#but not necessarily disgusting food?

[jupitercl0uds]

food insects and discourse are actually the scariest things ever ok

[exoexid]

i don't know how to phrase this correctly but. even tho i think, even tho i know, that you guys mean well with the mental health awareness messages, like really, it's very sweet, important and thoughtful, we literally know nothing. as we should. we do not know what happened, and at the end of the day we don't deserve to know. so it'd nice to stop speculating, i think. it'd be nice to see that family getting the respect they asked for

[ouroboobos]

makes me sooo so mad how many fitness/health influencers make all their money off of basically telling people over and over again that food is automatically untrustworthy if you enjoy it in any capacity

[abeluser]

i'm hungry but. it feels so good to not eat.

[tyrannuspitch]

autism evidence #9357: often i don't notice i'm hungry because someone else is cooking and it smells so bad to me that it kills my appetite. i don't think it's meant to work like that.

[jaythes1mp]

1224 words, 7239 characters, 54 sentences, 27 paragraphs, 4.9 pages. Tag list: @zero-s-tea @chemicalsandghosts @yandere-enthusiast @starsdotalk @small-mushroom-fae

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

You had always had a vague understanding that your biological father was well-off, as he would consistently transfer a substantial amount of cash to that woman each month. However, while you were fortunate enough to not have grown up in the most deprived area of Gotham, it didn't necessarily mean that you had lived in the lap of luxury either.

Despite the knowledge that your father was wealthy, you had still scraped by in a small, cramped apartment, constantly relying on his financial support and night jobs to survive. You supposed that your situation could have been worse, but it didn't make the reality any more bearable. You often wondered what it would be like to live in a well-appointed home and never worry about money, but those thoughts were quickly thrusted aside and squashed down by the woman’s polished heel. Every time, the woman’s sharp words brought you back to reality.

You hadn’t deserved that life. She would remind you time and time again.

You grimace, the thought of your mother, or rather, that woman, entering your consciousness disgusting you. You weren't sure if she'd ever truly earn the title of 'mother.'

It wasn't until you reached the age of eleven that you become painfully aware that not every child had to desperately plead with their mother for food, and that it wasn't normal for parents to hold their kids needs over their own heads.

It had become abundantly clear to you from a young age that the woman was never truly interested in motherhood and had only kept you out of a slim chance that one of the men she had whored herself out to would be wealthy. She targeted men at lavish galas, her sole purpose for going being to hook up with them in exchange for large amounts of money. They usually sent nondisclosure agreements along with the cash, ensuring her continued wealth. However, your existence disrupted her carefree lifestyle. ‘It was perfect, until you came along.’ She’d say.

She had exploited Bruce Wayne for money. Getting him drunk with enough press around to stress about his ‘playboy image’ to bed her. Afterwards, she demanded a large sum of money, and he gave it to her without a second thought. He hadn’t even fully read over the details. Just signing up for a wire transfer to her account every month for the next few years. He hadn’t even been aware of you.

Too preoccupied with training the young Robin to even be aware of your birth.

Throughout your life, the woman had consistently manipulated the truth, spinning a tale in which it was your fault that your father had ‘left.’ And, despite your reservations, a small part of you still believed her words.

She had carefully cultivated your sense of guilt, instilling the belief that your very existence had driven your father away. Her venomous words and manipulative behavior had left deep emotional scars, convincing you that you were unworthy of a loving father's affection. Or rather, anyone’s affection.

That day, when you turned sixteen, was the day that woman unceremoniously ushered you out of her home. Clothes and any belongings that she didn't deem worthy enough to sell for a few hundred dollars were carelessly thrown out into the hallway. By the time you made it back from work, most of your belongings had already been looted by the other tenants and homeless kids who roamed the building.

With a mixture of desperation and hope, you had gathered the few remaining possessions that you could salvage, cramming them into your work bag. Your fingers had trembled slightly as you dug out your old, cracked phone. Desperation clawed at your chest as you dialed her number and slammed your fist against the door.

You hadn’t been surprised when your repeated calls went unanswered. Frustration and anger boiled within you, mingled with a pang of hurt and despair. Deep down, you knew it was futile to even attempt to break down the door, as that would only result in consequences that you were unwilling to face.

With a steely determination, you forced back the tears that threatened to overwhelm you, walking to the nearest bank with a firm resolve. You withdrew every penny you had painstakingly saved over the past two years and closed the account, ensuring she could no longer access any of your hard-earned money.

Armed with the few thousand dollars you had managed to retrieve, you began a desperate search for someone, anyone, who would be willing to offer you a roof over your head. Despair gripped your heart as you realized how limited your options truly were.

At that point, the members of the Batfamily had been cognisant of your existence for about a year. Bruce having taken a DNA test for Alfred’s medical examination. Yet, despite their general awareness of your presence, it seemed they had made no direct attempt to reach out or provide assistance. On the surface, your life appeared stable. You resided with a supportive parent, attended school, and held down a job. From all outward appearances, there didn't seem to be anything particularly noteworthy or concerning about your circumstances.

But they were detectives. One would expect them to possess keen eyes for details, especially when it came to the nuances and subtle signs that might indicate something amiss. Yet, they had missed the marks, failing to acknowledge the more subtle indications of your turmoil.

Jason discovered you the morning after you had been cruelly cast out from your home. You were found sleeping outside, your weary head nestled against your overstuffed work bag. Wearing an old, frayed sweater for a makeshift blanket.

Typically, he wouldn't have paused to take note of a sight akin to this. He was all too gruesomely acquainted with the sight of homeless, neglected children on the streets. But as his gaze fell upon you, there was an unsettling sense of familiarity that snagged his attention.

The question nagged him persistently, scratching at his consciousness like an untamed itch. Where had he come across you before?

Then, suddenly, recognition flashed across his mind. You were the same child Damian had fixated upon just over a year ago. The demon spawns little obsession.

He let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Why on earth were you on the streets? It was blatantly obvious that it wasn’t a safe environment for anyone, let alone you. The mere notion of the young Wayne finding out that his blood kin was unhoused would undoubtedly send the typically stoic demon into a frenzy.

He let out a resigned sigh, leaning down to gently nudge your huddled form. His sharp, calculating grey eyes roved over your slumbering figure, taking in every minute detail with a sense of keen observation.

You stirred at the touch, groggily lifting your head from your overstuffed bag. Your bleary eyes slowly peeled open, blinking owlishly in the early morning light. Confusion and exhaustion mingled in your expression as you caught sight of Jason crouched down in front of you.

That was the day your life began to intertwine with the tightly woven web of the Wayne family. From that very moment, you became ensnared within the complex and sometimes suffocating grip of the Wayne's protective and possessive nature.

No use of y/n, no use of any descriptive features for the reader, no gender mentioned.

Shorter than usual, but more of a dive into the reader’s backstory.

Comments, asks, and reblogs are very appreciated! Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

Would they help with your period?

Written by someone with severe endometriosis!

(Technically I don't think sinners have them anymore since they can't reproduce but who knows. Maybe having a period for eternity is part of being punished.)

Lucifer

Absolutely. If we go off of Biblical Lore, it's kinda his fault anyway, and he feels so guilty.

He probably radiates heat so he would absolutely rub your back, your stomach, your thighs, resting a hand between your legs (me personally having endometriosis my groin itself tends to hurt from cramping so I put the heat pad between my legs).

Don't bother getting out of bed if you're hurting. He'll bring hou whatever you want and does his best to stock up on your favorites for this time of the month. If you're someone who can't eat cuz your period hurts so bad, he'll try his best to find soft, easy on the tummy foods. Makes you broth if nothing else.

If you sleep a lot because you're weak from blood loss, he makes sure you're not disturbed and checks on you often. Isn't offended if you don't want cuddles or if you demand them. Whatever makes you feel better.

If sex helps he'll do it but is gonna be so fucking worried he's hurting you more. Probably doesn't want to actually fuck you cuz he thinks it's too rough. Will finger you or offer oral.

Alastor

Has a soft spot for women cuz of his mama. If you're someone who has regular cycles he doesn't do much beyond making sure you're eating well and staying hydrated. May bring you medicine if you're especially sore. Makes sure you always have supplies.

If you're someone with severely debilitating periods, he has nothing but respect for you. Especially knowing you'd still work through the pain and have before. Though the gentelman in him is disgusted by how your pain is brushed aside.

Once he gets an idea of how bad they are, you're not leaving his room. He cooks a lot of iron rich food (thankfully Rosie gets him high quality meat, just don't ask where it came from). If your cramps are so bad you throw up, he cleans you up, makes bone broth, and rubs your stomach.

Blood literally doesn't even make him blink so if tanpons or a cup are too uncomfortable while you're cramping and pads chafe you and you don't wanna get period underwear or ruin an old pair of underwear just...don't bother? He can get new sheets. And he doesn't sleep anyway.

I personally think while Alastor is asexual he doesn't mind his partner being sexual, he understands. So if you masturbating helps with cramps, go ahead. He may or may not be willing to help you out (he will lick your blood off his fingers, though).

Sits with you while you rest. Speaks French to you. Sometimes indulges you by using his Cajun accent. If it helps keep your mind off your pain.

Overall he's supportive and admires you but isn't as over the top as Lucifer.

Vox

Vox is pretty good about not letting the time period he came from affect his views much. He's a modern man, after all. Be gay, do crime, live laugh, arson, all that jazz. So while he doesn't necessarily downplay your period it is kind of a knowledge gap for him.

It takes him a while to catch on to how much pain you're in. Actually it takes you doubling over, falling to your knees, white as a sheet, and dizzy for him to go "oh shit".

He feels bad for not realizing how serious it was but man would rather lose a fight to Alastor than admit he was wrong, so the best you're gonna get is "why didn't you tell me, doll?"

Takes you to bed immediately and straight up asks what you need. You get headaches, boom blackout curtains. You can't eat, ok he's ordering soup, crackers, granola bars, jello, anything soft and easy to digest. All the water and juice you could want to put in a mini fridge by your bed so you stay hydrated and get calories.

Heating pads, extra blankets, pads, tampons, period underwear, a new cup, whatever the hell you want. (Absolutely you have to send him a picture of the exact kind of pad or tampon otherwise he's going to be confused cuz there's literally dozens of them and he doesn't know what any of it means. Is a hey babe what size pussy you wear guy).

He checks on you throughout the day with his cameras.

Appreciates that you still try and work from your laptop or phone. Won't tell you not to even if you're miserable. He expects you to know your limits (even though you nearly fainted earlier).

He runs warm and is kinda heavy since he's robotic so if the only thing that makes your ovaries stop throbbing is pressure and heat and he's not busy he'll lay across you to do his work.

Also not icked out by blood so he'll fuck you, finger you, or eat out when you're on your period. But he's a little more hesitant to wat you out cuz he doesn't want the mess on his screen.

Valentino

Honestly his first response is to ask if sex will help. Just wants to get this over with.

If he likes you or you're his favorite, he'll bring you your favorite treats.

Already has pads, tampons, sponges, and underwear on set.

If you didn't know, adult actors have special sponges that go up there for the time of the month for filming, and they can get stuck. So he would help you get it out. At least there's that.

If you actually do pass out even if he's in a really bad mood, he'd feel a little bad. He kinda thought you were being a little dramatic. He gets they hurt and make you tired or bitchy, didn't realize it could actually get that bad. He lets you take the week off after that and checks in on you a bit more.

Don't expect too much coddling though.

Angel Dust

A gay bestie. Makes jokes about how he's glad he doesn't have one and won't ever be near one, but really, he's worried af.

Does his best to make sure you get plenty of rest and food. Keeps you hydrated. Buys you whatever you need.

Has Cherri stay with you when he can't.

Lots of cuddles from him and fat nuggets. And back rubs.

You need to cum to help the cramps, he can get you any kind of vibrator or pump you want discreetly.

(Or you know, he can call Cherri).

Husk

Man doesn't even question it when you say it's bad. He knows you aren't the type to exaggerate.

I head canon he was in the military (drafted) so he's pretty methodical about getting suppplies. Has a fucking checklist. Keeps some on him at all times too just in case.

Another who will lay on top of you for warmth and weight. Added benefit is he purrs. The cat tendencies also means he makes biscuits, so he's good for a massage.

Doesn't really like blood on his fur. He fights yeah, but tries to avoid getting bloody (may have some ptsd about it. Especially if it's all over his hands). But if it helps then yeah he'll fuck you. No oral and no fingering though.

Because of his military background he knows not eating isn't good for you, especially if you're bleeding, so he'd be forcing liquids and the BRAT diet into you. (Banana, rice, applesauce, toast).

Adam

Good luck, honey. Man never bothered to learn biology. Dick goes in hole, woman make baby. That's his knowledge. Eve used to bitch about it a lot but he was bitter about getting kicked out so kinda figured it's her own fault.

Eve also never literally passed out, spent three days sleeping, and threw up everything she ate.

Kinda worries you're somehow dying. Like damn babe, your pussy can't be that broken. When he sees how much blood you're losing is when he actually starts to panic.

You or Lute have to walk him through it but even then it's gonna boil down to him buying you chocolate, a heating pad, pain pills, and offering to snuggle.

DO NOT ASK HIM TO BUY YOU PADS OR TAMPONS.

He's kinda chubby and warm so good for snuggles but will bitch if you get blood on him.

Also, as much as he's horny and usually into everything once, he's kinda grossed out so he's not touching you while you're bleeding. Maybe eventually and with a couple layers of condom he'd fuck you? But uh...yeah, not happening anytime soon.

[hwaslayer]

vivrant thing (jwy) | three.

—SPOTIFY PLAYLIST / SERIES MASTERLIST

—SUMMARY: after getting into a little accident, wooyoung decides to do his sister a favor by pretending to be your date at the company summer party. as soon as the night ends, wooyoung would go back to his usual routine of hanging out with his boys, keeping his distance from committed relationships and being a typical brother to jiwoo. except, the favor comes with more than what wooyoung expects and he finds you occupying his mind more than usual. 

—PAIRING: jung wooyoung x f. reader

—GENRE: (18+ - minors dni) bestfriend’s brother au | fluff, angst, smut

—WORD COUNT: 6.6k

—CHAPTER CONTENT / WARNINGS: cussing, implied sexual content/mature language, dinner w/ yeosang!, feelings are laid out oof, alcohol consumption & slight intoxication, a bit more of jiwoo vs. wooyoung, use of pet names (princess, love, baby girl, baby), lots and lots of kissing, making out, mentions of marking, some dry humping, unprotected sex, slow sweet sex??, wooyoung pulls out 🫢

So, you agree to the dinner with Yeosang but you don't expect how terrible it ends up playing out.

At first, it starts off well.

It felt like dinner wouldn't be so bad, and you enjoyed seeing Yeosang being his usual self from the car ride up to the restaurant. When he pulls into a spot in the parking lot and helps you out of the car, there is a bit of a difference in Yeosang's attitude. He slides his hand into yours as he leads the way into the restaurant and as much as you adore your bestfriend, it feels incredibly unnatural. 

It surely doesn't feel like Wooyoung's, but you shouldn't be thinking about that right now.

He continues to loosely hold your hand until the host brings you to a table near the back end of the restaurant. You didn't think tonight's dinner would be so fancy, but you were in your business casual attire straight out of work; it ended up working out well in the end. You scoot into the booth, with Yeosang on the other side. He immediately orders a bottle of white wine, which isn't really to your liking as you've learned, but you'll make do with what you have— especially to get through this dinner.

You order appetizers along with your main courses, indulging in good conversation with Yeosang as he tells you work updates and how he's being dragged to this really important meeting over the weekend with the board of directors by his team lead. 

It's all good. It's all fun and casual, until it isn't.

Meanwhile, Jiwoo stops by her brother's apartment to drop off some sushi from his favorite Japanese restaurant. It's her way of saying 'thank you' without actually having to say it out loud.

"What now?" Wooyoung swings his door open to see his sister standing there with a bag of food.

"Hi to you, too." She drops it on his kitchen counter. "Bought you food from Sushi Kashiwa." 

"Aw, just say it." He pretends to pout while she gives him a disgusted look and unties the bag.

"No. Besides, I bought myself some food and am gonna enjoy it right here." She lays out the containers and grabs her own. "My friends decided to leave me out of a very important dinner tonight."

"What are you talking about?" He pops open the lid to his sushi container and wastes no time digging in.

"Y/N went to dinner with Yeosang. I guess to talk about stuff going on between them, I don't know." Wooyoung pauses mid-chew, the statement hitting him right in his gut. He's not sure why he's sad— maybe he's right after all. Maybe this just ended up being a temporary one night thing that would eventually wash away.

Sucks it doesn't necessarily feel that way for Wooyoung.

He can't assume, though. Hopefully, you're talking to Yeosang and giving him the honest 'i think we should just stay friends' talk instead of the 'let's just see where this goes' talk. He'd appreciate the universe if it could give him this one thing; he'll stop running his parents' last nerve and will never look at a booty ever again.

Maybe.

"Oh." Is all Wooyoung says before stuffing another piece into his mouth. "Why would you even be there, Jiwoo? That doesn't concern you."

"Anything with my friends concerns me."

"Let them talk it out without your loud, nosey ass interrupting." She rolls her eyes, scrolling through her phone as she also continues to eat.

"I haven't gotten any new texts from her. I wonder if it's going well. Maybe they're gonna explore this after all."

"Who says?" Wooyoung responds a little too quickly, a little too sharply, for his liking. His sister doesn't seem to catch on, though. That's great.

"I dunno, beats me. I'm just taking all angles into consideration."

"Stop projecting. She seemed to be pretty set on her decision at the party."

"You never know." She says in a sing-song tone that irks Wooyoung a little more than usual this evening. "You're right, though. She is set on her decision. I just hope he takes it well." She sets her phone aside. "Anyway. How'd you like the party?"

"Gotta admit, it was fun."

"You really looked like Y/N's date. I had a few people ask me if you two were dating."

"Uh, I mean I was her date? And why would they ask when I already told them yes?" He jokes, just to push his sister's buttons.

"No way." Jiwoo continues to eat away at her food, texting Hongjoong in the midst of it. "Y/N is too good for you."

"No one is too good for anyone. Don't speak on shit you don't know."

"I know her!"

"And I know her, too!"

"I know her the best." Wooyoung rolls his eyes.

"Still doesn't mean you know everything about her."

"Ew, why are you getting so defensive tonight?" He shakes his head, feeling the irritation within him grow the more Jiwoo presses it. He knows he isn't the best man to walk this Earth, but he also knows he'd be good to you. Good for you. He's been thinking about it a lot and he hates that he is— none of this makes sense to him, but he knows he'd be good.

"Don't you have to go see Hongjoong?"

"Once he's off, yeah." Jiwoo sips on her water. "What're you doing tonight? Getting into more shit with Choi San?"

"No, he's actually visiting his parents."

"Hm." She hums. "No booty call coming over?"

"No. Even if there was, you would not be getting that information." She scoffs.

"Grow up, Wooyoung."

"Grow up, Wooyoung." He mocks her. "Says the one who made the wild claim based off of nothing."

"You're so annoying." She tosses her sushi container into his trash before washing her cup of water. Despite their usual bickering, Jiwoo stays for a bit longer until Hongjoong texts her and lets her know he's finally off of work after putting in some overtime. Jiwoo helps tidy up Wooyoung's space before she's waving goodbye [aka flipping him off] and slamming his door shut. Wooyoung plops back onto his couch with the remainder of his food resting on the coffee table, scrolling through his phone. He goes through your texts, wondering if he should say anything or keep silent. He smiles to himself when he sees the pictures you've passed along from the photographer. He sees you've posted the picture with him on your Instagram and it tugs at his heart because not only do you rarely use Instagram, but you took that opportunity to post your pictures from the party— including the one where you've got your hand resting on his chest while he has an arm around you. He was happy to see you happy and comfortable. Having fun. 

You glowed. 

He'll never forget it.

—OLD TEXTS

you: hi! they uploaded the pics from the party!

you: *sends a group of pics at once*

wooyoung: yo goddamn!? we look good!

wooyoung: you look so pretty. 😍

you: 😀 stop !!

wooyoung: i'm so serious, good LORD. 😮‍💨

you: i'm blocking you.....

wooyoung: woah now, hey i'm kiddddding....

wooyoung: not really! but don't block me! i just can't help it!

you: you're too much 😂

wooyoung: can i post these?

you: go for it!

wooyoung: thank you ☺️

He sighs as he reaches the end of the thread.

He won't say anything. He'll let this unfold as it should, but it doesn't mean he can't be sad about it. Cause he sure as hell is and he's a bit anxious. Hopefully, you'll tell Yeosang the truth. Hopefully, you won't force yourself into anything you don't want or feel uncomfortable with.

As for you, the dinner really takes its turn for the worse after you and Yeosang eat away at your main meals, a pregnant silence falling between you two after a good hour of just talking and yapping away about life. You already knew it was coming at this point, you were just hoping you'd buy a little more time [as if you could put it off even more]. 

"So." He says awkwardly to cut the silence.

"Mhm?"

"Did you really enjoy the party?"

"I did. Did you?"

"Yeah. I just—" He looks at you with his head cocked to the side. "I was just surprised seeing you with Wooyoung." You pause before poking at your pasta and taking a small bite. 

"Oh yeah, it was relatively last minute."

"Jiwoo's plan?"

"Why do you say that? Do you genuinely think Wooyoung wouldn't go with me?" You ask, a little offended at the way he sounds cause even though it was clearly planned and arranged, the insinuation from Yeosang doesn't hurt any less. 

"No, not like that— I'm sorry, it came out of nowhere and caught me off guard. That's all." You cock a brow up. 

"It just happened that way. Wooyoung wanted to go and I wanted to go in the end." Is all you respond with, chugging your second glass of wine before pouring yourself more. You really don't like the taste of this white wine either, but you'll take it cause it's better than sitting here without an ounce of alcohol to push you through. Give you more courage to finish the evening on a decent note, to be honest. "I had a really fun time, regardless."

"I saw." He pauses. "I wish you would've at least told me instead of showing up like that." 

"I'm sorry."

"I think it's time for me to be honest and stop watching from the sidelines because I.. really like you, Y/N." His shoulders droop just as he sets his fork and knife down neatly onto the plate. You take the last bite of your meal before sipping on more wine to wash it down.

"I should have told you, but I didn't want to hurt you. Even if I did tell you, it wouldn't have changed anything."

"It wouldn't? Why wouldn't it have changed anything? I thought we might've had a chance." He's confused. He looks like he was expecting a completely different outcome, and that might've been your fault for not telling him right away. But, the moment is here now and you know you can't push it off any longer.

"No. I just.. I just can't, Yeo. I'm sorry." You barely get yourself to respond out of fear. You knew Yeosang wasn't the type to react— if anything, he'd be the most understanding. Though, it doesn't change the fact that you were still scared. You felt bad. You didn't want to hurt him, and you wanted to avoid this confrontation as much as possible even though you knew you needed to face it sooner than later. "I truthfully think we're good with where we're at, and I don't think we should mess that up. I love the way we are as good friends, bestfriends, and that's how I've always seen us." You can see the disappointment growing on his face every second, but he's trying hard to keep it under wraps while he briefly waves the waitress down for the check.

"C-can I ask? You can be honest." You silently nod. "Is it Wooyoung?" You shake your head.

"It was never about Wooyoung. Just us. Well, me. You're amazing, and you deserve the best. You deserve someone who is sure about you and who will reciprocate those feelings to no end. I'm sorry that I can't be that person, but at the same time, I know I can be your friend just like I always have been. That's what I can give you, and I hope you understand." You tell him softly. "I'm sorry." You repeat, feeling the tears brimming your bottom lids. "I should've opened up earlier. I really hope this doesn't change things between us."

"It won't, but I hope you understand it'll take me some time to move past it. I'm sorry for assuming or for— yeah." He shakes his thoughts away.

"Take all the time you need." He gives you a tiny, toothless smile.

"Anyway." Yeosang signs off on the receipt before tucking his card back into his wallet and standing. "Let's get you home."

"Okay." You shimmy out of the booth to head out of the restaurant. This time, Yeosang doesn't hold your hand. In fact, he trails behind you, keeping at a safe distance. You can immediately see the change— how stiff and awkward he's become. You don't blame him for it; he's hurting and you know he needs his space more than anything. 

You can't wait to get home.

The ride is fucking awful. It's the most quiet you've seen Yeosang. The most closed-off and serious he's ever been towards you. His hand is clutching the wheel tightly, but the music is comforting enough to fill the void. You continue to look out of the passenger's window, keeping to yourself until Yeosang asks about your plans for the rest of the weekend. There isn't much going on for you, so that conversation dies quickly. Luckily for you, Yeosang is about to pull up to your street. He stops the car by your building, shifting the gear to park before helping you out of the car. You give him a small, sympathetic smile before pulling him into a hug— giving his back a gentle rub.

"Sleep well, alright? I'll see you next week."

"You too." With that, he walks off, waiting until you at least unlock and crack your door open. When you get a whiff of your candle that you lit up earlier in the morning, you realize you don't really wanna stay home right now; to sulk, to drown in your thoughts alone, to have to listen to the loudness in a quiet space. So, you shut the door again, head back down the steps and walk to the convenience store nearby. You grab a bottle of yogurt soju, along with your favorite chips and strawberry cheesecake ice cream bar— plopping yourself down onto one of the tables right outside the store. You're quick to crack open the bottle and drink away, also eating away at the chips since you didn't feel incredibly satisfied with the dinner earlier. It might've just been all the emotions and tension in the air, but anywho, the chips and the soju taste better than ever. Sooner or later, you find yourself tipsier, cheeks lit on fire, hands clammy; barely hitting the halfway point with the soju bottle. You lazily scroll through your phone as you begin to eat away at the ice cream bar, revisiting those party pictures.

You wonder what Wooyoung is doing, but you shouldn't be thinking about that right now.

"Ugh." You whine and pout to yourself, pulling up your texts to see if Jiwoo can come to your rescue. You opted for listing Jiwoo and Wooyoung as Jung 1 and Jung 2 to keep it easy and simple; except, it obviously doesn't work well in this case when you accidentally pull up the text with Jung 2 instead of Jung 1 while you wipe away at the tears that suddenly begin to stream down your cheeks.

you: oof .... that dinner was kinda awful i feel terrible

you: kinda?! not even kinda it WAS awfullll

you: i'm sitting outside of our fav convenience store by my olace

you: eating strawberry cheesecake ice cfream!!

you: jiwooooooo

you: jung 1!!!!

Wooyoung furrows his brows at the constant dinging of his phone, unsure of who the hell could be blowing up his phone right now. He even sits for a minute, wondering if there's anybody he's pissed off in the last few days [besides his sister].

"Hm." He hums when he comes up with nothing, nobody. He picks up the phone and scrolls through the previews, chuckling to himself when he sees your name pop up on the screen. Clearly by accident.

you: jiwoo jung 1 pls help come to my rescue it was not good! idk if yeo n i will be friens still ☹️☹️☹️

wooyoung: sorry to break it to you sweetheart, but this is jung 2. 😙

wooyoung: also i won't hold it against you that i've been slotted as number 2 when i should be number 1 esp after the party. 🫤 but it's cool or whatever......

You squint at the brightness of your phone, slowly eating away at your strawberry cheesecake ice cream bar. You almost drop the damn thing when you realize you've actually been blowing up the wrong phone, horrified it had to be Wooyoung, too.

He must think you're a gem, truly.

He does, though. In a very good, non-sarcastic way.

you: omggg i'm so sorry wooyoung jung 2 ☹️

you: i mean jung 1 technically

wooyoung: lol no worries, don't be sorry. you okay?

you: yes but no?

wooyoung: stay put.

You cock a brow up in confusion, wondering if Wooyoung was telling you to stay put because he was on his way or because he just needed you to get yourself together. You listen anyway, sitting on the little chair outside of the convenience store, silently eating away at your ice cream with your phone lit on your lap. You completely forget about texting Jiwoo amidst all of this, assuming she's busy anyway. The wind is slowly picking up, cooling the tip of your nose and surface of your cheeks— settling the heat from the soju.  You shiver and run a hand down your arm, hoping the wind slows in between its waves. You continue to mindlessly scroll through your phone, even picking up your game of Wordle for the day. Just as you get lost in thought, a car parks in a spot in between your building and the convenience store. You look up as you bite into the last of your ice cream bar, hearing the muffled bass from the music in the car. Wooyoung steps out in a grey hoodie and matching sweats, a black beanie on his head. He approaches you with a small smile with his hands dug deep into his pockets, crouching to your level as he continues to look at you.

"W-Wooyoung." You hiccup as you sit on the bench, setting your trash down next to you. Wooyoung gives you a small smile, thumb wiping away at your tears.

"Wanna tell me why you've been out here eating ice cream alone?" He eyes your snacks of choice. "And.. a half bottle of soju and chips? I thought you had dinner with Yeosang."

"I did, and it was terrible and sad." You sniff. "Well, not the food. I just couldn't enjoy it as much. I even tried to drink that bitter white wine he ordered just to get me through."

"And you're drinking soju now? Really must have been that bad."

"Bad bad." You pout and he laughs.

"I'm sorry." He gives your thigh a gentle squeeze before patting it. "Come on, let's get you home." He stands, holding out his hand. You gladly take it in yours, his thumb swiping over your knuckles in an attempt to try and warm it up. He grabs the soju and the chips in his other, leading the way to your building. He quietly heads up the steps, stepping aside and letting go of your hand to let you open your door. When you step back into the warmth of your studio, you instantly kick off your shoes and slip into your slippers—lighting up your candle to bring more heat into the room.

"I'm gonna set your chips and soju aside." Wooyoung says, tightly tying your chips close so it doesn't get stale before setting your bottle of soju aside in the fridge.

"Thank you." You set your bag down and let out a sigh.

"Glad I was able to get you home safely." He chuckles a bit, jingling his keys in his hand. You don't want Wooyoung to leave, especially after he made the effort to get dressed and come to your rescue.

"Wooyoung?" He cocks a brow up when you turn to face him. "Can you stay?" He takes a moment before he nods, unsure how he could turn you down with you looking up at him that way. 

So innocently. So delicately. Eyes yearning for company you can be comforted with, need to be comforted with.

"Yeah, of course. As long as you're okay with me poking around and making some food." You giggle and nod.

"Go for it." You grab your pajamas. "I'm gonna take a quick shower. Feel free to get comfortable and flip through the channels." You turn on the TV for him before shutting yourself within the bathroom walls to shower and get comfy for the evening. 

As you shower and get ready for bed that evening, you hear Wooyoung humming and singing a Blackstreet song to himself in your kitchen. After brushing your teeth, you finish up the last of your skincare routine before heading back outside.

"Finally." Wooyoung turns over his shoulder and quickly scans you from head to toe. "I was getting lonely."

"I didn't even take that long."

"It was long. You and Jiwoo take the longest showers known to man." He frowns a bit, making you giggle to yourself. You plop on your couch, now in your oversized crewneck and pajama pants. You're no longer tipsy, probably a little too sober for your liking especially knowing Wooyoung is in your studio. You do find his company comforting, though. You feel bad he had to come and rescue you, but you'd rather be here than anywhere else after that dinner with Yeosang. You tuck your legs to your chest, flipping through the tv channels only to land on Kiki's Delivery Service. It's already 20 minutes in, but it doesn't bother you knowing the movie so well. Wooyoung is still going through your stash of food, pulling out a bowl of jajangmyeon. While he waits for the hot water to properly cook the noodles, he dices up some pickled radish and some cucumbers, and quickly boils two eggs to perfection. When the noodles are done, he sets everything into the bowl neatly before grabbing a cold water bottle and plopping onto the couch next to you.

"What'd you do today?" You look at him just as he starts digging into the bowl.

"Work. Then Jiwoo came earlier in the night with some food from my favorite Japanese spot."

"Sushi Kashiwa?"

"Aw, you know?" Wooyoung smirks.

"Because Jiwoo has mentioned it one too many times." You chuckle. "That's cute, though."

"She only did it cause she was waiting for Hongjoong to get out of work. And to kiss my ass about the party."

"And because she loves you." He fake shivers.

"Ew. Please don't say that again." He looks at you and you snort. "Want a bite? I made it for us to share in case you were still hungry." He edges his chopsticks your way, watching as you shake your head in response.

"I'm good. Thank you though, Woo."

"Suit yourself, princess. I whipped up a good one." You laugh, settling into the couch as you continue to watch the movie. Wooyoung catches you slipping your sleeves over your palms in his peripherals and although he's pretty warm and cozy in your studio, you must still feel cold. He hurriedly slurps up the remaining of the noodles before gulping the entirety of his water bottle down. He lets out a noise that makes you laugh, kicking his head back in satisfaction. "Damn, that was good."

"Glad you enjoyed." You poke his arm and he smiles. "Is this movie okay with you?"

"Yeah, of course. Can never go wrong with Studio Ghibli movies. Unless, you're down to watch something scary?"

"Never." 

"Why not? I'm here."

"But, whatever scary movie we'll watch, it'll live in my head for the next few days and you won't be here."

"I could be, you just have to call me and I'll come. Like tonight."

"Wooyoung." You pout. "Today's was an accident."

"So, you didn't want me to come? That's funny, cause I didn't see another text from you after I told you to stay put, baby girl." He smirks and you shake your head shyly.

"I'm sorry." You continue to fiddle with your sleeves.

"Don't be. I'm just teasing, I wanted to come."

"Thank you. I needed it." You finally manage to let out as you look at him and scooch a little closer. He gives you a tiny smile before shifting his attention back to the TV, the both of you engaging in small talk about the characters here and there.

At some point, Wooyoung subtly inches in and closes off any gaps, quietly slipping his arm behind you. You silently chuckle to yourself when you see him playing it off, acting as if he hadn't done anything to get closer to you. But, the whole thing feels.. nice. It feels safe. It feels warm. Wooyoung really isn't expecting anything out of this— he is testing the waters to see how comfortable you'd be with him, but that's truly it. That's the intention. Just to make you feel comfortable and better after tonight's dinner. He definitely wasn't expecting you to lean your head against him, snuggling up to him as closely as possible. 

"You okay? Comfortable?" He asks softly. You look up at him and nod, settling back into your position on him.

"Mhm. You're warm." He laughs a bit when he hears that, keeping you close. As the movie continues with the both of you watching silently, you find yourself shifting in your position; arm fully coming around Wooyoung's torso. He doesn't mind one bit. As a matter of fact, he loves that you've gotten comfortable enough to do so.

He drops his arm down from the edge of the couch, holding you from behind as the movie continues to play. He gently rubs at your side before his hand falls to your hips. You feel Wooyoung's hand gently squeeze at it before sneaking right underneath your sweater. You freeze, but more so because you're surprised by his touch— not because you don't want him to be right where he is.

"Are you feeling better?"

"I don't know. I just feel bad." You say, eyes still on the TV ahead while you slowly began to relax in his hold.

"You were honest with him, right?" Wooyoung asks as a simple way to poke for more information and get you to open up about dinner. "Wanna tell me how the dinner went?" He traces faint, soft circles on your bare side.

"I was, and I guess that's why I feel bad. It started off fine. We went to the restaurant and we were talking as we always do. Random topics, jokes, going on about life updates. It went downhill when we got our food. It was quiet for a little bit and I knew he was thinking about what to say or how to say it." You pause. "He asked if I enjoyed the party. I said yes, then he asked if it was Jiwoo's plan." Wooyoung cocks a brow.

"What'd you say?"

"I got kinda defensive." You sigh, leaving out the whole moment of you asking Yeo if he thought Wooyoung wouldn't genuinely go to a party with you. "But anyway, I said you wanted to go.. and so did I. And I had a fun time with you."

"Atta girl." He laughs a bit. "And then?"

"He apologized and said he just wished I told him instead of surprisingly showing up. Then.. he laid it out. Said he had feelings for me and couldn't watch on the sidelines anymore. He felt like there could've been a chance, which was probably my fault for keeping that door open for too long." You sit up and face him, Wooyoung's arm still lazily holding you from behind. "I told him that even if I told him about the party beforehand, it wouldn't have changed anything because I couldn't. I liked us the way we were and that we were good as bestfriends. He deserved someone who was sure of him and who could reciprocate his feelings wholeheartedly."

"Then, you didn't do anything wrong, Y/N." You shrug before subconsciously grabbing a piece of lint on Wooyoung's hoodie and flicking it off. 

"He asked something else."

"Which was?"

"He asked if this was about you, a-and I said no." You avoid eye contact and lick your lips out of nervousness. 

"I see." Wooyoung smiles a bit before shifting up in his seat to get closer to you. He leans his cheek onto the palm of his hand, his arm that was behind you is now on the back of the couch— elbow resting on the edge. "Why can't you look at me?" He smirks teasingly.

"I am." You look at him for a minute before shifting your eyes elsewhere in the living room. 

"Was it really not about me, hm?" He hums, brushing the hair away from your face and tucking it behind your ear. "You can tell me, love." He tries to pull you closer by the hand, and you let him.

"Can I?" His eyes quickly shift to the way you play around with his fingers.

"Course."

"Maybe it was."

"Just maybe?" He looks at your lips. "You think that's why you feel bad?" Brief pause. "That you might actually have feelings for me and you couldn't tell him that part?"

"Maybe." You repeat, his lips only inches away from yours. "Isn't that kinda silly?"

"No? I still don't think you did anything wrong, Y/N."

"Really, Woo?" There you go asking him so sweetly again. It's at this point when Wooyoung feels like he can no longer contain himself because you're giving him the answer he had been looking for; straight on a silver platter. 

"Mhm. As far as I know, you were honest when it came to him. What's between us is our business and not his." He says, his tone just barely above a whisper. You don't really know what comes over you, maybe you did have a little bit of liquid courage still running through your veins especially cause what happens next catches you slightly off-guard. You're so sure about your feelings for him, but unsure about Wooyoung's and how he even feels. This could all be a game that he plays, something he does with other women even if he says it isn't.

Guess it doesn't matter much right now. Can't, anyways.

Within the next second, you find yourself initiating the first kiss with Wooyoung; a kiss that feels long overdue. You lean forward and press your lips against his own soft, plump lips, quickly pulling back to get ready and apologize—

But, he doesn't let you. 

He chases after you.

He cups your cheeks and brings you back, thumb gently caressing the surface of your cheek. You haven't kissed someone like this in awhile, but with Wooyoung, it feels.. right. 

Everything about Wooyoung feels right and natural.

He tries to take it slow with you, even when you crawl onto his lap and wrap your arms around him. The kiss becomes more heated, lips bruising from the rising intensity, hunger. Wooyoung slowly slips his tongue in, and hearing a small whimper from you in response only has him gripping your hips harder.

He quickly learns he likes kissing you.

"Been waiting to do this." He says against your lips.

"Have you?" You ask, your tone filled with lust as you continue to peck him with small, repeated kisses.

"Just didn't wanna scare you away."

"You wouldn't have."

"Have to be extra careful with you, baby. You aren't just anybody." The pet name rolls off his tongue so easily that it makes your head tilt back as the desire builds. He continues to hold you close as you slowly roll your hips against him, Wooyoung now kissing your jaw before gently sucking and licking on the surface of your neck;

The column, your throat.

You feel him come to the base and suck a little harder, and you're hoping it doesn't leave much of a mark. If it does, it doesn't fucking matter to you right now— nothing does. Because all you want is for Wooyoung to devour you. To give you everything, to ruin you so good.

"Is this okay? I don't wanna do anything you're not comfortable with—"

"Keep going, Wooyoung. Please." You cut him off. It takes a second for Wooyoung to register your pleading, that 'please' being the one thing that flips his switch. It's not only a want, but a heavy craving. He's got some sort of eagerness to show you just what you've been missing.

"Hold onto me." He says, lifting you with ease as he carries you over to your bed and plops you onto the mattress. He slowly crawls over you, his warm, large hands now cascading up your sweatshirt. Your breathing hitches when he reaches just above your rib cage, and Wooyoung stops when he feels your body tense in his grip. "You sure you're okay?" He presses a kiss to your forehead, down to your nose, your lips. He looks you in the eye with slight concern, afraid of scaring you. The last thing he wants you to think is that he's purely using you for other reasons— when it's definitely more than that.

Wooyoung wants to show you, in case he's bad at voicing his feelings. Cause he can be, clearly. But, he could at least show you and take care of you properly.

"I am."

"You trust me, yeah?" You swallow the lump in your throat as you nod, continuing to keep contact with Wooyoung. "I'll take care of you as long as you let me."

"I want you to." This time, Wooyoung dips forward to lock you into another deep, fervent kiss. His hands are finally roaming further up; Wooyoung letting out a low groan when he finds out you're braless. His thumb swipes over your hardened nipple, tongues fighting for dominance while your hands are tangled in the ends of his hair. You toss his beanie off just as he starts to tug your crewneck over your head and you follow suit with his hoodie. He nibbles on your jaw just before sucking harshly on the skin of your neck. His hand travels down and slips into your pajama pants, fingers delicately rubbing at your clothed pussy that sends a million jolts down your spine. You twitch in response, and Wooyoung can't help but chuckle against your neck.

"So reactive." He teases.

"It's been awhile, Woo."

"And? That's fine, baby. Told you I'd take good care of you." He raises himself slightly to watch your reaction in real-time. "Does that feel good?" He asks, close to a whisper. 

"Yes." You bite your bottom lip and shut your eyes, sighing in satisfaction.

"God. Can feel how wet you are already." Wooyoung feels himself getting painfully hard against your thigh, imagining how tight you are. He doesn't wanna waste another moment, and he thinks he'll lose it if he isn't inside of you within the next few seconds. "Let's take this off, hm?" He hums, hands already tugging your panties and pajama pants down. "Do you have a condom?"

"Don't need it. I'm on the pill." 

"You're sure? I'm clean, but I'll do whatever you're okay with. Just say the word." He asks again to be extra sure.

"I am, I'm sure." You nod eagerly. The pill was mainly to help regulate your heavy, irregular periods, but you'd say you do appreciate it a little more now for this particular reason.

"You're so hot, jesus fucking christ." Wooyoung doesn't say anything else before he's keenly kissing you again, hastily getting out of his sweats. 

Sooner or later, the rest of Wooyoung's clothes are joining yours on the floor; Wooyoung not wasting any seconds reattaching his lips to yours after slipping them off. 

Wooyoung pauses when he sees you fixed on his length— eyes hazy and full of desire. It's giving Wooyoung the biggest fucking ego boost, but that's not important. He strokes himself a few times before lining up with your entrance. He slowly eases himself in, the both of you letting out lewd moans as you both adjust to the feeling. You're tightly wrapped around him and Wooyoung has to keep his composure as he buries himself deep to the hilt. Wooyoung keeps his pace slow and steady; forehead pressed against yours as he thrusts into you. It's nothing rushed, everything about it is slow— so tender, so careful. 

So safe.

"Wooyoung." You moan his name and his brain short-circuits every time you say it the way you do. On top of that, your little whimpers are doing a number on him, but he's trying to keep it together for awhile longer. 

"Doing so well for me, love." He gently bites your chin just as he slightly picks up his pace. He hovers a bit, lips coming back up to meet you in a sweet kiss. He holds it for a minute longer, tongue swiping over your lips as he rolls his hips into you. 

It's intimate. 

It's deep. 

It's raw. 

It's nothing he'd do to his booty calls, no. Everything about those moments are forced and rushed, the end goal having to nut as quickly as possible and get them the hell out of his space.

With you, he's loving every second. He wants to relish in the way your walls feel around him, wants to relish in the way your fingers thread through his hair, wants to relish in the way you kiss him so slowly, so passionately. Like every kiss holds the answers to the universe and you're afraid you'll miss a single detail.

He rests his nose, lips, against your cheek just as he releases a shaky breath, still taking his time as he works his way with you. He comes down to your neck and leaves feathery pecks against the surface while his body is pressed flushed against yours. He turns his head and you've fully wrapped your arms around him. The pace is perfect, with Wooyoung working his hips in circular motions just to hit you in all the right places. He praises you as you continue to moan for him, pretty little mewls slipping from your lips while he tells you how captivating, how angelic, you are for him.

How perfect you are for him.

You find your hips have a mind of their own, working to match Wooyoung's movements. You feel the pleasure building quick at your core, and you know it won't take long from there.

"Wooyoung— just like that, please—oh my god." You sob. While he continues to expertly thrust into you and keep you close, the friction against him causes the coil within you to snap harshly, nails digging deep into Wooyoung's shoulders while he thrusts harder, a bit rougher, to meet his high. 

"F-fuck, baby. I'm about to—" He moans a little louder when he feels you clench a few times around him from the aftershock, quickly pulling out and releasing onto your pussy and abdomen. "Shit—fuck." He pants, finally coming back down from euphoria to see how mesmerizing you look splayed out beneath him; white ribbons of cum painted on your skin. He's completely enamored by you. "Mm'sorry babygirl, let's get you cleaned up." You giggle and shake your head.

"Please, it's fine. Stop looking, you're making me shy again."

"Don't be. You look beautiful." He laughs, slipping on his boxers. "Let me clean you up." He runs to your bathroom to grab some wipes, doing a light jog to clean you up well. You grab your panties and your crewneck after he's done— throwing them on and snuggling under your covers. You fully expect Wooyoung to get dressed and leave [which would suck], but he doesn't. You quietly watch as he shuts off your TV and the lights, going to the bathroom for a quick wash up. Afterwards, he immediately slips underneath your covers right next to you, pulling you onto his chest.

"You're staying?"

"Why wouldn't I?" He chuckles. "C'mere." He pulls you closer. "Sleepy?"

"Incredibly." He smiles.

"I put in some work, huh?"

"Wooyoung." You pout, lightly smacking his chest.

"I'm just joking." He subtly bites his lip. "Can I have one more kiss before we sleep?" You lean up and peck him on the lips a few times, with Wooyoung holding the last kiss before pulling away. "Goodnight, pretty girl."

"Goodnight." You mumble, falling asleep within seconds as you cuddle snuggly against him. Because with Wooyoung, it feels.. right.

Everything about Wooyoung feels right and natural.

—TAGLIST: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @heyitsmetonid @ldysmfrst @intaksfav @wooyoungsbrat @hyukssunflower @yunhoswrldddd

[stevie-petey]

episode nine: the fall

You shake your head at the teen in disappointment. “Never thought I’d have to say this, but please stop licking your sweater, Steve.” He puts his hands up in surrender, albeit with a slight scoff. “Sue a man for not wasting food.”

Summary: surprise ! life still carries on even with minor brain damage from constant concussions :( on the bright side, you and the gang all become homies. meanwhile, steve grapples with the warm fuzzies and parental issues before his worst nightmare happens: you meet robin. the horrors !

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, swearing, mentions of wounds

Words: 9.1k

Before you swing in: this is it !!! last official chapter of season 2 :) this chapter is pure fluff yall. just 9k words of utter disgusting bug n steve, so i hope it makes up for how long it took for them to get to this point lmao. enjoy !

-

True to your promise with Jonathan, nothing necessarily changes between the two of you; things just shift. You stop being so tactile with him out of respect for Nancy, now only reaching for his hand for comfort rather than to have him so near. It takes some trial and error, but eventually the two of you manage to strike up a good balance.

You still spend most of your days either together at his house or yours. Only now, Nancy accompanies you, and it’s lovely.

“Dustin told me that Steve practically drooled over you last night before the Snowball.” Jonathan teases you, hunched over his kitchen table scribbling a half-assed essay that’s already a day late.

Nancy giggles as you throw your pencil at the boy. “That did not happen, mind your own business.”

“I don’t know, Y/N. He kept staring at you today during lunch.” Nancy slides over her paper and taps her pencil on a particular problem she’s stuck on. She’s still getting used to talking about this with you, but she pushes aside her unease and tries anyway. “Do you know the answer for number five?”

Her words cause you to blush, your mind still reeling from your conversation with Steve last night. You told him you’d wait for him, and he looked at you as if you’d promised him the world and more. Then, today at lunch, Steve had boldly found you sitting with Nancy and Jonathan outside and joined.

It was a welcome change, and he sat so close to you that your thighs pressed together underneath the picnic bench you’d been eating at.

“He wasn’t staring at me,” you mumble, embarrassed and still feeling his weight pressed against you, before sliding your paper over to Nancy. “And I got Henry Ford.”

Frowning, Nancy erases her answer. “That makes no sense.”

“My answer or Steve not staring at me?”

“Both.” Nancy and Jonathan say at the same time.

You throw another pencil at Jonathan. “I wasn’t talking to you, write your late essay.”

He ducks, “Would you stop?”

“Not unless you stop speaking.”

“This is my house, bug–”

“And I can call your mom right now and she’d let me stay.” You cross your arms at Jonathan, knowing you’ve already won the argument. “Any more complaints?”

Jonathan goes back to writing his essay, grumbling under his breath about how you can’t keep pulling the mom card, and you giggle at his anger alongside Nancy. He’s the one who wanted the two of you to get along, he should’ve known that you and Nancy would just make his life miserable.

The three of you go back to working quietly at the table, you and Nancy occasionally asking each other for help on certain questions, while Jonathan grows more and more frustrated by his essay. After he’s angrily scribbled out his fifth line, Nancy snatches the paper from him and points towards the back door.

“Out,” she tells him.

Jonathan blinks. “What?”

“Go outside, take a small walk, and calm down. You’re frustrated and won’t get anywhere if you keep this up.”

They stare at each other, Nancy silently daring him to argue with her, and you watch in amusement. She has him wrapped around her finger, and after only a few seconds, Jonathan sighs and gets up from the kitchen table. “I’m doing this because I want to, alright?”

You snort. “Sure, buddy.”

He gives you the finger, presses a kiss to Nancy’s forehead, and then grabs a coat to go outside.

Once he’s gone, Nancy turns to you and sets down her pencil. “So, how long are you planning on pretending that Steve doesn’t like you?”

You whip your head up, dropping your pencil in the process, startled by her forward question. “I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.”

“I…” Though you’ve slowly gotten used to Nancy being with Jonathan, it still feels too soon to talk to her about Steve, even if she’s given you her blessing. It feels too raw, too inappropriate, to discuss it with her. “I don’t think we should talk about this–”

“C’mon, Y/N. It’s obvious he at least feels something for you, and if anyone deserves Steve, it’s you.” Nancy gently takes your hand, her voice sincere. “He came outside for lunch looking for you today, he drove you to the Snowball, he’s been visiting you at work ever since you smiled at him last year.”

You look away from her. “It’s… complicated.”

“It’s not…” Nancy swallows, clears her throat, and looks away as well. It still has taken her time to adjust to the shift between the four of you, to finally understand that it’s now okay to talk about these things with one another. “It’s not because of me, right?”

A beat of silence passes, and when you don’t say anything, Nancy sighs. “Shit.”

“He’s still healing, Nance.” You admit, feeling bad for bringing this upon her. You don’t want her to feel responsible for any of it, it’s not her fault that the boys you’ve loved have loved her first. The wound of it has healed now, though the scar that it has left will never fade.

You both know this, neither one of you want to admit it to the other.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” She shakes her head, the familiar guilt of somehow always the one hurting you clawing at her. “I wish things had been different between me and him.”

You shrug, you don’t see any reason to blame her. “I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t wish things had been different between the two of you,” you admit, knowing how bizarre it may sound. When Nancy raises her eyebrows, you’re quick to explain. “What I mean is, if Steve had never been with you, who knows who he’d be now? Or if Jonathan had never been my best friend, would you still have found each other?”

Nancy bites her lip, still unconvinced. “I don’t know, Y/N…”

“I think, truthfully, that we all unwound with who we were supposed to.” You’re not sure how to explain this, to express your unusual way of viewing such complex situations. “Without our histories, without being so intertwined with one another, I don’t think we ever would’ve unwound how we were supposed to. Does that make sense?”

“I think so,” Nancy nods, although hesitant. “And Steve is still… Unwinding from me?”

You cringe, knowing how silly it all sounds. “I know it sounds dumb, but he is, and while I’m not saying he doesn’t like me… I told him to take his time.”

“You’d really wait for him?”

“I would.”

Nancy sighs and goes back to her assignment, continuously amazed by your selflessness. “You’re too good.”

You shrug again, now used to being told this by others. It doesn’t bother you like it used to, you’ve come to view your kindness as something wholly yours and no one else’s to understand. It took so much violence to become so kind, and you will never, ever apologize for it now. “It adds to my charm.”

Jonathan walks back in right as Nancy bursts into loud laughter, you do as well, the remaining tension between you and her now gone. He sees the way she clutches her stomach and how you have to grab onto the table so you don’t fall over as you laugh. “Did I miss something?”

You wipe at your eyes, still giggling. “No, bee. Sit down and do your work.”

“Yeah,” Nancy giggles again, feeling breathless. “What Y/N said.”

“You two are the worst.” Jonathan slumps in his seat and goes back to his essay.

“You love us,” you tease, knowing that he hasn’t told Nancy this yet.

He smiles shyly and avoids Nancy’s eye. “Yeah, I do.”

They both blush and there’s a childish energy to them, shy and soft and sweet. You watch them with a warm smile, endlessly happy for them both; they’re sweet to watch, still shy around one another.

As you watch Jonathan and Nancy giggle softly as they help each other with their assignments, looking over at you for help as well, you know that junior year is finally starting to look up.

–

Steve continues to join you, Jonathan, and Nancy for lunch. He makes himself a permanent seat next to you, never once straying far from your side, and eventually he even ends up back in the library with the three of you.

It’s reminiscent of your sophomore year, back when you’d just defeated the Demogorgon and Nancy had gone back to Steve. For a brief few months, you’d all study in the library together and formed your own nice, albeit tense, group.

Then lines and threads became tangled and unspoken feelings became harsh actions.

Now, Nancy and Jonathan are whispering about something, off in their own world, and you’re currently helping Steve with an English assignment.

It’s the last day before winter break, so it’s hard getting him to pay attention to what you’re saying. All he can focus on is the way you’ve pinned your hair up, some pieces of hair falling over your face, and how you look so lovely in your white sweater.

“Are you listening to me?” You ask him, narrowing your eyes.

Steve coughs, knowing he’s been caught. “Yeah, totally.”

“Okay,” you cross your arms and lean back in your seat, distancing yourself from the boy, which only makes him frown. “What did I just say, then?”

“C’mere,” he huffs at you, tugging at your chair so that you’re now pressed flush against him; just the way he likes it. You blush, your stomach flutters wildly at the idea that he can’t be more than five inches away from you. Steve sees this, sends you a wink, and tries to use this to his advantage. “We both know I wasn’t listening, angel.”

Angel.

It’s become his new name for you, though he hasn’t said it since the night of the Snowball; the name drips from his lips as if saturated in sunlight. Although you want to litter his face with kisses and call him lovely and handsome and wonderful, you know that in this instance, Steve has only used the nickname to get on your good side.

And two can play that game.

“I don’t know, honey.” You lean in closer to Steve, angling your head so that you look up at him while you use your own name for him. His breath always hitches when you look up at him like this, when you call him honey again for the first time all sweet and soft. “I was hoping you’d been listening.”

Steve gulps, he’s still not used to the way your voice dips low when you want his attention. How when you call him honey he swears he can taste the residue of it in his mouth. He leans closer as well, your faces inches apart, and he’s forgotten what the two of you are even talking about. “I–I’m sorry?”

As soon as he’s apologized, you pull yourself away, just before Steve’s lips land on yours, and go back to the English assignment. You’re immensely pleased with yourself, especially when Steve almost face plants against the library table when you suddenly move away. “Apology accepted! Now, let’s go back to Shakespeare, shall we?”

Steve’s jaw drops, only now realizing that he’s been tricked. “Oh, that was evil, Y/N.”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” You wink at him, and Steve has never wanted to kiss a smirk off of someone’s face more.

He’s addicted to it, honestly.

Later that day, once school has let out, Steve drives you to work. This was another shift that came with Jonathan and Nancy getting together. While your best friend still drives you to school, it’s now Steve who drives you to work and picks you up.

He enjoys spending the time with you, having you all to himself during the simple ten minute drive to Bookstrordinary. The two of you rarely say much during these drives, and it’s everything Steve could ask for and more; he simply has you with him, nothing else needs to be said or done.

Mrs. Waters greets him with a knowing smile, the woman has become more invested in Steve’s infatuation with you than even your mother. “Hello, young man.”

“Hi, Mrs. Waters.” Steve gives her a wave and walks over to his usual station: behind the counter, waiting for you.

You give your boss a quick hug and clock in. “Any new shipments today?”

“All the new books are in the back, so make sure your handsome man does all the heavy lifting, sweetie.” Mrs. Waters giggles at her own words before she slowly makes her way into her office.

“Well,” you nudge Steve. “You heard the woman, you’re a handsome man. Go do the heavy lifting.”

The compliment, though indirect, still rolls over Steve in slow, warm waves. He smiles bashfully at you. “Handsome, huh?”

“Oh, don’t pretend as if you didn’t know.” You flick his nose and walk over to the back door to start retrieving the new shipment. “Seriously, though. Could you help me with these boxes?”

Steve is quick to run over and help, he will always be happy to help you, but before he picks up a box, a thought occurs to him. Leaning against the doorframe, he smirks at you. “I’ll help, after you explain to me that little stunt you pulled earlier in the library.”

“What stunt?” A huff escapes you as you try to pick up a box, but Mrs. Waters had been right. The shipment is heavy, and Steve is currently useless.

“The whole ‘honey’ thing.”

You look up at Steve, knowing exactly what he’s asking, but you toy with him anyways. “Only if you explain the whole ‘angel’ thing.”

“C’mon, Y/N.” He groans, annoyed that you’re so good at dodging all of his questions. He doesn’t know what makes you Hendersons so great at deception, but it’s a terrifying thing to witness. “You’re an angel, it’s a fitting name for you.”

Though you’d been expecting him to say this, hearing Steve’s explanation still causes you to blush. Normally it bothers you when people call you an angel and act as if you’re some person above everyone else, but with Steve you know that he means it so genuinely. To him, you’re an angel because he knows you so well.

He doesn’t view you as this innocent creature that can do no wrong; Steve knows how you came to be, he knows the anger you once held, and it’s because of this that he has come to view you as angelic. It takes a lot for someone to become kind again, and Steve knows this better than anyone else.

“You’re sweet honey,” you finally respond, your face still warm from the vulnerability. You want to try for him, become okay with the feeling of being seen. “You asked for a nickname, and that’s what I’ve landed on. Any more questions?”

Steve practically melts against the doorway, and you almost giggle at the sight. “I’m honey?”

“Mhm, sweet honey, but honey sounds less dramatic.”

He laughs, his head is spinning and he’s so enamored with you. “Okay, I like that, but can I ask one more question before I agree to helping you?”

You roll your eyes but nod, secretly enjoying this moment with him. “Ask away.”

“Why honey? Not that I’m complaining, but…” Steve shrugs. “Not so creative.”

You gasp, “Are you saying you don’t accept my nickname for you?”

“No! I–” Steve frantically tries to correct what he’s said, but you grab his hand to calm him down.

“Relax, Steve. I was teasing,” you give his hand a squeeze, his fingers are strong against yours, and take a deep breath. The explanation is more intimate than you’d like, but he deserves to know. “Did you know that honey can be used to treat wounds?”

Steve shakes his head, silent as he listens.

“It’s a natural remedy, an unsuspecting cure, disguised as something only sweet.” You’re suddenly shy again, but you offer Steve more of yourself because you can; because he’s here, all warmth and love and summer. He’s healed wounds within you that you hadn’t known existed until you noticed their scars fading—cuts that have littered your skin from abandonment, guilt, and love. “When I was young, my dad would take me to this local farm on my birthday every summer and he would buy me honey. We’d use it to make sweet tea.”

You pause, the memory practically on your tongue as you remember the taste of the local farmer’s honey and how it would drizzle, slow and smooth, into your sweet tea. You remember your father’s laugh, how he would boast to the entire town that his sweet tea could win awards. “I never really liked tea, but my dad’s sweet tea was amazing.”

The honey had been his secret ingredient.

Steve is quiet after you’ve finished your story. He takes his time responding, he allows the story you’ve told to sink in, he rolls it around in his head, memorizes its details. He knows that you don’t like talking about your father, and the fact that you’ve shared a happy memory about him with Steve…

“Thank you,” he says. There’s a weight behind his thanks, he knows he will never be able to put into words how much this means to him. He tries, though, and pours every truth that he can into his words, “I love the nickname.”

The two of you begin unpacking the new shipment of books after that, working silently side by side.

It’s a lovely summer day within Bookstrordinary, even though it’s the middle of winter in Hawkins.

–

This Christmas Eve, you have your entire kitchen on lockdown. No one is allowed to come in, all food and drinks have been thrown onto the dining room table for others to use. Your hair is tied up, your apron is on, and you’ve banished Dustin from even looking at you.

“This is excessive, even for you.” Dustin scoffs from the living room, annoyed that he can’t even sit at the counter and watch.

You’ve just preheated the oven and are now whisking your dry ingredients together for Mike’s favorite brownies. There’s a rack of Will’s oatmeal raisin cookies on the counter cooling off, alongside Mrs. Wheeler’s sugar cookies she loves. “You lost your baking privileges when you mixed up the salt and sugar last year. Those gingerbread cookies were awful.”

“They’re both white! How was I supposed to know?”

“Stop talking and leave,” you point towards the living room with your whisk and some powder flies out of the bowl in the process.

Dustin tries to argue, but then the doorbell rings and he immediately breaks out into a shit eating grin. “Perfect timing.”

“What–” You try to question what your brother is up to, but he’s already run to answer the door. Sighing, you slowly mix in your wet ingredients and mumble to yourself, “I hate him. I really do.”

“Who do we hate?” Steve slides into the kitchen, not a care in the world, and slides right into Jonathan’s peanut butter cups. “Shit!”

“Steve!” You quickly catch the desserts, barely able to hold onto the bowl of brownie batter in your hands. Once the crisis is averted, you turn to Steve and begin hitting him with your batter covered whisk, effectively ruining his sweater. “What are you doing here?”

“I invited him!” Dustin now slides into the kitchen as well, a gleeful look in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Steve looks down at the batter he’s covered in and scraps some off with his finger before bringing it to his mouth. He hums, nods appreciatively, and smacks his lips. “Ya know, why haven’t I had this before?”

“The brownies are for Mike.” Dustin says, sneakily popping a peanut butter cup into his mouth.

“Wheeler should share, this batter is delicious.” Steve licks some more off of his sweater and you and Dustin cringe at him. When he sees this, he simply shrugs at you both. “What? My sweater is clean.”

You shake your head at the teen in disappointment. “Never thought I’d have to say this, but please stop licking your sweater, Steve.”

He puts his hands up in surrender, albeit with a slight scoff. “Sue a man for not wasting food.”

You blow a piece of hair out of your face and go back to the batter. “Again I ask: what are you doing here?”

“Like the kid said, he invited me.” Steve points to Dustin, who sends you a thumbs up. “Didn’t know I’d be walking into a war zone, though.”

“It’s Christmas Eve,” you say, as if this is all the explanation he needs. When Steve only tilts his head at you in confusion, you huff and put down your bowl so you can quickly explain. “I bake everyone their favorite desserts for Christmas, and normally it’s fine. However, now I have Max, Nancy, Hopper, and El to add to my baking list and I…”

You stumble, now suddenly feeling the effects of baking all day catching up to you. You’re slightly woozy, you can’t remember if you had lunch today. “I’m doing great, honestly.”

“She’s going insane.” Dustin loudly whispers to Steve, his fingers circling around his head in a “crazy” motion.

Steve ignores the boy and stands next to you, placing a hand to the small of your back and leans over your shoulder, allowing you to lean back against him. It’s a simple gesture, and you melt immediately against him. “Give me a bowl and recipe, angel. I’ll help you bake.”

You reluctantly move away from Steve and quickly find a piece of paper and a pen to scribble the recipe for Nancy’s chocolate chip cookies. It’s an easy enough recipe, you trust that Steve can handle the basics.

As you hand the recipe to him, Dustin’s jaw drops. “What, no fair! Why can’t I help bake?”

“Salt and sugar, Dustin. Salt and sugar.”

Steve gathers the ingredients he needs. “Do you have a spare apron?”

“I mean, sure,” you show him where one hangs next to the doorway. “But you’re already covered in brownie batter, so I’m not sure why you need one now.”

“Wanna match with you,” Steve quickly ties the strings around his waist, the apron is far too small on him and it makes you giggle.

Dustin, now very much third wheeling, throws his hands up in the air and marches out of the room. “You two are disgusting, ya know that?”

“Love you too!” You call after the boy, who responds by marching even louder towards his room.

With your brother gone and with Steve’s help, you manage to get through the rest of your baking list in no time. While you hadn’t expected Steve to necessarily fail in the kitchen, you were also pleasantly surprised by how comfortable he seemed to be while helping you bake.

“How’d you get so good at measuring sugar?”

Steve doesn’t look up from his measuring cup, too focused on the task at hand as he carefully counts out how many cups he will need. “My mom.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, not having expected the answer. He never really brought his parents up, something that you’ve noticed but never touched on with him. You figured it was like your father, never wanting to talk about someone who has hurt you.

Hesitantly, you try to learn more. “Does she bake with you a lot?”

“She used to,” Steve counts his third cup and mixes it into the bowl, now working on Max’s coconut bites. “Back when I was little, we used to bake her banana bread together all the time.”

His voice is light, the conversation isn’t a painful one for Steve, so you decide it’s safe to press further. “Well, if you can remember the recipe, I’m sure we can bake it today.”

Steve looks up at you, eyes wide. “You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it, dummy.” The way he’s looking at you with such genuine enthusiasm makes your heart hurt; he’s surprised you’ve offered him kindness. “I was going to bake you those caramel banana cookies, so I have some ripe bananas anyways–”

You’re cut off by Steve’s arms wrapping around you. He holds you tight, and he smells of sugar and cinnamon; it’s an addicting scent. “Thank you,” he breathes out, touched that you would do such a thing for him, and you tighten around him, happy that you’re able to give him this.

Later that night, when you walk Steve to his car after a long day of baking, he opens his passenger side door and grabs something from the seat. You watch him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“You think I came all the way here on Christmas Eve without a gift for you?” Steve teases, a smirk on his face as he hides something behind his arms.

You gasp, “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“Dustin called, I answered, and I saw it as the perfect opportunity to surprise you,” he shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. “Plus, I got homemade banana bread out of it, so shush and close your eyes.”

“Fine, but only because I have your gift waiting in my room. The second we’re done here, I’m running inside and bragging about my impeccable gift giving abilities.”

Steve chuckles fondly, knowing that whatever you will give him will ultimately be his favorite gift he’s ever received. “Okay, moron. Close your eyes.”

With a giggle, you close your eyes and eagerly await whatever you’re about to be given. Steve’s gift from last year, a signed poster of the original Spider-Man comic, now hangs on your bedroom wall. You love it dearly, every time you look at it, you smile.

Something soft is placed within your hands. Its texture is woolen, the material is heavy yet lightweight, and while you can’t figure out exactly what it is, you can’t help but notice how expensive it feels. “Okay, open your eyes.”

You do, and when you see what Steve has given you, you gasp. “Oh, it’s beautiful!”

Within your hands is a cardigan. The wool it has been knitted with is a lovely cream color, and you bring the clothing closer to admire all the wonderful details within the knit pattern. With small pieces of wool, hints of baby blues and pinks weave in and out of the cream. Along the front are buttons made from a beautiful dark wood, polished to perfection.

Steve lets out a nervous chuckle and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, well. Figured I owed you a new cardigan after basically tearing apart your old one.”

“I was bleeding out, Steve.” Your finger traces over a button, its wood is cool to the touch and so smooth that you can hardly believe it’s real. “If you hadn’t torn my favorite cardigan to stop the bleeding, I wouldn’t be alive today to call you an idiot for even considering I would be mad about that–”

As you admire one of the sleeves, your finger catches on something. Turning the clothing around, you see, within the inside of the sleeve, a messily sewn on patch. The stitches are crooked and horribly uneven, clearly done by someone unskinned with a needle. “What’s this?”

Steve clears his throat, uncharacteristically flustered. “Just… Something I added.”

The patch is small, no bigger than an inch or so, with messy handwriting on it that has become familiar to you through long hours at Bookstrordinary helping you write down all the orders needed for shipments.

S.H.

Steve must mistake your stunned silence for disgust, because he quickly tries to take the cardigan away from you in embarrassment. “Fuck, you–you think it’s weird and you hate it and I went too far–”

He had wanted to give you a piece of himself somehow.

His panicked rambling is cut off by your entire body being thrown against his. Suddenly he has an armful of you, flushed against him in the December chill, and Steve’s heartbeat threatens to beat out of his chest. He has you right where he wants you, in his arms with your perfume swirling around his brain as he buries his face into your hair.

Everything calms within him, all the panic and insecurity he had just been feeling is now gone.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper, not even bothering to hide the fact that you’re now crying. No one has ever made something for you, and the hand sewn patch that now resides on your beautiful cardigan makes everything within you burn.

Steve’s fingers slowly make their way to your hair and he risks pressing a kiss atop of your head. He relishes in the way his lips feel against your hair, how it feels like he’s done this all his life. “You really like it?”

“I love it.” You pull your head from his chest and catch his eye. They shine when they look at you, and you can’t help but think about how similar they look compared to last summer. Last July Steve had looked at you like he’d fall to his knees for you and kiss every crevice of your skin if you’d asked him to, and you had run away, terrified of the feelings you weren’t ready to face.

Now, as Steve stares down at you still as if you’re holding the sun within your hands, all you can think is home.

Home.

What a fascinating concept, being able to find a home within someone’s arms.

And it’s a fall like no other.

“I’m glad you love it,” Steve is breathless, both relieved and in awe that he’s done something to render you this speechless, that he has this effect on you.

Neither of you know how long you stand there wrapped in each other, but eventually you force yourself to detangle from the boy. When Steve groans at the loss of your touch, you gently shove him away with a smile. “I still owe you a gift, dummy.”

He thinks about this for a moment, hums to himself and taps his finger against his chin. You giggle, which is all he wanted to make you do, and finally he seems to come to a decision. “Fine, I will allow this because I wanna know what you got me.”

“Mhm, that’s what I thought.” You flick Steve’s nose and begin walking towards your house. “I’ll be back in a second!”

Steve watches as you run back inside, the cardigan he has gifted you is clutched tightly to your chest, and he knows he’s falling as well. He can feel it, the slight tug within his chest that expands into a warmth that steadily beats alongside his heart.

As you promised, you’re back with a small box wrapped in a simple blue paper within no time. Only this time, you’re now wearing the cardigan and Steve’s heart skips a beat when he sees you.

You’re practically skipping as you return to his side, stupidly excited for Steve to see what you’ve gotten for him; you all but shove the gift into his hands. “Open it!”

He can’t help but laugh at your enthusiasm, though his heartbeat still hasn’t quite settled yet. “So bossy.”

You ignore Steve’s teasing and instead watch the look on his face as he unwraps the box and opens its lid. Within the box, tucked delicately between sheets of tissue paper, is a framed photo of Steve and Dustin.

A mix of emotions cross Steve’s face, from shock to curiosity to pure adoration. His lips part slightly, a slight gasp escapes him. “Y/N…”

You’re beaming, though you shrug as if it’s just another Monday for you. The photo is your favorite, taken the other day while they worked on a robot set that Steve had brought over. “Jonathan left his camera at my place a few weeks ago, and you and Dustin looked incredibly sweet working together, so… I snuck a picture while you two were busy bickering over drill bit sizes.”

In the picture, Dustin’s hands are gesturing wildly at Steve, his eyes manic, yet there’s a genuine smile on both of their faces despite the clear indications that they’re arguing. Tools are scattered around them and a poor, misshapen robot lays discarded on the table in front of them, long forgotten in the midst of their argument.

It’s the perfect photo, honestly.

Steve lets out a wet chuckle, his eyes are shining with fondness. “That kid is such a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, but you can’t help but love him anyway.” You nudge him, drawing his attention back to you. “It’s not often I see Dustin befriend someone so quickly, ya know.”

Steve ducks his head down, flushed from what you’re implying. “Yeah, well. He’s a good kid.”

“He is.” You stand on your tiptoes and press your lips against his cheek, before whispering into his ear, “and so are you.”

You feel Steve shiver, and he grips at your waist so that you can’t back away again. He pauses for a moment, allows your words to sink in and your kiss to seep throughout his body. There’s more he wants to say, his lips practically beg to be drawn to yours, but he takes a deep breath and says what he knows he can give you. “Merry Christmas, angel.”

“Merry Christmas, honey.” Your lips graze Steve’s ear and he shivers again. This, he knows, is where he was always meant to be.

–

Spring comes, and Steve doesn’t get into any of the colleges he applied for.

It’s a hard blow, and the months you’ve spent trying to rebuild his confidence comes crashing down within seconds.

Steve draws into himself, you don’t see him at school for a few days and he doesn’t stop by your work. He’s embarrassed, hiding from his shame of not being good enough to even get into Tech. He’s everything his father told him he’d be. A failure, an embarrassment to the Harrington name.

You give Steve a few days to himself, trusting that he’ll come back when he’s ready; you know how deeply he carries the weight of his father’s expectations. However, when almost a week goes by without any word from the teen, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Which leads you to now: knocking on Steve’s door with platters of fresh baked goods, Mike and the others holding their own assortment of snacks and movies for tonight.

It took a lot of bargaining and multiple batches of brownies, but in the end you convinced Dustin and the others to surprise Steve with a movie night at his house. You knew his parents would be out of town this week, they’re hardly ever home anyways.

After a few swift knocks, you don’t have to wait long before Steve opens the door. He looks tired, his hair is a mess and he’s wearing the ratty sweatpants that you absolutely hate on him. It looks like he hasn’t slept in days, and when he sees who is behind his door, he frowns. “Why are you all holding snacks?”

“Well, hello to you too, buddy.” Dustin is the first to enter, shoving past Steve without a care in the world. He looks around and whistles, impressed with the house. “Y/N said you were rich, but damn.”

“Is that a pool?” Lucas makes his way in as well, Max loosely holding his hand as she follows.

El looks up at you. “What is a pool?”

“Mike,” you call for the boy to get his attention. When he turns to you, brownie shoved in his mouth, you point towards El. “Can you explain to her what a pool is while I talk to Steve?”

Mike salutes you and grabs El’s hand, yanking her inside so that you’re left alone with the teen. As soon as they’re gone, Steve lets out an exasperated sigh. “What is this, Y/N?”

“Mandatory movie night!” You exclaim, hoping that your fake enthusiasm will be enough to rub off on him as well. You really, really hope that this plan works.

Steve sighs again, his heart isn’t in it to play along. “Y/N…”

“You’ve missed an entire week of school and Bookstrordinary misses its most loyal customer.” You’re basically pleading now, scared that Steve will turn you and everyone else away. “I just… I miss you and I know you enjoy the kids, even if you try to deny it, and I want you to just spend this one night with us. No worrying about the future, no family drama, just me, you, and the kids as we watch horrible scary movies and eat an unhealthy amount of sugar, okay?”

“But–”

“No, you’re not allowed to argue with me.” Steve stares at you, baffled, but you simply barge past him and enter the home as well. “We’re going to have fun tonight, damn it.”

He watches as you walk inside and start ordering the kids around. Within no time, you’ve arranged a neat row of cookies and brownies and chips and dinosaur nuggets on his dining room table while the kids start making a fort in the living room.

Steve sighs, knowing he’s long lost this battle with you, and joins you to help with grabbing more blankets and pillows for the fort.

One part of the deal for a movie night at Steve’s was allowing all the kids to pick their own movie to watch. You’d been very hesitant to say yes to this, but ultimately Mike’s nagging won in the end. His movie choice goes first, and within the first fifteen minutes of it, a fort has been made and the kids quickly settle within it, a mess of sheets and pillows and blankets.

You’re on the couch, lazily stretched out, knowing that there’s no room for you in the fort with the others. You don’t mind, you honestly prefer having the couch to yourself, and you only further come to enjoy this when Steve makes his way into the living room and looks around.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” He asks, slightly offended that he doesn’t get to share the fort.

“Here,” you pat the couch, though you don’t bother to make any room for him. Your entire body rests on the couch, there isn’t enough space for him to sit comfortably on the edge.

Steve bites his lip. He wants, more than anything, to lay on top of you and melt into your body, but he just isn’t sure what boundaries have been placed between the two of you. When you notice his misplaced hesitation, you simply sigh and tug at his legs, causing him to fall on top of you. “Shit–”

He collapses onto you and your body braces for his impact, the weight of him foreign yet welcome. He’s wearing the cologne you love and you reach for his shirt to tug him closer so that he’s now properly laying on you. You sigh happily, wrapping your arms around Steve. “See, was that so hard?”

“If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just asked.” Steve grumbles, but he situates himself so that he’s laying more comfortably on you and scoops you into his own arms as well. He rests his head against your chest and your fingers find their way into his hair, as they always seem to do.

Steve closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy your touch, for once not caring that the kids are just below the two of you in their fort. Normally he’s more reserved around you when they’re near, especially Dustin.

That kid never lets Steve catch a break when it comes to you.

But he’s exhausted and has spent the last week either crying or pretending that he’s someone he isn’t, so Steve indulges in your warmth and relishes in the way your fingers seem to unconsciously draw small circles on his back; he’s so fucking grateful that you exist.

You’re always there to catch him, to remind him of who he can be despite his continuous flaws.

The surprise movie night ends up being everything Steve needs. He laughs at Mike’s horrible jokes, shows El how to use the VHR, he argues with Max about whether peanut butter belongs with chocolate, Dustin throws popcorn at you when you kiss Steve’s cheek, and Lucas even asks him about basketball and if he has any advice for him once he gets to high school.

It’s the most fun Steve has had in a while, and he realizes why you spend so much time with these kids. They’re everything, really. Smart and fucking hilarious and easy to be around. They’re honest with him, they tell him he’s an idiot for not getting into college while in the same breath debating with him about if college is even worth it.

Plus, you litter Steve’s face with more kisses than usual tonight, which only brightens his mood further. You’ve been more affectionate with him lately, holding his hand more often and pressing your lips wherever you can. It’s as if he’s found some key, unlocking all the love you’ve stored within you.

Steve isn’t an idiot, he knows there’s more to it, so do you. However, rather than acknowledge it, you both choose to simply bask in it. It’s not time yet, bringing this into the light. It’s delicate, still forming into something that Steve is sure will be incredible.

For now, he allows his lips to skim across your face while the kids aren’t looking. They’ve been dying to do this ever since he’s known you, and the giggle you let out is more than enough for him.

–

Spring turns to summer and before Steve knows it, he’s graduating.

He rolls over in bed and stares at the ceiling. The Harrington household is quiet. His parents have gone on yet another business trip, his father had scoffed when Steve had asked if they’d be back in time for his ceremony.

“Why should we attend if you’re not going to do anything with that diploma?”

“Right,” Steve had scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed that he had even thought to ask his father to come. “I’m sorry.”

His mother, who had been quiet as they spoke, only stepped forward once her husband had left the room. She brought a hand to his face and tentatively stroked his cheek with her finger. “I’m proud of you, my beautiful boy.”

Steve had smiled at her, knowing that she meant well and yet heartbroken that she couldn’t voice this in front of his father. She smiled sadly at him, as if she sensed what he had been thinking, before following after her husband. As she always does.

The doorbell rings, effectively breaking Steve out of his momentary self pity. He looks at his alarm clock and frowns. It’s early in the morning, he doesn’t know who could be at the door at such an hour.

Sighing, he gets out of bed and makes his way downstairs angry at the world. He’s tired of growing up, his parents suck, he’s almost definitely skipping his graduation ceremony, and now he has to get out of bed to go answer the door.

He opens the door and when he sees that it’s you, his mood drastically improves. You’re dressed in a pretty lavender sundress, a departure from your usual t-shirts and shorts that Steve has come to associate as your summer uniform. By the time he manages to take his eyes off of you, he realizes too late that you’re holding flowers and shoving your way into his home.

“Ready to graduate?” You ask, carefully setting the flowers down on his kitchen table. “You can’t skip it if I’m here, ya know.”

Steve groans. “How did you even know I was going to skip?”

“Because you’re predictable and I enjoy making you do what’s best for you.” You’ve grabbed his hand and are dragging him towards his room. “Now, go find something nice to wear while I put your flowers in a vase.”

“But–”

You don’t give Steve any time to argue as you’ve already left the room to go and take care of the flowers. He lets out another groan, he knows he can’t argue his way out of this one. You’ve dressed up for a graduation, bought Steve flowers, and now he has to put on some stupid outfit to make a smile cross your pretty little face.

He settles on a simple white button down shirt and a pair of nice dress pants, and you return to his room as he’s struggling with the buttons. When you see him, you laugh with affection and walk over to him. “Here, let me see.”

Steve lets you button his shirt, your breath is warm against his chest as your fingers quickly secure the buttons into the place. He admires the cute frown on your face as you concentrate, and he allows his hands to come up to yours and slots your fingers together. You’re taken aback by the sudden affection.

“What are you doing?” You ask, a familiar blush on your face from his touch. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this.

“Nonthin’.” Steve says, though he lets go of one of your hands and places it on the small of your back as he always does. He uses the hand to push you closer and the other hand remains intertwined with yours. He stares down at you, he’s close enough to count every eyelash that dots along your pretty eyes. “Just admiring you.”

“Is this some ploy to distract me from your graduation?” Though you try to tease him, you’re weak and let out a soft sigh when Steve pulls you even closer, feeling his body against yours. He’s allowed himself to become bolder with you, and as if to prove this, he tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses your brow. You exhale with a shaky breath, your resolve dwindles. “Honey…”

Steve chuckles at your reaction, revels in it. He hopes to one day memorize all the ways he can make you sigh his name and shiver against him. For now, however, he pulls away and finishes getting dressed. “I know, I know. Graduation time.”

The perfectly aimed sandal that you throw at him is enough to solidify to Steve that he is, truly, happy.

–

Dustin is the first one Steve sees in the bleachers, then Mike, and then El, before he realizes that the entire party has managed to make it to his graduation ceremony.

“You invited them?” He turns to you, somehow surprised that you would do such a simple and lovely thing.

“Of course I did.” You kiss his cheek and quickly fix his hair as you adjust his graduation cap. You’ve been fretting over his appearance ever since you left his house, and he hates how giddy he feels whenever you dote on him. “Now, go find your seat and don’t trip on the stage!”

You’re gone in a flash, leaving Steve alone as you go and join the kids in the bleachers with all the other friends and family in attendance. The school’s gym is packed, everyone has someone there for them to see them walk across the stage, and though Steve’s actual family isn’t here, he has you and the kids in the stands cheering for him.

Steve decides, then, that you and the kids are his true family.

The ceremony is long and boring, and Steve spends the entire time sneaking glances at you.

You’re attentive, nodding along to all the boring speeches made by teachers and clapping for every student’s name that is called. He sees you breakup a fight between Mike and Max over something, he guesses it’s probably something dumb, and he laughs when you switch seats with Max in the end.

As he watches you, Steve feels what he felt the first day he ever spoke to you when you almost hit his car with your bike. When he’d gotten out of his car and found you laying in the ditch, he felt what he feels now: a slow, all encompassing wave of sunlight.

He felt it when he drove you home the following week and you’d told him he wasn’t a bad person, and he felt it again when you’d spared him kindness at Jonathan’s while fighting the Demogorgon. Then, in front of the hospital’s vending machine, the sunlight turned into a fireplace within his chest when you’d giggled and told him you were friends.

Since then, the fire has only burned deeper within Steve. It burned when he’d gifted you that poster, when he had spent every day at your job just to be near you. It had burned Steve when you’d left him that summer, the sting of it unbearable as it seared his skin. Then it had dimmed, abandoned, until you came back again and reignited it once more.

When you whispered confessions to Steve in the dark, he felt it then. When you sacrificed your life to save his, leaving a scar on your rib cage that Steve can feel whenever he hugs you, he felt it then as well. The fire was there when you leaned against him, accepted the help he has always tried to provide for you, when he gave you a piggyback ride back inside Jonathan’s and tucked you into bed.

It all comes back to Steve in flashes.

Your promise to him to wait, to stay even though he couldn’t give you what you deserved, what you needed. The gentleness of your promise and the framed photo of him and Dustin that now sits proudly on his bedside table. The surprise movie nights, how you call him “honey” and he calls you “angel”.

It’s always been there.

The warmth had started back before Steve even knew what warmth was, when he first saw you. He had been thirteen and you had been twelve.

Now, at almost seventeen and eighteen, you’re cheering for Steve’s name as it’s called upon the stage and he finally knows what this feeling is. Steve accepts his diploma and shakes hands with his principal and he swears he can hear your voice, screaming his name with pure joy, above everyone else’s; it’s as if his body is attuned to yours.

This, Steve knows, is love.

–

The school year ends and summer break begins.

There’s a new mall in Hawkins, one that’s big and flashy and opens just in time for summer vacation. Dustin spends entire days there with the party before he reluctantly leaves for Camp Know Where. You miss your brother dearly, but you know the camp is good for him.

When you find out that Jonathan and Nancy have become interns at the Hawkins Post, you scream and throw yourself into their arms, incredibly proud of them, yet you’re sad as well. You didn’t realize that you’d be spending your last summer before senior year apart from your best friend, though you know he’s always dreamed of showcasing his photography.

It’s bittersweet, but when Steve gets a job at the new mall, the free ice cream that you get makes up for it.

Plus, his uniform for Scoops Ahoy doesn’t hurt.

“You’re not allowed to laugh.” Steve threatens you, horribly self conscious with how short his shorts are. You made him promise to show you the uniform, but now he’s seriously regretting it as you bite your lip; he sees the laugh before it comes. “I mean it! No laughing, it’s already bad enough that I have to work–”

He’s cut off by your loud, smug laugh. It overtakes your entire body as you hunch over, gasping for breath as you wheeze out, “You look great!”

Steve hides behind the ice cream counter, absolutely mortified. Here he is, being laughed at by the girl he’s so fucking in love with, as he wears a stupid sailor hat and a god damn ascot.

In between your laughs, you see the despair on Steve’s face and you try to calm down. “Okay, I’m sorry,” you wipe tears from your eyes, still slightly giggling. “It’s just… You look so adorable in that uniform!”

Immediately Steve straightens his back and crosses his arms, trying to look more dignified. “One, never call a man adorable. That’s just offensive. Two, I will not get out from behind this counter until you stop giggling at me.”

“Who are we giggling at?” An unfamiliar girl now appears, wearing the exact same uniform that Steve is, and when she sees you standing in front of the teen, she raises her eyebrows in disbelief. “Henderson with Harrington?”

She knows your name, and you quickly wrack your head to try and figure out why she looks so familiar. At the very least, you know she has to be a grade below you, though you can’t quite place her, which you feel bad about. She looks kind.

“Yes, Henderson with Harrington.” You extend your hand out for the girl to shake. “I’m Y/N, though I guess you already knew that.”

“Robin Buckley,” she accepts your handshake, giving you an interested smile. She already seems to like you, which you’re relieved by.

Steve watches this interaction with pure dread. He had met Robin a few days ago during his interview for the job, and she’s made his life a living hell of torment and teasing ever since. Now, with you two meeting, he knows that you’ll only add onto Robin’s incredibly quick wit. “Oh, please don’t become friends.”

“Too late.” You wink at Robin. “Wanna check out this insanely large mall together?”

Robin gasps. “It’d be my pleasure.” She hops over the counter, completely bypassing the door that lets you out, and loops her arm through yours. “Later, dingus!”

“Bye, Steve!”

He stands there, defeated, as you and Robin giggle together while you leave. It only took thirty seconds before you abandoned him like some traitor. Sighing, he picks up a rag and starts wiping down the tables in the ice cream shop.

From the corner of his eye he can see you and Robin running around the mall. You’re giggling as you chase after the girl, your hair is tied in a loose ponytail and one of the straps on your overalls has slid down your arm. You look happy, bright and alive, far from the girl Steve remembers from last winter.

It takes Steve’s breath away.

Then, as if you can sense his eyes on you, you turn. Your eyes connect, your cheeks are flushed from running and you’re breathless as you smile at him. Steve returns your smile, winks, and he can almost hear your giggle.

You finally look away, going back to chasing after Robin as the two of you retreat further into the mall, and as your figure fades in the distance, there’s only one thing on Steve’s mind.

I can’t wait to make her mine.

-

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[xyfanficarchive]

Laios x Fat Reader HCs (reader of nonspecified gender with boobs and pussy)

18+ 😈

First of all. It's been said but. Fat is totally his type. real and factual and canon 100% i stake my life on it

i mean, he's not that superficial. Laios will fall for someone's personality and not their body. but trust, if he's walking down the street and someone attractive catches his attention so much so that all he can do is think "waow.... theyre really hot......" and stare (and he will stare, unsubtly and without shame, like, he'll turn his head as he passes you by and then trip over his own feet or walk into a lamppost or smth) then that person guaranteed has a lil more fat on their body

if youre uncomfotable with your body..... get comfortable. he's a handsy lover. he wants to touch you and feel you. and he's not shy about loving the way you squish under his hands and in his arms

its not even necessarily an erotic thing much of the time, when he feels you up and pokes and prods you (gently) all over; it's a simple pleasure to his brain to feel the warmth and weight of your breast in his open hand, to press your tummy and pinch the fat on your hips between his thumb and fingers, just to watch the supple flesh deform under his touch and bounce back into place. he'll trace up and down your stretch marks because he likes the way the skin texture feels different there, and touch the pads of his fingers to the dimples of cellulite on your butt and thighs just to feel how your skin embraces his fingertips. he can be pretty mindless about it, his hands drifting across your body as you lie together (yes, he uses you as a stim toy)

of course if you hate this kinda treatment that much, he’ll stop. he won’t torment you. but if, say, you ask him to only touch you in ways and places that dont remind you of your fatness too much, he’ll have an intuition that its because of feelings of insecurity whether you say so or not. and it makes him so so sad because all he wants is to show you how wonderful your body is to him, how delightful it is to touch you in all your softness, how the very presence of you squished up next to him is such a comfort that its all he can do to grab at you and pull you closer and closer to him in crushing embrace- there is no part of you that is so disgusting that Laios wouldnt want to explore.

on the topic of insecurity. if youre feeling bad about the way you look, whether its just a bad image day, or if you find out that you gained some weight and have to get new clothes made from the tailor, he will reassure you. but it will not be a tactful and gentle kind of reassurance, he’s not going “noooo baby but youre still so beautiful tho 🥺.” boy is so so delighted to inform you of all the reasons why its GOOD that youre fat. he has like a whole presentation prepared and he’s talking a mile a minute about how he loves that youre not afraid to eat a full days worth of nutritious meals, and how its good to put on weight to crawl the dungeon, about the energy you expend doing all that walking and fighting and the calories it takes to get revived if you die, talking about how you can go longer in the cold before succumbing to hypothermia and longer without food before youre incapacitated by hunger, how having a thick layer of fat means your vital organs are better protected from slashing and stabbing and blunt force damage alike, getting more passionate as he goes on. and by the time your eyes are glassy and ears are fuzzy from all the knowledge he imparted upon you he grabs you by the shoulders, fingers digging into your deltoids, glowering down at you with a look of such intensity that you shrink away, he finishes his rant with a deathly seriousness: “and….. it makes you really sexy, too..!”

and he does think youre so so fucking sexy; congratulations because it genuinely doesnt happen often! ususally he's too busy thinking about monsters and dungeon ecology and how to make his next incursion below more successful.... if you're reading to this point still somehow thinking that by "fat" i mean "exclusively chubby" then don't worry... i mean, yes he will drool over your cute little tummy pooch and your thick thighs, and he daydreams about sucking your full, round boobs - but he also starts sweating the first time he sees the way your breasts sag under your shift, he wants to taste your skin, he wants to leave bite marks on your back rolls, and side rolls, and he wants to dive in the folds of your belly, and when he sees your luscious pubic mound he gets dizzy and lightheaded because all the blood is going to his cock-

he'd happily die suffocating between your thighs

don't feel anxious about the way you smell around him - you don't, at least no more than anyone else after a long day of walking, but if you did, Laios is a known freak and he's totally into that. you'll never forget the first time you found this out; you were enjoying a simple embrace with him before washing up at the end of the day, your arms thrown around his neck as he leaned down and pressed his forehead into your shoulder, inhaling deep a few relaxed breaths before something changed, his body tense underneath you. you almost pulled away to ask what's wrong but - he grabbed you at the elbow and outright manhandled your arm to stop you from pulling away or pinning your arm to your side, and it's then that you realized to your utter mortefaction that he'd stuck his nose in the crook of your arm and was sniffing your armpit. you almost made a fuss asking him what the hell is he doing?!?! except for the fact that chilchuck was over in the corner organizing his pack and marcille was facing the wall combing out her hair in the mirror and neither of them have seemed to notice anything and you would never, never, never live it down from either of them if you were to draw their attention. but ultimately you couldn't help the way your heart softened to your big weirdo man when he finally pulled his face out of your pit, flushed red to his ears, his irises a thin golden ring around his wide dilated pupils, as he breathed out "I dunno why, but it smells so good..."

when he eats you out, he's literally huffing your pussy scent. he takes his time smelling you as he kisses his way down your thighs. and when he's buried in your folds, sometimes it's almost concerning and you think there's something wrong. is he starved for air, can he breathe down there??? (i did say he'd be happy to die there....) no. thats just how into it he is. one time you ask him what it smells like to him, thinking maybe his perception is significantly different, perhaps because of his hormonal profile or something, and he pauses to think for a moment before elaborating: "it smells like, musky and animalic... a little sweet, and kind of funky, like a little sour and salty almost like sweat, it's so great!" maybe not what you expected, but he only sounded more and more giddy about it as he went on.

he can tell roughly where you are in your cycle based on your smell. this comes far enough into your relationship that nothing can surprise you anymore.

he just loves watching you as he fucks you. the way the shockwave of each thrust ripples throughout your whole body, your tits jiggling back and forth with each gasp of pleasure, and the way it sounds so obscene with your wetness spread out over your plush thighs clicking when his hips make contact and when he pulls away. theres no time or space in your head to be self conscious when you're making those sweet uh uh uh uh sounds every time his cock bottoms out inside you. he loves to pull back and watch it happen, the way his shaft glistens with your slick between your pillowy lips, savouring the stroke of delicious pleasure shooting through his nerves as he glides back in, watching as his pubic bone meets your cushiony mons and the way you shake under it all, your body so completely open to him, he could hardly imagine a more erotic sight or a more beautiful person to share this part of him with

thats all i got for now hope u enjoyed <333

[sencrose]

— COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS, I’LL COUNT MY SINS

pairing: suguru geto x f!reader

tags: DUBCON, coercion/heavy manipulation, stalking by proxy, fingering, cunnilingus, breeding, power imbalance, reader can see curses but is not a sorcerer/curse user, one mention of making reader into a mother lol

wc: 4.9k

a/n: idk what to say lol this has been in my drafts for 3 years and i’ve been working on it on and off since ‘21 so if the writing style feels all over the place it’s because it is. ao3 link here

summary: suguru usually doesn't pay any mind non-sorcerers, but when he realizes you can see the cursed spirit wrapped around him, his interest is piqued. he'll bring you to him, using less than savory methods.

To no one’s surprise, Suguru Geto, the most wanted curse user in Jujutsu society, is not a big fan of outings. Especially those in Tokyo. Then again, he promised the girls that he would take them on a day out. Nanako and Mimiko being the trendy teens they are, insisted on a day in the city. So he finds himself in some trendy cafe with overpriced drinks and photogenic food. The girls are excited of course, saying it’s something they’ve been eyeing out on Instagram for the past few months.

As soon as he steps into the cafe, he’s greeted with the sickly-sweet aroma of baked goods wafting through the air. It’s decadent and overwhelming, as if the simple act of inhaling will coat the back of his throat with syrup. It’s safe to say he won’t be ordering anything for himself but a black coffee. The walls are a rosy pink, decorated with frames of dried flowers and neon light fixtures of faux-inspirational quotes. The glass case at the front of the store has various arrays of grandiose drinks and picture-perfect desserts on display.

While the girls are dressed for the occasion, Suguru sticks out like a sore thumb in his casual attire of a loose t-shirt and jeans. He could have dressed up a bit more, but something about matching outfits with a dessert he’s not going to order doesn’t sit right with him. More importantly, the thing that sticks out most about him isn’t his outfit or the lack of photos he’s taking on his phone; it’s the unsightly worm sitting around his shoulder.

It’s for protection. Any regular citizen won’t be able to see it and if he were to be spotted by a sorcerer, it’s good to have a weapon on hand.

As he waits at a table with the girls, he can’t help but notice someone staring at him. Upon another glance, your stare isn’t necessarily aimed at him, but the creature on his shoulder. An alarm in his head is ringing, but he maintains his cool composure, not wanting to worry the girls. He can never be too careful. It may have been nearly a decade since he’s been cast aside by Jujutsu society, but he still has a death warrant above his head.

There are three options. First, you’re a jujutsu sorcerer sent to kill him. You haven’t made a move or shown any signs of calling for help, so he could rule that out. Second, you’re a curse user. Then again, you haven’t hidden your gaze. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. He can feel your eyes burn a hole into his shoulder. Any curse user worth their salt wouldn’t be so obvious. So that leaves the last option: you’re an unfortunate civilian who was born with the ability to see cursed spirits. It may be a curse to some, but to Suguru’s eyes, this was a blessing. An opportunity.

He should be disgusted with this intrigue; you aren’t a sorcerer after all. But this is different. 

Your lingering stare has nothing to do with his status as one of the most despicable sorcerers of all time, nor does it have anything to do with the false religion he runs. It has everything to do with the deformed worm wrapped around him. Suguru excuses himself from the table, as he makes his way towards you. His steps are careful, calculated, with his shoes gently tapping against the linoleum floor.

“Is something the matter?” He wears a smile on his face, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, feigning politeness. His sudden question causes you to jump, briefly taking you out of your staring contest with the creature wrapped around him.

“N-no, sorry.” You can’t bear to look him in the eye, your gaze going back and forth between the worm on his shoulder and the half-eaten dessert on your plate.

“Is there something on my shoulder?” He looks past the creature resting so casually on him. You immediately ball your hands into fists, knuckles white with how tight you’re squeezing. Regret blooms in your chest, your heart pounding so hard you can feel it in your ears. You never should have looked in his direction.

“No, I’m just… just spacing out a little. My bad.” you lie through your teeth, hoping the explanation is enough for him to leave you alone.

“No, my apologies. Enjoy your meal.” he leaves it at that, offering a wave as he walks away.

He walks back to his table with his hands in his pockets, an air of nonchalance to him. He leaves you alone, for now. That doesn’t stop him from stealing a look or two on occasion. He finds it cute, how flustered you get when your eyes match his for a split second. He can see your heart skip a beat when your body jolts a bit out of your seat.

You remind him of a helpless rabbit, the way your hand slightly trembles as you bring up your fork for a bite of your pastry. He ponders the idea of taking you apart, piece by piece, savoring your pleas and cries as if they’re part of a decadent three course meal.

A soft chuckle escapes his lips as he takes a sip of his black coffee, looking at you through half-lidded eyes.

Maybe the girls could use a mother.

—

You’re used to strange sights every now and then. It’s something nobody around you ever seemed to understand, dismissing your long-winded descriptions of horrors as an overactive imagination. You’ve since given up on explaining your visions to others, but they haven’t given up on you.

They sit on people’s shoulders, hover around their heads, and stare into your soul, as if they’re aware that their existence is a dirty little secret kept between the two of you.

Over the years, you’ve learned that the easiest way to deal with them is to treat them like an unsightly drunk: leave them alone and you’ll be left alone. Do not, under any circumstances, make eye contact. Do not acknowledge its existence no matter how scared you are. Of course, you’re not perfect; sometimes you see something so strange you can’t help but look. Especially as of late, it’s been becoming more and more difficult to hold yourself to your self-imposed standards.

It started with a small beige creature, with unsightly bulging eyes and translucent wings. It followed you everywhere, wings humming incessantly in your ear as it hovered around your shoulder. It eventually left after you refused to give it any attention, only to return with a swarm of its friends. Silence was a rarity. The noise only got louder as night approached, depriving you of a good night’s sleep.

It would be one thing if it ended there, but it only seemed to get worse as time passed by. If it wasn’t the constant buzzing, it’d be the strange things you’d find in front of your apartment door. Another deformed and wretched looking creature, sitting innocently on your welcome mat as if it has every right to be there. It burns a hole into your chest with its stare, presenting an toothy grin as it looks up to you.

By the time morning comes, it’s gone, leaving a single note in its place. It’s neatly folded in half, crisp black ink displaying a message that raises more questions than answers.

“Doesn’t it get tiring seeing them all the time? It’s only going to get worse the longer you wait. Why don’t you help me help you?”

Reading the note only adds to your sleep-deprived headache and dwelling on it isn’t going to make it better. Your eyes pass over the neat handwriting a few times before you fold it back up and leave it on your desk.

Truth be told, running on fumes for the last couple of weeks has taken a toll on you. You’ve fumbled simple tasks you’ve never messed up before;  dropping items while restocking, giving the wrong amount of change, handing over the wrong pack of smokes. It doesn’t help that your manager is quick to reprimand you, yelling his head off until his face turns red. There’s no use explaining or drawing up excuses. It’s not like he’d understand. It’s not like anyone would understand.

Your walk home is an exhausting one. Your steps and sighs are heavy, unsure how else you’re supposed to get this pressure off your chest. You would close your eyes for some relief if you weren’t convinced you’d fall asleep while walking. 

You can’t help but feel like something is watching you, or worse— following you. It’s different from the winged creatures. There’s no noise to accompany its presence but you can feel it in your bones – in the way your breath hitches, the way you're constantly looking over your shoulder for relief, but relief never comes.

A single street light flickers along the otherwise well lit street. It doesn’t feel right. It feels out of place compared to the rest of the road, but it is your normal walk home, and nothing’s ever gone wrong before.

Yet as you approach the light, the flickering becomes more erratic. It buzzes incessantly, growing louder, louder, nearly trembling until the bulb bursts into pieces.

Even with the absence of one streetlight, it shouldn’t be this dark. The road ahead fades into blackness as you walk forward. The darkness swallows everything whole. You try to walk back from where you came but the road you were walking on just seconds ago, is gone. Your hands tremble as you reach for your phone. You turn on the flashlight in an attempt to see anything. It doesn’t do much to help. 

Your heart is starting to race now as you try not to let panic set in. In all your days taking this commute, you’ve never experienced something like this before. Your fingers shake as you attempt to go through your contacts and text your coworker. You’re not too far from the store, they’re probably close by. As your finger presses on the arrow to send the message, a red exclamation point pops next to your text. Unable to send.

Was this always a dead zone?

You take a deep breath but it does little to soothe your nerves. You flash your light forward, attempting to continue your walk home, hoping that you can rest in the comfort of your bed soon. With each step you take, the air becomes uncomfortably cold as it fills your lungs. The darkness seems to be everlasting until you can barely make out a figure in the distance.

The sigh of relief seems to leave your body too soon as you start running towards it, desperate for help only for your steps to diminish upon a closer look.

A woman stands in front of you, long black hair obscuring her face with some features peeking out between the strands. Her smile looks inhuman, jagged sharp fangs unnaturally stretching out her mouth with drool leaking out of the corners. She stands disturbingly still in her disheveled white robe, her left hand bandaged and holding a pair of rusty snips.

“Am I beautiful?” she asks.

You open your mouth to attempt to answer, but fear takes over. It’s as if cotton blooms in your throat, choking you out of a proper response. Your hesitation only agitates her, as the grip around her snips tighten. The moment you’re able to blurt out an answer, the blade flies past you, grazing your cheek to draw blood.

Before you can muster a reaction, the street returns as swiftly as it disappeared, the previously flickering street lamp returned to its former glory. The woman is nowhere to be found, but you can feel the burn from the cut she’s left behind on your face.

The silence cradles you, chills you with its embrace. You turn your head, left, right, take a few steps back before looking around again. 

Any idea of a calm walk back is quickly thrown out the window. Desperation and dry air rushes into your lungs, harsh tramps slap against the pavement with a twinge of ache in your knees. Your legs burn as you push them to their absolute limit until you make it back to your apartment, clumsily scrambling through your key ring. You shake as you slam the key into the lock and turn. 

As soon as you get inside your apartment, you turn the lock with a heavy clack before collapsing onto the floor. You take a moment to recollect yourself, hand on your chest to steady your heaving as you swallow to alleviate the dryness in your throat. 

You jolt back into a panic when the sound of footsteps pass by, stopping right in front of your apartment. 

Knock. 

Your heart stills as you stare at the door. For a moment you swear it stares back.

Knock.

Time stands still as you hold your breath, desperately hoping that whoever’s outside leaves. 

A pen scribbles on your door for a moment, before the crisp sound of paper folding flits past your ears. With a gentle glide, a note slides under your door, landing right at your feet. 

“That looks like a rough cut. Are you sure you can keep living like this? What if it only gets worse? Help me help you. I can make them all disappear.” On the back is an address, which upon a quick search, leads to a monastery on the outskirts of Tokyo. 

You look back at your door, trembling as you contemplate looking through the peephole. 

With the gentlest steps you can muster, you approach the door, pressing your hand against it for balance as you look into the peephole. 

Nobody’s there. Still, you tremble. 

— 

You spend hours scouring the web to find anything about the monastery, which ends up with you on some seedy forums. Other users post about their experiences with spirits possessing them, all healed by a monk who goes by Geto-sama.

“I couldn’t get any sleep for months and Geto-sama healed me in a moment’s time!”

“This spirit was following me for weeks and I thought I was losing my mind. Geto-sama’s the only person who believed me and gave me the help I needed.”

“Geto-sama truly is a saint sent from above. He was kind and reassuring throughout the entire spirit removal process, and it was completely painless. I can finally feel like myself again.”

It’s nothing but pages upon pages of reviews saying how this Geto-sama is a miracle worker, nothing short of a God. The more you read, the more uneasy you feel. It seems too good to be true. You do your best to find something, anything resembling a bad or even neutral review, but your search is fruitless.

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, maybe it’s the burning desire for a day of peace, but after reading countless testimonials you start to believe he can help you.

Maybe you could be convinced.

—

The heel of your shoes clack louder with each step you take up the stairs leading to the monastery. A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you stare at the large wooden doors in front of you. It takes a decent amount of effort to push it open, creaking slightly as it reveals a dimly lit room.

You’re not too sure what to expect of this so-called savior. No matter how hard you looked, you couldn’t find any pictures of the man in question. None of the reviews went much into detail about the process, just that all their problems were solved. He is supposedly kind, but it doesn’t seem to dull your nerves as you stand in the dark room.

You can make out a few things: pale bamboo flooring, intricate latticework windows with dark mahogany accents, and a man wearing a Buddhist robe standing at the back of the room.

He steps towards you, his face becoming clearer as he gets closer.

“What brings you here, little one?”

You know why you’re here, but the words dissipate in your throat as it sinks in that you recognize this man. The memory rushes back into your head; the cafe, the strange worm, his confrontation, the stolen glances.

Your mind races a million miles a minute, your heart beating a little harder, a little faster. Every nerve in your body is telling you to run but fear keeps you frozen. You’re barely able to mutter a weak plea,

“P-please don’t hurt me.”

Gentle fingertips hold your chin, tilting your head up to face him.

“I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to save you.” His thumb delicately brushes against your bottom lip as he repeats himself. “Now tell me, why are you trembling so much?” Your lip quivers as he tilts your chin to meet his gaze. 

“Y-You. You’re the one that sent them after me, aren’t you? You’ve been leaving those notes at my door. I-I don’t know how but-”

He interrupts you with a melodramatic sigh.

“And what if I did?” A ball forms in your throat as you struggle to string your thoughts into cohesive sentences, only able to let out a meek, 

“Why?” Your body trembles as you take a step back. 

“Why not?” he retorts with a sly smile that sends a chill down your spine. 

“W-what do you want?” You take long steps back until your body is pressed against the door. Geto follows, making slow strides until he’s right in front of you. He’s so close you can see the rise and fall of his chest, the individual strands of obsidian that frame his face.

You try to open the door but it’s locked shut. He slowly steps towards you, your back pressing against the door.

His expression shifts, looking displeased as you struggle to escape.

“Are you leaving now?” He asks in a tone that is clearly meant to mock you, pouting his lips to feign concern. He grabs your hand as you continue your failed attempts to pull the door open. “And what are you going to do when you get home?” 

He doesn’t need to hear your answer; he can see it written on your face as your eyes shift between him and the grip on your wrist. A mix of uncertainty, fear, and helplessness. He knows he holds all the power. Who’s going to believe you? Who else can you turn to?

“Don’t you want to be saved from these evil spirits?” His hand gently caresses your cheek before sliding carefully down your neck. 

“Don’t you want to have a full night’s rest?” His hand continues to wander down, his arm wrapping around your waist. His face gets dangerously close to your face before he whispers, “To not live in fear?”

His gaze holds you still. When you can find it in yourself to look away, his hand holds your chin and forces your eyes to meet his. You shouldn’t be here – a realization you’ve made far too late. Like a snake wrapping around his prey, you’re well into his trap, ripe for the taking. There is no escape. So with a tightness in your chest, and a tremble in your voice, you let out a soft,

“Y-yes.”

“Then help me,” His fingers grab onto the zipper of your skirt before pulling it down, “help you.”

His hand slips into your underwear, slowly stroking your folds before drawing languid circles on your clit.

You try to push him away, grab his arm to move him off of you, which only causes him to tease you more. There’s nowhere to escape with Geto imposing his body onto yours, pushing you further against the wall.

“Just take what I give you and I can make them all go away.” The warmth of his breath lingers by your ear. Tension builds in your chest as you grow unsure of what to do, but there is one thing you are sure of.

You’re tired of fighting, tired of persevering. 

Your grip on his arm loosens, which he takes as an answer. 

“Don’t worry, you’re in good hands.” He looks pleased with himself, looking through you with heavy lidded eyes.

His hand moves painfully slow, his fingers occasionally slipping into your hole just to slide back out.  Your legs squeeze together at the intrusion, your breaths becoming labored the more he plays with your cunt. A soft moan escapes you, and Geto perks up upon hearing.

“Oh?” His lips form a devilish grin before slipping his fingers in all the way. “Let me hear more of you.” 

He scissors his fingers inside you, his thumb reaching to play with your clit. The stretch drives you insane as you lean your head back to let out a shaky moan. He slowly starts to pump his fingers inside, lewd sounds of his fingers pumping your wet cunt echoing in the empty room. 

You hate how good it feels. His fingers reach places you never could, fill you up more, and hit that special spot that has you seeing stars with startling accuracy. You cover your mouth with your hand, embarrassed at the obscene noises escaping you only for Geto to move it away.

“Don’t make me repeat myself. I want to hear more of your cute voice.” He looks into your eyes with a piercing gaze before picking up the pace. You can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, but Geto’s hand grips your cheeks before turning your head to face him.

The debauched expression on your face sends blood flowing to his cock. He wants to see more: your face contorting from pleasure, the bounce of your tits as he fucks you, his cum leaking out of your poor quivering hole. Just the thought is enough to drive him crazy. His other hand makes its way to your clit, drawing tight circles. You can’t hold back your moans, the tension in your core building as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. 

“G-Geto-sama!” Your hands clench into the fabric of his robe, desperate for balance as your orgasm washes over your body.

“That’s more like it.”

Once his fingers are out of you, you slide against the wall before dropping onto the floor. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest; you’re not sure if you can take any more. 

“There’s more work to be done.” Geto smirks as he looks at his hands, admiring the way your arousal glistens on his fingers. 

He slides the top of his robe off his shoulders, revealing his toned arms and hints of a chiseled body. His hands press on your inner thighs to spread your legs before him. Heat rushes to your face as you try to close them shut, only for him to spread them apart further. 

“Don’t be shy.”

With the grace, or lack of, that’s unbecoming of a monk, he buries his face into your cunt. His tongue feels foreign as he licks your folds before making his way to your clit. Unlike the cool and composed air he had when he was fingering you, the way he eats you out is primal. It’s filthy, how he spits on your cunt before going back in with a grin on his face.

Your back arches off the floor as he continues, tension building in your stomach with each passing moment. His hands spread your folds apart as he gets a better look at your cunt before twirling his tongue around your clit.

Your hand hesitantly hovers over his head before his hand grasps yours and presses it against his head. 

“Eager now, are we?” He laps at your juices before pressing a finger into your hole, achingly slow.

Your labored breaths become soft moans as he indulges further. His tongue makes lewd noises as he traces your folds before sucking on your clit. Tension builds in your core as he gradually picks up the pace, his fingers going faster and hitting deeper, his tongue drawing tighter circles. 

“G-Geto-sama, please I’m getting close!”

He abruptly pulls away, heavy breaths escaping him as he wipes the mixture of your arousal and his spit off his face with his sleeve.

“Then beg.”

“H-huh?” His response sends blood rushing to your face, your cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

His fingers tease your hole, shallowly inserting one in before removing it. He’s agonizingly slow and he knows it’s driving you crazy. He takes great pleasure in seeing the embarrassment strung across your face.

“G-Geto-sama… Please, please-”

“Please…?”

“Let me cum.” you whimper pathetically, attempting to rut your hips against his hands for some much needed release.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.” He takes his hand away from your body, staring you down with a smile.

“P-please let me cum!” The words slide off your tongue with ease this time around, desperation riddling your voice.

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” The sound of shifting fabric fills your ears as he removes the rest of his garments and tosses them off to the side.

Nothing could have prepared you to see his body in its entirety. His robes did him a disservice, hiding his toned muscles, slightly glistening with a sheen of sweat. Your eyes trail over his stomach, wandering lower until they reach the base of his cock. A chill crawls up your spine, trying to fathom how something so large is going inside of you.

He catches your expression as his hand wraps around his cock, giving it a couple of pumps before lining it up with your hole. 

“Don’t be scared, little one. I promise you’ll feel good soon.” It enters you slowly, filling you up inch by inch. You’ve never felt this full, there’s no way your toys could ever compare to the real thing. The size, the warmth, the way it throbs inside you.

Geto lets out a breathy groan once he bottoms out. Your walls wrap around him so tightly, as if your body is begging him to cum inside you.

It takes every ounce of self control in his body to not rut into you at a dizzying pace. He wants to savor this, building you up only to have you fall apart in his arms. The desire to ruin you, to keep you wrapped around his finger burns hot in his chest. He steels himself before starting with slow strokes, his breathing labored. 

His hands reach for your blouse, ripping the buttons off their threads as they scatter across the floor. Deft fingers make their way to your bra, tugging down to reveal your chest. His hands are warm, almost like they’re melting into your skin as he plays with your breasts, fingers drawing circles around your nipples. Your moans only get louder as he continues to explore your body. His fingers pinch your nipples and an involuntary squeal escapes your lips. 

He leans in towards your ear before slyly whispering, “You need to be louder if you wish to be saved.”

You don’t have a chance to respond as he rams his hips into you, striking a spot that has you seeing stars. His pace is relentless, heat building in your stomach with each stroke. It’s hard to form any cohesive thoughts, much less sentences, when you’re chasing a high on his cock.

“Work harder for your salvation, little one.” he teases.  

And you do. 

You moan his name like a mantra, press your hips harder into him, chasing your own high. You bring him into an embrace, your nails scratching his back as an offering. 

“You’re holding me so tight- it’s like you want to bear my child.”

“W-wait-” Panic strikes your chest but Geto strikes his hips harder into you, cutting you off.

“Is that what you want?” he coos, gently tracing your jaw with the back of his hand before tilting your chin to face him. “That’s why you came here, right?”

You want to say no, that you came here to stop being haunted by spirits, but every part of your body is melting in pleasure, screaming yes. It’s impossible to even articulate an answer, your mouth only speaking in slurred moans and pants.

The sound of your moans is music to his ears. His lips press against your neck before biting down, earning a yelp from you in surprise. 

“I’ll give you exactly what you want.” he whispers in your ear, his hips striking into you harder. 

“W-wait, Geto-sama, please!” you attempt to plead, only to sound more like a sultry moan. 

“I’ve waited long enough,” he groans into your ear. 

His dizzying pace is hard to resist, as you feel yourself getting close. With a few more thrusts you feel your walls clamp around him, waves of ecstasy washing over your body. Geto follows soon after with a choked moan, warmth filling your insides. 

Geto removes himself from you shortly after, admiring the way his seed leaks from your hole. 

As he revels in the mess he’s made of you, he’s already conjuring up plans to bring you back to him. How should he torture you next? What pathetic expression will you wear when you seek his help? 

You’ll be back soon enough. He’ll make sure of it.

[sourellie]

gf!ellie brainrot :33

not really proofread bad grammar bad writing overall just my hcs n thoughts cuz ellie babygirl. kinda non apocalypse au. writing this at 5 am. first post!!! enjoy ·ᴗ·

it's kinda canon she's soooo corny. "your hand looks heavy, can i hold it for you?" she has no shame not even a little bit. linking arms. having a 'song' for the two of you. forehead kisses. you name it. "are you a keyboard? because you are just my type."

also. amongst her many dad jokes, she has this thing with acting like a middle aged dad. i won't elaborate. anyways.

stoner (also quite canon)

sharing everything with you. food. clothes. this is corny like i said, but she loves to see u in her clothes. it lowkey feels like an out of body experience when she sees u walking around in her shirts :ooo. she especially likes to wrap you in her jacket, that's not necessarily sharing. she just likes to be close to u :}

and matchingggg god this girl just luvs to match with you it's almost worrying. bracelets. shirts. keychains. shoes. you name it there's more than likely a matching counterpart with your name on it.

unpopular opinion she said i love you within the first week. [CLOSED]

has this thing with making a cocoon with you. let me set the scene. it's bedtime you two get in the bed to go to sleep. But. not before she takes the duvet and wraps you two up. like a cocoon. that's how she goes to sleep. she's out within 5 minutes.

speaking of this girl is so sleepy. she can sleep anywhere at anytime. n she loves to sleep all over you. legs tangled, sweating buckets but she doesn't care n likes to deny it!!! it's disgusting but. it's ellie :3 "babe, you're sweating." "i have no clue what you're talking about actually."

loves when you do anything with her hair. u cant really do a lot with her short hair. but sometimes u put it up in two small pony tails on top her head n she thinks it's the funniest thing. that's really it i guess

anyways i ran out of brain juice hope u enjoyed. ⌯’ㅅ’⌯

[squidprinceofwinterfell]

The way that The Boys portrays sex (especially in season 4) is soooo transparently rooted in bad messaging. For such a "liberal" show, it is committed to portraying any sex acts that are considered off the beaten path (fetishes, anal, even casual sex) as something only the depraved, villainous characters would be interested in and it's a clear reflection of their morals.

The Tek Knight dungeon episode alone lampoons BDSM roleplay, tickle fetishes, and food/fart fetishes. They're all shown as either downright laughable, or GROSS and DEPRAVED sex acts that any decent person (in this case, Hughie, the audience stand-in) would be disgusted/appalled by. The poor way the show has dealt with Hughie's repeated sexual assaults this season is another post all by itself.

The villainous shifter character, who has stolen Annie's likeness and identity, brags about doing "butt stuff" with Hughie, which apparently the morally righteous, Christian Annie would never do. Compare that to the Deep, for example, who was so bored by the monogamous relationship with his wife in season 3 that he fucked an octopus. Now he has a casual sexual relationship with Sister Sage, where it's stated multiple times that they do anal. What does it say about people who enjoy anal sex if three antagonists (one of whom has sexually assaulted multiple women and partakes in beastiality) are their only representation? What's next? Are we going to learn that Hughie and Annie only have sex missionary style, in the dark, to show that they're the good guys?

The morally grey/downright bad characters are portrayed as enjoying casual sex, sometimes with multiple partners (Sage with the Deep and New Noir, Ashley with Cameron Coleman and Adam Bourke, the Deep with Sage, Coleman's wife, and his octopus lover, etc). This may not be bad by itself, but when the Boys are all in/were in/want to be in loving, committed relationships (Hughie/Annie, Frenchie/Kimiko, MM/Monique, even Butcher/Becca), it certainly implies there's something bad about casual sex if only the bad guys are doing it. Don't even get me STARTED on Herogasm.

Now, I don't think the show is doing this on purpose necessarily. I think it stems from a combination of things - The Boys has set itself up as a show that is raunchy and shocking, and therefore it must one-up itself every season no matter the cost, and it has a rather juvenile attitude that sex, especially "freaky" sex is always funny.

It's unfortunate that so many people who partake in the fetishes and sexual acts that were skewered on the show felt singled out and made fun of for something that is, frankly, not a big deal and not a reflection on their moral character at all. I hope that going forward, The Boys treats its sex scenes with more care and really considers the message it's inadvertently sending but after this season, I don't have much faith left.

[eimids]

NSFW alphabet: Top!Leah Williamson

All letters!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Leah is a sweet lover. She is treating you like a queen. She will whisper sweet nothings to your ear as she cleans you up. She will put some soothing ointments if she has been little more rough while spanking you.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Ass girl. Leah is the biggest ass girl. She just loves to grab, smack and fondle it. However she can touch it, she will. She loves to fuck you from behind just to smack your ass again and again with her hips.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Eats everything you have to give to her. Often times she is eating you out and you can just see her lower face covered in your arousal. She will keep going till she has licked you all clean.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

She lowkey loves to film you during a fuck and later on she will happily watch them and touch herself. (She has a polaroid of you naked body in her wallet)

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

She is like a sexgoddes. She knows what she is doing and is freakishly good. She surprises you every time how she knows your body so well.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Not necessarily a position but she loves to fuck you in the kitchen. She sucks at cooking so every time you make some food, she is there right behind you ready to fuck you. Her favorite is to just fuck you with a strap while you cook something.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

She can be quite humorous. She loves to tease you and give you her famous smirk after. She loves to laugh and just take things chill but that doesn't mean that she isn't serious. She is still serious but like focused.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Leah has very blond and thin hair down there so she just shaves it occasionally. She doesn't really care but usually doesn't let it grow too long.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

She can give you whatever you want. Sometimes it is very romantic and intimate, but sometimes, (like in the middle of a fight), it's more rough and not so romantic.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Ohh she loves to call you and make you masturbate with her. She wants to come at the same time or just see you do it but not let you cum. If she is away, she has an app where she can control your vibrator. That way she can still control your orgasms.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

(Secretly loves being called daddy), but other than that she is very into bondage. She loves tying you up in positions where you look so good and fuckable.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

As mentioned earlier one of her favorite locations is the kitchen. She love to just throw you on top of a table and fuck you or eat you out. Other than that, she loves just the bedroom. It's comfortable and she can do pretty much anything she wants.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Again as mentioned earlier, she loves to see you being her little house wife and every single time you cook, she just neeeeeds to fuck you. She loves when you are just doing cute stuff around the house.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

There isn't a lot Leah wouldn't try but one thing she isn't very into is anal. Well anal on herself. She will gladly fuck you in the ass, but does not want that to be done on herself. And obviously like anything that could actually cause danger or leave permanent marks.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

She is a master of eating you out. She can have you weak in the knees in just a matter of minutes. So she is fucking good at it, and loves to show it to you. But one thing she likes more is to have your mouth on her. Like if it was up to her, she would have you always on your knees in front of her just lazily eating her out.

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough. (I mean look at her does this need any more explaining?)

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Looooves to just quickly fuck you in some random bathroom. She will make sure that you are quiet (but if you are not the whoops). But yeah Leah will happily just fuck you quickly or on the other hand have you on your knees eating her out before prac.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Leah is a risk taker. She will (and has) tried pretty much everything and anything. She loves a risky fuck in somewhere quite public where someone could hear you.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Leah can go all night (and has, so any times). Being a professional athlete gives her a very good stamina. She can take a lot, and she can give you a lot. That's all I'm gonna say.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Yes, yes, yes. She owns them, she uses them, she loves them. Leah thinks that sex is just so much better with the little toys than can make her and you feel just so much better. (Not saying that she can't please you on her own, because she definitely can)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Leah will tease you relentlessly. She wants you to be a puddle of neediness before she fucks you senseless.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

She isn't very loud in bed or doesn't moan that much. She is more of a heavy breather but isn't scared to moan your name loudly. She is a big fan of dirty talk and constantly is saying something to you.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

It really depends. She could be wearing a strap, she could be wearing boxers, she could be wearing nothing or she could be wearing a sexy lingerie.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

She has a high sex drive. When ever, where ever, she will be horny.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

As long as you are asleep, she will be asleep too.

[lust4life01]

Hello there! Could you please write a Gregory House smut with a fem reader? I'm good with anything, maybe with a little exhibitionism with Wilson? Anything really, would love a dark House. Thanks!

Hello!! Sorry I took so long to reply <3 I think this is pretty dark but I’m sorry if it’s not exactly what you wanted lmao. I havent really written anything dark yet.

Let me put on a show.

(Warnings)18+!! Exhibitionism,almost prositition,smut,older man x younger woman, praise, being watched, darkish smut.

Pairing: Greg House x f/reader x James Wilson

You and Greg had been seeing each other for a little while, not necessarily in secret but private would suit the situation better. This was purely under your conditions as you didn’t want people to assume you were just fucking him to do well within your job or to have some sort of advantage. The only advantage you cared about was the advantage of fucking him almost every night. House on the other hand, he had been itching to brag about his new little toy he could play with, but under your wishes he resisted. Well for a little while. His main focus was keeping you happy, if you were happy he was definitely going be happy.

Despite this, it was clear to everyone around House that he was seeing someone as he was less of a jackass than usual and just seemed even more smug than usual. Which nobody thouht was possible.

“House, come on, I’m your best friend.” Wilson badgered on as him and house sat in the canteen.

In response to this House childishly grabbed a handful of fries and shoved them into his mouth.

“sorwy, moufs kinda full.” He attempted to say, the fries smooshed, breaking his speech.

Wilson rolled his eyes, desperate to know who had been fucking his best friend.

“I don’t understand why you won’t tell me.” He threw his hands up in annoyance.

House continued to stare at him with a blank expression, clearly trying to wind Wilson up.

“I’ll buy you a drink after work if you tell me.”

House tapped his face with his finger mockily pretending to think before answering, “um no.”

Wilson who was almost defeated but also driven by curiosity let out a sigh. “$100.”

Houses face lit up as Wilson placed the note in the table.

“Sold. Thank you sir” House happily snatched the note from the table and shoved it into his pocket.

“Alright fess up. How’s been ya know…” Wilson asked eagerly

“Emptying my balls?”

Wilson scoffed in disgust but nodded his head.

“The babe with sexy eyes, ya know the one working down in the maternity ward.”

Wilson cocked his eyebrow, clearly needing more information.

House rolled his eyes. “The one with (your hair colour) and she’s about yay high. Nice legs”

Wilson thought for a minute before a puzzles looked crossed his face. “Wait. You don’t mean (y,n?)

House smirked “thats the one.”

Wilson let out a loud laugh. “Yeah okay House. And I’m fucking Jennifer Aniston. Seriously tell me. I just gave you $100.”

House looked Wilson up and down in offence. “What you don’t believe me?”

“No. Of course I don’t. You’re a handsome guy House but a girl like that gets fucked by men like Chase.”

“My mature and stern demeanour clearly turns her on. Plus I told her Chase was gay."

“If you seriously don’t believe come to mine at 8pm sharp. Trust me you’ll believe me then.”

Wilson looked at him skeptically but nodded. Wilson wasn’t all hearts and rainbows, despite him not believing House, the thought of seeing you with your mouth open contorted in pleasure was worth the risk of being scammed by House.

———————————————————————---------------

You were stood in Houses kitchen, trying to decide what the two of you should eat.

“Ugh, you can’t have soup again (y,n)” House moaned.

“Why not? It’s tasty, easy and quick.” You shrugged.

House moved in front of you, trapping you between him and the counter and looking down at you.

“That’s funny. I remember you liking it long and hard.”

You scoffed at him, not breaking eye contact.

“Screw the food, I’m hungry for something else.”

He bent down and attached your lips hungrily.

You made out as you slowly walked over to the couch, being mindful of his leg.

You pushed him, his back hitting the armrest of the couch and you gently straddled him.

“Is this okay?” You ask sweetly as you lightly bit his neck.

“Perfect.”

House grabbed your hair into a make shift pony tail and brought your lips to his.

As your lips were glued to one another’s House took the time to peer over at the clock which read 7:55pm.

He slowly undressed you, taking off your top and admiring the way your tits sat in your bra.

“Fuck so pretty.”

He unclip your bra with one hand and it wasn’t just his smile that grew bigger.

“Even prettier.” He smirked, looking at your exposed chest.

You giggled and started to take off Houses shirt as he slipped his fingers under your skirt and panties.

“Mhm nice and soaked for me baby, good girl.”

He circled your clit with his two large fingers and you practically cried out, desperate for more. You started to grin onto his hand and let out a pathetic whimper.

House looked back over to the clock- 7:59pm-

Show time.

He unbuttoned his jeans and waisted no time in entering you. It was sudden, he didn’t even take off your skirt or panties, just moved them to the side.

You let out a pornographic moan as he push up into you so suddenly and started to bounce up and down, your eyes screwed shut and your mouth hung open.

“Say my name baby.” House ordered you. Knowing he wanted Wilson to know exactly who was making you feel this good. He wanted Wilson to know he was in fact the one who could make you cum whenever he decided to.

It was exactly 8pm as Wilson stood outside House's apartment door. He was hesitant to enter. He could hear the sounds of two bodies slamming against one another and the chants of his best friends name over and over.

Fuck the idea of seeing you on the verge of cuming made his blood rush to his pants.

He open the door carefully, the sounds of you already becoming louder.

House heard the door and circled his fingers around your clit in hopes you would become louder.

Now Wilson could see you in all your glory. Your face contorted in pure pleasure.

“Fuck. House gonna cum. You fuck me so good.” you whined.

Wilson stared with his mouth agape completely in awe of the way your body moved and the sounds that graced your lips. He felt like such a creep, but he couldn’t stop watching.

“Cum for me baby” House grunted out whilst peering over at Wilson.

Your head jolted back, exposing the veins in your neck as you reached your peak. You let out a pathetic whimper as House continued to fuck your overstimulated cunt.

Wilson couldn’t bear it any longer. He swiftly made his way out of the apartment completely horny and with an overwhelming feeling of guilt. Little did he know, you knew all about this little arrangement.

House had told you before hand and showed you the crisp $100 dollar bill he’d received if you put on your best show. You were hesitant at first, but your were a broke trainee and $100 is $100. You could put on a show. Make the dirtiest moans you could.

Once House pulled out of you, you both stared at each other and began to laugh.

“Well how was I?” You asked, feeling pretty proud of the performance you just put on.

“Excellent. You could be a real porn star.” He smiled at you.

“How do you know I’m not” you cocked an eyebrow.

“ I would have seen it by now.” he mocked

You both laughed and sat for a while.

“Okay on a real note I am actually very hungry can we get food now please?” You whined as you began to dress again.

“After that show, how could I refuse” House grabbed the $100 and placed it into your bra.

[sturnsbaebackup]

SHY - M. STURNIOLO (PART TWO)

i highly recommend reading part 1 first, which is linked here!

summary; after madi and nick set up their plan to make you and matt fall in love, you’re finally going over to their house to film for the first time… and the connection between you and matt only grows stronger

warnings: she/her pronouns used, mentions of gagging. purely fluff!!!

—

your car ride to the sturniolos apartment consists of nothing but a very happy madi in the passenger seat and severely shaky hands. so much that madi almost had to take your spot in the drivers seat a couple times because you haven’t been able to steer correctly.

when you arrive in the parking lot outside of their complex, you sit in the car for a minute to regain some control of your emotions. as deep breaths exit your nose, madi speaks up. “y/n, you’re going to be fine i promise. now can we go inside? i don’t want to keep them waiting any longer,” she begs. you exhale sharply, nodding your head as you grip the door handle.

before you can even realize it, you’re standing in front of their door as madi gently knocks on the door. you fully snap back into reality when you see matt’s face at the door, greeting you both with a big teethy grin. “hi guys! come on in!” he says, stepping aside for both you and madi.

their house isn’t necessarily the cleanest place you’ve ever seen, but you can tell that they put in somewhat of an effort to clean it for you guys. you smile at nick as he comes running to the door, pulling you into a tight hug. “y/n, hi! i’m so glad you came!” he smiles, making your heart swell with joy. even if you’re in shambles from your nerves, you’re still super joyous that you’ve been adapted into their lives so quickly.

“so before we start the video, we need to go to the grocery store. for some context, we’re doing a challenge where we all buy a few gross or weird foods of our choice, and line them up on the counter. we have an app that when you put a bunch of fingers on it, it randomly selects someone and whoever gets picked has to eat the next food item in the lineup,” nick explains.

“oh god, this sounds awful,” you groan, earning a laugh from a few people.

“this sounds fun y/n! lighten up,” matt teases, nudging your shoulder lightly as he does so. you blush a little and that pit from a few days ago immediately comes back.

“okay people we don’t have all the time in the world, so let’s go!” nick exclaims, pushing you and madi out the door. the five of you get into the car, driving to the closest grocery store. you all go in and make sure to separate so that you don’t spoil your items to one another. each person is supposed to buy 3 items so that the total will add up to 15 items. your items of choice are horse radish, sardines, and to be nice you decide to add unicorn pudding cups.

while you’re using the self checkout, you see chris appear in the line in your peripheral vision. you notice him trying to peak at your items, and you turn your head to him. “stop cheating chris!” you say sternly, making him roll his eyes.

“i wasn’t even looking at you y/n,” he lies, knowing damn well you both know he’s bluffing. you just chuckle to yourself and secretly place your items in your bag, making sure chris doesn’t see. eventually everyone finishes their quick shopping, and you all head back to the apartment to begin the video.

“hi guys! today we’re going to be playing disgusting food roulette, but we have a couple special guests with us! c’mere guys,” nick says, wrapping both his arms around you and madi to drag you both into frame.

“hi guys,” madi says softly with an awkward smile.

“and for those of you who don’t know who y/n is, she’s a great friend of madi’s, and one of our newest friends! her socials will be linked below, so go check out her stuff! she posts a lot on tiktok and instagram, so make sure to go follow her! you can expect to see her in a lot more videos,” nick says smiling at you. you smile back, truthfully unsure of what to say.

“yeah yeah okay we get it nick now stop kissing y/n’s ass and let’s reveal what foods we bought,” chris groans, making you flip him off.

“chris is just mad i caught him trying to look at my foods at self checkout,” you shrug. chris gasps and immediately throws his hands up in defense, “you’re just full of yourself! i was not looking at you,” he rolls his eyes playfully.

“okay chris, leave y/n alone,” matt chuckles, putting his bag of food on the counter. per usual, this sets off that feeling in your stomach once again, but not as bad as before. you’re starting to embrace the obvious feelings you have for matt, and you’re actually okay with that. once everyone reveals their items, it’s time to let the fun begin. “okay guys put your finger down on the phone screen! whoever’s finger gets the little white dot under it has to eat the food,” nick says as you all place your fingers on the phone screen.

the first couple of items on the counter aren’t very bad, but as you further along the line things start to get bad. unfortunately you get chosen to eat the horseradish. “clearly this is my karma for buying this,” you groan, hesitantly placing the spoon into the jar. you quickly shove it into your mouth and swallow, trying to forget about the fact you’re eating horseradish. the taste fills your throat and begins stinging your nostrils from the pungent smell. you start gagging a little, and everyone bursts out laughing.

“fuck oh my god! this is disgusting!” you say, leaning over onto the counter in disgust. you pray that you get the coconut water since it’s the next item, but unfortunately it goes to matt. he takes a sip and scrunches his face a little, and you groan at the gross taste in your mouth. nick and chris are arguing in the middle of the kitchen, while you and matt stand off in the corner. “do you want a sip of my coconut water?” he chuckles, and you accept it gratefully. even if it tastes nasty, you still drink a few big gulps to get the taste of your previous item out of your mouth.

eventually it gets to sriracha sauce, and you’re afraid of getting that as an item seeing as you don’t do good with spices. and of course with your luck, you do. “oh fuck me!” you groan, lifting the spoonful of it off of the counter. you take a deep breath before putting it in your mouth, groaning at the burning sensation on your tongue and lips. you have an overwhelming mix of different disgusting tastes and sensations in your mouth, making you fall to the ground out of disgust and discomfort. everyone laughs at your reaction, and matt lifts his hand out for you to take as a guide back on your feet.

thankfully along the way you get a few good items, but the next item is that stupid pepper chris bought. everyone is deathly afraid of getting it, but unfortunately matt is the one who gets chosen. “you’re joking, you’re actually fucking joking! i’ve gotten all of the worst items!” matt cries out while dragging his hands down his face.

“oh no poor matt,” madi laughs, and matt just groans. he takes a bite of the pepper, and immediately his eyes start watering. he falls to the floor and just curls into a ball while groaning in pain. you all let out a laugh, but after a few moments you guys start getting a bit concerned.

“matt are you okay?” nick asks. matt just looks up at everyone and pouts with little tears welling up in his eyes. you make a little frown at him while letting out a little chuckle. he gets to his feet and stumbles over towards you, pulling you into a hug. he isn’t necessarily thinking clearly, seeing as his mouth, throat, lips, and basically sinuses are all on fire. your eyes widen, but you hug him back gently. you let out a few chuckles, and nick hands him a glass of milk to try and subside the burning sensation in his mouth.

“i’m going to bed, goodnight everyone,” he sadly laughs, waking to his room. you all burst out laughing and end the video without matt.

“someone should go check on him, y/n can you go make sure he’s alive? we need to clean everything up,” nick asks while giving a look to madi. you roll your eyes at the two of them, “yeah sure,” you say in an annoyed tone. they’re making their plan so obvious that even chris is starting to pick up on it.

you softly knock on matt’s door and you hear a muffled voice telling you to come inside. you walk in and his room is surprisingly clean. the lights are off and he’s laying in his bed hugging a pillow, with the empty glass of milk on his bedside table. “i was tasked to come make sure you’re alive. you doing okay?” you ask.

“my mouth is on fire,” he groans and you laugh a little.

“do you want me to get you anything?”

“more milk, please,” he practically begs. you nod and take his empty cup to the kitchen. when you bring it back to him, he’s now sitting up in his bed with his phone in hand.

“fuck, thank you so much y/n,” he says before chugging the whole cup in under 5 seconds. you let out a giggle and he just smiles at you bashfully. he pats the end of his bed, signaling you to sit down on it. your heart rate begins to increase but you do as you’re told and sit down.

“y/n, i know we just met and this might seem a little quick… but i think you’re really pretty and sweet. i was wondering if you maybe wanted to grab food sometime? and i know it’s a little awkward since you just saw me crying from eating a pepper, but it’s the first time i’ve actually gotten the chance to ask you this,” he chuckles and you laugh at the end of his sentence.

“oh my gosh of course matt! i’d love to,” you blush, this time not even worried if he can see your cheeks turning pink. you both figure out a date and time, meanwhile madi chris and nick are all secretly standing outside the door listening in. you exit matt’s room and you see them not so slyly trying to pretend they weren’t listening.

“you guys suck, you know that?” you jokingly say, and they all just shrug.

“have fun at dinner with matt on saturday,” nick winks as you exit their apartment. you just roll your eyes with a smile, “yeah yeah whatever nick.”