to rub your clit so you feel nice while you “make love” in that stupid saccharine voice.

when you ask why they won’t let you go the next morning, suguru tells you rather solemnly that you deflowered satoru so you can’t just leave him. you basically owe it to him to stay

i hate them (im foaming at the mouth for them. sorry for the second long ask ive been thinking about this for weeks)

okay so i read meant to respond to this normally but accidently entered into a fugue state and absolutely went hog wild all over a word document. anyway come back in exactly five hours and fifteen minutes. the lose virgin of it all got to me i suppose.

#personal #eevwrites

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peachdues · 7 months ago

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a glimpse at some soon-to-come Hashira interaction and a wee predicament in Compass

CW: slight reference to/implied roofie-ing • protective Sanemi • violently protective Sanemi • bad boy/gang AU • slight mention of throwing up

“Y/N?” Sanemi catches you right as you stumble once more. He brings you in against him, keeping you upright with his body as your knees give way.

“Y/N. Hey, hey.” He lightly slaps your cheek, cool and clammy under his touch.

Your eyes have rolled back and you’re muttering and moaning incoherently under your breath, but you manage a single, whimpered “Sanemi.”

“I’m here, I’m here, baby’. I’ve got you.” Sanemi loops your arm around his shoulders, allowing you to fully sink into his side. His other arm anchors itself around your waist. “What happened? Did you drink something?”

You mumble again, your head rolling heavily into his shoulder.

He sidesteps with Iguro, blocking him while keeping you in his arms.

“The diner on 12th street. Tomorrow night. Seven.”

And Sanemi knows, by the way his fellow Hashira’s eyes widen — marginally so — that he’s struck a chord.

Good, Sanemi thinks. Let him know that he has leverage of his own; an ace in his back pocket, should Iguro decide to test the limits of his patience.

His raven haired companion only responds with a tight nod that Sanemi returns before he turns toward your apartment building, and carries you inside.

“We’re home, baby,” he soothes, cheek pressed to your clammy temple as he carries you toward the door.

Sanemi doesn’t let himself think about the mental slip he’d just made, by telling you that you were both home; as though he has some claim to your apartment. As though he deserves to, especially after he failed to be with you tonight, when you needed him most.

He sets you down only for a moment to rummage his pocket for the key he’d had made to unlock your door, before he lifts you back up into his arms and totes you inside.

He makes a mental note to check your jacket for your own keys, as well as your wallet — to ensure they’re still on you and haven’t been swiped by whomever targeted you, lest they think it wise to return.

Some brutal, violent part of him dares them to try; let them come for you again. His reputation is brutal enough as applied to the lowlifes he’s tasked with breaking; let them see what he can do when someone he loves is threatened.

He’ll show them a monster.

But first, he needs to get you situated.

He makes for your bed, resolving to strip you free of your clothes and find one of the sweaters or shirts he knows you’ve swiped over the last few months when you begin squirming in his arms.

“Throw up,” you moan, pushing weakly against his chest. “Gonna — up —“

With lightning speed, Sanemi whips around and makes a beeline for your bathroom. He barely has time to set you down in front your toilet and flip open its lid before you’re retching into the bowl.

Sanemi sighs and settles in behind you, his hand gathering your hair together and sweeping it back, holding it out of your way. His other hand rests solidly against your back, occasionally rubbing soothing circles in between your great, shuddering gasps.

At some point, he helps you peel your sweater off of your sweat-dampened skin, leaving you in nothing but your bra and jeans as you continue heaving your guts into the toilet.

Sanemi leans forward and presses his lips against your sticky shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

You moan in some vague attempt at a response, though he’s not entirely sure you’ve heard him. You only rest your cheek against the cool porcelain of your toilet, your eyelids heavy as your breathing eases.

When an hour passed without you vomiting up your insides, Sanemi decides it’s likely safe to try and move you to your bed. He would be concerned by the heavy way you rest in his arms, dead to the world, if it wasn’t your steady breathing.

Once he’s stripped you of your jeans and underwear and found you his worn, white and black sweater to wear, he strips himself down to his briefs and climbs into bed with you.

You don’t move, even as he slides his arms under you to bring you to his chest , still too worried that you may throw up at some point in the night and be unable to roll to your side. But Sanemi basks in the temporary relief of knowing you’re here, warm and safe in his arms.

Whoever did this to you should be grateful Sanemi can’t unglue himself from your side right now. He will kill them regardless, and it will hurt; of that, he is certain.

But if he’d had the chance to hunt them down right then, Sanemi was fairly sure there would be no mercy. No where they could run, no where they could hide, where Sanemi would not hunt them down and make them pay.

Annnd Iguro knows about her

#my shameless attempt to rectify my own experience getting roofied lmao #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinazugawa #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #kny smut #demon slayer smut #sanemi #demon slayer sanemi #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi x you

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 1 year ago

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The Way I Loved You

Luke Castellan x demeter!Reader

Summary: "But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain / And it's 2 a.m. and I'm cursing your name / So in love that you act insane"

Warnings: angst, possessiveness, jealousy, toxic relationship, fluff ending

Wordcount: 3.3K

Masterlist

A/N A. Yes, it's another Taylor Swift songfic and B. Four fics in five days, I've been cooking

And you were wild and crazy / Just so frustrating, intoxicating, complicated

Ever since Y/N met Luke Castellan, he drove her insane. When they were kids, 13 and 14 respectively, they hated each other. She hated the way he came in and immediately started bossing the campers around. Despite being so young she was the counselor for the Demeter cabin. Her big sister—her only sibling at the time—had tragically died on her way to camp that summer. But instead of mourning the always kind and radiant daughter of Demeter, they mourned the daughter of Zeus no one had ever met. And seeing the way the new boy seemed to soak up the attention made her hate him.

By the time she was 15 they still hated each other but he was all she had. They had both been at camp so long, and lost so many of their siblings and friends, both could hardly remember life without the other. But they still argued like children. So whenever they had bickered so much that Chiron or Mr. D got tired of it, they’d send them to do a chore together. They spent long hours cleaning the showers, stables, infirmary, doing practically every undesirable chore together that they finally started to talk.

Luke got to know her and understand why she hated him. And she had learned about his life and gained sympathy for him.

Soon enough those talks became makeout sessions. They stopped talking but at least they couldn’t fight if their lips were occupied. It was like they were addicted to each other.

Eventually they slid into dating. When they weren’t talking it was great. But someone would inevitably say or do something that made the other mad.

“Why were you flirting with him?” Luke demanded, slamming the door of the Demeter cabin.

“What are you talking about? I was training him. You know? Doing my job!”

“It wasn’t just training and you know it.”

“Gods you’re so insecure and possessive.”

“You’re the one who begged me to commit to you. Of course I’m gonna worry about my fucking girlfriend.”

“I did not beg you.”

“Yes you did. You’re the insecure one. You just needed to put a label on it and screw everything up.”

“You were supposed to meet me by the lake an hour ago!” Y/N stormed into the room.

“Oh crap. I’m so sorry babe,” he apologized. Trying to kiss her and make it go away.

“You do this all the time. I’m never a priority to you!”

“You’re literally my girlfriend. I don’t know what else you want.”

“I’m only your girlfriend because you didn’t want me to date anyone else!”

“Why are you packing?” Luke asked.

“You know my cousin who goes to Syracuse? She invited me up for the weekend.”

“So what? You can go party with frat guys?”

“No, so I can party with girls,” she tried to lighten the mood.

But Luke wasn’t consoled.“I don’t want you going to some college and getting drunk.”

“Why?”

“Because so many things can happen. You could get drugged and taken advantage of. You could get attacked. What are you gonna do if a cyclops sniffs you out but you’re too drunk to realize?”

“You’re not actually worried about that you just don’t trust me.”

“Of course I trust you. It’s them I don’t trust.”

“It takes two to tango.”

“Again, you could get roofied.”

“Urgh Luke you’re not listening to me!”

They had plenty of arguments. So much so that the Hermes and Demeter campers had a silent agreement to go to each other’s cabins whenever their counselors started arguing.

But toxic relationships can’t go on forever.

It was Y/N’s birthday. She was turning 18. Collectively Camp Half-Blood made a big deal about birthdays considering that each one literally signified a triumph over death. But Luke couldn’t even be bothered to spend the day with her. When she woke up in his bed, he was already up and putting on his training gear. “‘Morning,” she greeted softly. She tried not to seem too excited about her birthday but all she wanted in that moment was for him to say “happy birthday.”

“Hey,” he smiled. “I'm gonna go train with some of the other campers. The new kids have been excited to watch me fight so…” he said smugly, already halfway out the door. “Just uh make the bed when you leave? Thanks.”

She was left disappointed. Like she always was except for when they were together but not talking.

But almost as soon as she stepped outside she was greeted with several wishes for a good birthday. She nearly cried when she got back to her cabin and found her bunk decorated, small gifts left on her bed from her friends and siblings.

By lunch practically the whole camp had wished her a happy birthday and she was feeling a bit better. She was reading a book she got as a gift, sitting alone at the Demeter table while she ate. Laughter invaded the dining pavilion and she watched as Luke entered along with the campers he had been training. He spotted her, coming over to her table but she didn’t even look up at him.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked. No response. “Why are you mad?” Still no response. After a few beats of silence he tried to change the subject. “So what are you reading?” She just held the book up so he could read the title. “Ah. Where’d you get that?”

By now the other campers had grabbed their food and were walking past the Demeter table. “Happy birthday, Y/N,” they each wished as they passed by. She smiled up at each of them as they passed. She only spared a glance at Luke to witness the expression on his face.

“Are-are you mad because you think I forgot your birthday? Of course I didn’t forget your birthday, babe. I’m just uh… saving my surprise for after dinner.”

“Sure,” was all she said, flipping the page.

“No, no,” Luke insisted, coming around to the other side of the table. He straddled the bench, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her close. As he did so he pressed a kiss against her cheek because she was still focused on her book. “You’re gonna love your gift. I swear.”

Luke spent the rest of the afternoon running around trying to put together a surprise. He got Mr. D to summon a small cake. Fortunately Mr. D was the one person in camp that didn’t know or care that it was Y/N’s birthday so he didn’t ask questions. As for the gift, Luke was lost. Anything in the camp store she’d immediately be able to tell wasn’t something he had thought about and anything he already owned she’d recognize as his.

So he went out to the meadow, picking flowers. She was the daughter of Demeter, of course she liked flowers.

So by the time dinner finished, Luke was pretty proud of what he had pieced together despite his limited resources. After everyone had left the dining pavilion, he brought Y/N to the docks where he proudly displayed his hard work. Except when he handed her the flowers, she looked disappointed. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “I know you forgot my birthday. That’s fine. Whatever,” she sniffed passive aggressively. “But you gave me probably the most cop out gift you could think of.”

“What do you mean? You love flowers.”

By now the tears were freely flowing from her eyes. “You know I hate cut flowers because they just die. You could have dug a few up, preserved their roots and repotted them.”

“Okay fine, I’ll plant them.”

But she shook her head. “No, it’s too late.”

“Then I’ll get new flowers.”

“No, not about flowers. It’s too late for us.”

His heart sunk. “What?”

“Luke, I think we should break up.”

“Over a damn gift? Y/N, I’m sorry. I know I dropped the ball but the wrong gift isn’t something you break up over.”

“It’s not about the gift!” she cried. “Luke, we don’t know each other. We’re strangers who are together because it’s convenient. The gift just proves you only know the basics. We’ve been together for two years. Known each other for five. You should know I don’t like cut flowers.”

“So we need to reconnect? We can work through this. Please Y/N, don’t do anything rash.”

She just shook her head again. “You’re not getting it. It’s not even just that we don’t know each other. We can’t talk for more than five minutes before fighting. We’re toxic, Luke.”

“But we’re…”

“Just because we’re all each other has doesn’t mean we’re good together.”

“Y/N, don’t do this. Please.” By now even Luke had a few tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Luke. But this is better for both of us.” With that, she walked away from him for the last time.

He can't see the smile I'm faking / And my heart's not breaking / 'Cause I'm not feeling anything at all

Getting over Luke was the hardest thing she ever had to do. She spent several days crying to her younger sister, Katie. She tried to help her sister but the younger girl couldn’t relate, making Y/N just feel more alone. But then a new Athena camper joined and things got better.

Chiron had basically assigned Y/N to show Ben the ropes around camp. He felt bad for the poor girl. No one liked watching her or Luke sulk around camp.

“Ben, I’d like you to meet Y/N. She’s one of our most senior campers and counselor of the Demeter cabin.”

She smiled at the new boy. “Hi. Do you know what cabin you’ll be in yet?”

“Yeah, uh Athena. She claimed me when the satyrs found me,” he answered, already finding himself interested. Chiron tried to hide his smirk realizing the boy’s quickly growing feelings.

“Well you’re one of the lucky ones.”

“I’ve heard.”

“Y/N,” Chiron interrupted, “why don’t you show Ben around? Let him know how we do things around here.”

“Uh, sure. C’mon I’ll give you a tour.” As they went around camp, Ben asked her all sorts of things about herself. Favorite color, favorite flower, who her friends were, what they were like, what she liked to eat and more. All the things Luke should have known.

As they kept going through camp, Ben knew he was already falling for her. And not just because Chiron had talked her up so much as they had approached the daughter of Demeter. He thought she was pretty and smart. And she was so kind to him. Plus, everyone around camp seemed to love her.

Ben’s very apparent interest was much to the chagrin of Luke. He had spent the first couple days of his breakup pretending like everything was alright. An act that proved very unpopular with the rest of camp. But the lonely nights got to him and his siblings could hear quiet sobs and sniffles in the night. But almost as soon as he started showing remorse, this new guy showed up and all of a sudden there was a buzz around camp about the new guy who would replace him.

The excited gossip about his ex and the new boy had literally started from day one. He saw them going through the camp tour a few times that day. After all, Camp Half-Blood is big. And Luke just happens to have to go to the same areas his ex does at the same time. But every time he spotted them he couldn’t help but glare at the new Athena cabin member. Every time he sent her a smile or made her laugh, Luke curled his fist impossibly tighter. His fists became almost perpetually white as the blossoming romance grew over time.

As for Y/N, she was finally healing. Not happy, but healing and Ben was helping with that as time went on and they got closer. He was perfect. Sweet, smart, a gentleman. But he wasn’t Luke.

They spent many nights getting to know each other. He knew her birthday, all her favorites, and made an effort with all her friends. Hell he even made an effort with Luke—an effort the Hermes boy did not appreciate—because he knew Luke was still important to Y/N. When he asked her out he did so with a pot of her favorite flowers which he had Argus help him get.

He knocked on the door of the Demeter cabin which was opened by Katie. “Hey Katie,” Ben greeted Y/N’s favorite younger sister. “Is Y/N home?”

“Yeah, she is.” The young girl called for her and soon enough the object of Ben’s affection was at the door.

“Hey Ben. What’s up?” she asked.

“I just wanted to give you this,” he smiled, handing her the beautifully potted flower. “I know I’m no demigod child of the plant goddess but…”

“No it’s great,” she smiled at him. But her heart was sinking. It wasn’t because of the gift, the gift was perfect actually. But if Luke had been the one to give it to her, her heart would be soaring. “Thank you.”

“And I just wanted to ask you if you uh- wanted to have dinner with me tonight?” he nervously asked.

“Oh well I’d love to,” she smiled. “But uh we can’t table hop at dinner. It’s against the rules,” she laughed nervously, hoping that would be enough to dissuade him.

“That’s not a problem. I got permission from Chiron to let us have dinner together. We just have to be out of the dining pavilion before everyone else gets there at 7.”

Dread kept filling her. She was in too deep now. And he had asked Chiron, she couldn’t just shoot him down. “Well then I’ll see you at 6 then?”

The biggest smile broke over his face. “See you then.”

The entire time at dinner, Y/N wanted to cry. This is not what she wanted. Ben was not what she wanted. But she kept forcing a happy face, hoping that if she could convince Ben she liked him too, she could convince herself.

When he brought her out to the meadow and kissed her, she wanted to dig herself into the ground and die. It was a sweet kiss but it just felt wrong… like there was no chemistry or passion between them.

She was so frustrated with herself. As she looked into Ben’s eyes she wondered why she couldn’t just love him back. Here was this incredibly caring guy who was more than willing to give her everything she was asking for but she just didn’t feel anything.

But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain

For Luke, seeing Y/N with Ben made a weird dread fill his chest. To him it wasn’t fair that she just got to move on when she was the one that broke up with him. She should be begging for him back right now. And he hated to admit it but he’d take her back in a heartbeat right now.

So when he found her crying on the beach late one night, he didn’t know what to think. But she was still all he had so he approached. “Hey,” he tried to catch her attention gently.

She looked up at him, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes. “Oh, hey Luke,” she tried to play off her tears. “What are you doing here?”

“Came here to think and then I saw you. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” She gave a strained smile that did nothing to hide the puffiness of her eyes or blotchy skin.

It pained Luke to see her like this. Even more so when he knew he was the cause of her tears at one point. “Are you sure?” he asked, sitting next to her but maintaining her space. “We can talk. I promise it’ll just be a friendly conversation.”

She let out the weakest laugh he had ever heard. “I’m fine. You wouldn’t wanna hear about it anyway,” she dismissed even though Luke was the only person she wanted to talk to. He was the only person who could maybe possibly understand. Her siblings were too young and the only other camper their age was Ben.

“Try me,” Luke challenged, scooting the slightest bit closer.

She looked at him for a while before reluctantly speaking. “It’s Ben. I just… he’s such a great guy. He’s nice, and sweet, and such a gentleman but he’s just not…”

“Just not what?” Luke asked a little eagerly. From a distance she had looked blissfully happy and everyone spoke about how well Ben treated her. But hearing that his ex-girlfriend had a problem with the guy she was dating? Luke was a little too eager to hear about that.

“He’s not you!” She finally admitted. She didn’t miss the way Luke seemed to brighten. “He does nice things for me and he’s so sweet and into me but I’m just feeling nothing at all. It’s like there’s no passion between us.”

“Well you were right. We were toxic but we also had a lot of passion,” Luke tried to lighten the mood. “Look, I don’t mean to sweep in on your most vulnerable moment but I’ve been thinking since the breakup and this is the first time you’ve even looked at me so. I know I treated you like shit and was so possessive. I’m ready to actually commit to you and be your boyfriend instead of just slipping into it because we were already making out when we were younger. I want to give you everything the old me couldn’t or wouldn’t because watching you slip through my fingers was the most painful thing I've ever done. Besides, with more effort I think we could make this work because you don’t fight like we did unless you’re in love. People who don’t love each other just let it fade. They don’t fight.”

She looked like she was in severe pain. “Gods, why couldn’t you have said this three months ago?” Her lips were immediately on his. Luke was a little taken aback but kissed her back, glad to have her in his arms once again.

A few moments later they were promising each other eternity with all the passion in the world. “Forever?” he asked through labored breaths, his fingers intertwined with her hair.

“Forever,” she agreed.

The next day Luke was waiting anxiously in the Hermes cabin. Y/N was ending things with Ben but he was still nervous. What if she decided she wanted to stick with the safer option? He didn’t think he’d be able to handle it if she went back to him after last night.

His thoughts were only quieted when the door opened and he found her standing there. He stood up anxiously but hesitated, still slightly wary that she’d tell him she changed her mind. But she walked towards him, immediately falling into his arms. “Forever?” he asked.

“Forever,” she agreed.

Relieved, Luke pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Forever,” he confirmed for himself.

Masterlist

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo x reader #pjo tv show #pjo series #the lighting thief #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #x reader #Spotify

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gremlingottoosilly · 1 year ago

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Stranger danger (slasher!Konig x fem!Reader)

You never wanted to go to this stupid party. Turns out, you were right all along - it doesn't save you from this weird guy in a Ghostface mask though. Warnings and tags: Non-con, size difference, knives, slasher-y, slight degradation, obsessive Konig, yandere Konig, praise kink Word count: 3069 AO3

You told your friends you didn’t want to go to this stupid party. No one cared. You asked them for at least a funny group costume, and everyone agreed – only to bail at the fucking party, so you were the only one who went as a freaking ant from that one extremely sad meme. With a little handkerchief on a stick and everything. No one got it.

You told your friends that you wouldn’t want to get drunk unless they would be with you because, honestly, college parties are the worst, and you don’t want anyone to get roofied. They left you by the snack table, making you eat smarties and occasional chips like salt counts don’t exist.

You were munching on a particularly tough pretzel – the packaging was saying something in German, as exotic as this college could fucking get without being too scared of spices – when The Guy dropped himself on the couch next to you.

Yes, The Guy – because you were in no right to call him just a guy, a dude, a lil’ bro, or anything like that. He was way over 6 feet, probably creeping on being the new form of a fancy light post, and built like a bear that was eating nothing but protein and particularly tasty American tourists. Dressed in all black, very original, he must love spending time in various shops and choosing between 50 shadows of the same dark attire.

At this point, you were not surprised that he was wearing a Ghostface mask. At this point, you lost all of your capabilities to be surprised – only slightly intrigued, perhaps, and a little bit aroused when he manspreaded his legs and pushed his knee right against your leg, not stopping until he crammed you to the corner of a sofa. How the one man could take so much space, you had no idea. What he was eating to grow up this big – also.

He looked like at least three frat boys from a sports team crammed together in one body. Tight muscles that could be seen even through the bagginess of his clothes – you aren’t sure if you could survive looking at his pecks without wanting to give up all of your life earnings for a gym membership.

— Hey.

A master of flirting, you just needed someone to talk to.

The Guy didn’t respond.

You frowned – a typical college boy would already try to flirt with you, probably getting you drunk to get an easy lay for the next 10 seconds of pure physical exercise. If he wasn’t interested in a conversation, he probably shouldn’t have sat in your corner – unless he wanted to steal snacks, of course. Something in his figure told you that he would be a freaking hurricane in the snack aisle.

He smells like metal – weird, you think. Not like you wanted to smell him, of course not. You were just crammed in a really tight place against his shoulders, your nose forced to press into his shirt and inhale the deep scent of some generic perfume, a surprising hint at laundry detergent and cleaning supplies – and, of course, said metal.

You expected sweat and cheap booze – but this means it smells like a butcher and a cleaning lady at the same time.

To closer observation, he looked…nervous, almost. Hands fidgeting with a fake knife that he probably snatched from some Halloween supply shop – it’s surprisingly heavy looking, without that cheap shine that a lot of Ghostface costume knives have, and you feel almost endeared by the way he fidgets and spins the knife in his hands. Still, somehow, he looked anxious.

— Are you alright?

He continues to sit here silently. You fight the savior instinct inside of you, reminding yourself that you do not need to nurse and mother a grown-up college boy who is probably too high to talk right now or simply dozed off in his mask with no one to notice this – but still, something in his hunched posture made you feel…soft. Tender. This, or you’re too drunk to not be a doting mommy, since all of your friends ditched you and your sad ant cosplay to be slutty fish sticks.

— Ja, I’m fine.

German accent. This is a surprise for a college boy at this party. Guys who are usually visiting those places can barely speak English, so knowing German with that perfect weird accent of his makes you feel…things. Never too much for accents, you still sat a bit closer, your face pressed against his shoulder. Cheek smashed on his skin – he doesn’t say anything about extreme physical contact. You’re surprised at your own confidence.

— From which program are you?

— What?

— Like…which school. What do you study?

He paused. Flicks the knife in his hands – from this angle, it looks way too sharp for a simple plastic knife. Guy must be a crazy cosplayer who spends hours on trying to make foam and metallic paint look this realistic – you admire this level of nerdiness a little bit. With this skill, he could be more than a generic Ghostface.

He shrugs, leaving you without an answer. Alright, not much of a talker. Probably from computing, STEM boys always act like contact with females would make them pregnant.

— Are you enjoying the party?

— Ja.

— You came alone?

— Ja.

— What do you…alright, just tell me if I’m annoying. I’ll stop bothering you.

He chuckles – your cheeks are immediately heated when he presses his hand closer to your thigh. The actions is suggestive, and you don’t quite…don’t quite mind it. You always had a thing for masks, and his body resembles the one of a greek statue – you wouldn’t want to pass on this opportunity. Definitely not for sex, not the type to hook up with a random boy on Halloween, but maybe a sloppy makeout and some number exchange would take place.

König had different plans.

Honestly, you made it too fucking easy for him. Good girl, polite girl, nice girl who actually fucking asked him if he was alright because his hands were shaking from the adrenaline he got from killing some weird asshole trying to get a drunk girl in his bed. He was shaking because he knew he’d get away with it – there were so many drugs on the venue, police wouldn’t even want to open this rathole and try to search for a killer in that random ass city he got on a break after the latest contract.

You made it too easy – your weird costume, your sad face, and your attempts at caring for him actually made his blood boil from excitement, and his nerves(and his dick, throbbing in that baggy black pants) stir. You tucked in the corner, all by yourself, surrounded by loud noises and intoxicated people who couldn’t give less shit about your safety. He can slit your throat, and everyone would think it’s a costume.

He can…and he can also take a little treat for having such a good last mission. Might even take you with him if you’d promise to be a good girl and don’t fight him in the trunk of his car.

You can’t even scream when he pushes his hands on your throat, squeezing. You wanted to, he knew by the look in your eyes that there was a fire inside of you – so he extinguished it as fast as he possibly could, laughing at your pathetic attempts at fighting him off. Just like your friends, you are weirdly easy for him to handle. Just a bunch of drunk college mates, nothing compared to his experience. He’d say that he stood too low, so crazy on his leave, that he decided to search for the easiest prey imaginable, but sometimes you need to choose yourself and find some easy hobbies that you can partake in without taking too much from your psychological sources.

Sometimes, you just need to kill a bunch of drugged students and take home one of them – for mental health reasons. Konis is sure that KorTac would allow him to take you to the base if he’d prove that you are his psychological support pet. Maybe he could even share you with some of his officers as a treat. You’d be so sweet for Krueger, he can tell just from that terrified look on your face when he pushes his hands further, blocking your windpipe.

König is strong – stronger than anyone you know, probably. He knows how to use this strength for the better and for worse, and he isn’t afraid of pushing a bit too far, not enough to break you, but just freaking perfect to make you dazed and turn your brain into mush. So sweet for him, such tasty little noises and scratches of your nails on his gloved hands. He must leave some marks on you later since you’re so sweet to him now.

— Not so talkative now, Schatzi?

You squirm, trying to punch him right in his dick, and he only moans when your knees are jerking in a poor attempt at kicking his balls. If anything, it feels like a really nice massage. So fucking obedient for him, he can’t even imagine how cute you’ll look chained to his bed, forced to play his little girlfriend while he is searching for your friends to finish them off.

Taking off your clothes is ridiculously easy. Even while you decided not to wear a slutty costume for Halloween, the cheap fabric isn’t a good barrier between him and his desire to freaking crush you – he exposes your breasts, covering them with one of his hands right about now, keeping his other hand firmly seated on your throat. You whimper and cry as he plays with your soft buds, making them harden, undoubtedly creating a pool in your shorts. God, you’re beautiful like this.

He actually grieves wearing a mask that can’t be moved this easily – he’d love to munch on your breasts, to try your nipples with his tongue, and roll his teeth over your soft mounds. He can’t, not right now, at least – you’re not nearly broken enough not to tell the police about his face, and he doesn’t want you to close your eyes. Need to make sure you’ll see every inch of his dick.

His rough gloves are creating a weird but pleasurable pressure on your buds – you whine and sob as he pushes his hands to stimulate you more, not caring that you don’t want it. Tugging and teasing with his fingertips, you actually feel like you’re going crazy just from the way he is playing with your breasts. Pushing from side to side, touching soft flesh, not even allowing you to moan as every time you try to open your mouth, he grips your throat tighter.

When he is finally done playing with your boobs, you can almost feel bruises forming from his rough touches. You whine when he goes to rip your shorts – his touches feel like lava spreading between your legs, no matter how much you wanted him to stop, your tongue never came to actually beg him for it.

To his delight, you are soaking.

Your pretty pussy on full display for him – twitching and squeezing for nothing, poor thing, he might as well just push the finger already, stretching you out just enough to let you feel the burn without breaking you. König would love to just push his dick inside without all of these dancing around nothing, but he is aware of his size – and very, very aware of yours. Little things might not be as small as he likes to think you are, but you’re freaking tiny compared to him. Weak and fragile, you have no fucking excuse to just parade yourself like men around you aren’t a bunch of wolves that would love to rip you apart and fuck what remains.

You can barely breathe while he pushes his fingers inside, just one digit is enough to make you squirm under him. You’re wet, pussy damp from all of the juices – lack of oxygen makes you dumber, pliable, make you his best little thing in the world. A girl like you has no business going to parties and whoring yourself to a bunch of early alcoholics – you should stay at home, his home, cooking him dinner and warming his dick. Cleaning his knife after he’d gut some dumb fuck, making sure to get your tongue into all the sharp edges.

Scheisse, just the thought makes him harder than ever. Perhaps he needs to stop playing the nice guy and finally give you the pounding you deserve.

Tired of just holding his hand on your throat, he forces the blade of his knife to take its place. Not nearly enough to cut your skin, but a constant reminder – if you’re a bad girl and would try to escape, he might slit your fucking throat as easily as butter. If you’re a good girl, unlike your friends, he might just take you with him. What a beautiful option.

One finger turns to two very quickly – and, since he doesn’t stop you from moaning and talking, you finally gain your voice back. Poor girl, too dumb to understand that all of your little threats and cries and everything is just a fucking delight to his ears. Might as well record it for his alarm clock.

— Get…get off me!

Such a strong words for such a weak girl. He’d spank you right away, but his fingers are too busy playing with your folds, smearing your juices all over your clit and trembling pussy. You’re dripping like a slut, and it busts his ego – a fancy college girl like you, so wet and needy for a nasty criminal. He knows how to treat you right and has all the resources for it – but somehow, it feels like you’d enjoy being treated like his doll.

He can be sweet after he has fucked you raw.

— Please, you can’t…I won’t tell anyone if you just stop, I promise!

— Shatzi, why do you think I’d let you go after this?

— I…I will scream.

— Ja, you can scream. Do this for me, please.

He laughs as he plunges in, giving you sweet seconds to become accustomed to the feeling of his dick impaling you. Bulging in the outline of your soft tummy, another boost to his ego – just to think, he was so anxious about crashing this party, knowing it would be filled with prissy students who all get to live the life he dreamed of, but you made it all worth it. You’re sweet and fiery, and you grip him like a glove. No matter how wet you were and how much pre-cum he had leaked, you’re still tight for him. Too tight.

You scream when he plunges it, and you continue to scream when he pushes deeper, further, when he moves back a little bit, only to push forward again. His hand finds your clit, never stopping until you’re squirming and crying full-on under him. Such a shame he can’t kiss you, not with this stupid mask – he can only play with your slit and push a knife against your throat over and over again, never allowing the adrenaline in your system to run dry.

Over and over, pushing you further and further until he plunged inside fully – you’re so puffy around him, your pussy lips swollen and spread for him, your clit is throbbing from the pleasure he gives you. Getting you off like that is easy for him – but he has to make sure he isn’t taking it too far, not with how warm and tight you are. He hates being in a position of weakness, but you’re just so perfect, he can’t help but push further and further until you are a sobbing mess and he is on the edge of orgasm.

He forces himself to be slower, his pushes are more and more deliberate – he doesn’t want to cum so fast, even though the mix of your sobs and his adrenaline high from the killing almost makes it impossible. He doesn’t want to stop like this, so fucking easy, but you’re so welcoming and cute and…

— Please, please, don’t…don’t come inside, I’m not on the pill, I’m…

God, you’re so sweet for him. Did the devil finally give him his gift for Halloween?

He laughs as you sob softly, pushes you more and more, and your poor pussy is getting stretched far beyond its limits. He steals this orgasm from your decency, robs you of any accountability – you just lay here, under him, receiving his dick like a good girl you are. Couldn’t have it any other way, just wanted to have you pinned under his body forever.

Your orgasm is crushing, painful in a way – you're all too sensitive for a dick this large to impale you, you sob, and you cry, begging for him to stop before he’d cum inside. Your biggest nightmare is alive when he pushes the knife away from your throat, squeezing it again just so he can cum in the tightness of your hole.

He stays like this, connected to your deepest parts, for a good few minutes, dumb out after the orgasm. You try to squirm from under him, but he only laughs, slowly pushing away from your body. Just one load is enough to make your pussy all messy and even more wet. You’re so dirty for him, it’s actually impossible not to love you even more when you’re like this, dumb and sensitive and so, so fucking cute.

His cum drips from your overflown pussy, pearly white liquid stuffs you ever so perfectly, König laughs, putting his clothes back together and getting one last look at your ruined hole, clenching around nothing. You can’t even talk at this point, poor thing – just how can he leave you here to be found by your perverted friends who would only take advantage of you?

It’s only natural that he sneaks your limp body through the window, holding you like a beloved possession while he is getting in his car.

It’s only natural that you fall asleep in his arms, your pussy stuffed so full, he just knows that he’ll add to the mess once he’d get rid of the body of a dumb college guy he killed moments ago.

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #cod x you #yandere cod #call of duty #slashers #slasher

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i-like-writing-stuff · 5 months ago

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never changing; part two [ five hargreeves x reader ]

a/n: y’all this ain’t much i’m still trying to reacommodate myself back into writing but i will share a final part 3 to this imagine eventually!!!

again this is just fluff and banter i love keeping things light hearted

and i’m trying to heal myself with what could’ve been 😔

summary: you and the hargreeves siblings start your rescue mission

“Well, you all certainly look shittier than the other,” You crossed your arms awkwardly, watching the seven Hargreeves siblings as they were all clutching onto their bodies, sprawled across what used to be the fancy mansion that they grew up in.

Now it was just looking as beat down as your family.

“You’re fucked up in the head,” Ben groaned, making you roll your eyes.

“Coming from the dipshit who roofied his siblings with space juice… that’s a big statement,” Diego mumbled, as the others nodded in agreement.

After Gracie’s birthday party, you intended to go back to the office and catch up on some paperwork. The current case you were working on was truly a pain in the ass. Ever since you started working on it a couple of months ago, you didn’t think that anything else was more important than trying to win it. Boy, were you wrong.

You intended to leave the party a bit earlier, so that’s exactly what you did. Even if you felt like you couldn’t get enough of bantering with the family, playing with Gracie and most specially, talking to Five, you eventually dragged yourself back to the car and drove back to work. You needed that gathering, you truly did- in spite of the inevitably awkward moments.

That’s why when Five called you to inform to that Viktor got kidnapped, you didn’t hesitate to drive back to the mansion and regroup with the siblings to rescue their brother. One thing led to another, you managed to save him and even celebrate after that, but it wouldn’t be a Hargreeves mission without something going sideways.

“We have to get going, asshats,” Five reminded you all, stroking his hair.

You wanted to comfort him, as your heart sunk watching the dark circles around his eyes. His skin was as pale as a ghost, and he was groaning lightly through heavy breaths. His long fingers were running through his messy hair, as his other hand was holding the marigold jar loosely.

You always thought how stupid it was that you could just look at him for hours, just because he was so pretty. He could be doing nothing, you still couldn’t get enough of him.

This is so embarrassing, it’s been six years, you thought to yourself, looking away exactly as he caught a glimpse of your stare, Besides, he looks like he is dying. Handsomely, but dying, nonetheless.

The same man who kidnapped Viktor last night entrusted you with a rescue mission to bring his daughter back home. You decided not to pursue it, eventually, and before you went your separate ways, you all had a shot of Sake, ushered by Ben.

The rest is history.

Point is, everyone seemed to have their powers back.

“Shotgun,” You raised a hand, as the seven siblings started cussing at you on your way to Diego and Lila’s van.

You felt very nostalgic, since so many years passed without being with everyone. It was bittersweet, but you tried to promise to yourself to not get too attached. You liked your current life, and as lovely as it was spending time with Five, that led to nowhere. It was just a stupid little crush, anyway.

The family van was parked in front of the building, right in front of your car, so Diego started moving some thing into your car trunk to make room for everyone. Allison and Klaus were talking to Claire on the phone, as Ben, Luther and Lila were bickering about the sconces and Viktor was still trying to calm his nerves.

“You okay?” You placed your hand on Five’s shoulder, feigning a confident smile.

You were honestly so concerned for them, all of them.

“Just the most annoying hangover in my life,” Five placed his hand on yours absentmindedly.

Maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal, he appreciated your concern, he always did. When he got hurt in missions you were always scolding him and he acted annoyed with your protectiveness, but this was the first time he actually showed gratitude for it.

“But you don’t gotta get all up in my ass,” He added with a smirk, taking your hand off his shoulder.

There it was.

He still held onto it, proudly, as you rolled your eyes, not even noticing how naturally your hands locked together.

“Oh please, you’d love me to get all up on you,” You scoffed, making him chuckle.

“Since when are you so arrogant?” He wondered.

“I may have picked up a thing or two from you over the years,” You shrugged your shoulders lightly.

“Should’ve picked up the phone more often,” Five said, causing you to wave a hand in front of your face bored of how many times you’ve been told that;

“The phone that…”

“Works both ways,” He interrupted you, “Yeah, yeah.”

“Then you don’t really have a leg to stand on,” You declared with a smile.

“Is that right?” He took a step closer, eyeing you curiously.

If you were to ask him where did that come from, he really had no idea what to say. Five always was unpredictable, but this was something new. But then again, it’s not like your relationship was that cold- it wasn’t. However, he was playing with fire a tad too much.

It all felt so ridiculous. How could he still make your heart thump heavily just with a simple look? You felt so little compared to him, as hard as you tried to seem confident. With the help of your platform boots you were still almost reaching his chin, and that was to show you just how young you both still were, even if your mental ages begged to differ.

“You still look like shit,” You broke the ice, still trying to keep up a tough exterior.

“Bullshit,” Five grinned, obviously feeling a lot better.

Little did you know how much your simple presence helped his mental well-being.

Surprisingly, he thought to himself.

“Are you two gonna suck faces or can we move along?” Ben suddenly walked up to you and his brother, as the rest of the family was watching everything unfold as if it was a soap opera.

“Why’d you wanna watch your brother kiss someone?” You wondered, letting go of Five’s hand to climb into the car along the others.

“That’s not okay,” Klaus agreed.

“You’re getting weirder by the second,” Allison told Ben, as he tried to argue.

“What the fuck?” Diego turned to watch his brother disgusted, as Viktor was just silently side-eyeing the tentacle man.

“I fucking hate you all,” Ben said defeated, looking around the car.

“At least they don’t wanna watch their fresh 19 year old brother eat tongue,” You couldn’t help the banter.

“Don’t say fresh 19,” Luther chimed in as well, as the siblings turned to you now.

“He is 64, nothing about him is fresh,” Klaus pointed out.

“Shut the fuck up, fuckface,” Five only rolled his eyes.

And thus the road-trip begun.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #five hargreeves imagines #number five #five hargreeves imagine #the umbrella academy imagines #tua x reader

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sturn777 · 2 months ago

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how would fb!chris react if someone roofied dealer!r's drink???

fb!chris' reaction to somebody lacing dealer!r's drink . | ( female reader ) wc ?? ( masterlist ) + ( request )

꒰ა " some things you just can't explain, like the way you're stuck in my brain . " ໒꒱

the music is too loud, bass shaking the walls of the frat house like it’s trying to knock the place down. red solo cups litter the floor, a mix of spilled beer and sticky jungle juice making the place reek. you're leaned up against the kitchen counter, your usual spot for scoping the scene, your eyes scanning the crowd. a few familiar faces nod your way, a silent acknowledgment of what you're there for.

chris is on the other side of the kitchen, nursing a beer and cracking jokes with nate and tyler, two of his closest boys. he’s got that lazy smirk on, the one that makes girls linger a little too long, leaning in for a brush of his arm or a laugh at something he said that wasn’t even funny. but his eyes keep darting back to you, watching the way you keep your head on a swivel, how you don't smile at anyone unless it’s to close a deal.

you've got your cup in hand, the bright red plastic clashing against your dark nails. you aren't drinking much, just taking a sip here and there, yiur other hand in your pocket like you're waiting for the right buyer to make their move.

"yo," tyler nudges chris, pointing toward the living room where a group of freshmen are trying and failing to get a keg stand going. "you think we should step in before someone breaks their neck, or nah?"

"let 'em," chris mutters, but he’s only half paying attention. his eyes flick to you again, narrowing when he notices some guy standing too close. it’s luke, one of the guys from the frat. he’s leaning in, saying something to you, but you're not laughing or smiling. your face is blank, uninterested. typical.

“you know her or something?” nate asks, following chris’ line of sight. “nah,” chris lies, taking a swig of his beer. “just watchin’.”

watching turns into glaring when luke reaches out, his hand brushing against your arm as he hands you a fresh cup. you hesitate before taking it, your eyes narrowing just slightly. chris catches the shift in yiur expression, the way you sniff the drink before taking a sip.

something feels off. he doesn’t know what it is, but his gut is screaming at him. he pushes off the counter, walking toward you just as you sway slightly, your hand gripping the edge of the counter for balance.

"yo, you good?" he asks, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the haze of the party. you blink up at him, your eyes glassy, and shake your head like you're trying to clear it. "i— i’m fine," you mutter, but your words slur, and that’s when he knows.

his jaw tightens, his eyes snapping to luke, who’s standing there with that smug, lazy grin like he didn’t just cross a line. “what the fuck did you put in her drink?” chris growls, stepping in front of you like a shield. luke’s grin falters, but he shrugs, trying to play it off. “man, chill. it’s not a big deal.”

"not a big deal?" chris barks, and then he’s swinging before anyone can stop him. his fist connects with luke’s jaw, the crack echoing even over the music. luke stumbles back, clutching his face, and then it’s chaos. the other frat boys rush in, trying to separate them as chris lunges again, his eyes wild with fury.

“chill, bro! he’s not worth it!” nate shouts, grabbing chris by the shoulders and dragging him back as luke scrambles to his feet, his lip bleeding. “get the fuck out,” chris spits, pointing at luke, his chest heaving. “now.”

luke hesitates, but the look in chris’ eyes makes him backpedal, shoving his way through the crowd and out the front door. the room’s still buzzing, everyone whispering and watching as chris turns back to you. you're sitting on the counter now, your head in your hands, trying to steady yourself.

“hey,” he says, softer this time, stepping closer. “you good?” you look up at him, your eyes clearing just a little. “i’m fine. just... dizzy.”

“yeah, no shit,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “c’mon. you’re not staying here.”

he doesn’t give you a chance to argue, just grabs your hand and leads you out of the house, ignoring the stares and whispers. when you get to his car, he opens the door for you, watching as you sink into the passenger seat.

“you didn’t have to do all that,” you say quietly, your voice still shaky. he glances at you through low eyes. “yeah, i did. and if that asshole shows his face again, he’s done.”

you don’t respond, just lean your head against the window, your eyes fluttering shut. and for once, you don't argue or push back. you just let him take care of you.

taglist : ( @emely9274 ; @bluestriips ; @loveparqdise ; @flouqissss ; @st4rcs ; @starwebber9 ; @conspiracy-ash ; @sweetrelieef ; @chris-hallelujah ; @leoslaboratory )

#sturn777☆#anons☆#chris☆#fratboy!chris #dealer!reader

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suzukiblu · 5 months ago

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WIP excerpt for S; the puzzle trap sex-room. tw: discussion of past dubcon/underage sex, past grooming, unhealthy coping mechanisms. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

"It's fine, Jesus," Superboy says, more than a little frustrated with literally every-fucking-thing at this point. "I mean the pollen and the livestreaming and the deathtrap were all extremely fucking shitty but for, like, the millionth time, it was just sex."

"Sex with someone that you aren't attracted to who is a gender that you aren't attracted to," Robin says tightly, clenching his fists down by his sides. Superboy does not look anywhere near Superman.

Goddammit, he thinks.

"No," he says, just pretending they're alone in this stupid cave because it's not actually cool to make Robin think the situation is any worse than it already is, and Robin's the one who already got upset enough to fucking puke over the situation, so . . . "Like I was kinda annoyed over the hair-pulling thing and you were pretty pushy and I definitely did want a condom involved, but–just, look, that problem is not a problem, alright? Neither of those problems are, uh . . . problems. And what do you care, anyway, nobody's gonna think you're into dick just because you got roofied into oblivion and fucked the only convenient mouth in the room."

God, though, only he could ever possibly be enough of a fucking loser to end up having to confess to the stupid sexuality crisis he's been having in the fucking Batcave. In front of Batman. In front of Superman! Like–sure, why not, this might as well happen. Why not!

Robin stares at him.

"You have a crush on me?" he asks in obvious disbelief.

"I didn't say I had a crush on you, Jesus," Superboy grumbles, re-folding his arms and very, very firmly still not looking anywhere near Superman. Or anywhere near Batman either, just while he's at it. But admittedly it's mostly Superman he's not looking at. "Ego much, birdboy?"

"You have a crush on me," Robin repeats, covering his face with his hands again, and Superboy scowls at him and does not blush. "You have a crush on me and I made you go down on me in a deathtrap without even kissing you first."

"Brush your teeth and we'll talk," Superboy says with a dismissive shrug, since Robin again did very literally just puke in that trash can and all. And like, yeah, the guy doesn't even like guys, but the flippancy is just a reflex at this point.

Robin splays his fingers and stares at him.

"Go to therapy and we'll talk," he says. Superboy scowls at him again. Rude.

“Look who’s fucking talking, Bat-boy,” he says. “Are we all done freaking out about nothing now? Can I go get back to my life, please?”

“Superboy, if you would be willing to talk to . . . someone . . .” Superman starts in a very careful tone that Superboy immediately hates the sound of.

“Yeah, no,” he says in exasperation, just–not looking at him, still. “Therapy is for supervillains in Gotham and civilians fresh out of crisis situations, not for perfectly fine active duty superheroes who are just bad at problem-solving under pressure.”

“You solved the puzzle perfectly, actually,” Batman says, just as neutral as before.

“How are you making that sound like a bad thing?!” Superboy demands, shooting him a dirty look.

#timkon #kon el #conner kent #tim drake #superboy #dc robin #past grooming #past dubcon #dubcon mention #unhealthy coping mechanisms #wip: the puzzle trap sex-room #s

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arieswritez · 1 year ago

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golden boy

golden boy | yandere stepbrother!mark grayson x afab!reader

cw; DARK CONTENT!!! MDNI!! pseudo-incest, panty thief!mark, roofies, victim blaming, non-con video taping, voyeurism, rape, reader's anatomy is sexualized, forced breeding, time skip (mark is an adult & nolan never killed the guardians), mark is a sicko you've been warned

about; life was easier when mark was an only child. he wishes it would've stayed that way. (1.9k words)

a/n; an anon asked about a platonic yan sibling duo so i raise you: big pervy step bro who hates your guts but also wants to rearrange them

step brother mark who's used to being the light and joy of the grayson home. as the only child, he's spoiled beyond belief. he's spunky and cute and the graysons love him to death, constantly showering him with love and adoration.

step brother mark who gets a new sibling after villains make you an orphan. nolan finds you in the ruins and it's like he's on auto-pilot: carrying you to that secret hospital and handing you off to the doctors that rush to his aid. . but not before your tiny fist closes in his suit.

as he watches you being taken away, barely alive, something inside his chest pangs.

debbie notices nolan acting strange. he's restless and he's late for dinner, more so than usual. something's very clearly wrong. and it's not like her to grow suspicious of nolan but she does.

nolan's never given her a reason to believe his head may have been turned but for some reason, she starts to believe there might be someone else.

only to find he's been visiting you at the hospital, staying at your bedside for hours on end as you recover. you're in bad shape. doctors aren't sure how you survived. . if you even will. debbie's never seen nolan so torn over a survivor before. he's seen many things: deaths, disasters, you name it. yet, you're who's causing the sleepless nights.

of course, debbie has a kind heart and, soon, it's not just nolan who's worried. the graysons keep tabs on you. and when you come to, they’re the first thing you see.

you look confused, scared, but as nolan soothes you, you offer a meek smile and nolan finds himself feeling that same giddiness he felt when he first saw a tiny mark cradled in debbie's arms.

the graysons become your legal guardians and, suddenly, mark isn't the golden boy anymore.

you take up so much of their attention. now, christmases and birthdays all revolve around you. suddenly, marks good grades and the fact he hit a home run isn't all that impressive. mark's late for his baseball practice and games more times than he can count. . yet they never miss your dance recitals.

you got an A in an absurdly easy class and that was a cause for celebration. in the meantime, mark won a spelling bee & all he got was a 'good job'.

they treat you like you're made of glass, like you'll shatter into a million tiny pieces the second someone so much as looks at you the wrong way. mark still remembers being reprimanded whenever he said the smallest things to you. he doesn't think he's ever lived down that one orphanage joke that made you bawl. god, he was just kidding. . its not his fault you're sensitive.

soon, you're calling his parents 'mom and dad'. and worse of all, they reiterate the fact that you should be calling mark your 'big brother'.

fucking fantastic.

you are everything to them while mark is pushed aside. and it only worsens the older the two of you get. mark gets his powers - there's literally nothing more impressive than that - yet he still has to do a million and one things in order to outshine you. nothing ever works. and despite the fact that mark is - quite literally - saving lives. . your stupid birthday is still more important.

you are the light of their lives and mark bitterly remembers when they used to look at him that way, too.

you are perfect in their eyes. just like he once was.

and mark wishes you would've died in that accident, just like your parent(s).

as you start to develop a sense of self, mark gets into the habit of stealing your clothes. it's the only thing you seem to care about: the way you present yourself to the world.

they're small things at first. like a single shoe when his parents had bought you new ones yet refused to get him the ones he wanted. he'll admit it, it was petty and spiteful. but you were distressed and the graysons seemed upset you'd already misplaced your brand new - expensive - shoes.

at first, he was content with telling himself that what he was doing was solely to spite you. but that was a lie. when his kleptomania made him steal one of your shirts. . it wasn't spite that made him press the material to his nose and pump his cock until he came. no, it wasn't just spite.

all your simpering and whining, following him around like some lost puppy, that one time you asked him why he hated you so much. . it made him feel more than just hate.

he didn't know what to do with you then.

so, at first, he settled with stealing your clothes.

a couple more shirts.

a pair of shorts.

knee-highs or your favorite tights.

and finally, a pair of panties.

his favorite are a lacy pair. sheer and tiny, he recalls lifting them out of your drawer with a finger. . and thinking, seriously? what're these even meant to cover?

he's extremely sure you aren't supposed to have these~

mark is content with secretly stealing your things. he doesn't get in trouble for being mean to you anymore.

you don't think he hates you.

it's a win-win situation, really.

and mark would've been happy - he would've been fine - with the little game he's been playing. soon, the two of you would part ways for college and he'd forget all about you.

he'd forget the way you'd foolishly walk to your room in only a towel when you knew the two of you were home alone.

he'd forget the way you looked when you changed out of clothing, you never truly believed in fully closing the door, did you?

he'd forget the way your moans sounded, when you touched yourself at night, thinking everyone else was asleep. he'd forget the way he'd concentrate on hearing your pretty sounds - and it's not like he'd have to try hard, another perk of having powers.

he'd forget about how he could almost envision you: humping your fingers and biting at your lip, desperately trying to get yourself off. it was like he was in the room with you. . you were so wet he could hear the wet clicks of your cunt.

he'd forget all about you.

you, you, you.

he was sure of it.

but if it's one thing about you is that you could never just let things be.

you could never just let the graysons be a normal, happy family.

and you could never just let mark forget about you.

because the first time his parents say no to you - the very first fucking time - you don't listen.

you're just not used to it.

that stupid party you weren't supposed to go to.

that stupid party mark sneaks off to, too.

and when you see him there, you're surprised.

he pretends to be, too.

because it's not fair if only one of you was forbidden to go. no, you had to fuck it up for the both of them.

it's a good thing you're so spoiled, though. and it's even better that mark eavesdropped on the conversation you had with your friend, the one in which you planned to sneak out.

you're so fucking naive. so stupid.

you think the two of you are finally getting along when he gets you a drink and whispers, don't worry, i won't tell if you don't. and you laugh and wink at him like you'll keep his secret, drinking from whatever concoction he's prepared for you.

you were too young when your parent(s) passed and the graysons never seemed to sit you down for the talk. . or maybe they did and you were just too stupid to understand why you should never accept an open drink.

it's easy to blame it on you being a lightweight. the way you sway and slur your words, the way you stumble into him, the way your body overheats.

you've had too much to drink. you're not used to it, is all. he'll take care of you, don't you worry, big brother always does.

first, he's got to lay you down, you poor thing.

he doesn't want you to hurt your pretty little head by falling!

so, he lays you down in the empty room of the house as the party continues downstairs. as you fall to the bed in a heap, you swear you can see the throbbing beat of the music, now muffled behind the closed door.

in the dark room, the moonlight leaking through the pale blue blinds look like drunken undulations, wavering like heat shimmers, yet you can't keep your eyes open long enough to ogle at them. your body doesn't feel like your own, but you're not as nervous as you should be.

mark yanks his shirt off over his head - practiced, ready - and stalks over to your semi-limp body that's nearly hanging off the bed.

it's not hard to undress you, considering you're dressed like some cheap slut. and, honestly, if it wasn't mark that night, he's sure it would've been another dude at the party. the way you're such a fucking tease, he doesn't think anyone would be able to keep their hands off of you for long.

so, really, it's only fair your older brother is the one to get his hands on the goods, first. afterall, he was there to watch them grow.

the little camcorder he took from his parents - the old silver one they used to record all their trips around the world, mark's first steps, your first birthday with them - blinks red, on and off, on and off, as he strips you. he makes sure to capture your body: your bare tits as your chest rises and falls with each panicked breath, the smooth skin of your tummy, then down, between your legs, as he records your sopping cunt taking his fingers.

you mewl and your vision's swimming. and you feel here, there, everywhere, and it's so, so confusing.

you don't know what's happening and it's distressing because you know something is.

your hands weakly try to push at the foreign body on top of you. . inside of you. . but mark is stronger than anyone will ever be and you are far too drugged to do anything about it.

they're gonna be so mad, mark thinks, as he slides into you and tries to keep the camera recording the way your cunt grips him as he feeds his cock inside of you.

they'll be so mad when they find out you've snuck out.

and maybe you'll tell them. . you think something happened. . someone did something to you. . when you try to wash his cum out of your pussy.

maybe you won't. maybe you shouldn't. they'll already be mad at you, best keep quiet about it~

but the graysons will feel even worse in the next few months. . when you start puking your guts out.

and like the perfect parents they are, they'll take you to a doctor. . only for the results to come back positive.

mark may not be a golden boy, anymore.

but in nine months, maybe you'll give him one, instead 💗

#mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #invincible #invincible x reader #yandere mark grayson #yandere mark grayson x reader #mark is canonically a good brother #& we love him for that!!#but he's a weirdo in my universe <3

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tinytennisskirt · 6 months ago

Note

Your 'rumours' fic was so adorable!!! I'd love to see some childhood bestfriends with Art from you, like reader just following him around like a puppy since childhood and at first he doesn't know how what to do with her but then she starts to grow on him,

UGH, what's it feel like to be loved???

-🍃

More Than Anything

Summary: ^above^ with a twist of angst and a few changed plot points. Art and his childhood best friend navigate the forces that pull them apart. Whatever he does, she does. He’s not sure what else is more natural than being her best friend. And no matter what she’s told, that will never change.

Warnings: fluff! drinking, mean Patrick, mentions of weed, mentions of sex, one mention of the risk of being roofied (nobody is roofied), a little ANGST. And a kiss.

Little Art Donaldson was having a day at the park when he met a little girl. It was you and there was much to babble about when there were so many things to do at the park and you, in a tiny voice, said you’d never been to the park before. Art took you by the little hand and you willingly followed as he showed you every single section that there was, even the swings.

Art, young, when met with lunch, he dropped his sandwich in the sand. He cried- the meat and lettuce all covered in grains and small pieces of sticks wasn’t a big issue but for a kid, it was quite upsetting to not have a lunch anymore.

You were more little, two years younger than Art, but you knew just what to do. Picnic lunch with your family nearby, stood next to him and asked if he wanted to come have some food with your family. You didn’t know you couldn’t just invite crying kids to eat with you. You were just too young, too pure.

He said yes, obviously. His dad was somewhere nearby on his phone, business call. Didn’t notice Art was sitting at your picnic bench eating fried chicken and watermelon with you and your parents.

Your mom was a sweet woman, so of course she’d never say no to a starved child. Art’s father found him no problem. He wasn’t a bad man either- not angry. In fact he sat down to eat with them and by the end of the meal they’d set up a time to come by and play another day.

From that day on, your parents befriended and you and Art became best friends. Self-proclaimed. Art didn’t know how to play anything but video games and baseball and he slowly got more into tennis, which he tried to show you. You weren’t that good at anything he did, but still, you would play together in the sandbox, run around each other’s yard. It felt like an endless summer with you two. If one of you was out and playing, so was the other. Usually more revolving around what Art did. It was simple, easy, fun. Anywhere Art would go, you were there too. It helped each other’s parents get a little peace every now and then or let them hang out as adults.

You maintained your personality, just as sweet as candy but with a boyish love for adventure, as your mom would say. That boyish side definitely came from Art. Where he was, you were, no matter what. Even if it was up a steep hill, even if it was the river nearby, even if it was the ant hill and you both got a million bug bites. Every scrape you shared, every bruise you compared in the backyard on the tire swing, every scrape from your bikes. Everything was shared.

You were a little in love with him. Even from a young age, the moment you could think boys were cute, you thought Art was the most adorable. It was platonic love, of course. The capacity to truly love wasn’t there, just pending…

And you and Art grew up together. You pursued different hobbies but still found the time, even with school. It was easy the first few years, you were only in kindergarten and then it was elementary. Apparently once you hit grade three you’re not supposed to hang out with anyone younger. Art wasn’t sure what to do, but he spent lunch recess with his friends and first and last recess with you anyway.

One thing was for sure. It was that you would follow him around like you didn’t know any other way, when he was nearby. You’d do whatever he did, even if he invited his other friends. A lot of the neighbourhood kids assumed he was your annoying sister, even when Art said you weren’t. You were just a little girl who liked to stick around.

That was how it was all elementary school until Art was in grade nine and you were still in seventh. The dynamic changed- he was still playing tennis, still seeing you, but more when your parents would see each other. Otherwise Art was with Patrick.

You knew Patrick well. He was around and so were you. Sometimes Patrick was nice, sometimes he wasn’t, but he was just a kid. You’d call Art sometimes and Patrick would pick up and just say “he’s busy!” And hang up. You had other friends but knowing someone pretty much your whole life, having a small itty bitty tiny crush your whole life, and having them turned away by a new crowd was a little hard. He still found time.

Art didn’t know what to do with you when he went to high school. It was weird you were still so young to him.

“Art,” you said. You were finally in high school and found him in the hall. “I can’t find the math classroom, I was wondering-“

“Take a left at the corner and it’s right there. Good luck, I’ll see you later, gotta go!” It sucked, but it was fine. If you had the chance, you’d tag along, still sporting the same following attitude. You went where he did.

Art was cute, yeah, but when he graduated you thought less. Sure you’d follow him wherever, but you had wanted to go to Stanford much longer than he had. Screw him and his two years on you, he was already enrolled. And he moved away.

You barely had a life when he was gone. It was all stupid. He called you every few days and of course you picked up the second your phone rang but it was still stupid. You’d call him whenever you liked which was much more often- and sometimes he’d pick up, other times he wouldn’t.

You and Art hung out a few days before college started. You walked through the city around Stanford, talking in the park. His choice of location. “It’s good to be in the same area as you again,” he said. You smiled as the wind blew your hair around your face, warm. “I don’t have to call now.”

“You didn’t like the phone calls?” You asked.

“No, I loved them, don’t get me wrong, they’re effective. You have no idea how good it was to hear your voice when I missed home.”

Your smile turned into a grin, he matched it. “Now what do we do when we both miss home?” You asked. He laughed and bumped against your shoulder.

“I’ll just call your mom,” he said. You both laughed at his immature humour. It was good to be back with him, he was right.

“Uh huh and I’ll call your dad, no hesitation,” you teased. He shoved you a little so you stumbled a few steps off the path. “I’m sure he’d love to hear all about you and your adventures with marijuana.” You poked him in the ribs as you regained your position on the path. He grinned his crooked grin, the one you knew so well.

“I’d just have to tell your mom that you actually have had your first kiss and you aren’t her perfect little princess anymore.” He said.

“She’d never believe you,” you pretended to judge him, eyes narrowed. “She’d die, she’s so Catholic, Art, she’s sooo Catholic.” You fake groaned and he laughed. It was good to know that even though the distance made things feel odd, the dynamic somewhat returned when you were together again.

“She is so Catholic, but I’m sure she’d be fine with it, come on…” He ruffled your hair up and you gasped.

“Art- my hair took like an hour to braid- and she would die, I’m sure of it. On the spot. Unless you want her to die, I suggest you keep that secret.”

“And you keep your secret about the weed?”

“Deal.”

“Deal.” He repeated, pulling you into a quick hug, smile on his face. He’d missed you. He let you go. But his phone buzzed, it was Patrick, who he said he’d meet. He lost track of time with you. “Shit, Y/N. I made plans to play pool with a friend. I have to run, but I’ll see you soon, okay?” He was already stepping back. You were going to ask where he played pool, you were going to ask who with, just curious, but he was already on the run. It was fine.

Your first day at Stanford, 18 years old, you found yourself in his exact residency building, just on the girls end. It was convenient. Your parents had just left. You had your hair up in a claw clip as you set all your pictures up in the room, covered and made the bed. Your roommate was really nice already, sharing a bag of chips and telling you she brought a mini fridge you could both use. You had a feeling you’d love it there. Stanford was the dream.

You were bringing another box in when Art passed you. “Art!” you said, dropping your box. Art turned, confused.

“Y/N?” He said. He knew you were here just not in his building. He pulled you into a quick hug. “You got a room in this residence? You didn’t even tell me.” He let go.

“I didn’t know which you were in, I didn’t even think it might be the same,” you giggled. He smiled. You looked at the box you dropped. Art kept walking down the hallway, you left all your things to follow. “How are you?” You asked, walking just a bit behind him.

“I’m good! I just was out for lunch,” He said. “Uh- come, I’ll show you my room.” He didn’t expect you to follow him the way you did, but it was always okay. “It’s great you’re here. I would hang out but there’s a party tonight, the frat throws one every year for newcomers.”

You weren’t a party person. “Are you going?”

“I think so yeah, me and a few of my friends. You remember Patrick.” You were glad you hadn’t seen Patrick in a few years, honestly. “He’s over right now in my room, actually. You can say hi.”

“Perfect,” you said, following him up the steps and through the boys-side lounge. “Can I go with you?”

He nodded, swallowing. He knew you didn’t go to parties, he was planning on seeing you tomorrow night. “Uh… yeah. Yes. I don’t see why not, you’ve been to parties right?” He pretended like he didn’t know.

“No,” you replied.

“Okay, well you’ve been drunk at least.”

“No,” you answered. You might have if you’d been around while Art started his late-highschool-early-college drinking era. “Is that bad? Should I have?”

“Not necessarily,” Art chuckled. You were exactly the sweet girl he knew. “Means it’ll happen faster. I have drinks you can have if you want them. This is my room-“ he opened the door to the dorm room and it wasn’t much. Pretty normal, some tennis posters, some video game stuff lying around and Patrick in a spinning computer chair with headphones on. “Patrick.” Art said, hitting his friend in the back of the head.

You looked around, eyes everywhere, then on Patrick as he spun around. His eyes widened and he looked at Art, then you. Art spoke up as Patrick took his headphones off, “You remember Y/N.”

It had been a while since you and Patrick had seen each other. As annoying as he used to be, he was much taller. More hair, more muscle, taller. He wasn’t bad looking, you noted. You didn’t know Patrick was noting the same, just a little more male-oriented in his ways of thinking. “Holy shit, hi.” Patrick said.

“Hey,” you replied, smiling. You could let bygones be bygones. Everyone here was an adult now. “How are you?”

“I’m good, how are you?” Patrick asked.

You were surprised he seemed civil. “I’m good, thank you.” Your smile turned into a grin. “It’s good to see you both.”

“You’ll be back here at seven, hm?” Art squeezed your upper arm gently. He turned to Patrick, “She’s coming with us tonight.”

Patrick narrowed his eyes at you. “Is she even eighteen?” He spoke like you weren’t there- that was the Patrick you remembered.

“Yes, she’s eighteen. And she’s with us, so she’s fine.” He turned back to you. “You go get settled in, we’ll see you later.” He dismissed you- you would have stayed if he didn’t say so.

You waved and said goodbye and the hours passed. You unpacked and got ready, putting on something cute. Your roommate was going too, said she would see you there. At ten past seven, you knocked on Art’s dorm room door.

Patrick opened the door, “It’s her,” he called to Art, looking you dead in the eyes. “You look terrifying with eyeliner.” He remarked with a smile.

You laughed. “Thanks.”

Art rushed out of the bathroom, buttoning up his open shirt. “No, you look great.” He rushed past, then turned a bit to look again. “You look really nice actually. Wow.“

You smiled and shrugged. He finished the buttons and grabbed a can from a case under his bed. “Drink this, you’ll like it.” He cracked it open for you and everything.

“Thank you- what’s the rush?”

Patrick shook his head, sipping from his own can. “No rush, he’s just fast.”

You took a sip, it wasn’t great but it was bearable. You scrunched your nose. Art walked by you again, putting his socks and shoes on. “Rules, Y/N.” He said. “Just in case, okay?”

You nodded. “Rules?”

“Rules,” he repeated. “Don’t drink anything anyone offers you, no matter what it looks like. Don’t take any pills or drugs. Don’t leave with anyone without telling me first.” He said. It was a lot more serious than the rules he’d made up for his own version of tag when you were kids. Time was an odd thing…

“Okay,” you agreed. Art stopped in front of you and stole a sip from your drink before raising his eyebrows and grinning.

“You could just put her on a leash,” Patrick chimed in. You cocked your head to the side and shook it slowly at Patrick. Patrick spun in the chair, “Or if she’s anything like she used to be, you won’t need to.”

What was that supposed to mean?

Things progressed and you went to meet some of Art’s friends to drink more before heading over and you enjoyed tagging along. Art let you choose the music in his car and his friends approved of it enough. Some guys, two girls, you. Art.

Two low percentage drinks made you fuzzy. You weren’t even there yet. You weren’t sure what was expected, but it was odd. You clung to Art’s side the whole time, not physically, but you were near.

Eventually you got to the party and it was loud and crowded and easy to lose people in the hoards. Art slipped away somewhere and you didn’t know what to do, so you finished a third can and you were feeling it for sure. It was weird, strange, loopy, almost. You sat on the stairs, just people-watching. Playing it safe instead of mingling. It was fine.

A while passed, though it didn’t feel like it. Patrick was the one to find you, “Have you been here the whole time?” He asked over the music.

“Yeah,” you replied.

“Maybe Art should have put you on a leash,” he chuckled.

You were drunk enough to ask, “What does that even mean?” You stole his drink and he let you, taking a swig and handing it back like drinking was normal, casual. It was not.

“You know how when you used to follow him around all the time? Like a lost puppy?” He laughed like it was something you’d known, like it was obvious. “Everywhere we would go, you were just trailing behind. As kids we couldn’t even go outside without you following us. I knew you were really you when you came here because now you’re gorgeous- which I hate- but you’re still you, following us to this party.”

Part of that was meant to be nice. You could tell Patrick was drunk as well the way he told the truth so easily. But what he said had the ability to sink in and hurt, burning into you like acid. That’s how Patrick, the practical extension of Art- viewed you? Just some sad girl who followed Art around forever?

It stung to hear. “What?” You asked again. As if you didn’t hear. As if your eyes didn’t gloss over. You had no idea. Did you just not pick up on the fact you weren’t wanted there?

“You’re still you. I should have known when you were still calling him all the time from home. Calling and calling and calling. You still follow Art around like you have that schoolgirl crush on him or something, fuck you’re even here at Stanford, he just cannot get rid of you. I never got why you liked him so much, but yeah, you practically invited yourself here with us. It’s not bad to see you, but you know, it’s college. Be your own person.”

It stung, it dug deeper. You blinked back tears, but you knew Patrick didn’t notice at all whatsoever. You looked at your hangs, feeling the embarrassment and shame in your fingertips. “I’m sorry.” You said. You wished you were saying it to Art.

“Hm?” Patrick didn’t hear you. But you stood up and nodded, repeating yourself to him.

“I’m sorry,” you said more firmly. He heard you for sure, his head turned as you walked by, pushing past people and disappearing into the crowd again. You walked out the door and went back to your dorm. There was no point in staying. You’d be your own person, you weren’t one for parties.

You thought about it the whole way. Had you invited yourself and not noticed? You remembered asking. Patrick wasn’t even there when you asked, for fucks sake. You knew Patrick was drunk, but drunk words = sober thoughts, you’d heard. Patrick was mean, that was for sure. You wondered if it even phased him.

You fought tears, rethinking your childhood with Art. How much of it did he want? How much of it was your parents? You took off your party clothes and slipped into the most comfortable t-shirt and shorts and took off your makeup. You sat in your new bed, knees to your chest and just thought, endlessly, over everything.

You knew you and Art wouldn’t be super close forever, obviously you weren’t naive, but he was always the most familiar thing. New places were always explored with him, new things were always tried with him, anything new was always perceived from Art’s side. Even without him there for a while, it was still something you valued. You didn’t realize maybe you’d been clinging. Had you been clinging? Or was he just a close friend? What was the difference?

You let some of your tears fall down your face. You were in school now, it was new, it was supposed to be fun. And you would be your own person this time, you guessed. You fell asleep with the lights on.

The next day you rolled over and looked at six missed calls from Art. He probably wondered if you got home fine or if you broke one of his rules. You didn’t read anything he sent, you just typed out

‘I got home safe’.

And left it at that. It was easiest. You rolled over and out of bed, into an outfit and asked your roommate if she wanted to get coffee with you. She was easily and instantly a great friend. Coffee turned into going to the thrift stores and talking and talking and talking. You knew each other’s life stories by the end of the day.

You had another missed call from Art around 3pm. You’d call him tomorrow, you thought, before Patrick’s voice chimed back into your head. You decided against it. Classes started tomorrow anyway.

The next day, classes were amazing. You had made tons of friends and assembled what felt like the beginnings of a friend group. After class everyone hit the cafeteria for super salty chicken tenders. Everything Patrick said still hurt, but it was good to have the distraction. Other friends. Ones who you were sure wanted you around regardless, even if it meant staying close by.

“Someone came by here for you,” Your roommate told you when you got home. “Said his name was Art?”

“A friend of mine,” you said. How sure were you of that? “Did he say anything?”

“No, just swung by and asked if you were here. I told him you were out and that I didn’t know when you’d be back.” She said. You eyed the dual schedules of yours and hers hanging up above her desk and the both of you smiled. “Just in case.”

You talked the night away again. She was a great listening ear as you confessed the whole thing to her. She was very sweet about it and gave you one of her ice cream sandwiches.

The next day you were laughing and leaving class and Art found you. You didn’t run, hide, you just looked at him. “Hey,” he started. “You haven’t been answering my calls or texts I thought maybe you’d died.” He shrugged sheepishly.

“I’ve just been busy,” you said. It was somewhat true- you’d busied yourself to be a different person, your own person. “Why, what’s up?”

“Nothing, I just-“ Art stopped himself. “You left early and you didn’t tell me.”

“The party?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Patrick said he saw you. Where were you?”

“I was on the stairs before I left. And then I went straight home and right to bed.” You told him honestly. “I’m sorry.” At least now you got to tell him you were sorry. “Look, I have another class in ten across campus, I have to go.”

“I’ll walk you,” he said.

You had to take a deep breath. All you saw in his offer was pity. Obligations. “My friends are waiting on me, I’m sorry. Thanks though.” You dismissed him.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” he said. He wasn’t used to whatever version of you this was. You were sweet, you were kind, you were always willing to stick around if he needed you. You would always hang back if he was tying his shoelaces, but you wouldn’t even walk with him. “See you around.”

“Bye, Art!” You called from ahead. Part of you felt terrible. It wasn’t normal to do what you just did, but it was essential. How would you be someone uninfluenced if you couldn’t break the habit?

A few more days passed. Art would call every now and then. You would never pick up. You were busy. It was the least contact you’d had with him in your entire life- by choice, at least. Camping and vacations never counted. Your roommate said he’d been by twice more.

Another party came up. A Friday night- you, your roommate, your class friends all wanted to go. It still wasn’t your thing but why couldn’t it be? Reinvention.

No pregaming, just one drink in hand at the party you were talking with your friends in the corner, laughing, having fun. There was a guy in your new friend group that had been showing interest, or at least that’s what your friend said, backed up by your roommate. He was cute but he was your height, not taller. He was nice but said a few things that had made you cringe. You were trying to get into the college era vibe by flirting back but it was all empty.

You had no idea how to flirt with someone who wasn’t picking up on simple hints, but you stood with him, talking to him against the wall, closer than your other friends were.

You felt a hand on your lower back, turning to face Art. His hand raised itself to your upper arm, “Thought you didn’t like parties?” He said. No hello, no hi, no greeting.

“I’m giving it another chance,” you replied. “The first one wasn’t great.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Can we talk?” He asked. Your roommate stepped in and removed Art’s hand from your arm. It fell to his side. He looked at you, eyes meeting yours in the flashing lights of the party. You’d put off your friendship enough to allow maybe a conversation. He wanted to talk, he’d been wanting to talk, not sure about what but you nodded. “Somewhere quieter?” He suggested, gesturing for you to follow him. You stepped a few steps in the direction you started before realizing you were following him. You tapped his arm.

“This way,” you said. And you changed direction and headed up the stairs. Every room was occupied. You had no idea where you were going, so you turned to two doors in the hall and found yourself on the frat balcony. Greek letters hung just above your head height. Art closed the door behind you both, muting the inside noise. And he just looked at you, hands in his pockets, eyes soft, summer breeze in the air.

You blinked off his gaze, feeling judged, but he knew you were sober aside from a sip or two. Unaffected. “You’ve been busy,” he started. “I called again a few times, was wondering if you wanted to come with me and Patrick to see a showing of Back To The Future in the campus park this weekend.”

You smiled a little to yourself. Back to The Future was a shared favourite between you and Art. Your expression softened. “I’m not too busy…” you said. “But you’re inviting me?”

“Of course I’m inviting you, I haven’t seen you in a week and a half.” He said it like it was the biggest drop of common sense. “I want you to come with us.”

You shook your head, looking at your feet. You didn’t speak. Art spoke instead, “What happened at the first party? I know something happened, I can assume something happened. I lost you and I never found you and the next day you’re different. You’re not you.”

You weren’t you because you weren’t trailing after him on an invisible leash? You sighed heavily, “I don’t know.”

“You do know. I know you. You know. And we tell each other everything, but you’ve gone radio silent.”

You looked over the balcony, at the trees and the way their leaves rustled in the light wind. You folded your arms over your chest, unknowing of how to answer. He spoke again in your silence, “I’ve missed you.” He said.

You looked at him, “Missed me?”

He shrugged, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I? When I missed you before I could just call and you’d answer and now I can’t see you when you’re in the same building as me. I’m used to you being around. It’s different when you’re not.”

Your lip quivered like you wanted to cry and you felt burning behind your eyes, but no tears surfaced, just remembering how you felt when Patrick said what he said. You couldn’t let that go. “I just wasn’t at your heels,” you said.

“Hm?” Art stepped forward.

“Like a lost puppy,” you continued. “I’ve been trying to be my own person. Do things without you, without being on your tail at all times.”

He looked like that hurt him. How would that have hurt him? “What?” He asked it like you said something wild and crazy.

“I didn’t want to be some sad girl who follows you around anymore. I know you have priorities, I know you have friends here that you’ve known and connected with and I think you should be allowed your space… from me.” You said. Part of that was gushing and for the first time you realized that staying away from him had only partially been for you. It was an act of sentiment toward him to allow him to enjoy himself without you as a ball and chain.

Art looked like someone punched him in the stomach for a moment as he processed what you said. He changed expressions to concern, then to disbelief and then he just looked sad. “How did you come to that conclusion? Y/N… What? Space? From you? Like I didn’t go through two years of it already, seeing you only at Christmas and Easter?”

“You have great friends here and you see them all the time and you go out and you go to parties and I just tagged along that night, didn’t I? You were going to the party with your friends and I asked to go with you and you-“

“I said yes!” He said, voice a little louder. Trying to get it across. “I said yes. I didn’t think you would even want to go.”

“I want to be where you are. Or I wanted to be where you were, I missed you. I didn’t mean to invite myself. You could have said no.”

“I wanted you there!” He replied.

“Are you sure? You lost me pretty fast.”

“I spent the rest of the night looking for you! I haven’t spoken to three people from that night because I disregarded their existence looking for you, ruined their nights. I wondered if maybe you got roofied or you were fucking some guy in a bathroom- I-“ He ran his hands through his curls. “You didn’t message me until the next morning, I was still out there looking for you when you messaged me.”

Your lips parted and your mouth suddenly felt very dry. A little breath slipped out, a hush. You looked at him and he looked at you, his eyes soft and kind and sweet and just like the ones of the boy who dropped his sandwich in the sandbox. Art shook his head, stepping closer to you, stepping back and standing his ground closer to you. He looked up at the sky, “I love you and I care about you and I do fucking miss you.” He said. “More than anything. I’ve been losing my mind the past week.”

“I didn’t know,” you said.

“I called and came by your dorm,” he replied. “So this is the part where you tell me what the fuck I did to make you think you were someone I didn’t want around.” He was firm, but you could see the pain in his expression.

You swallowed hard, wondering what he would think. “Patrick, um…” you started but talking about it made you want to cry. You tried to get rid of the lump in your throat. “He found me and he said a few things about me being the same little girl who followed you around everywhere when I wasn’t wanted.” Your voice almost broke but you saved yourself, though you couldn’t stop your eyes from starting to tear up.

“Patrick said that?”

“He’s the one who made the lost puppy comparison. I’m not mad at him or anything, he was drunk, but he talked about me calling you all the time, how it all adds up to the same schoolgirl crush and how you can’t get rid of me and you’re the reason I’m here at Stanford and…” you trailed off because it choked you out. “It’s okay, it just made me rethink a lot of things. He said I need to be my own person.”

“You are your own person, what the fuck? Made you think that you needed to give me space? He was able to make you believe that I wanted to get rid of you? After being friends with you for seventeen years of my life?” He questioned it but you knew he wasn’t actually questioning you. It was rhetorical, you knew the answers. “I swear to god, I’ve never given so much as a notion that I don’t want you around other than I couldn’t want you around because you were either too far or just not invited. If I had it my way you’d be invited to everything, I would never not want you around.”

He grabbed you by both of your shoulders, squeezing but resting gentle. You sighed, “But I have followed you around like a lost puppy.” You said, blinking back threateningly hot tears.

“You’re not a lost puppy. Do you think I don’t feel like I’m dragging you around sometimes?”

“You’ve never dragged me anywhere,” you said. You smiled just a little and he couldn’t help but do the same. “I like being around you.”

“I like having you around. I’ve never thought of you as any sort of dog at my heels or whatever the fuck it is you or Patrick said.” He squeezed your arms again, sliding his hands up to the back of your neck, under your hair, bracing you. “You are everything to me, I don’t care where you are, if you’re behind me or in front of me, beside me, just with or around me, it’s the safest, most familiar thing I know. You can go anywhere you want but you chose to stick around me when you were only three and it was the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He confessed. You sighed, this time, just out of the peace his words brought.

“I mean at first I didn’t know what to do with a little girl who was depending on me to teach her how to make stick forts and weird knots and how to climb hills but we’ve figured everything out together. And I don’t want that to stop. Fuck Patrick, honestly. You over him, you over anyone, anything, any day of the week, I’m sorry. I’m not that sorry”

You didn’t know what else to do or how to reply. Every word he said kicked Patrick’s take on you to the curb. Everything Patrick had thought about you was disproven, thrown, ripped to shreds. Your heart beat fast, heavily, thudding against the inside of your ribs. You breathed out hard, hoping that maybe it would expel some of the emotion that was overloading. Art’s hands had moved slowly up the back of your neck, unnoticed as he confessed everything and now they rested just at your jaw, thumbs by your ears. This moment of yours before the breath only lasted seconds but felt like eternity. You could have cried, sobbed, even, with the amount of emotion that instantly overcame your body but you didn’t cry or scream it out, there was nothing more fitting than how Art closed the gap between the two of you with a kiss.

His hands at your jaw, yours grabbed onto his sides like it was natural. Like you’d done it a million times. As he kissed you with slightly chapped lips pressed firmly to your own, you found that there was some release, some weight gone. Some ghost butterfly danced around your stomach and your head and the kiss was not long, but not short either, but it was needed and the kiss itself was telling of that. All of your emotion washed out like the tide and came back slowly, regular, calm, known.

You pulled away at the same time, mutually. “I love you too.” You said quietly. He grinned that crooked grin you knew too well and suddenly you were laughing about it. About something, about everything. He kissed you again, of course, harder, laughing through it, his hands around your waist and your arms around his neck and this second kiss turned itself into a hug. An embrace, tighter than the usual ones. He buried his face in your neck as you expressed everything you’d needed to in all of your seventeen years as best friends. He apologized for any distance, any fault in the way he prioritized you, and any time he may have taken you for granted. Being without you was harder than he could have imagined.

And nothing ever changed how either of you felt about each other again. Though… Art started following you around a bit more from that point on, but who wouldn’t want that?

A/N: Thank you for the request! I hope this is somewhat to your liking, though I followed your prompt a bit loosely with the pacing. Always feel free to request! That goes for everyone

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