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after-witch · 10 months ago

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Fever Pitch [Yandere Geto Suguru x Reader]

Title: Fever Pitch [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Synopsis: Geto’s been hit by a lust curse, and you take what little control you have to avoid him snapping. Follow-up to Bus Stop.

Word Count: 3200ish

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, dubcon, sex, some mentions of past degradation

It’s funny, the way you can get used to anything. When you were first taken, you would have sworn--on your heart, your soul, on blood from a cut on your palm--that you would fight, hiss, and spit at Geto until the day you died.

And now here you are, nestled on a seat cushion in his sitting room, quietly reading a book while he’s off collecting curses and doing favors that aren’t really true favors at all. The person assigned to you today is a familiar face, someone you don’t entirely detest, if only because they are content to keep an eye on you without emanating visible hatred towards your existence at every second.

They were even kind--or what classifies as “kind” here--enough to lend you their scissors a few weeks ago, when someone stuck a wad of sticky bubble gum in your hair as they passed you in a hallway. Sure, they kept an eye on you the entire time in order to make sure you weren’t trying to stab yourself (or anyone else); but they said nothing as you hacked at your own hair, eventually giving yourself a passable pixie cut.

Geto had raised his eyebrows when he came back that day, and had a quiet word with your keeper. But you didn’t get punished, so that was that. Cutting off your hair felt good, even. Like you were cutting out whatever part of yourself was still simmering in pointless anger at your situation. Why be angry, why be in despair, when nothing you did mattered? You ran once. He found you. If you bothered to run again--not that you’d get the chance--he would find you again. And again.

It was better to find something like enjoyment instead of wallowing.

Wasn’t it?

Besides, even Geto had been different since the day he found you. He seemed content for you to be a quiet pet again. He no longer visited you in the night, touching you, forcing pleasures and sounds you didn’t want to experience from his fingers, even as he commanded you to always keep your arms away from him. He was allowed to touch--but you weren’t allowed to touch him. You hated it.

But he hadn’t touched you in the slightest intimate way since that day. Unless you counted the condescending head pats as intimate, which you certainly did not.

You hear Geto’s footsteps, and your muscles tense in preparation. You carefully set a bookmark in your book and set it aside; he didn’t like it when you paid attention to a book instead of him. Especially when he’d been gone for most of the day.

But something’s wrong. Something’s different.

These are not the orderly footsteps of Geto returning to his rooms at the end of a (horribly) productive day. These steps are staggered--hesitant.

Strange.

Your current keeper stands when Geto enters, but he simply dismisses them with a wave of his hand and an unusually curt: “Leave.”

They hazard a glance at you--it almost feels kind--before swiftly grabbing their bag and walking away, hurried steps echoing in the hallway that leads to his suite of rooms.

As soon as they’re out of earshot, Geto begins to shed his clothing. Now this wasn’t unusual. He preferred to wear only a casual outfit around you, some trousers and a light top most of the time. What was unusual was the undignified manner in which he did it, simply peeling away his layers and tossing them on the ground, all the while his breath seemed to come in quiet, stuttering pants.

It’s enough to make you break your gaze from the floor and look at him.

Geto looks… ill. His cheeks are flushed and yes, his chest is heaving a little as he takes in short, frenzied breaths. Even the skin of his neck and collar had a slight glow to it, like he’d been exercising vigorously or done something terribly embarrassing.

“Geto?” You ask, hesitantly. You flick your eyes back down to the floor, where you’re told they belong until he says otherwise.

He doesn’t answer. The final layers of his robes drop to the floor.

Normally, he would approach you now, calmly. He might tilt your chin up with his hand and ask what you did today--if you were good, if you behaved.

Instead he staggers away, catching himself on the corner of a table.

“Geto?” You try again, voice higher, more concerned.

You look up to see him with both palms splayed on the table, breaths coming in deeper huffs. His skin is still flushed--it’s so strange--and you swear the room feels warmer than it did a few moments ago.

His fingers curl against the table into a tight fist, then release, then curl again. His breath comes in more ragged by the moment. There’s an unmistakable soft groan--in pain? Discomfort?

“Are you… all right?” You ask, and do the boldest thing possible in your present situation, which happens to be standing up on shaky legs and taking a step towards him.

“Don’t.” The word is practically growled out, and your muscles freeze for the moment, keeping you in place.

He turns to look at you, but instead of looking angry, he looks… desperate. His eyes roam over you and his lips part, and you see the edge of his tongue reach out to lick a dry patch as he struggles to regain control over his breath.

The expression hits you and it’s oh-so familiar and you don’t like it at all.

Geto isn’t sick.

He’s aroused.

You reach up to clutch at your shirt, fidgeting with the fabric like it might actually provide comfort in this unsure situation.

“What… happened?”

He doesn’t answer at first. His mouth twists into something like a grin, but it’s twitchy, uncontrolled. He chuckles slowly.

“A curse. I should have taken a closer look, but--” He lets out a pained sigh and squeezes his eyes shut. “I was distracted. Foolish. Stupid.”

You--perhaps foolish, stupid--take a step forward. Little pieces find themselves fitting together in your brain, trying to create a plan for what will come ahead. It’s how you’ve managed to survive so far, isn’t it? Taking in everything about your situation and acting accordingly to preserve your health and sanity?

“What… kind of curse?” You ask, and take more steps, until you’re close enough that you can feel some of the unnatural warmth from his body.

He looks at you slowly, his eyes almost rolling in a way that makes your stomach turn. You perhaps don’t need to actually hear the answer. It’s become clear, with the way he’s panting, the way his skin is flushed, the awful warmth from being so close to him. But it’s best for him to admit it, anyway, and confirm it to your whirring brain.

“Lust.”

Something seems to roil through him and he leans down, groaning in an uninhibited way that makes cold fear crawl up your arms, despite the warmth from Geto’s body. This close, you can see the sweat beading on his forehead, and when you glance down, his hardness is evident through his trousers.

Oh, you’re going to be fucked by the end of the night. You know it. It’s an inevitability.

What if it’s like before? When he would be rough and fast, and it would feel good and terrible all at the same time? When you felt like you had no control over what was done to you, and what you were made to do? The shame that would spread through your body afterward was nearly unbearable.

No… it was better to take charge yourself, wasn’t it? The only other option was to wait for him to snap. And if he was influenced by some lust-filled curse, there’s no telling what he might do.

So you’ll take care of him before he can reach that breaking point.

“Geto,” you say, and your hand reaches out slowly, like he’s a wild dog (perhaps he is) until it rests just above his back. Close enough for him to sense you. Although attempting to touch him without permission would normally have earned you a slap on the wrist and a reprimand, Geto leans into your palm, letting out a soft, pleased noise, as if your palm resting on his back was something far more wonderful.

“Let me… take care of you,” you manage, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth before you force it loose to say the words. He doesn’t answer, breath still coming out in a pant.

“Let’s go to the bedroom.” You speak louder, more firmly. More sure of yourself, even if a large part of you is wondering if this is a terrible idea after all. But it’s better to get it over with; to do this on your terms, or as much of your terms as you can manage. You can at least admit that.

Geto doesn’t answer, and you’re about to say something else when he grabs your wrist--it’s too tight, his palm is sweaty--and begins to pull you towards the bedroom. Your house slippers scuff on the floor from the unsteady force of his grip, but you manage not to fall.

Later, you will wonder--if you did trip in that moment, would he have simply taken you on the floor? It was a distinct possibility.

But you don’t fall. You make it to the bedroom and he lets go of you, stripping off his clothes with a frenzy that is completely unlike him. You don’t wait for an order to remove your own clothing. He might not have even been in the right frame of mind to remember that you’re normally supposed to wait for his order on everything. Or perhaps it has been so long since he’d touched you this way, he didn’t even think of giving it in the first place.

When he turns around, both of you are naked. His hardness is evident, erect and pressing against his flushed body. You can see wetness around his tip and something between your leg twinges in both pleasant anticipation and worry at what this curse-induced arousal might mean for the both of you.

“Well?” He says, voice thick and low.

You swallow against your throat, against the worries that normally come with seeing Geto naked. You remind yourself that this is different. That you’re taking control, as much as you can get, with him so afflicted. It won’t be like before, surely, when he would use you and leave you alone like the toy that you were afterward.

“Lay on the bed,” you command. Your body flinches instinctively at the audacity of it. “Please,” you add, but he doesn’t seem to mind your forwardness in this moment. He crawls on the bed and leans back against the pillows, keeping himself half-upright as he watches you.

You glance down at his cock. It twitches, ever so slightly, and you feel yourself twitch between your legs to match it. Was it because it had been so long? Or because you were the one telling him what to do? Or some awful mixture of both, and more besides?

It was hard to tell what was normal and what wasn’t in the fucked up state of your existence.

“Get on the bed.” It’s his turn to give a command, and you’re quick to obey it. For as much as you’re taking the initiative, you can’t let yourself forget who owns you, perhaps literally. Even if he’s currently flushed and woozy and subject to the demands of the arousal forced upon him by some wayward curse.

You climb on the bed and crawl until you’re positioned with your knees on either side of his hips. It’s the first time you’ve been above him. It would be out of the question, you think, before. He liked to remind you where you belonged in the literal sense, and that had extended to sexual positions.

Instinctively, your hands go behind your back, folding primly. You’re not supposed to touch him during sex. You know that. It’s been the rule; it was one of the first things he drilled into your head when he began fucking you. He was allowed to touch you in any way he wanted; stroking and pinching and whatever else fell within his whims. But you? You keep your filthy hands to yourself.

And so, it’s with your hands behind your back that you carefully begin to lower yourself onto his erect cock.

He gasps and groans, and you do, too. Your twinges were not enough to get you properly wet, and it hurts as you lower yourself down. But the flush on his face and the feeling of being full after so long begins to grant you the warmth necessary to produce your own slickness, easing the passage just a little as you take all of him in. Not enough for it to be painless. But it’s not like that ever mattered before.

“Fuck,” he spits out, throwing his head back from there mere sensation of your pussy taking in his erection. You feel yourself clench him and he hisses in delight. It makes you feel a bit giddy, to affect him like this, with so little.

Your fists clench behind your back as he bottoms out inside you, and your own groan joins his as you steady yourself, keeping your balance as you sit on top of him. His cock twitches inside you and you let out a sigh, leaning forward. Your hair tickles your ears.

He’s looking up at you, hips writhing in a way that makes you gasp.

“Touch me.”

You think you must have misheard him.

“I said touch me,” he says, more forceful, the arousal pulsing through him giving his voice a thick tinge. He thrusts his hips and you bump upwards, in discomfort yes, but also a growing sense of your own arousal at the fullness and friction inside you.

“All--” You gasp when he thrusts again, and perhaps the idea of taking too much control was an illusion. “All right!” Your hands slowly come out from behind your back and with a hesitation that comes from months of being trained otherwise, you slowly lower your hands to rest on his hips.

Slowly, you trail your hands up to his chest, eyeing his nipples. How long had they been erect? Was it before or after you lowered yourself on him? It doesn’t matter. You begin to pull yourself up, timing your own movements with his now-shallow thrusting. As you do, your hands rest on his nipples, rubbing them slowly with your palm--the way he sometimes does to you, if he’s not pinching them harshly to make you squeal.

“Yes,” he murmurs. “Just… just like that. Good pet.”

And there again, the sight of his pleasure from your touch, his raise, makes you clench… which makes him hiss in pleasure, which makes you giddy.

It’s a wonderful cycle, and so different from all of the other times he’s fucked you. This is almost nice, in its own way. To be above him, mostly in control of how fast you move, how much of him you take in and out as you lift yourself up and down on his cock.

“Faster,” he says, and you don’t mind obeying. One of your hands still toys with his nipple while the other reaches between your own legs and thumbs at your clit. It’s audacious, really--you’re not supposed to pleasure yourself without his permission.

But he doesn’t tell you to stop. Instead he simply watches the way your thumb rubs against your clit; does he enjoy the sight of his cock inside you, the way your pussy takes him as you use your leg muscles to thrust up and down?

He must, because you can feel your own arousal mixing with his, see the way his chest rises faster. Tell-tale signs that he’s getting close.

“Stop,” he orders suddenly. “Get off me.” His voice is still low, still filled with lust, but there’s something else in it. Something more familiar.

“Geto?” You ask, confused, your own voice coated with arousal that’s just about to reach its peak. It’s disappointing to stop now, but you know better than to disobey. Even right now, or perhaps, especially right now.

He seems to regain a stronger semblance of himself. “Get off,,” he commands, and you do.

It doesn’t take long to realize why he gave the order. He swiftly grips your arms and flips you on the bed, your back pressing against the sheets that are warm with his own unmistakable body heat.

Now this is familiar. Geto above you, naked, flushed, aroused. And you, beneath him. But this time your arousal was of your own making, and there’s a sort of power in that, you think.

He’s back inside you and by this time you’re wet enough that it simply feels good to be filled again. His wrists keep your own pinned and you murmur a plea, you were so close, Geto--and to your surprise, one of his hands leaves your wrist to begin playing with your clit.

Arousal builds quickly this time, and you come without ceremony, your muscles clenching around him and legs kicking helplessly on the bed as he continues to touch you through your orgasm.

Familiar patterns set in, and as your own orgasm begins to fade out, you know what will happen now. He’ll fuck you faster and pull out as he comes–he refuses to finish inside you–and then leave you to yourself.. Maybe he’ll have to go another round to deal with the effects of this curse, but whatever change had been over him before, allowing you greater freedom, was surely gone.

Only… maybe not.

Because as you feel the familiar sensation of Geto pushing inside you harder and faster as he nears his release, something new happens. Something different. Something that makes butterflies and battery acid flutter in your stomach all at the same time.

He leans down and presses his lips against yours, tentatively at first, then harder, until you open up your mouth and let his tongue inside.

Geto kisses you. It’s a surprisingly passionate kiss, and you let out a yelp of surprise when he grips your chin and kisses you through his own orgasm.

He doesn’t even pull out. You feel his seed inside you for the first time, a liquid warmth. It’s uncomfortable and strange and you wonder how angry he’ll be, later on, that he did this.

He doesn’t stop kissing you until you’re breathing heavily through your nose, and when he pulls away you take in a gulp of air.

He stares down at you with something that looks like wonder. At himself… or you?

“Good pet,” he murmurs. But there’s no condescension in it today.

There’s an awful, naked vulnerability that washes over you.

Geto let you touch him. Geto kissed you.

Geto, Geto, Geto…

Was he going to be mad when this curse effect wore off? Would he get rid of you for making him violate so many of his own rules?

You don’t have time to think about it, because you realize he’s still hard, and he begins to thrust shallowly inside your overstimulated pussy.

He’ll have to go another round.

Afterward, sleep came without warning. You had simply closed your eyes when Geto finally pulled out and that was that.

You don’t know how much time has passed when you open your eyes, blinking away the grogginess of an unexpected nap.

There’s a soreness between your legs, which you expected. There’s the feeling of your body being used, a low openness that combines vulnerability and humiliation in a bittersweet mixture; which you expected.

You don’t expect to blink and see Geto sleeping beside you, his arm slung around your waist, keeping you in place.

Geto never slept with you like this. He would fuck you and use you and sometimes tell you that you were a good pet if he was in a jovial mood--and he would leave.

You’re afraid to move. If you wake him, will he be angry? Will he be annoyed that he let himself fall asleep beside you? Annoyed with himself for allowing it, or annoyed with you for being there?

You don’t move, but it doesn’t matter. His eyes flutter open and you feel the warmth of his breath on your face as he takes in the sight before him, as you just did.

He doesn’t furrow his eyebrows in irritation or fling himself out of bed or reprimand you for existing like this in his space. Instead he pulls you closer, until your face is pressed closer to his chest. It makes you feel something--warmth? Affection? Relief that you weren’t being yelled at for being bad?--and your hand slowly leaves your side to curl up against his chest.

He allows it.

“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs.

And you obey.

#yandere geto #yandere geto suguru #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere #afterwitch writes

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d3stinyist1red · 2 months ago

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ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄʜᴏʟᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

(cholo basically means a hispanic boy who dresses with baggy clothing(search up cholo outfit), and like has a diff speech pattern, btw imma js make him kinda like an edger bc why not they fine asfff)

(his name gon be miguel bc yes)

yan cholo who is ur hb, who you met freshman year in homeroom.

You were busy on your phone before getting your leg kicked by someone beside you. You looked at whoever did that with narrowed eyes, why did this beta js kick a sigma like you..???

He had an fluffed up edger cut, with a slit eyebrow. He had some baggy clothing, proclub grey sweatpants with a black T-shirt with a silver necklace. He was attractive to say the least.

"Put your phone away, chica! (girl or chick)"He said playfully, nodding his head to the teacher making you look, he was helping to you to not get your phone taken by that old ass dusty teacher

you quickly put your phone in your pocket and thanked him. "No problem, hermosa. (beautiful)" He smirked at you, you could hear his accent very well. You tilted your head at him before looking away, not really understanding what was the last word he said (UNLESS U DO, IF U DO PRETEND HE SAID IT UNDER HIS BREATH OR SUM SO U COULDNT HEAR))

yan cholo who began talking to you the whole homeroom after that, and soon you realized he switched his classes to be matched up with yours.

yan cholo who is now ur besty westy hb, who u tell to put u on to someone

ʏ/ɴɴɴʟᴜᴠsᴋɪᴛᴛʏs

miguelllll

put me onto on of ur friendssssss

ᴛʜᴇʏғᴡᴍɪɢᴜᴇʟ

ma, dont start with this bullshit

none of those assholes deserve you, alr mami?

yan cholo who buys you cutesy shit even tho he never did that with any of his ex gfs, only you. But he isnt even dating you too!

"hey ma, got you a lil sum" He said as he wrapped his arm around you, interrupting a convo you were having with one of your friends who js stared at him with heart eyes. He gave u a kuromi plushie that had some pocky taped to her hand. You quickly thanked him making him rub his neck sheepishly,before tapping his cheek .

"cmon baby, give me a peck for it, yeah?"

yan cholo who tells you all of the drama and whenever theres gonna be a fight, grabbing your hand and leading you to someone getting pressed if u want to see a fight. But if you dont like ppl fighting, he'll drag you away from it, and distract you with something else

yan cholo who is possesive of you, always following you around in parties, arm either around your shoulder or waist.

There was this one time, he wasnt on your tail or following you since he was grabbing snacks for the both of you guys and some fool from another neighborhood took this as a chance to started talking to you at a party. The guy was laughing, leaning in too close.

For you, it was someone actually wanting you and u were mad excited bc miguel greedy ass wouldn't even put u on to his friends, but to miguel? It was a threat. His fists clenched, his blood boiling as he was walking to you, noticing the guy talking to you.

He stormed over, stepping between them with a cold stare. “You got somethin’ to say to her, you say it to me, homie.”

The guy backed off instantly, giving miguel a dirty look before mumbling something under his breath and walking away. You raised an eyebrow, "Boy, are you fr? I was gonna finally bag someone bruh"

"Ma, you have me. You don't need anyone else."

yan cholo who talks about you to his homies, absolutely gushing over you like u were a celebrity. And his homies were mad confused bc the man has NEVER been obsessed with any girl, not even his past gfs. He would barely even mention his gfs!

yan cholo who whenever you guys hung out, whether it was grabbing a bite at mc donalds or cruising through the streets with the windows down, he treated you like a queen. He’d make sure you had everything you wanted, always checking if you was comfortable, if you needed anything. He'd make sure to pay for everything, not letting you even touch your wallet, He'd open doors for you, give you flowers, on valentines day he'd give you hello kitty bouquets with money, and hot chips

yan cholo who was jealous of any man who got into a 500 mile radius of you

“Yeah, I ran into Alex today at the store, yk that guy that fought with eric? Yeah, he saw me and said hi” You said offhandedly as miguel drove

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. He tried to keep his voice calm. “Oh yeah? Did you say hi back? Don't talk to him, princesa(princess). Hes no good for you. ” he finally said, his voice low, like a warning.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, catching the change in his tone. “Relax, it’s not like that. He’s just a friend.” Miguel furrowed his eyebrows and kissed his teeth, not bothering to respond knowing he'll start raging.

yan cholo who every morning, he’d be at your locker, waiting for the moment you'll walk down the hall. His eyes would lock onto yours the second you appeared, his heart pounding harder than it ever did during a fight. You didn't notice the way he would glare at anyone near you to back off, and leave the two of you alone.

When you finally made your way over, you dapped him up, and opened your locker. “Hey, you got the notes from yesterday’s class?” You asked him, finally looking up at him.

He’d play it cool, nodding and pulling out his notebook without a word. Inside, though, he was a mess. Every time you spoke to him, he wanted to say something—tell you how he couldn’t stop thinking about you, how you was the only thing that mattered to him, how he couldn't even sleep thinking about you and your gorgeous face. But he couldn’t, instead, he handed you the notes. “Yeah, here. Whatever you need, mami.” He said smirking down at you.

yan cholo who whenver you gave him a casual wave goodbye, he had to fight the urge to pull her into his arms and tell her she was his amor (his love) and no one else’s.

yan cholo who plays soccer only to impress you, every kick, every pass, was an excuse to show off for you. He could hear his teammates calling for the ball, but all he cared about was making sure Y/N was watching when he scored. And when he did—blasting the ball into the net with a perfect shot—he didn't bother to cheer. His eyes darting back to Y/N instead, seeing if she was impressed with his goal

yan cholo who daydreams about you before games, His teammates often tease him about his crush on you. They notice how he lights up whenever your brought up in conversations or whenever your around and how he tends to play better when he knows she’s watching

yan cholo who is a lil too obsessed with his hg y/n <333

yan cholo who is ur hb who hates seeing u with men <33

MORE COMING OUT

BTW I DID THIS ONE FIRST BC I ACTUALLY LOVE THIS IDEA SO MCUH HELLOO??

IM MEXICAN BTW SO I THINK ITS OK TO POST THIS IDK

GUYS IS THIS GOOD???? IDKK

HELP I NEED A CHOLO EDGER IN MY BED RN LIKE COME HERE PAPI

HELP I HAD TOOOO MUCH FUN WITH THIS

#yandere x reader #yanderemalexreader #clingy yandere #yandere boyfriend #soft yandere #yandere x darling #tw yandere #yandere blog #yandere male #yandere #destinys worksss<333

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phone4pills · 2 months ago

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I KNOW YOU ARE Brattysub!Chris x Dom!Reader

multiple orgasms, hand jobs, m receiving, shower sex, sub!Chris, slight bondage, requested by anon

You’d been excited all week to go to this party, dragging Chris along with you to every store to get the perfect outfit. But he’d been kind of annoying. Every dress you tried on seemed to bore him more than the last. Whenever you’d walk out of the changing room he sigh and say ‘yeah whatever’, or persist that he was tired and wanted to leave.

You didn’t know what was up with him, he probably didn’t feel like going to the party but you wanted him there with you so nevertheless, you dragged him along. And as you’d expected, he was a total buzzkill. Not even bothering enough to greet any of your friends, only humming or nodding his head quickly and turning away.

You tried to coax him with a few drinks or get him involved in a few party games but he really wasn’t with it. And what really tipped off the edge was when you offered him a drink and he shoved it back moodily, spilling it all over the counter.

In that moment he glanced up at you, knowing the rage in your eyes like it was an old friend. So when you grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the house, driving the two of you home, he is already knew what he’d gotten himself in for.

Chris let out a cry, throwing his body back onto the messy sheets. Your hand strokes up and down his length at a devious pace, sliding effortlessly with the assistance of your saliva. His chest heaved uncontrollably as he tried to ground himself, but it was impossible with the temporary ecstasy that was granted by your touch. Strangled moans and words muffled by the cloth in his mouth echoed through the air each time it recoiled and hit against his lower stomach.

His knuckles were white with the pressure of his grip on the bedsheets, damp hair forming loose waves as it scattered on the cream coloured fabric cushioning his head. Tears formed a thin wall on the boy’s water line. His glassy eyes traced the slick movements of your wrist, increasing in pace with the second, like a dog watching a bone. “Not so tough now, huh? C’mon, quit being a kid.”

With every tick of the minute hand on the clock, his tip turned brighter and brighter. The muscles on his abdomen tensed so sweat ran down the gaps between them and Chris couldn’t hide his nearness to the edge if he tried. Slowly, his pelvis began to thrust up into your palm and his brows furrowed with the overwhelmment of your hold on him.

It didn’t take long for Chris to come undone, hips jerking into your sloppy hand job as his voice cracked. “Nghhh!” White rivers of his arousal costed your lower arm, and when Chris finally glanced upwards he was surprised to find that he had covered your face in his semen.

The boy’s eyes widened in shock as his mouth hurriedly scrambled to slur an apology, but before he could say anything, you were already getting up to clean yourself up.

The evening dragged into darker hours, eventually Chris went to take a shower. To his surprise, you joined him under the hot water, the steamy air cloudy his vision of you. Though, he could tell you were up to no good. “You okay?” He pondered, turning his head to face you, but his back remained to your front.

You hummed, not giving away too much. Then you took a few steps towards him, hands finding his chest and slowly moving downwards towards his crotch. Chris’ demeanour changed, muscles tensing as your fingers brushed his still sensitive cock.

“You know… you weren’t being really patient at that party.” You said lowly, almost purring in his ear as he froze up. His eyes found your hand, caressing his v line and he couldn’t help but stutter his words. “I’m sorry I just-”

You wrapped your fingers around his length, slowly pulling up and pushing back downward. His words cut off as his head spun, and blood rushed to his brain. Chris couldn’t form words. But he knew you wouldn’t give him what he wanted until he finished talking.

“I- mhh, it was just really loud and- an- mph, I didn’t wanna-” You started to fist at his cock, picking up speed so his eyes rolled back and his head dropped to the side, leaning on on yours which was rested on his shoulder. With the side of his face pressed up against yours, you could feel every breath fanning against your cheek, watching intensely as the water made a perfect lubricant for you to slide your hand along him. “You didn’t wanna do what, baby?”

He whimpered, closing his eyes and his chest heaved. “I d-didn’t wanna stay there.” His breaths quickly became short and uneven as your teasing intensified.

Chris completely lost control over himself, hands gripping at the glass on the shower divider, leaving fingerprints in the misty clearness. The rest of it was a blur to him, prior to his comprehension, he was dripping whiteness, all of it being washed towards the drain as you milked his entirety.

After the two of you had gotten out of the shower, you helped him dry up and while the two of you were brushing your teeth, ready to go to bed, he turned to you. His mouth was full of foamy toothpaste but you understood him anyway as he babbled, “M’sorry.”

You placed a hand on his jaw and responded, “I know you are.”

Hope you enjoyed this, also please fill up my inbox I’m so incredibly bored. Literally ask me anything. For more shit check out my MASTERLIST, I write for Matt and Chris at the moment.

- ©phone4pills

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rainydayathogwarts · 7 months ago

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Curtain call - Spencer Reid

Summary: You're an actress. Opening night of the show, a cast member is killed. FBI finds out you were the real target... Warnings: mentions of blood, a kiss 2k wc

Adrenaline rushes through you as you run through the wings, catching your breath as you made your way across the backstage. You had just about a minute until you had to be on stage once more, the big number now coming to its end. Rushing into the costume room, you barely acknowledge the one thing obviously wrong with the messy space until you reach for your next costume on the rack, moving all other clothes aside to find it. There’s something inappropriate about your outfit. One, there isn’t supposed to be any blood on it yet there it is, a bloody handprint, running all the way to the bottom of your dress. That’s when your eyes trail down to the bottom of the clothing rack, where you get a clear look of the body lying underneath the row of clothes. Blood was soaking through her entire costume and her skin was turning blue. It’s only when someone runs into the changing room at risk of missing your cue that you hear a gut-wrenching scream. Later, you’d be told that it had come from you.

Being called into the theatre the next day for “mandatory debriefing” was not what you had expected after such a traumatic experience, but you came in nonetheless, afraid of losing the job after the scene you had caused the night before. After screaming bloody-murder, half the cast ran into the changing rooms to find you hysterically crying over your cast mate’s body, holding her cold hand. The audience had been scared half to death, and after the authorities made it onto the scene, everyone was evacuated out of the theatre. By finding her body, you had cost everyone a night of the show.

But once you got to the theatre, angry yellow tape cutting off access to the public, you were approached by a handsome man with a serious face and confident posture, offering you his hand even as he walked towards you. “Miss L/N? It’s nice to meet you, I’m Agent Morgan with the FBI, and this is Dr. Reid. We just have a few questions we would like you to answer for us.” Agent Morgan had been a very kind man, who told you every formality that was written in the book, however the man he had introduced to you as Dr. Reid caught your attention in a way you weren’t aware would be good or bad. Dr. Reid stayed silent as Agent Morgan questioned you, deeply staring at you as you answered all that was thrown at you, shooting you quizzical looks every now and then and glancing down at your fidgety hands.

“Thank you so much for all this Miss L/N, that’s all our questions.” As Agent Morgan began to stand, Dr. Reid looked up at you, “Actually, I do have a few more if you don’t mind.” Agent Morgan shot his partner a confused look, slowly backing down into his seat once more. “Do you know why Evelyn was in the costume room when she was? With my limited understanding of the play, I was under the impression that her character didn’t have any costume changes up to the point you had gotten to before she was killed.” And then those that followed:

“Was anyone other than you supposed to be in the changing rooms at that moment?”

“Is there anyone in the cast who has taken a specific liking or dislike towards you?”

“Can you remember any specific encounters with anyone as you were going in or out of the theatre?”

“Have you received any eye catching letters from fans recently?”

Finally, Dr. Reid’s prying had gotten you somewhere, leaving you more terrified than ever, with Agent Morgan reassuring you “It’s just a theory that Dr. Reid has, so we’re only taking precaution. There’s nothing to worry about just yet.” The two agents drove you back to your place where you led them to the cursed fan-letter drawer in your study. "I don't usually read them because there are so many." You admitted, crossing your arms tightly over your torso, observing as the doctor starting frantically pulling letters out of the tidied drawer, eyes briefly scanning the name on the front of each envelope. He threw several to the side, dropping the rest onto the floor after reading the name until nearly ten minutes later, all the letters laid on the floor.

Dr. Reid scrambled to gather the letters he had tossed to the side, standing up hurriedly. You stared at the pile in his hands, glancing back up at the two men for an explanation. "These are all sent from the same person. I'd like to read them and see if I can analyse the language used. I think one of us should stay here with you for the mean time." You nodded at Dr. Reid's words, briefly looking over to his partner for confirmation. "I think Reid should stay here as he looks over the letters." He moved his attention from you to Dr. Reid "You can ask her any questions you might have and it'll be good protection." The partners nodded to each other and almost instantly, Agent Morgan exited the room.

Dr. Reid's hand came up before hesitantly placing it on your shoulder. "Do you mind if I get settled here? Ask some questions?" You shook your head silently before asking "Um, since you'll be here awhile, can I get you something? Coffee?" Dr. Reid nodded, muttering a quiet "That would be lovely." You don't know what it was: maybe the fact that he was here to protect to or trying to save your life, but felt your heart beat in your chest aggressively, as though trying to break through your skin. You brought him coffee, sugar and packets of cream on the side just in case and watched in awe as he emptied out the small cup of sugar. Sweet, just like him.

"Dr. Reid-" "Spencer. Please." You nodded, scooting your chair closer to him as he took a sip of coffee. "Did I make a mistake by not reading these?" The envelopes made loud unfolding noises every time he pulled a letter out of a different one, and he shook his head. "No. I know I wouldn't open so many of these and I have an IQ of 187." You grinned, your chest bubbling with a giggle. Spencer perked up at the sound of your laughter, smiling gently at you. He wasn't trying to joke around, but he was happy to uplift your mood. He studied all the letters laid out in front of him, and immediately noticed a pattern.

'02.02.18, I saw you in Oliver! today, you make an amazing Nancy.'

'14.02.18, I watched you in Oliver! again. You somehow get better the more I see you on stage.'

'07.03.18 I loved you today in the show. I watched the evening show. Did you see me too?'

'17.03.18 I saw your show again. I can be your Bill Sykes if you'd let me."

'11.04.18 I've been waiting anxiously to see you again since Oliver stopped touring. You make a wonderful Veronica.'

'15.04.18 We can be Seventeen together! Let me be your JD.'

"This isn't good." Without any further explanation, he pulled his phone out, dialling a number. "He's using obsessive language and saw her in Oliver! and Heathers, both of which have abusive partners who either kill or try to kill who Y/N's playing. You need to go visit his address right now." Coincidentally, just as he hangs up the phone, your doorbell rings. Your blood runs cold and you stand up instantly, but Spencer steps in front of you, blocking you from going anywhere. "Stay behind me, but stay close." He mutters, pulling his gun from his hostler. Spencer watches you closely, and the profiler in him notices how your breath begins to speed up and your eyes glaze with tears.

One of his hands comes up to cup your cheek and he whispers "Breathe. I'm right here so no one's going to hurt you, okay?" You nod, staying as close as you can to him without touching him until you get to the front door. He peeks through the peephole and his shoulders drop as an "Oh." Escapes him. He opens and closes the door faster than you can register, now holding another letter in his hand, identical to all the ones scattered on your desk.

Six words are written on the letter when Spencer opens him, and his face pales. It was meant to be you. Spencer grabs your hand, dragging you back into your study - the one room in your house with no windows. He locks the door, pressing numbers on his phone again before it's against his ear. "It's definitely him, he just sent another letter. We're in her study but he might be around the premises or returning to his house. I don't plan on getting her out of the study until you get him." The second the words leave his mouth you're processing them, and tears are welling in your eyes once more.

The sound of sniffling gets his attention back to you and his hands are gently coming up to your shoulders, leading you to sit down in a chair. "I'm scared." You whisper helplessly, looking up at the doctor. He crouches down to your level, and hand on your knee. "Hey, what did I say before?" He looks at you intently waiting for an answer. "No one's gonna hurt me." Spencer nods, a soft smile gracing his features. "Yes, exactly. No one's going to hurt you. I have an excellent team looking for that son of a bitch as we speak and I am right here with you."

You nod, not entirely convinced, which he can apparently tell, so he continues with "Come on, look at these muscles. You think anyone will get to you when I have these babies?" His tongue pokes out slightly as he flexes his arms, which are actually more toned than you realise. You laugh again and feel yourself launching your body at him before you can stop yourself, pulling him into a tight hug. He hesitates, but eventually, his arms are pulling you even closer to him, one hand rubbing circles on your back to soothe you. You break the hug, but before you can help yourself, you realise you're leaning into him, pressing your lips against his in a passionate kiss. To your surprise he immediately returns the kiss, his hands cupping your face as he deepens the kiss.

He's panting when he pulls away from you, whispering "This is unprofessional. I'm sorry, I like you, I do, but I shouldn't." Cocking your head to the side, you can't help but smile slightly. "It's only unprofessional for one of us so technically it's not unprofessional at all." His face twists in confusion as he tries processing your words. "That's not how it wo-mmph." the rest of his words are muffled by the second kiss you give him, which you feel him melting into as one of his hands comes to rest on your hip. "After- after the case. After the case, I'll take you on a date." His face falls at his own words, his face reddening in embarrassment. "That is- I mean that's only if you want. I wouldn't take you on a date if you didn't want to, that's totally fine."

The door to the study slams open just as he finishes rambling and you scream in fear, tightly gripping Spencer's hand and turning around expecting to find a middle aged balding creep, only to find a much sexier bald man, putting his gun back in his hostler. "Did you not hear us screaming for you? We thought he might have gotten to you before we found him. Ms. L/N, you're safe, we found him." Agent Morgan's gaze slowly trails to where your hand tightly grips Spencer's, and when he sees the flush on Spencer's face he makes a "Huh" noise, before walking out of the room once more.

taglist: @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist

#spencer reid x you #rainydayathogwarts #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminalminds #criminal minds fics #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #derek morgan

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the-modern-typewriter · 1 year ago

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Hi! Would you be able to do a hero x villain scene with a villain that's used to trapping their opponents socially but the hero would rather just ignore that and punch them in the face, and the villain is kind of in love and kind of murderous?

The villain staggered back at the force of the punch with a groan of pain. They cupped a hand to their bloody nose.

The villain's various soldiers and lackeys immediately moved to restrain the hero.

"No." The villain held out their other hand. "No."

The lackeys froze, uncertain.

The hero, well-prepared for the possibility of fight, paused too. They shook out their fist, shoulders squared.

"Nice left hook," the villain said, straightening slowly. When they dropped their hand, the break had already healed, leaving only the blood.

"Fuck you."

"Yes, that might help your anger issues."

The hero scoffed. "I don't have anger issues, I just don't like being backed into a corner. I told you what would happen."

"Mm. That you did." The villain's head tilted. "Bold move."

"Clear communication. Do I need to do it some more?"

The villain grinned, letting their blood drip grotesque and feral across their teeth. They took a swaggering step forward, even as they neatly adjusted their outfit and rumpled hair back to the veneer of polite society. It didn't reach their eyes. Their eyes had that wild quality too, burning bright and fierce with something that the hero couldn't quite read.

"People generally prefer me when I keep things civil," the villain said. "It's neater. Safer for everyone involved."

"You mean, people normally cave because they're scared of you?"

"And you're not."

"If there's going to blood, let there be blood. I won't be bullied. Certainly not by the likes of you."

The villain laughed, a soft and rumbling danger. They swiped their tongue across their teeth, cleaning the blood away, and closed the distance with another step.

Apparently, they hadn't learned the dangers of getting too close.

The hero swung.

That time, the villain dodged, driving their knee deep into the hero's gut.

The hero doubled over, wheezing.

The villain caught a fistful of their hair, using the grip to smash the hero's face in one startlingly deft movement, before tipping the hero's head back before the blood splattered across the floor.

The whole room had gone quiet; focused in on the two of them. Someone had cut the music.

The villain grinned again. "So pretty."

The hero spat blood at them, but the villain didn't seem to mind. In the next instant, the hero had wrenched themselves free with an expert move.

The two of them circled.

The villain did not have a reputation for violence, or at least not for getting their hands dirty. They were a sleek monster, crafted of fine clothes and the clink of glasses and clever words in the shadowy backrooms that ruled the world.

"You're right," the villain said. "I do prefer less...crude games, than this. We're a civilized species. We should know better. Do not mistake my distaste for incapability, though."

The hero snarled. "Silvered words doesn't make what you do less ugly."

"A moral high ground doesn't make you less of a brute, gorgeous."

"I'm not a brute, you condescending-"

"-temper, temper." The villain's voice was a purr. "Have I struck a nerve?"

The hero lunged.

The villain dodged.

They circled again, more evenly matched than the hero had expected. They'd thought a hard hit, the possibility of real danger, would reveal the villain's sniveling heart. The cowardice at the core of so many powerful, evil people.

"You owe me an apology," the villain said. "I was having a perfectly lovely time. If you give me one now, like a good little hero, this doesn't have to get...unpleasant."

"Your face is unpleasant. Everything about you and what you do is unpleasant. I'd rather not lie."

The villain's eyes flashed, a mix of rage and desire. Then, their power lashed out. The windows shattered. People screamed. People fell.

The hero stared around the room, horrified.

"Far be it from me to deny a guest," the villain said, drawing their power back to themselves. "Let there be blood."

The fight escalated from there.

#hero x villain #villain x hero #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #writing #short story #ficlet #enemies #I'm personally picturing Elijah Mikaelson my beloved gentleman monster

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a-ikuoliver · 4 months ago

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WHAT UP MERCURY

For that birthday bash, could I get that blowjob shot with Kirishima please and thank you! 💛~

eeeee thank you! i'm so sorry i was so long with this but i hope you enjoy nonetheless <3 birthday bash intro + rules + menu | event masterlist

eijiro was punctual, prompt, showing up at least 15 minutes early for his shifts (only 8 minutes on his worst day), the exact opposite of you. living closer to the restaurant than him, you still somehow managed to spawn countless grey hairs out of his skull, and at least a handful of heart convulsions every time you'd show up seconds before your shift would begin. knowing your routine, when you offhandedly mentioned needing a ride tonight, eijiro jumped at the opportunity; a little to make sure you'd be at the event on time, but mostly to have this time alone with you, to admire you while he had the chance before you'd both be worked off your feet for the night.

event nights, despite the tips, were his least favourite nights; both of you ending up too busy to flirt by the bar, to run into each other in the freezer, or for his hands to brush by your hips when you both met in front of the kitchen. instead, eijiro wouldn't even have time to admire you from across the bar.

→ KIWI 8:37PM i'm downstairs x

← THE PERSONALITY HIRE 8:37PM fuck i'm not ready yet, come up?

→ KIWI 8:38PM still in 6?

← THE PERSONALITY HIRE 8:39PM 6, door's unlocked x

with a dazzling smile, eijiro slides his phone back into his pocket, glancing up to the third floor, to the light shining from behind sheer curtains, your silhouette moving frantically behind it, the shape distorting when a gentle breeze blew through the half-open window. he wants to stand here longer, to watch you at your most you, when you don't know he's admiring you. you're so alluring when you flirt back, getting his pants tight and palms sweaty with perfectly placed lingering touches on his shoulders, but when he can stare at you without you watching, when you smile without a concern in the world, it drives him insane. tearing himself away, he finally makes his way toward the entrance of your building, climbing the stairs two at a time, pausing in front of the metallic 6, the numeral gleaming under the hallway lights.

it's unlocked, he knows, he knows he's welcome to come in, and still he knocks, a gentle tap of his knuckles just beneath the number screwed into the wood, crossing the threshold without permission almost like crossing an unspoken line in the sand, separating workplace crush from something else entirely.

"coming!"

his heart skips a beat hearing your voice, like he hadn't worked by your side for nearly three years. after only a second, the door swings open. you're barefoot, clad in a low-cut shirt, a sliver of deep red lace peeking out from the neckline — your signature event outfit, the implication of what more was beneath raking you in tips. another reason for eijiro to hate events, the way your cleavage sat threatening to ruin his respectful guy reputation with you, threatening to ruin the friendship he'd built with you.

"kiwi! i only need 5 more minutes," leaving the door open, you rush back inside, frantically rushing around the apartment, tossing random objects beside your tote bag; a lipgloss, a perfume, sanitiser, water bottle, and a pair of shoes flying out of your bedroom door.

stepping through the doorway of your home, he glances towards your open bedroom door, spotting a mess of pillows, sheets, blankets and clothes strewn atop of the unmade bed, a sleep shirt and lacy pair of panties at the foot of your bed. carmine eyes linger on your underwear a little too long, too long for him to pretend his blood wasn't rushing in his ears.

"time for a quick drink?" your voice makes him jump, deep garnet eyes jolting back toward you in the kitchen, his blood rushing further south when you bend down, his gaze trained directly down the front of your shirt when you reach for two tall, thin shot glasses.

you're already pulling out the liquor, an eyebrow quirked and eyes glimmering when his eyes meet yours once more, his gentleman reputation already beginning to crumble after only minutes.

why did he agree to this. to being alone in your apartment with you. he's so used to being shoulder to shoulder behind the bar, too busy to do anymore than flirt with a wink across the restaurant, so close, but the possibilities so far away. now, here, with you, his knees weakening almost as much as his resolve with every second ticking by, and he was still across the room from you, only feet from your bedroom. from the discarded lace.

"might make the shift bearable." you giggle, unscrewing the cap to the amaretto when eijiro responds with a nod, certain his voice wouldn't be anything above a hungry growl, giving away all he tried to hide. pouring the amaretto and irish cream into the tall glasses, turning around to fish your whipped cream from your fridge as eijiro settles onto a stool across the counter from you, again taking his chance to admire you, your thighs and ass too tempting under the low light.

clearing his throat, he adjusts himself on the stool, gently tugging on his collar when you squirt the finishing touch on top of the glasses, swiping through the sweet cream with your ring finger, sucking it clean between your perfect lips. you have to be doing this on purpose, his cock pulsing against his briefs when your tongue pokes out to catch a stray remnant at the corner of your mouth.

while his eyes are busy taking in the shape of your lips, the curve of your throat as his deep red gaze strays further south, until he's nearly staring directly down your shirt. while eijiro's busy drinking in the sight of your cleavage, he doesn't expect to see is you, leaning over the bench to slide him the shot, staying with your chest parallel to the granite as he grips the glass in a large hand.

watching you with wide eyes, eijiro tracks your every move; your fingertips tapping against the counter, the way your tongue flicks out from your lips to lick the whipped cream from the top of the shot glass, tracing along the rim with the tip of your tongue, sucking it from the top of the drink before bobbing your head back down again, this time taking the shot glass between your lips, pursing your lips around it before you stand back up, tilting your head back, swallowing down the liquor with your hands still planted firmly on the counter, eijiro's eyes nearly turning black watching you.

a sliver of cherry iris remains unswallowed by his pupils, eyes glistening as his blood pumps, all logical thought fading from his mind, replaced by the image of you ahead of him, swallowing down the shot, the sliver of your bra poking out, the panties he can still see out of the corner of his eye, the glint in your eye.

"how pissed do you think bakugou would be if we called in sick right now?"

#mercurys birthday bash #「mercury answers」#「crownedcitrus」#kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #eijiro kirishima smut #eijirou kirishima smut #kirishima eijiro smut #kirishima eijirou smut #「mercury writes」#「eji <3」

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estellan0vella · 1 month ago

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A Little More Yours: L.F Lee Felix x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 11.1K

CW: Menace Minho, Simp Felix, Mentions of blood & a head injury, reader is a menace to chan General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist Part II

The library is quieter than usual for a Thursday afternoon, the thick layer of snow outside insulating the world with an almost eerie stillness. You sit hunched over one of the large wooden tables, textbooks, notebooks, and loose sheets of paper sprawled in front of you like a chaotic map of your current assignment. Your hair's piled up into a messy bun, pens precariously tucked into it to keep it in place because heaven knows you don't have time to find an actual hair tie.

The buzzing of your phone vibrates against the wood of the table, loud enough that a couple of nearby students glance over in mild annoyance. You glance at the screen and sigh when you see Chan flashing across it. Of course. You already know what this is about.

Swiping the screen, you hold the phone up to your ear, bracing for the chaos on the other end.

"Y/N!" Chan's voice is frantic, slightly breathless. "We need you."

You sit back in your chair, rubbing your temple. "What now? You sound like someone died."

"Jisung's dumb ass fell out of bed and cracked his head open on the corner of the bedside table."

A laugh escapes you before you can stop it. "He what?!"

Chan groans. "Yeah, I know. It's stupid. But he's bleeding everywhere, and I don't know how bad it is. Can you-"

"I'm on my way," you cut him off, already gathering your things. "Gimme ten minutes. I'm at the library."

"Good. Just hurry the fuck up." Chan's voice softens slightly before he hangs up. "Thanks, Y/N."

You sigh, pulling your scarf tighter around your neck and grabbing the pile of textbooks and notebooks. You didn't bring a backpack today, another brilliant decision on your part, so now you're balancing everything in your arms like the leaning tower of Pisa. You slip your earmuffs over your head, muttering under your breath, and push through the double doors of the library.

The blast of cold air hits you like a wall as soon as you step outside. Snowflakes swirl around you in the dim afternoon light, sticking to the exposed skin of your stomach and thighs. Because, of course, you decided today of all days was the perfect time to wear a crop top. A crop top with underboob no less. At least you had the decency to wear thigh-high boots and a scarf, but the outfit is not snowstorm-friendly.

The Alpha Phi frat house isn't too far from the library, but it feels like a goddamn trek in this weather. By the time you get there, your fingers are stiff from the cold, and the snow has started to soak through your skirt.

The front door swings open before you can even knock, and Chan stands there, eyes immediately narrowing as he takes in your appearance.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he growls, yanking the stack of books out of your arms. "Why the fuck don't you have a coat? And why the fuck are you wearing a crop top that shows underboob in the middle of a goddamn snowstorm? Do you want to freeze your tits off, Y/N?"

You roll your eyes and adjust your scarf. "I didn't have a coat that went with my outfit, and this top is cute, okay?"

"You're stupid."

"Love you too," you shoot back, brushing past him into the warmth of the frat house. "Where's Jisung?"

Chan motions toward the living room, following close behind. "He's in there. Holding a blood-soaked towel to his head like an idiot."

You take a moment to kick off the snow from your boots before walking into the living room. Sure enough, Jisung is sprawled out on the couch, a towel pressed against the back of his head, his face scrunched up in discomfort.

"If I get blood on my clothes..." you warn, pulling your scarf and earmuffs off.

"I'll buy you new ones," Chan interrupts, already heading upstairs to grab the first aid kit you've stashed in his room for situations exactly like this.

"Appreciate it," you mutter, dropping to your knees next to Jisung. "Alright, Ji, let's see what we're dealing with."

Jisung whines dramatically as you carefully pull the towel away from his head, his eyes fluttering shut. "Fuck, this hurts. Why did I fall out of bed today?"

"Because you're a dumbass," you tease lightly, but there's genuine concern in your tone as you check the cut on the back of his head. You slip two fingers onto his wrist to check his pulse.

"How're you feeling?" you ask, watching him closely.

"Like I hit my fucking head on the corner of a table," he grumbles. His pulse is steady, which is a good sign.

"Any dizziness? Nausea?"

He scrunches up his face. "A little dizzy, but I think it's mostly because I'm terrified of bleeding out on the couch."

Before you can respond, Chan rushes back into the room with the first aid kit. He sets it down beside you and crosses his arms, watching intently.

You slip on a pair of gloves and examine the cut on Jisung's head. It's not too deep, but the blood has definitely freaked him out. "The cut's less than the width of my thumb," you tell Chan without looking up. "It's not as bad as it looks."

Chan, ever the worried mom of the group, frowns. "But there's so much blood."

You glance up at him, offering a small smile. "Head injuries bleed a lot. Trust me, this isn't anything serious." You hold a thick piece of gauze against Jisung's head to stem the bleeding, making sure to apply just the right amount of pressure.

Jisung groans, squirming under your hand. "How am I supposed to wash my hair with a fucking head wound?"

"You're not," you say simply. "Avoid washing it for a few days. No shampoo near the cut. It'll hurt like hell. Wear a beanie or something."

Jisung gives a long, dramatic sigh, but he nods in agreement. "I guess I can pull off the beanie look."

From the kitchen, you hear hushed whispers. The rest of the Alpha Phi boys, Hyunjin, Minho, Jeongin, Changbin and Felix, are gathered there, hovering over the island, whispering amongst themselves.

"Just fucking talk to her," you hear Hyunjin whisper, though his attempt at being quiet isn't very successful.

"Yeah, bro," Changbin chimes in. "Ask her how her coursework is going or something. She's always talking about school, right?"

There's a low mumble, presumably from Felix, and then Minho's sharp voice cuts through the whispers.

"Will you stop being a freckly little bitch, Felix?! So what, she has boobs? Doesn't make her a fucking alien."

You stifle a laugh, pretending you haven't heard a word. It's no secret that Felix has had a crush on you for as long as you've known him. Every time you come over to patch someone up, he gets all quiet and blushy, his freckles standing out even more against his skin.

"Okay, Ji," you say, shifting your focus back to the task at hand. "Let's make sure you're not concussed."

You pull out your phone and shine a flashlight into his eyes, checking his pupillary response. "Any double vision? Feeling disoriented?"

He shakes his head, then winces. "Nah, nothing like that."

You ask him a series of questions, running through the standard concussion protocol. Jisung answers each one with his usual brand of sarcasm, but he's sharp, and you're pretty sure he's in the clear.

"Alright, you're good," you say, packing up the first aid kit. "No concussion, but take it easy for the next day or two. If you feel any weird symptoms, you better call me."

He nods, slouching back on the couch. "Thanks. You're a fucking lifesaver."

You stand up, stretching your legs, and glance over toward the kitchen where Felix is still standing awkwardly, clearly trying to work up the courage to say something. You offer him a smile, but he quickly averts his gaze, pretending to be deeply interested in the conversation between Hyunjin and Minho.

Before you can call him out on it, Jisung pipes up again. "Y/N, seriously though, how the fuck am I gonna survive not washing my hair? I can't go three days without washing it. My scalp will hate me."

You laugh, shaking your head. "You'll survive. Just invest in some dry shampoo, and you'll be fine. Plus, you'll be wearing beanies, remember? No one will even notice."

Jisung grumbles something under his breath, clearly not satisfied with your answer, but you don't miss the small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

You let out a deep sigh, standing up from your spot beside Jisung and stretching your stiff limbs. The boys continue their quiet conversation in the kitchen, and you catch bits of it while you clean up the leftover gauze and medical supplies. You're packing up the first aid kit when Chan strides back into the living room, a serious look plastered on his face.

"Hey, you checked the weather yet?" he asks, pulling out his phone and waving it in the air as if the mere sight of it will clue you into what's happening.

"Nope, too busy saving Jisung's life," you reply with a smirk, casting a glance at your friend who's dramatically flopped across the couch, still nursing the back of his head.

Chan rolls his eyes, not in the mood for jokes. "Well, you might wanna brace yourself 'cause they just issued a weather alert for an incoming blizzard."

You pause for a moment, your brain catching up with the weight of his words. "A blizzard? Like snow, snow?"

"Yeah, no shit, snow," Chan huffs. "They're saying it's going to hit hard, and we'll be snowed in for at least four days."

You blink at him, processing his words before the reality of it sinks in. "You're telling me I'm snowed in here? For four days?"

"Looks like it," he says with a shrug. "And it's already picking up, so I'd say it's a safe bet you're not going anywhere anytime soon."

You groan loudly, throwing your hands up in the air. "What the fuck am I going to do about clothes? I didn't exactly pack for a four-day fucking stay!"

Chan raises an eyebrow, a teasing grin spreading across his face. "You're seriously asking me that? You literally have two drawers full of your fucking clothes in my room that didn't fit into your dorm when you moved in."

Your arms drop to your sides as the realization hits you. "Oh... yeah. I do, don't I?"

Chan nods, crossing his arms in satisfaction. "Not to mention the fact that you also have a whole-ass bag of makeup here for whenever you crash after parties."

You roll your eyes. "Okay, but you don't have a decent mirror! Your mirror's disgusting. It's covered in some kind of bodily fluid that I do not want to identify."

"Hey, fuck off!" Chan protests, a hand flying to his chest in mock offence. "That mirror's seen some shit."

"Exactly!" you exclaim, your nose wrinkling in disgust.

From the kitchen, you hear snickers as Changbin and Jeongin exchange a glance. They nudge Felix, who's still standing awkwardly at the edge of the group, shifting his weight from one foot to the other like he's debating whether or not to join in the conversation. You catch the way they nudge him, and the murmur of voices from the kitchen reaches your ears.

"Tell her she can use your mirror," Jeongin whispers, elbowing Felix in the ribs.

Minho, leaning casually against the fridge, rolls his eyes at the whole situation. "Jesus Christ, just get a fucking grip and talk to her," he mutters before shoving Felix roughly toward the living room.

Felix stumbles forward, his face a bit flushed from the push, but he catches himself and straightens up. "Uh, Y/N," he says, trying to play it cool, "you can use my mirror. It's definitely clean."

There's a pause as you turn to face Felix, surprised but pleasantly amused by his offer. "Well, at least one of you has decent hygiene," you say, giving him a playful grin.

Felix's face lights up with a wide smile, his freckles standing out against his skin as he glances back toward the kitchen. The guys are all watching him with varying degrees of anticipation. Hyunjin is giving him two enthusiastic thumbs up, while Changbin is nodding like a proud parent.

But it's Minho, of course, who takes things too far. He catches Felix's eye, forms a V with his fingers in front of his face, and flicks his tongue between them, grinning like a devil.

Felix's eyes widen, and without missing a beat, he slams the door between the living room and the kitchen before you can turn around and see what's going on.

You laugh, completely oblivious to Minho's antics, and Felix lets out a relieved breath, his ears turning a little pink. "You okay, Lix? You look like you're gonna pass out," you tease.

"I'm good," he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. "Just, you know, cold."

"Sure," you chuckle, glancing toward the door he just slammed shut. "Anyway, thanks for the mirror offer. I might take you up on that."

Felix gives a small nod, his nerves quickly melting away now that he's actually talking to you. "Yeah, anytime. Would you like a blanket? You look cold"

You smile. "Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks."

Felix nods and quickly disappears toward the hallway, while you head into the kitchen to make yourself some tea. As you fill the kettle, you hear the low murmur of voices behind you. Minho is standing by the counter, smirking in your direction.

"Y/N, my darling," Minho starts, his tone dripping with mischief, "I told Felix that he needs to take you to his room and just go primal, you know? Eat you like a man starved. Just—"

Minho makes a wildly inappropriate gesture with his hands, mimicking a ravenous eating motion that has you snorting in spite of yourself. You shake your head, turning to face him fully.

"You're fucking ridiculous, Minho."

"You're welcome," he says, flashing you a toothy grin.

"You certainly have a way with words," you deadpan, turning back to pour hot water into your mug.

Minho's grin widens. "Thank you very much. I do try."

Before you can respond, Felix returns with a blanket, stepping into the kitchen just as Minho's eyes flick back to you. "You know, this horribly traumatizing weather is being made much better by the underboob from that crop top, Y/N," Minho announces with a wink.

Felix smacks him upside the head. "Dude, seriously?"

Minho yelps, rubbing the back of his head but looking entirely unrepentant. "I'm serious! Look!" He gestures toward you dramatically. "So much underboob!"

You roll your eyes, but you can't help laughing. "Minho, you should have been a poet."

He smirks. "I can't do that to the world. I'm already too talented."

Felix hands you the blanket, his cheeks tinged pink as he avoids Minho's gaze. "Here. Sorry about Minho."

You take the blanket gratefully, wrapping it around your shoulders. "Don't worry about it, Lix. I'm used to it by now."

You sip your tea, savouring the warmth as it spreads through your chest, but the moment of peace is short-lived. Chan bursts into the kitchen, tossing a hoodie at your head with no warning.

"Cover up before Minho busts in his pants," he says, deadpan.

The hoodie smacks you right in the face, causing you to drop your mug, which shatters against the kitchen floor. You stare at the broken pieces in disbelief before you huff, crouching down to pick up the shards of ceramic. "That's not very feminist of you, Chan. I'm at fault for Minho being a pervert?"

Jeongin, who had been standing quietly by the door, perks up. "Wow, Chan. Is that how it is in this frat house now?"

Chan throws his hands up in exasperation. "Well, excuse me for trying to help."

Minho, meanwhile, is watching the whole exchange with a lazy grin. "Honestly, I'd hit on Y/N even if she was wearing a fucking habit."

You roll your eyes, muttering under your breath as you gather the broken pieces of your mug. "Of course you would."

Chan watches you for a moment, his brow furrowing in concern. "Are you seriously picking up shards of a mug with your bare hands? You're a paramedic student, for fuck's sake. You should know better."

You shoot him an exasperated look. "Do you want me to stop patching you and your pack of stupid hyenas up? Because if I don't pick it up, I know I'll be pulling pieces out of one of their feet. Probably Minho's."

Minho's voice cuts through the chaos of the kitchen, clearly not bothered by the fact that you're on your hands and knees picking up broken shards of ceramic. "You know, I just mopped those fucking floors earlier. And now there's tea all over them. Burn the witch, I say!" He points dramatically at you like you've just committed a grave sin.

You pause for a second, shaking your head at his ridiculousness. "Fuck off, Minho," you mutter, standing up with a handful of shards and tossing them into the trash.

Chan steps forward, holding out a mop in your direction with a smirk plastered on his face. "Here. You broke the mug, might as well clean it up."

You look at the mop, then back at Chan, crossing your arms defiantly. "I think the fuck not. You're not about to reinforce some gender stereotype where women clean up messes that are men's fault. You threw the hoodie. You started the chain of causation. Therefore, it's your mess."

Chan blinks, his mouth opening as if he's about to argue, but then he shuts it again, looking between you and the mop. "You're really pulling that card?"

"Damn right, I am," you shoot back, raising an eyebrow. "Now get to mopping before I call your mother."

Chan freezes, eyes wide as if you just threatened to expose his deepest, darkest secret. He glances toward Minho and Felix for backup, but both of them shrug. Minho's shit-eating grin returns as he leans against the counter.

"Best get to mopping, mate," Minho says with a smug chuckle. "You really wanna go up against her when she's got Jess on speed dial?"

Chan's shoulders sag in defeat. "You wouldn't."

You pull out your phone, scrolling to the contact labelled Jess, and hold it up for him to see. "Oh, but I would. And I'm supposed to call her at some point this week anyway. She wants to catch up. So, I could just tell her right now how her sweet baby boy is being a little bitch and trying to make me clean up his mess."

"You're fucking evil," Chan mutters under his breath, but you can tell he's losing this fight by the way his hand tightens around the mop handle.

"No," you say, a grin tugging at your lips, "you're just mad because you know she'll give you a beatdown."

Chan narrows his eyes at you, clearly debating whether to call your bluff. "Go ahead. Call her. Because I am not fucking mopping this floor."

You shrug, dialling Jess's number and hopping up onto the counter, swinging your legs playfully. "Okay, sure. I'll call her. Watch me."

As the phone rings, Chan's eyes widen, and he curses under his breath, but he doesn't move to take the mop just yet. The others in the kitchen are watching the standoff like it's some kind of high-stakes poker game. Felix looks a bit nervous, while Minho's grin is spreading wider, enjoying every second of the showdown.

Finally, the call connects, and you hear Jess's familiar, warm voice on the other end. "Y/N! Sweetheart! Oh, it's so good to hear from you! I've been meaning to call you this week. How are you, love?"

You grin, throwing a playful glance at Chan, who has frozen in place, still holding the mop but clearly debating his next move. Minho's shit-eating grin grows wider, watching the scene unfold like his favourite TV show. "Hi, Jess! I missed you too. Yeah, I'm doing great! Just calling to catch up and, well, talk about Chan."

At the mention of his name, Chan's eyes widen. He takes one look at the mop, then at you, and curses under his breath. He drops the mop to the floor with a loud slap and starts mopping furiously. The sound of the mop swishing back and forth fills the room, along with the snickers of the rest of the boys who are watching Chan's dignity slowly wither away.

"Fuck you," Chan mutters, glaring up at you.

You stick your tongue out at him in response, still smiling sweetly as you talk into the phone. "Yeah, Jess, I've been a little worried about him lately"

Chan freezes again, his back stiffening as he pauses mid-mop. "Y/N," he warns, his voice dangerously low.

"Yeah, so," you continue, ignoring Chan's murderous glare, "he's been saying he misses home a lot recently. You know, really homesick. But that's not the only thing. There's also been... uhm... well, some bed-wetting incidents."

Chan's eyes go so wide you're worried they might actually fall out of the sockets. He drops the mop, standing upright in shock. "What the actual fuck are you saying right now?!"

You shoot him a smug look, holding up a finger to silence him. "Yeah, Jess, it's true. I've been worried because it's been happening more frequently, and, well, I think it might be a medical issue. I mean, the bed is soaked. Every time. Like, drenched. It's honestly concerning."

From behind you, Felix chokes on his tea, coughing loudly as he desperately tries to contain his laughter. Jeongin, who's been leaning casually against the counter, has his hands over his mouth, shaking with silent laughter. Hyunjin has literally fallen to the floor, clutching his stomach as he wheezes.

Chan is staring at you, absolutely flabbergasted. "You're fucking lying. Oh my god, what the fuck?!"

You smirk, enjoying every second of this. "Jess, I'm really worried it might be his bladder, you know? I mean, there's so much, and it just keeps happening. Minho and I had to take him shopping for adult diapers the other day, didn't we, Minho?"

Minho, ever the drama king, doesn't miss a beat. He throws his hands up in exaggerated agreement. "Oh yeah, we sure did. Got him a whole box of those super absorbent ones! And don't even get me started on the baby powder. Had to buy a shit-ton of it to prevent any chafing. You know how it is."

"You both are dead!" Chan hisses, his face a bright shade of crimson. He's practically foaming at the mouth now, but he keeps mopping, knowing that if he stops, you'll only keep this going.

There's a brief silence on the other end of the line as Jess processes everything you've just said. You can practically hear the cogs turning in her head. "Oh... oh dear," she finally says, her voice tinged with concern. "That does sound serious. I'll have to talk to him about it. Poor Channie. He must be so embarrassed."

"Y/N!" Chan hisses, storming over to you, looking like he's two seconds away from strangling you.

You hold up the phone, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "Don't tell Chan I told you, okay? He's really sensitive about it. I just thought, you know, as his mom, you should know what's going on."

Jess sighs on the other end. "Of course, sweetheart. I won't say a word. Thank you for looking out for him, Y/N. You're such a good friend."

"Anytime, Jess," you say sweetly, shooting Chan a wink. "I'll talk to you soon!"

You hang up the call before Chan can grab the phone out of your hand. As soon as you do, the kitchen erupts into chaos. Felix is on the floor now, joining Hyunjin in hysterics. Jeongin is gasping for air, clutching his sides, while Changbin is bent over the counter, wheezing with laughter. Even Seungmin, who's usually the calm and collected one, has a hand over his mouth, shaking his head in disbelief.

Chan, however, is not laughing. He glares at you, his jaw clenched so tight you're surprised his teeth haven't shattered. "You... fucking... bitch."

You hop down from the counter, a wide grin plastered on your face. "Look, Captain Pissy Pants," you start, placing a hand on your hip, "if you had just mopped the floor like I asked without trying to pull some macho bullshit, your mom wouldn't think you piss the bed and wear adult diapers. But noooo, you had to go and be difficult."

Chan lets out a frustrated growl, tossing the mop aside. "You're dead. You're fucking dead. Do you realize what you've done? My mom is going to be on my ass about this for weeks!"

You shrug nonchalantly, enjoying the sight of him unravelling. "Well, maybe next time you'll think twice before throwing a hoodie at my head and breaking my mug."

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. "You didn't have to fucking call her, though! Jesus Christ, what am I supposed to tell her now?"

Minho chimes in with a smirk. "Tell her the truth. You piss the bed. Simple as that."

Chan shoots him a glare so deadly it could probably kill a lesser man. "Shut the fuck up, Minho."

Minho holds his hands up in surrender, but the grin never leaves his face. "Just saying, man. The evidence is stacking up against you."

The moment Chan starts launching into an all out rant, you just stand there, entirely unbothered, sipping the fresh cup of tea that Felix had quietly handed you. His hands were shaking a little when he gave it to you, but you'd offered him a warm smile as thanks, and now he's leaning against the counter, sneaking glances at you every few seconds. You know he's waiting for you to react to Chan, but you're in no rush.

Chan, on the other hand, is still losing his mind. He's pacing back and forth, hair dishevelled, gesturing wildly as he rants about what an asshole you are for calling his mom and how she's going to nag him for the rest of his life now.

"Do you even understand what you've fucking done? You've literally ruined me! She's gonna fucking talk about diapers at every family dinner now! I'll never hear the end of this shit!"

You take a long, slow sip of your tea, savouring the warmth that spreads through your chest while Chan continues his tirade.

"You think this is funny, don't you?!" he snaps, pointing an accusatory finger at you. "You're just sitting there with your smug little grin like you didn't just call my mom and tell her I piss the bed! Do you have any fucking idea what kind of trauma you've unleashed on me?"

"Chan," you say, setting your tea down and giving him a pointed look, "I didn't say you piss the bed. I said you had an issue. That's not the same thing."

"Bullshit!" he yells, throwing his hands up. "My mom's gonna think I'm wearing fucking diapers at night now! She'll probably mail me some with cute little ducks on them or some shit. Jesus fucking Christ!"

You raise an eyebrow, remaining entirely composed. "Honestly, if you keep yelling, your bladder control might become a real issue."

"I'm not fucking kidding," he growls, taking a step closer, but before he can continue, you suddenly burst into tears.

It's so sudden, so out of nowhere, that it stops Chan dead in his tracks. His eyes widen, and the room falls into an awkward silence. All the other boys, who had been silently watching the whole thing, freeze too. You're putting on a dramatic show.

Your hands cover your face as you sob, and your shoulders shake with fake cries. Inside, you're fighting hard not to laugh at how quickly everyone's demeanour has changed.

Chan immediately panics. "Oh fuck, shit, no, don't cry!" He drops the mop and rushes toward you, pulling you into a tight hug. His large hands pat your back awkwardly as he rocks you side to side, clearly unsure of what to do. "Fuck, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to make you upset, please stop crying."

Hyunjin jumps in with his usual dramatic flair, pointing at Chan like he's just committed murder. "Are you proud of yourself, Chan? You made her cry! You fucking monster!"

"I didn't—" Chan stammers, looking around helplessly. "I wasn't trying to- Please stop crying. Fuck, I'm sorry, I'll do anything you want, just stop crying. Please?"

You sniffle dramatically, still fake-sobbing into his chest, and Chan's grip tightens around you. "Please, Y/N, I didn't mean it. I'll do anything."

You pull back slightly, wiping at your face with the back of your hand as if drying tears. "Anything?"

"Yes! Anything!" Chan promises, his face full of concern.

You straighten up, wiping away the nonexistent tears and looking him dead in the eyes. "Mop the fucking floor properly, then. You did a terrible job. Jesus, Chan, did Jessica leave you to be raised by wolves? There's still tea all over the floor! I understand this is a frat house, but have some fucking standards. Are you blind or just incompetent?"

Chan's jaw drops. His brain is clearly trying to catch up to what just happened. "I—What? What the fuck is going on?"

"I'll tell you what the fuck is going on. You need to learn how to mop a fucking floor. Jesus Christ, Chan. Is basic cleanliness too much for you? Just because this is a frat house doesn't mean you should live in a pigsty."

For a moment, Chan just stands there, blinking at you in disbelief, the gears in his brain visibly turning as he tries to process the fact that you were faking your crying the whole time. "You fucking asshole," he finally mutters, his voice low with frustration. "I fucking hate you."

You grin, crossing your arms. "I will tell your mother about the crusty wank socks under your bed, so watch how you speak to me."

Chan's face turns an even deeper shade of red. "I'm going to—"

You raise an eyebrow, cutting him off. "What? What are you gonna do? Can't call my parents. Safe haven baby right here, remember? Who you gonna call?"

From the couch in the living room, Jisung, who's been watching the entire interaction with wide eyes, suddenly shouts, "Ghostbusters!"

You whip around to glare at him, your hands on your hips. "Jisung, you bitch, I don't even know if my parents are dead! What a rude assumption to make!"

Jisung, never one to back down, sits up with a shrug. "But the Ghostbusters could, like, look for the ghosts of your parents, you know? They could track them down or something."

Minho, leaning casually against the counter, smirks and shakes his head. "How are they gonna do that, dumbass? Y/N doesn't even know who her parents are. It's not like she has a fucking address to give them."

Jisung pauses, clearly considering this, then shrugs again. "I mean, they're Ghostbusters. They could just, like, look. Isn't that their whole thing? Finding ghosts?"

Hyunjin, who's been watching all this from the sidelines, finally speaks up. "I think the real problem here is that Chan can't mop a fucking floor. I mean, how are you a frat leader and can't even clean up after yourself? I'm starting to question your leadership skills, Captain."

"I'm a fucking football captain, not a janitor!" Chan barks back, still flustered from the earlier events.

"Clearly," you mutter, your gaze still locked on the mess on the floor.

The wind howls outside, rattling the windows of the Alpha Phi frat house as the blizzard continues to gain strength. Snow swirls in furious gusts, piling up against the windowsills and creating an almost surreal, wintry landscape.

You stare out the window, eyes narrowed as the snow piles up higher and higher, the reality of the situation sinking in. You're trapped. With them. For four whole days.

"Fuck me," you mutter under your breath, crossing your arms as you turn away from the window. "I can't believe I'm stuck with you lot for four days. This is some next-level fucking bullshit."

"Y/N, your eyeliner is fucking smudged," Hyunjin points out, breaking you out of your thoughts. His lips curl into a mischievous grin, clearly amused by your earlier fake crying stunt. "All that fake crying messed you up. Looks like you had a meltdown."

You groan, immediately raising a hand to your eye to swipe at the smudged makeup. "Great. Just what I need. Fucking eyeliner all over my face now."

Hyunjin chuckles, leaning back against the counter, watching you struggle to fix the mess. "Don't worry, you still look hot. Maybe even hotter with the messy eyeliner. Adds to the 'just survived a traumatic event' look."

You shoot him a look, not in the mood to play along with his teasing. "I'm sure that's exactly the aesthetic I was going for. Fucking great."

He laughs again, shrugging like he doesn't have a care in the world. "I'm just saying, it works for you."

Rolling your eyes, you glance over at Felix, who's standing near the doorway with his hands shoved into his pockets, looking like he's been waiting for a moment to jump in. You remember his earlier offer and decide to take him up on it.

"Felix," you call, catching his attention, "can I use your mirror now if that's still alright? I need to fix my eyeliner, and you offered earlier."

Felix's face brightens at the sound of your voice, his freckles standing out against the pink flush spreading across his cheeks. He nods quickly, pushing off the wall. "Y-yeah, of course. Come on, I'll show you to my room."

You grab the blanket still wrapped around your shoulders and toss it onto the nearest chair before following Felix. As you walk past Hyunjin and the rest of the guys in the kitchen, you catch Minho grinning like a devil, but you don't pay it any mind.

What you don't see, though, is Minho's next move. The moment your back is turned, he starts thrusting into the air like an idiot, mimicking some obscene, exaggerated movements that make the guys lose their shit in laughter.

Felix glances over his shoulder and catches Minho in the act. His eyes narrow into a deadly glare, but he says nothing, just quickens his pace, eager to get you upstairs before you can turn around and witness the chaos.

The stairs creak slightly as you both make your way up to the second floor. The walls are lined with old pictures of previous frat members, random sports memorabilia, and a framed, oversized Alpha Phi logo that looks like it's been signed by every member since the dawn of time.

You can hear the muffled sounds of video games from behind one of the doors, and for a moment, it's almost peaceful. Well, as peaceful as a frat house during a blizzard can get.

Felix stops in front of a door near the end of the hall and opens it, stepping aside to let you in first. "Here it is. Sorry if it's a little messy."

You step into Felix's room and immediately notice the massive gaming setup taking up one corner. Three large monitors glow softly, showing various tabs and games left open, along with a scattered array of controllers, cables, and snacks.

It's clear this is where he spends a lot of his time. The room smells faintly of vanilla, mixed with something warm and inviting like cookies just out of the oven. It's very Felix.

As you take in your surroundings, your eyes land on a bookshelf against the far wall. It's packed full of books, some old, some new, all lined up neatly in a way that surprises you given the clutter everywhere else. You can't help but wander over, trailing your fingers along the spines as you read the titles.

Your hand pauses on one in particular. "The Mortal Instruments?" you ask, glancing back at Felix with raised eyebrows. "You're into these?"

Felix's face lights up as he nods, a shy smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah. I've been a fan for a while now. The books are way better than the Netflix series though, right?"

You laugh, nodding in agreement as you turn back to the shelf. "Oh my god, yes! The series was okay if you've never read the books, but it just didn't hit the same. They cut out so much, and the characters were off."

Felix steps closer, his excitement palpable. "That's what I've been telling Hyunjin for ages! But he's all like, 'Nooo, Magnus and Alec are hotter on screen than in the books.'" He mimics Hyunjin's whiny tone perfectly, and you laugh again, shaking your head.

"Don't get me wrong, Magnus and Alec are great on screen," you say, "but the books just hit differently. I'm more of a Jace girl myself."

Felix's eyes widen slightly, his smile growing even bigger. "Jace? Really?"

You shrug, turning to face him fully. "Yeah, I like the complicated, brooding types who secretly have a heart of gold. Plus, he's kind of a dumbass sometimes, and I find that endearing."

Felix chuckles softly, nodding. "Yeah, I can see that."

Your fingers trail along the other books on the shelf, stopping on a small, well-worn copy of Romeo and Juliet. You pull it out, glancing at the cover before looking back at Felix. "Romeo and Juliet? A classic."

Felix rubs the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. "Yeah, I know it's kind of cliche, but I've always liked it. It's tragic, but in a way that makes you think about love and sacrifice."

You smile, flipping through the pages absentmindedly. "I visited Verona with Chan last summer, you know. We went to Juliet's wall."

Felix's eyes light up with curiosity. "Really? How was it?"

You close the book, your fingers lingering on the worn cover. "Honestly, it wasn't as romantic as it sounds when you're there with your best friend who once had to help you when you bled through your trousers at school."

Felix lets out a surprised laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he grins at you. "Wow, okay, yeah, I can see how that would kill the mood."

You smirk, placing the book back on the shelf. "But the wall itself was incredible. People from all over the world write letters to Juliet and leave them there, asking for advice or just pouring their hearts out. There's even a group of people who respond to the letters."

Felix's brows furrow in interest. "Wait, seriously? That's amazing."

"Yeah," you nod, turning to face him again. "If this paramedic stuff doesn't work out, I might just move to Verona and join the group that writes back. Imagine that. People turning to one of the most tragic romantic figures in history for help because her love was that powerful. It's kind of poetic, don't you think?"

Felix stares at you for a moment, his expression softening. There's something about the way you speak, so genuine, so full of passion, that makes his heart do a little flip in his chest. He nods slowly, almost mesmerized by you. "Yeah, it is. Really poetic."

You catch the look in his eyes, and for a brief moment, something flickers between you. The air feels a little heavier, charged with something unspoken but undeniable.

Before the moment can stretch too long, you clear your throat and break eye contact, glancing toward the small mirror on his dresser. "Right, I should probably fix my eyeliner before I look like I just escaped from an emo band's comeback tour."

Felix laughs softly, stepping back to give you space. "Yeah, uh, the mirror's all yours. Sorry, I kind of got distracted."

You rummage through your skirt pocket and pull out black liquid eyeliner, the small pen-like tool ready to fix the mess your face has become. You settle in front of Felix's mirror, leaning closer to get a good angle, balancing your weight on one foot while raising your arm to fix the smudged lines around your eyes. You work carefully, adjusting the angle of the eyeliner tip, your reflection staring back at you with determined focus.

Felix stands just behind you, leaning awkwardly against the wall with his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets. His eyes, though, aren't on your face or the delicate process of you fixing your makeup. They're stuck somewhere lower.

Your skirt has ridden up slightly, just a few inches too high from where it was earlier. The edge of your green and black tartan mini skirt has crept up your thighs, high enough that the lacy trim of your underwear is just barely visible. You're completely oblivious to it, of course, too focused on getting your eyeliner back in check, but Felix? He's frozen in place, trying not to stare, failing miserably.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath, barely audible. His face heats up, turning a shade of red that could rival a tomato, but he can't tear his eyes away.

The thing is, you've always had this effect on him. Ever since you started coming over to the Alpha Phi frat house to patch up the guys after their dumbass stunts, Felix found himself hopelessly drawn to you. It wasn't just the way you looked. Though he'd be lying if he said he hadn't noticed.

It was the way you carried yourself, always upbeat, always kind. You weren't afraid to call them out on their bullshit, especially Chan, and that made Felix respect you even more. But this is something different entirely. He knows he shouldn't be looking. He knows it's wrong. But he's stuck.

You continue humming to yourself, the soft tune filling the silence in the room as you carefully reapply your eyeliner. The sound is gentle, almost soothing, and Felix tries to focus on it instead of the distracting sight of your skirt. You don't seem to notice how intensely he's watching you, too caught up in your task, your soft voice barely above a whisper.

"Stars shining bright above you," you murmur, the words of the song slipping from your lips effortlessly. "Night breezes seem to whisper 'I love you.'"

Felix blinks, finally snapping out of his trance, his curiosity piqued by the song. He tilts his head slightly, listening more closely. "What's that song?" he asks, his voice cutting through your humming.

You gasp, turning around so quickly that the eyeliner pen almost flies out of your hand. "You've never heard Dream a Little Dream of Me?" you exclaim, eyes wide in disbelief.

Felix shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish. "I mean, I've probably heard it somewhere before, but I don't really recognize it. What's it from?"

You shake your head, a playful grin spreading across your face. "Felix, you sweet summer child," you say, placing the eyeliner down for a second to give him your full attention. "It's a classic. The kind of song you hear in old movies or when you're sitting in a cosy café with soft jazz playing in the background. It's dreamy, romantic, you know, that old-timey love song vibe."

Felix chuckles nervously, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Well, I guess I've been missing out."

You lean back against the dresser, crossing your arms and tilting your head at him. "Missing out? You're a Culinary Arts major. You probably hear shit like this all the time in those fancy restaurants. You just don't know it because you're too focused on making the best dessert ever."

Felix laughs softly, his gaze flickering to the floor for a moment. "You might be right. I guess I should pay more attention."

"Damn right, you should," you tease, turning back to the mirror to finish up your eyeliner. You draw the final line, flicking the wing perfectly at the corner of your eye. "There. All fixed."

Felix's eyes dart to your reflection in the mirror, and for a brief second, he can't help but notice just how stunning you look—even with your messy hair held together by three pens. The underboob peeking out from your cropped black turtleneck and your thigh-high boots only add to the image that's been stuck in his head all night. He quickly averts his gaze again, trying to keep his cool.

"So, Dream a Little Dream of Me, huh?" he says, trying to steer the conversation away from his racing thoughts. "Is that one of your favourite songs?"

You nod, a smile playing on your lips as you cap the eyeliner and slip it back into your skirt pocket. "Yeah, it's up there. It's one of those songs that just makes you feel safe, you know? Like everything's gonna be alright, even when the world's falling apart."

"Yeah," he murmurs, nodding slowly. "I get that."

You glance at him through the mirror, catching the way his gaze softens as he looks at you. There's a moment of silence that stretches between you, comfortable but charged with something unspoken.

You break the silence first, turning to face him with a grin. "You know, Felix, I could teach you some classic songs. Expand your musical horizons a bit."

Felix chuckles, his face lighting up. "I'd like that. But only if you promise to teach me while I'm baking something. We can make it a whole 'baking with a soundtrack' kind of thing."

You laugh, the sound bright and genuine. "Deal. I'll make sure we're listening to the best oldies while you whip up something delicious."

There's a pause, and Felix's eyes meet yours again, this time with a bit more confidence. "You're really good at this, you know?"

"At what? Fixing my eyeliner?" you joke, raising an eyebrow.

Felix shakes his head, smiling. "No, I mean at being so you."

You blink, a little taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. "So me?"

"Yeah," he says, rubbing the back of his neck again, that nervous energy creeping back into his movements. "I mean, you're always so... you. Confident, funny, smart... I don't know how you do it."

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at his words, and for a moment, you're not sure how to respond. Felix, the quiet, sweet, freckle-faced guy who's always been a little too shy around you, is suddenly opening up in a way you didn't expect.

"Well, thanks, Lix," you say softly, offering him a warm smile. "But you're not so bad yourself. You've got this... quiet charm about you, you know? You don't need to be loud or obnoxious to get people's attention."

Felix's cheeks flush again, and he looks down at the floor, smiling to himself. "I guess."

You shake your head, stepping closer to him and nudging him lightly with your elbow. "Seriously. You've got a lot going for you. And don't let these idiots downstairs tell you otherwise."

Felix looks up at you, his eyes bright and filled with something you can't quite place. There's a beat of silence, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world has faded away, leaving just the two of you in this small room, the snowstorm outside a distant memory.

But then, as if on cue, the door to Felix's room bursts open, and in storms Chan, looking more frazzled than usual. "Y/N, we need you. Again."

You groan, throwing your head back in exasperation. "What now? Did Minho finally break something?"

Chan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leans against the doorframe. "Well, Minho kind of broke something," he says, dragging out the last two words.

You raise an eyebrow. "Kind of?"

"Yeah," Chan grumbles. "He poked at Jisung's head so now it's bleeding. Again."

You let out a long, frustrated sigh. "Are you fucking serious? Is Jisung just cursed to have a cracked skull for the rest of his life?"

Felix chuckles nervously from his spot near the bed, and Chan looks even more exasperated as he pushes off the doorframe. "Come on. I don't know how bad it is this time, but he's freaking out again, and Minho's not exactly helping."

"I swear to god, if he's haemorrhaging I will kill myself," you mutter as you make your way to the door.

The moment you're out of the room, Felix lets out a long breath he didn't even realize he was holding. He runs a hand through his hair, clearly trying to shake off whatever tension had built up in the room while you were there.

But Chan, perceptive as ever, catches on almost immediately. As soon as you're out of earshot, he turns back to Felix with a knowing smirk. "Why are you standing so stiffly, bro? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Felix's eyes widen, and he shifts awkwardly, clearly trying to play it cool. "W-What do you mean? I'm fine."

"Bullshit," Chan says, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at his friend. "You've been acting weird ever since Y/N got here. I know you have a massive crush on her. You've had one for ages, man."

Felix's face turns bright red, and he stumbles over his words, trying to deny it. "I—no—I mean—okay, maybe, but—"

Before he can finish, the words just tumble out of his mouth in a rush. "I saw her underwear."

There's a brief pause as Chan processes what Felix just said. Then, as if on cue, a shit-eating grin spreads across Chan's face. "Wait, hold the fuck up. You saw her underwear and now you're blushing like a fucking schoolgirl?"

Felix groans, burying his face in his hands. "It's not like I did it on purpose! Her skirt just... I don't know, it rode up a little, and I wasn't trying to look, but I just—"

"Dude, you've hooked up with girls before," Chan interrupts, still grinning like a madman. "And I've heard what your exes have to say about you. They always go on and on about how you're, like, this dominant, take-charge guy in the bedroom. So what the fuck is different with Y/N?"

Felix sighs, clearly flustered by the conversation. "I don't fucking know, okay? It's just... different with her. I can't explain it."

Chan shakes his head, still chuckling under his breath. "Bro, you need to channel some of that dominant energy into approaching her, for fuck's sake. Stop overthinking every word and just act. You're always second-guessing yourself around her, and it's painful to watch."

Felix rubs the back of his neck, looking down at the floor. "Yeah, I know..."

"Look, she's not gonna bite your head off, okay?" Chan says, clapping a hand on Felix's shoulder. "You just need to be yourself. She already likes you, man. She keeps coming around, doesn't she? Just stop being such a pussy and talk to her like you would anyone else."

Felix frowns, clearly unsure. "I don't want to fuck things up."

Chan rolls his eyes. "You're not gonna fuck things up. Just relax, be yourself, and stop being a fucking weirdo about it."

Felix nods, though he still looks a bit uncertain. "Yeah, okay. Maybe I'll try."

"Good," Chan says, giving him a small shove toward the door. "Though now's probably not the time, considering she's dealing with Minho's dumbass again. But later. I'm holding you to this."

Felix lets out a nervous laugh but nods in agreement. "Yeah. Later."

You kneel next to Jisung on the couch, the familiar ritual of pulling on latex gloves calming you slightly as you grab gauze and bandages from your well-worn first aid kit. Jisung leans back, pressing another towel to the back of his head, his lips forming a half-pout, half-grimace as he watches you move with practised precision.

"Alright, Sungie," you sigh, snapping the gloves in place with a resigned shake of your head. "What the fuck happened this time?"

Jisung winces dramatically, slumping further into the cushions, trying to gain some semblance of sympathy. "It's Minho's fault. I swear. He just... poked it."

You flick your gaze to where Minho stands, arms crossed and a self-satisfied smirk on his face. You're not surprised. It's always Minho or Hyunjin getting into shit, dragging Jisung along for the ride.

You narrow your eyes at him. "Minho, what the fuck were you thinking? He's already got a bandage on his head. You're supposed to leave it alone."

Minho shrugs like it's no big deal, giving you his signature grin. "I was just checking it! You know, like a concerned friend. I gave it a little poke to see if it was healing. Turns out it wasn't."

You press the gauze against the back of Jisung's head with enough force to make him hiss in discomfort. "Minho, you're not a doctor. Stop poking shit. I've already patched him up once today."

Jisung groans, leaning into your touch as if he's two seconds from making a dramatic plea for mercy. "I'm not gonna make it, Y/N. I can feel the life draining out of me."

You stifle a laugh, shaking your head. "You're not dying, Sungie. Stop being a baby."

He peeks at you through squinted eyes. "Where's Felix and Chan? I thought they were supposed to be here. I feel like I'm missing out on their comforting presence."

You roll your eyes. "They're probably still in Felix's room, avoiding this fucking circus." You finish taping up the new bandage, adjusting it slightly to make sure it's secure. "Not that I blame them."

As you finish, you grab your small flashlight from the first aid kit and click it on, leaning forward to shine it in Jisung's eyes. "Hold still. Just making sure you don't have a concussion."

He freezes immediately. "Wait, why? Do you think there's bleeding in my brain?!"

You chuckle softly. "Relax, Sungie. If you had a brain bleed, you wouldn't be sitting here whining. I'm just making sure you don't have a concussion."

He groans dramatically. "That's not exactly comforting, Y/N."

You ignore him, finishing your check. "You're fine. Just stay away from Minho and you'll live."

Without warning, Jisung wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. "You're a lifesaver, Y/N. What would we do without you?"

You laugh, patting him on the back. "You'd probably be in the hospital more often."

Minho watches from the side, a dramatic pout forming on his lips. "Where's my hug, Y/N? I'm the one who made this exciting for you."

You shoot him a look, pulling away from Jisung and settling back on the couch. "I don't hug idiots who reopen their friend's head wounds. It's a moral stance of mine."

Minho smirks, clearly unbothered. "That's just cold, Y/N. After everything I've done for you."

You stretch your legs out, draping them across Jisung's lap. "Tell you what, Minho. I'll give you a hug if you go and make me a passionfruit martini."

His eyes light up instantly, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Deal. One passionfruit martini coming right up."

As Minho disappears into the kitchen, Jisung shifts under your legs, giving you a curious look. "As soon as that drink touches your lips, you're off duty, right?"

You nod, closing your eyes and leaning back into the couch. "Exactly. Once that martini's in my hand, I'm off the clock. No more first aid for the next twelve hours."

Jisung lets out a loud sigh. "But we're stuck in a blizzard. You know someone's going to do something dumb."

You crack one eye open, shooting him a pointed look. "Then my advice? All of you sit down and do not move for twelve hours."

He snorts, a lazy smile playing on his lips. "I'll try, but no promises."

A few minutes later, Minho returns, carefully balancing a martini glass filled with a vibrant orange liquid. He hands it to you with a smug grin, clearly proud of his creation. "Your passionfruit martini, m'lady."

You take a sip, the sweet and tart flavour mixing perfectly on your tongue. "Not bad, Minho. Maybe you're not entirely useless after all."

He grins, plopping down beside you on the couch. "So, cuddle time now?"

You laugh, shaking your head as you stand up, drink still in hand. "Sorry, Minho. No cuddle time. I'm heading back upstairs to talk with Felix about books."

Minho raises an eyebrow, smirking. "Felix, huh? What's going on with you two up there?"

You roll your eyes, walking toward the stairs. "Fuck off, Minho."

His laughter follows you as you climb the stairs, the sound echoing in the quiet house. You know he's not going to let it go, but right now, you couldn't care less. You've been looking forward to talking to Felix again. He's always so thoughtful, and you find his company calming in a way that none of the other guys manage.

Before heading to Felix's room, you make a quick detour to Chan's. Pushing open the door, you walk over to the drawers that you've basically claimed as your own. It started when Chan insisted you leave some clothes at the house to avoid carrying around a huge bag every time you came over to patch someone up. Now, the drawers are filled with your clothes. Enough for several days if you ever got snowed in.

You rummage through the pile of clothes until you find a white oversized cable-knit sweater. It's soft and cozy, hanging just above your knees when you pull it on. You grab a pair of black yoga shorts and slip them on underneath, completing the look with fluffy white socks.

Satisfied, you grab your martini from the dresser and head to Felix's room.

When you reach his door, you knock lightly before pushing it open. Inside, Felix is pacing back and forth, looking lost in thought. Chan is lounging on Felix's bed, his phone in hand as he scrolls through something.

"Am I interrupting something?" you ask, stepping inside and closing the door behind you.

Felix stops pacing immediately, his face lighting up with a sheepish smile. "No, no. You're not interrupting."

Chan looks up from his phone, grinning lazily. "Oh hey. Were your ears burning?"

You raise an eyebrow, sipping your martini. "No. Should they have been?"

Felix shoots Chan a warning glare, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Ignore him. He doesn't know what he's talking about." He then turns to Chan, his voice slightly firmer, "Weren't you just leaving, Chan?"

Chan smirks, pushing himself up from the bed with a stretch. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you two alone" He winks at Felix, clearly enjoying the situation, before sauntering out of the room.

Once the door clicks shut, Felix sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry about him. He's been teasing me all day."

You smile, sitting on the edge of his bed. "It's fine. I'm used to Chan's bullshit. What's got you pacing around like that?"

Felix shrugs, moving to sit next to you, his gaze focused on the floor. "I was just thinking about what we talked about earlier. You know, those classic love stories."

You tilt your head, intrigued. "Yeah? What about them?"

He fiddles with the edge of his shirt, not meeting your eyes. "I don't know. I guess I've been wondering if stuff like that happens in real life. The kind of love that feels epic."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and you lean forward slightly, your martini forgotten for a moment. "Yeah, those stories always seem larger than life. But I think they exist in some form. Maybe not exactly like the books, but you know, love can still be intense and beautiful."

Felix looks up at you then, his eyes searching yours. There's a vulnerability in his gaze that you don't see often, and it makes your chest tighten. "Do you think it's something worth fighting for? Even if it's hard?"

Felix's question lingers in the air, heavy with a vulnerability that catches you off guard. His gaze, for once, holds steady on yours, and you can see the thoughts racing behind his eyes. It's different from the usual nervous Felix you're used to. This is Felix with purpose, Felix with conviction.

Before you can even think of a response, he gently takes the martini glass out of your hand, placing it carefully on the nightstand. His fingers brush against yours as he sets the glass down, and the sudden contact sends a jolt of something electric up your spine.

"Fuck it," Felix murmurs, more to himself than to you, and suddenly his hands are cupping your face, pulling you toward him. His lips crash against yours, firm and decisive, nothing like the hesitant, unsure Felix you've known for so long.

The kiss is confident, controlled. He's guiding it, taking the lead. Felix's lips press against yours with an intensity that surprises you, his hands sliding from your face to your neck, his fingers curling gently in your hair. The kiss deepens, and you melt into it, your hands finding their way to his chest, gripping the soft fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself in the moment.

There's nothing hesitant about the way he's kissing you now—his tongue brushes against your bottom lip, and you part your lips instinctively, letting him take control. His movements are bold, purposeful, and you can feel the pent-up desire in the way his hands slide down your sides, pulling you closer.

Your heart pounds in your chest, the heat between you building with every second. You're not thinking anymore, just feeling the way Felix's lips move against yours, the taste of him, the warmth of his hands as they roam your body, tugging you closer as if he can't get enough.

The kiss becomes more intense, more heated, as if he's pouring everything he's ever felt into it—every shy glance, every blush, every quiet moment between the two of you. It's all here, in this kiss, and it leaves you breathless.

Just as things are heating up, the door swings open with a loud bang, and the moment is interrupted by a startled, "Oh shit!"

You both pull away, lips still tingling from the kiss, and turn toward the door. Chan is standing there, eyes wide, clearly caught off guard by what he's just walked in on.

"Oh shit," Chan repeats, blinking rapidly as if trying to process what he's seeing.

Behind him, you hear Minho's voice, dripping with his usual teasing tone. "Oh, hello."

Jisung is right behind them, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. "Took you long enough, Felix. You're not all blushy anymore, huh?"

Minho steps further into the room, arms crossed, a satisfied smirk on his face. "That's what happens when you get the girl"

Felix leans back slightly, his arm still draped around your waist. He gives them a look that's half-annoyed, half-amused. "Do you guys mind?"

Jisung throws his hands up, still grinning. "Nah, we're just here for the show. About fucking time, by the way."

You glance at Felix, and he looks back at you, both of you sharing a quiet moment of amusement. "Are you guys done gawking, or are you planning on standing there all night?" you ask, crossing your arms but smiling nonetheless.

Minho leans against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow. "Depends. You two gonna make out again, or is that it for tonight?"

Felix rolls his eyes, pulling you closer against his side, his hand resting comfortably on your waist. "Maybe if you leave, we will."

Chan laughs, stepping forward and throwing an arm around Minho's shoulder. "Alright, alright, we'll give you two some privacy. But don't think this is over. We're definitely talking about this later."

Minho gives you both a knowing wink before finally retreating back into the hallway. "Good job, Lix"

As they turn to leave, Jisung lingers for just a second longer, his grin still annoyingly wide. "I'm proud of you, man. I knew you had it in you."

"Get out," Felix groans, though there's a smile playing on his lips.

With one final laugh, Jisung disappears down the hallway, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving you and Felix alone once again.

There's a beat of silence, and then Felix lets out a long sigh, his head falling forward to rest against your shoulder. "They're never gonna let me live this down, are they?"

You chuckle, threading your fingers through his soft hair. "Probably not. But hey, they're just jealous."

Felix lifts his head, his eyes locking with yours, and the playful smile that curves his lips is enough to make your heart race all over again. "You think so?"

You nod, leaning in closer until your noses are almost touching. "Definitely."

Without another word, Felix closes the small distance between you, his lips finding yours once again. This time, the kiss is slower, more deliberate, but no less intense. His hand slides up your back, pulling you against him, and you can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palm.

It's just the two of you now, no teasing friends, no interruptions, just the quiet sound of your breath mingling with his, the soft rustle of the sheets as you shift closer to each other on the bed.

When you finally pull away, breathless but content, Felix rests his forehead against yours, his voice a low murmur. "I've wanted to do that for a long time."

You smile, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his face. "What took you so long, then?"

He laughs softly, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your lower back. "I don't know. Guess I was scared of messing things up."

You tilt your head, your fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. "Well, you didn't mess anything up. In fact, I'd say you did pretty damn well."

Felix's grin widens, and for a moment, he looks like the Felix you've always known. Sweet, shy, and just a little bit unsure of himself. But there's something different now, something more confident in the way he holds you, the way his eyes flicker with a newfound certainty.

"I think we should probably lock the door next time," he says, his voice laced with amusement.

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. "Yeah, good idea. I'm not sure I can handle another round of Minho, Chan and Jisung."

Felix chuckles, his hand stroking your hair. "They're never gonna let me forget this, are they?"

You shake your head, closing your eyes as you relax into him. "Nope. But that's what makes them who they are."

There's a comfortable silence between you, the weight of what just happened settling in. It feels right. Like something that's been a long time coming. And as you sit there in the quiet, Felix's arms around you, you can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, those epic love stories aren't so far-fetched after all.

After a few moments, Felix speaks again. "So, what happens now?"

You pull back slightly, meeting his gaze with a smile. "Well, I was thinking we could finish that book discussion."

Felix laughs, shaking his head. "Of course. You and your books."

You grin, leaning in to kiss him softly. "What can I say? I like a good story."

Felix's smile is warm as he pulls you closer. "Well, I think we're writing a pretty good one ourselves."

And with that, the two of you settle back into the comfortable rhythm that has always been there—only now, it feels a little different. A little more certain. A little more yours.

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meanbossart · 29 days ago

Note

I realize this is a weirdly specific question, but what was DU Drow’s experience like first waking up on the Nautiloid/on the beach?

Like, was he wearing Bhaalist stuff when he woke up then? If he was, did he ditch it right away or did he just leave it on until he found gear in better shape or maybe just didn’t want to associate with that symbolism/organization anymore? Like what was the thought process for him there, assuming that were the case??? If he was wearing something else, what might it have been?

I ask because I finally started my first Dark Urge playthrough yesterday (YIPPEE) and am plagued with thoughts about my guy, wondering if maybe he had some Bhaalist gear on when he first fell out of the Nautiloid that slowly was switched out for other things as the story progressed. Then I was like “oh hey what about Drow??? What was going through his head when he woke up that morning on the beach??????” Especially bc I can’t imagine he had much time to look at what he was wearing on the Nautiloid while it was still flying around.

ANYWAYS. Apologies for the ramble, my brain is plagued with thoughts now that I’m finally doing a Durge run so I might come at you with more random ass questions in the future >:)))

First of all AYYYY have fun with your first durge run!!! I'm always open to more questions if they happen to pop up throughout the experience.

Now to your question: An Interesting one! Though my answer might be disappointing LOL

In my personal lore, DU drow woke up from the tank with nothing but some scrappy underwear on - hell, It would probably make more sense if he was fully nude, even, but that would make many of the companion introductions a little too awkward - so, tattered underwear it is.

Considering what Kressa had been doing to him, I imagine that she would have either removed or destroyed his clothes at some point during the experimentation. DU drow was stuck with her for at least a few weeks - so, even if she didn't promptly undress him, his outfit would have been far too slashed, cut, and caked with old blood to keep, and likely torn off so it would stop getting in the way.

Her husband (I think he's the one who ships you away, if memory serves me right) would have had little reason to send him off with dignity - BUT perhaps he slipped some briefs back onto the drow's body because he felt ashamed of the implications of his wife keeping a battered, nude man around.

So, DU drow slides out of his pod, caked with old blood with only some ill-fitting linens covering his groin. He picks up whatever sharp object he finds lying around for self defense and proceeds through the ship, barefoot, hair matted, having no idea who he is, what he looks like, or how he got here. He's completely overtaken by his self-preservation instincts and being confused is second to getting out of his situation alive. He goes along with Lae'zel because she seems to have at least some idea of what's going on, and he frees Shadowheart from her pod because she seems more trustworthy than Lae'zel.

He probably stripped the trousers off of one of the corpses lying around the beach after the actual crash (they would have been a little tight, but it's better than nothing) and god-willing was able to snatch some fresher underwear at the grove or something. The only indicatives he had of a past life were his scars, and I guess his unusual features. The thing is - whenever he first caught sight of his reflection, he very much liked what he saw looking back. Someone else might have been shocked by their appearance, but what DU drow felt would have been more akin to a kind of relief - I'm strong. I'm big. I'm intimidating. Good. As it should be.

And well... There's not much reason to give it thought past that. His looks feel right, he thinks he looks attractive, even his scars are somewhat comforting. Tadpole and odd company aside, it actually feels nice to be himself right now, so why ruin it with questions and concerns.

#du drow lore #ask

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changisworld · 7 months ago

Text

“you know you want to”

Stepbrother!Jeongin x fem reader

Word count:4,288

Summary: You & your stepbrother Jeongin have never gotten along, always snitching on one another & purposely annoying each other. When your parents have gone to sleep & you are tiptoeing down the stairs to sneak out of the basement window to get to a college party that you're strict dad won't allow, what are you gonna do when Jeongin catches you?

18+ MDNI, smut warnings under the cut

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

main masterlist here

SMUT WARNINGS: DUB CON, manipulation/blackmail, Oral (F rec),squirting, unprotected sex, pull out method, edging (F rec), fingering (F rec), finger sucking, Hair pulling, tiny bit of spit??, neck kisses, dirty talk

-> Alcohol is mentioned but not ever consumed.

-> your dad & Jeongins mom are both titled as your parents just to save confusion but you are only related to your father, you & Jeongin aren't blood related.

** Jeongin & reader have a pre established relationship, 80% of this is just smut but depending on how well this does, I'll make a multiple part mini series in a LOOOTT more detail :3**

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

You've just hung up facetime with your friend, Jennie after even further planning on what you're wearing to the party at her boyfriends house later tonight. You've got clothes thrown all over your floor from digging & taking all items worth wearing out of their places before showing them to the camera, getting her opinion on each piece & even having her call dibs on wearing a certain something.

You sigh before you swing open your bedroom door to go downstairs to go make yourself something to eat before you begin to get ready, but you're not happy with the sight in front of you, that being your step brother, Jeongin, giving you his cheeky smile, hair drooping down his forehead.

"What the fuck are you doing standing in my doorway, weirdo, move." you groan, pushing his shoulder but not with much strength behind it, letting him chuckle.

"Where ya going? Does your dad n my mom know, hmm?" he teases, following right beside you as you begin walking down the stairs, looking at the side of your face as you scoff.

"Are you eavesdropping on my conversations? Fuck off Jeongin, I'm not going anywhere, I need to study, so do you for that fact so leave me alone n go get busy." You walk into the kitchen, the guy skipping & humming as he follows you, leaning on the counter top as he watches you pour some cereal into a bowl but before you're able to get to the fridge, he stands in front of it.

" 'studying' my ass y/n, & I have been studying so shut up. You're a really bad liar, you know that right?" he smirks as he turns around to open the fridge & give you the milk.. well, lack thereof. "I drank some earlier n haven't told mom to get more, whoopsies." He walks out of the kitchen happy as a rainbow as you groan & throw the empty milk carton on the floor, yelling at Jeongin as you hear him running up the stairs.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

You have your music playing quietly so your parents don't awaken as you're doing your makeup, humming along to the song as you finish applying a pretty blue/silverish shimmer shade across the inner part of your eyelids, making them stand out. You finish doing your hair & go through the few outfit options you managed to choose between the other thirty at the beginning of the day & you end up holding each of them up to your chest to get a better idea now that you are mostly ready & your mind settles on a blue denim miniskirt along with a black strappy gemstone top.

You put it on & take a few pictures that you'll probably post later before packing your 'escape bag'. You put some sweat pants over your skirt & a hoodie over your top before putting your black clutch & your alcohol wrapped in a shirt to stop the clanking noise in a backpack before you pick up your shoes, turning off your bedroom lights & extremely slowly closing your bedroom door, making sure to be as quiet as possible.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

You hold your breath as you begin tiptoeing down the long hallway, not being able to lightly sigh as you get past your parents silent bedroom, hearing your dad snoring inside, knowing the first part of the difficulty is over with.

You can hear Jeongins TV's low volume further down the hall & you feel a pit in your stomach growing, knowing he is still awake. You pause your steps for a minute, hearing no further movements or rustling coming from behind his door, so you progress.

You get past his door & you can't help but feel a cold sweat on the back of your neck, 'no matter how much I do this shit it never gets easier' you think to yourself. You get to the bottom of the stairs eventually & walk past all other rooms until you get to the door that leads to the basement.

You open the small cabinet next to the door & get the key before putting it in the door & turning it. You turn the door knob but it's now locked.. & your parents never leave it unlocked. Your stomach butterflies return as you use the key again, the door now being able to open.

You don't have much time to think about it however, as your light brown haired stepbrother appears from the basement. "Told you you are bad at lying, what you doing so late?" he whispers, letting out an overdramatic sigh as he grabs your wrist to snatch the key out of your hand, ushering you away from the doorframe as he slowly closes the door, not looking away from you.

"Jeongin, cmon. Just move." you whisper back, attitude in you voice as he somehow leads you into the living room, you still walking backwards. "N why would I, you lied to me, broke my huge heart." he remarks as he leans over your shoulder to try take your bag off your shoulder. You go back & forth, pulling & tugging on it before he overpowers you & now has the backpack in his hands. You are quick to try snatch it back but he pushes you onto the soft sofa behind you. "Ah,ah, ahhh, don't be stupid y/n, might wake 'em up. Why you got shoes in your hands n not wearing them, you really are odd at times."

You give up & throw the shoes onto the carpeted flooring, knowing you're probably not going anywhere tonight. He pulls out everything in your bag, holding it up to the window, letting the moonlight shine onto your alcohol in order to read it, just to tease you further since he knew what would be in your bag before even getting his hands on it.

He pulls out your clutch bag & an eyebrow raises before looking back at you again, your arms crossed as you frown up at him, the reflection of the moon showing his defined cheekbones that little bit extra. "You have this bag, inside a bag, while looking as if you've just got out of prison.. wha'cha underneath?" He questions, stepping towards you before sitting next to you.

You scoff at his words but he doesn't look away from you, noticing you have perfume on too. You both sit in silence for a second but before you have time to react, Jeongin is grabbing at your hoodie & somehow gets it over your head, the top you are wearing underneath now on show. He scoffs as he looks at you & you push him. "You're genuinely psychotic Jeongin, you caught me for fuck sake, do you really need to go this far? I'm not gonna go anywhere anymore, just give over." you whisper yell at him, irritation in your voice.

He looks into your eyes, his dimples appearing on his cheeks as he quietly chuckles. "I didn't say you couldn't go y/n." he says nonchalantly as he leans fully into the couch, turning his head to look at you. "So.. you're not gonna snitch if I go? bull.shit." you remark but your tone still raises, sounding more hopeful than you were a few minutes ago.

"Well I mean, If I got something in return, I wouldn't" he replies, sitting up again to match your posture, leaning forward a bit, which you notice, but choose to not say anything. "Seriously? What is it you're after? Money? I'll deep clean your car for you? I'll write that stupid essay you keep putting off for you? I'll give you Jennie's number?" you ramble, still making sure to keep your tone down but Jeognin 'shooshes' you anyway. "You're so loud, learn to whisper." He jokes before he shuffles over so his right leg is touching your left one now as he leans in to your ear.

"Like this, & what if I know what I want, but it's not anything you mentioned?" his breath tickles your neck as he whispers which makes you twitch subconsciously. "Just tell me Jeongin, I have places to be, do you wanna come with or something? Is that what this is? Coulda just said you have no friends to invite you out." you whisper back, getting fed up. Jeongin lets out a sigh into your ear before moving away, as you both make eye contact again, Jeongin puts his hand on the back of your head & lean you both in & he kisses you.

Your eyes shoot as wide as plates as his lips move against yours despite yours not doing the same way. You push him by the shoulders & wiggle your head free from the hand against the back of your teeth & you just stare at him, not saying much. Jeongin looks back at you, breathing a bit heavier due to the nerves. You both sit in silence for a minute, a million thoughts racing through your head but that is interrupted as Jeongin throws himself back at you, locking lips with you again.

You flop backwards on the couch as Jeongin puts more of his body weight on you, him holding himself up by putting his arm on the arm of the couch right above your head as he keeps his lips locked with yours & to his surprise & yours, you both realise your lips are moving along with his this time.

"Jeongin what the fuck, we can't be doing this this is just fucked up. Get off." you say in a more serious voice, your hands moving to cross over your chest, trying to create distance between you both despite you could just push him. "Stop acting so innocent y/n, you just kissed me back n besides we aren't blood related, we have only known each other for what, five years? Don't act as if you don't want this." he smirks as he speaks, pushing the bit of hair that is resting weirdly on your face back into its place.

"Jeongin, If you get off me now I won't tel-" You don't finish your sentence as he cuts you off by kissing you again, & you can't help but take a bit of pleasure in how soft his lips are, a light taste of his cherry lip balm transferring onto your own.

Jeongin starts to nibble on your bottom lip every few seconds as his tongue also starts to poke at where your own one is & he eventually worms his tongue inside your mouth, humming as he tastes it.

This continues for a minute or so before he breaks it off, spit coating both of your lips & your bottom lip a bit swollen & reddened from his teeth attacking it as he begins a trail of kisses down your jawline & landing on your neck, biting at it, making you hold back a whimper.

"Jeongin, plea-" "shhh y/n, just enjoy it, I'll make this wayyy better than going out, promise." he snaps back, interrupting you as he wiggles his way down further, kissing your collarbone & chest as he begins to shimmy your sweatpants down with his free hand & you have no idea why but you help him by raising your hips, letting them slide off your pretty legs.

He looks down after giving one last kiss to your collarbones after feeling a rough fabric that is no longer hidden by the joggers. "Ahh, you really did dress up hmm? Atleast the pretty outfit isn't gonna go to waste since someone's seen it now. Were you planning on fucking someone y/nnie?" he questions as his long fingers trace over your denim skirt, making you flinch & squirm.

"Jeongin what if someone catches us, you're being stupid." you respond, avoiding his question completely, your voice now soft despite your voice never being above a whisper at all. Jeongin rolls his eyes as he reaches down that little bit further & lands a quick flick to your covered core, making you jolt, eyebrows furrowing as you look back up at him. "Just be quiet n we will be fine, answer my question." he puts his hand up to your face & squishes your cheeks as he makes you look fully at him, both of you making eye contact as his other hand is now playing with the skin on the inside of your thigh, making your hips move on their own, seeking more. "No,Jeongin, I wasn't." he hums at your reply as he shuffles down so he is no face level with your lower stomach as he gives it a few kisses before undoing the button on your miniskirt before also removing hat item of clothing, Now being only left in your thong & black top despite Jeongin still wearing his grey sweatpants & white tank top.

"That's what I wanted to hear but for some reason, I don't believe it y/nnieee, nobody would dress like this & sneak out if you weren't after cock." Your cheeks are as red as cherries as he suddenly sits up on his knees long enough to take his shirt off to show his chiselled, defined, gorgeous abs which you have to try force yourself to look away to try save whatever self preservation you're trying to convince yourself you still have.

Jeongin resumes his place on your lower tummy as one hand is now playing with the hem of your sparkly top as his other hand begins to play with your covered cunt, which unsurprisingly has a small wet patch which is now transferring onto his fingers, despite you trying your hardest to not be turned on from the current situation. "Someone's enjoying this more than they're letting on, No need to be completely mute jagi, just remember who's upstairs." he says, more to himself than anything but you huff at his words anyway, embarrassment radiating through your body, partially from his words, & partially from how turned on you actually are.

He continues lightly dragging his long fingers along your folds, causing your panties to be dampened even more as his other hands fingers dig their way under your shirts fabric & grabs onto your nipple which makes you arch your back on instinct. He begins to lightly pull on your nipple, flicking it with his thumb as he continues kissing your lower stomach, his soft hair tickling it.

His kisses get lower & lower until his lips hit the hem of your panties & you don't put up a fight as he now discards that too. He moves his hand from your left nipple as he wraps his arms around your legs as he is now face level with your dripping core. "Be good n keep your legs open for me, mkay? Stay quiet f'me." He says in a low tone, voice sounding flushed out despite it being you being touched, not him. You have no words that even come to mind to create a response, you just sigh as you cross your arms over your eyes, trying to not focus on your step brothers breath hitting your naked heat.

Jeongin takes this as enough of an answer & licks a long, slow strip up your entire core, which in return makes you hiss at the contact. He wastes no time in digging into your cunt like a man starved as he uses two fingers to spread your folds as he begins slurping on it before switching & nibbling on your swollen button, making you bite down on your lip painfully to hold back as much noise as possible.

He snakes his arm up your frame until he taps two fingers against your lips & you immediately open your lips, letting his fingers now rest on your tongue as you begin sucking on them, using them to help swallow your moans. The room has slurping & hisses filling the room, a mix of your own juice & also his own spit dripping down past your cunt & his chin onto the couch below.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, much to your dismay as but that is short lived as he worms his now spit covered fingers into your pussy & begins scissoring them & he lets out a quiet groan as he has now gotten a feeling of your wet walls as you instantly clench down on his long fingers which you're convinced are grazing your cervix. He wriggles his fingers around slightly until he finds your G-spot before attacking it with them & you begin squirming around as much as you can with heavy breaths despite his arms still being wrapped around your legs, preventing you from moving freely.

He keeps suckling & slurping on your clit as he is finger fucking you & you begin clenching down a lot more than you were a minute ago. "Jeo- g'na cum- plea-" Your words die in your throat as he struggles but manages to pull himself completely away from your cunt, watching you with a smirk as your eyes are watery, stress & agitation on your face from feeling your orgasm drifting away from your lower stomach as your own juice drips down his chin, giving it a shine that you can make out now that your eyes have adjusted to the dark.

"You really think I'd let you cum on my fingers when I don't know how much you can take, hunny? You can cum on my dick this time, just till I see how well you can take me." He gives you a kiss on your thighs before now using this chance to take his sweatpants & also boxers, leaving him now completely nude as his words sink in & you can't help but think & hope this happens again..?

He helps flip you around before bending you over the arm of the couch, your pretty ass on show for him. He spreads your legs enough so he can fit between them before letting spit drip from his lips, landing directly on his cock as he pumps it in his hand. You turn your head to at least get a look of what exactly you are getting yourself into & you almost regret that choice because you genuinely have no idea how the fuck you're going to be able to handle it. His cock is longer than it is thick but it curves upwards which you now both know will be your G-spots best friend within the following minutes.

Jeongin realises your reaction & can't help but chuckle. "You scared you won't be able to take it y/n? where's that cocky, bitchy personality now disappeared to hmm?" he questions, cockiness in his voice as he begins running his leaky cock head along your folds, making him hold back a groan. "Just, ugh, just put it in Jeongin, Don't be a dick." you try to say with venom, but just ends up sounding needy, which Jeongin laughs at. "Say please & I'll happily give you it." he replies, leaning forward to kiss your shoulder, eyes looking at the side of your flushed out face.

You take a deep breath but don't budge & Jeongin isn't happy with that so he sits back up on his knees as he wraps his long hand into your hair before pulling your hair so now you're looking at him upside down, your back arching. "Say. Please." he repeats, voice sounding way more serious the second time around. Your eyes water from the burn on your scalp but you can't deny how needy you actually are & before you can think for a moment, you're throwing your ego out of the window. "Jeongin, p-please just put it in, want it., want your cock." you murmur, trying to be aware of where you both currently are.. completely naked. He is happy with this & lets go of your hair, making you flop forwards as he lines himself fully up with you, before finally sliding inside.

Your legs almost give out from just the pleasure of him filling you out alone but you somehow keep yourself up. You both let out a whine, his being louder since he hasn't got the edge of the couch to smother his face in to shut himself up. He oh so kindly lets you adjust for around thirty seconds, you both sitting in silence other than the heavy breaths & the sound of the living room clock ticking away in the backround.

"So tight, holy shit y/n. Gonna move now, alright.?" He asks but doesn't actually give you any time to respond before he is withdrawing his hips before returning to where they just were, then repeating it.

He picks up his pace, his hips connecting with your ass as his hands find their place on your hips, helping you now meet his thrusts. You are muffling your whines & squeals by biting down onto the fabric of the couch, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your gummy walls are being ruined by the fluffy haired man behind you.

You find the strength to lift your head up off the couch to mutter out a few incoherent words Jeongins fucked out brain can't completely understand, He keeps chasing his own release, throwing his head towards the ceiling & panting until he feels you clenching so tight he thinks his cock can turn purple.

"Gonna cum for m-me y/n? Squeezing me so tight, g-gonna kill me. You're s-so fucking wet." Your moans encourages him to pick up the pace even more than he already is, his great stamina being something he is thankful for in this moment. He admires the squelching noises coming from your cunt & he thinks he can honestly melt from pleasure. "Jeon-in f-fuck, t-too-so big." you whine, trying to keep as quiet as possible but can't help the noises you're letting out, his cock pushing your cervix into a completely new place inside you.

"Yeah? Taking it so well for m-me, so beau-hot." He cuts himself off, trying to not say such nice words, since that is the imaginary line he is trying to draw for himself, despite not wanting to.

Your legs begin to shake again & you try to warn Jeongin you're about to cum, but it's no use since you're so fucked out you're convinced your brain has completely melted. You feel it bubble up & then over as your orgasm sprays out of your pussy & lands onto your own thighs, Jeongins cock, trimmed pubes & also the couch beneath you.

Jeongin watches this & he tries to hold out until you at least start to come off your orgasm so it isn't completely ruined before he pulls out as his own orgasm is only a second away & pumps his cock at an extreme pace before his own orgasm shoots out of him, landing onto your ass & back, a few drops landing on the one item of clothing that somehow didn't come off.

Your legs have already given out & you are now just awkwardly arched on the edge of the sofa, trying to catch your breath back. Jeongin pants & pushes his now wet with sweat hair out of his pretty face before he stands up on his own shaky legs & puts his hands on your legs gently before pulling you, so you're now laying fully flat on your back.

You both don't exchange words but Jeongin takes it upon himself to grab his tank top to wipe his orgasm off of you, which you appreciate deep down. "I'll get you some water, I would say sit tight but you can't move anyways dick's too good huh." he teases as he is still panting, kissing leaning down to kiss your lower back. You just 'tut' at his words.

He returns with three glasses, you can see one has a dark liquid in it & you think the other two are water. "Why the third glass, the hell is that.?" you mumble, only now actually returning fully to earth. "Well you squirted all over the damn couch in case you didn't realise & it's one in the morning, I can't be fucked to clean that n I know you can't, just gonna pour cola on the spot since our parents drank vodka coke earlier, they'll probably just believe it." He pants out before chugging his own cup of water then remembering to give you your own drink. You let out a giggle as you force yourself to sit up enough so you can drink the water that you didn't realise how much you actually needed a drink until you take a sip then you suddenly have the driest mouth on earth.

He helps you gather your clothes (after letting you whisper yell at him for getting cum on your shirt) & he helps you tiptoe up stairs along with him. "We never speak of this again Jeongin, I swear to god." you whisper outside his bedroom door, his TV still playing from earlier. "mhmm, If you say so, sleep well." he snarkily replies before closing his own bedroom door, before taking his phone off his desk & going onto the message app.

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Jeongin: It actually worked lmaoo

Jennie: Told ya, u just needed to test her limits lol

Jeongin: ahaha, was worth the risk, thx jen

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

Jeongin can't help but blush slightly as he shuts his phone off & just looks around his clean bedroom, realising what he did & how easy it was, which he is definitely keeping in mind.

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gojosatoruhumper · 2 months ago

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Kinktober 2024 day 7

Miguel O’hara x reader | Bite marks

Prompt: Miguel goes into heat, losing over his powers and takes it out on you.

Warnings: Biting, blood kink kinda, hair pulling, size difference

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Your best friend Miguel hasn’t been answering his texts for three days now and you were getting worried. Miguel has been your best friend for a long time, always staying close to each other, always helping one another and never keeping secrets away from each other.

This wasn’t like him so you went to check up on him, doing your makeup and picking the best outfit. He has seen you in your worst states, after a night out, after a crying session and worser, but you always wanted to look good when you’re with him. You always had a tiny crush on the man but never really accepting the fact.

You knew he was spider-man but you were just a regular person, nothing special so you still were surprised why would anyone like Miguel want to be friends with you.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You headed to his apartment, guessing where he most likely should be. You lightly knock on his door, and no answer. With his senses he probably already sensed you while ago, and that just confused you even more.

You pulled your keys out of your pocket, looking for one specific key. You opened the door, being faced with a dark apartment, all windows blacked out with the shades down.

“Migs?” you call out, looking around the dark. You make your way towards his bedroom. “Miguel..?” you say opening his bedroom door slowly.

“Go away Y/n” he said angrily. “Huh?” you get confused. “I said. Go. Away.” he snapped, turning his head away. “Migs? Did I do something?” you ask softly.

“N-no, but I need you to go away” he whispered, trying to soften his voice. “Hey talk to me at least, is everything okay?” you say, getting closer to him. “Y-y/n no, leave me alone” he said raising his voice again, scaring you a little.

It was the spider mating season, and Miguel lost control of himself. He couldn’t be anywhere near you. Your scent made it way to difficult to manage, he wanted to take you right there and then. All the other years he always excused it as work, going for a “work” trip that lasted a simple week and sometimes even a month.

He was sitting on his bed, back facing you. You went up to him, crouching to his face level. “You okay?” he finally looks up at you. “Y/n?” he softly asked “hm?” you raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry” he said, his eyes going down your body.

“For wha-“ you were cut off by him throwing you on the bed, him on top. “I can’t resist I’m sorry” he said, apologetically but lustfully. he put his lips on yours, hands gripping your hips.

“Ive been thinking about you for a week” he said, lips going down your neck, sharp fangs digging into you. “I need you Y/n” he continued biting further, drawing blood at this point.

You moaned, body jerking up closer to his. His bulge already as big as it could get, hitting your core. He ripped off your shirt, starting down with hungry eyes. He started biting once again, inhaling your scent. He started from your neck, to your pantie line. Your hands went to his hair, gripping. It hurt so good.

“Migs” you moaned as his fangs sunk into you once again, drops of blood seeping into the covers beneath you. He took off your skirt with one swift move, face heading closer to your clothed core, throbbing for his touch.

He wasted no time, ripping off your pink panties off with his fangs, lips immediately connecting with your pussy.

His cold lips made you moan, grip on his hair getting tighter. He sucked and licked your core making you uncomfortably moan, like an instinct your hand flew to your mouth, covering it. He immediately grabbed it off “No, i want to hear you” he said, head coming up to your face again, lips connecting once again.

You felt yourself getting picked up, as now you were sitting on top of him, your thighs strangling his. His pants were also suddenly gone, his huge dick right in front of your pussy.

“Why don’t you be a good girl for me?” “huh?” he said as he grabbed your ass with his big hands, pulling you down on him. The size difference made you scream, sounding like music to Miguel’s ears.

He started guiding your hips back and forth, holding you by your ass while you were moaning with your toes curling. His hands slowly went down from your ass up to your breasts, cupping them through your bra. Which of course he ripped off, biting your flesh again.

Your sounds and scent sent him over the moon, your nails gripping his skin. You were close, really close to your climax. “Miguel-“ you tried saying but were washed over with euphoria, kissing Miguel once again.

“Get on all fours Y/n” he demanded, you obliging immediately. He took your face in his hands, quickly shoving his cock down your throat, head falling over his shoulders.

It took only a couple more thrusts before a sticky white substance went all over your face, mixing with the dried blood on the covers.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The next day Miguel was acting like his normal self, coming over your house for a little like usual. But he didn’t expect you opening the door looking like this - body covered in bruises, bite marks all over, and especially the two fang marks you can see

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #smut #miguel ohara smut #fanfiction #across the spiderverse #kinktober

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livelaughlovesubs · 3 months ago

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Hi hii for the prompt event can i request dressing childe/tartaglia in degrading outfit? 🙏🙏 take ur time and thankss ^^

Hiiii it’s been so long since I last saw Childes name in my inbox, hope this is to your liking :>

Dom!reader x sub!childe

Warning: feminisation, teasing, cross-dressing

Anniversary event

“Is.. this really my size?” His awkward laugh echoed from the changing rooms, alongside the flicker of the shoji screen. You reassured him by yelling back, “I’m sure of it, it’s supposed to be a little tight. Are you done? Then come out.” One look and anyone could tell you were getting impatient, tapping your finger on your knee, gaze wandering around the establishment to look for anything interesting.

Despite your clear orders, he still hesitated, this time his hand emerged from behind the rood divider. “Are we alone?” The ginger asked, still mysteriously hiding himself, an act that was very uncharacteristic for him. “Yes, we are still alone, just like ten minutes ago.” You groaned, rolling your eyes at his behaviour. “Haha… right.” Tartaglia answered meekly, running out of excuses to use. The atmosphere was so dry, and so uncomfortable.

This time he really shot himself in the knees. He challenged you to a bet, and instead of you meticulously analysing your chances, you immediately agreed. That should have been enough of a sign, you’d never take on a gamble so quickly except it isn’t one. As things have been planned from the beginning, he lost, and had to obey to whatever conditions you set for him. Great, absolutely fantastic.

But why did your request have to hurt his pride like that? He could barely stand straight without shaking with his knees, and now you want him to expose himself to you? Bloody hell, you were so cruel he could feel himself falling for you all over again.

“Ajax, you really are testing my patience. If you don’t come out now, I’ll-” suddenly he moved the paper wall to the side and walked over to you, sighing defeated, “alright alright, I’m here okay?” Your expression changed for a split second, something like shock grazed your features, before you composed yourself again. He tried to stand normal and unbothered while your eyes scanned over his body, tracing every outline and shadow, devouring every inch of his body.

He felt like a prey being toyed with by the predator, you were making him squirm with that intense stare. That’s why you avoided eye contact, jumped from one foot to the other, and kept doing god-knows-what with his hands. At some point you were fed up and said, “hold still, are you a dancing monkey or what?” Childe could only response with another forced laugh.

As for why you were eyeing him up and down so much, well, simply put, he was wearing woman’s clothing. A qipao in a pretty dark red colour, the shade kind of reminded you of blood. Since the dress was cut to fit the build of a woman, it looked clumsy around his fairly muscular body. And even though it looked out of place, you still thought it was quite attractive. Unlike his usual fashion, the dress showed off his curves and exposed his bare legs, what seems to add to his embarrassment.

“Looks good.” You gave him a short, almost forced compliment. It wasn’t a lie, just you had way more to say than a simple ‘looks good’. “Wow, thanks I guess.” Tartaglia groaned, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Seeing what little effect your praise had, you decided to try again, “I mean it, you look good as a girl, as my woman.” Out of nowhere his body twitched and tensed up, he didn’t answer you verbally but with his body language. If he had a tail, it’d be wagging like crazy.

“Are you done gawking?” The male eventually asked, his face and shoulders got painted bright pink. His eyes told you the truth, that he was humiliated, ashamed and yet also excited. “What’s with the rush, can’t wait to show your new look off to the other people?” You teased, and your words immediately got his attention, making his brain ratter, “what do you mean by that?” A smirk plastered your lips, you chuckled amused as you explained, “we are going to have a nice little date night today, and you aren’t going to change until I’m done with you.”

The way the colours left his face, letting him become as pale of a ghost was pretty amazing. He was trying so hard to accept his current situation, his legs were shaking again. “Come on, I already paid for the dress. So let’s put it to good use.” You encouraged him, holding his normal wear in your arms, now he couldn’t even run anymore. It seems there was no way around the straight up shameful act he was going to commit, and as if to add salt to the wound, he felt himself getting hard beneath the skin tight dress~ ♥︎

You walked ahead of him, motioning for him to follow you. All he could do was obey your commands with a sheepish smile, quickly rushing to your side while letting you show him off like your own little pet.

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perlelune · 8 months ago

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Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | vii.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

A heavy breath flows from your lips as you grip the edge of the sink. Your gaze lands on your reflection. Your chest seizes. Your fingers trail the path of bruises and bites Coriolanus scattered on your cheek and neck. A flash of his body shoving yours into the mattress crosses your mind, his throaty moans, his smell clogging your senses. A shiver races along your spine. You step back from the glass until your back collides with the opposite wall. You slump onto the floor. You glance at the bathroom door, thankfully locked. You need a minute on your own. You bury your head between your knees, body shaking as you wrangle with a sudden rush of emotions.

Only vague snippets of the night before remain in your mind. Still, you believed him when he stated you didn’t say no. You’re fairly sure that the word never passed your lips. So how could he divine thoughts you didn’t express?

Coriolanus isn’t a mind reader.

Especially when you sounded so needy and desperate, rambling about never being kissed.

He probably misread you, assuming this is what you wanted.

In truth, he gave you exactly what you asked for. Perhaps even begged for, though your memory is a little foggy.

You rise on quivering legs, deciding to shelve the upsetting musings aside. You’re a virgin no longer. It’s a good thing…isn’t it? For years, you thought no one wanted you, that you would never experience what others did. That you’re too plain, attractive, weird and awkward. And you suppose, in his own way, Coriolanus proved you wrong last night. You keep convincing yourself of that, playing the words in an assuaging loop as you shed the dress and step into the shower stall.

The scalding water pelting your skin casts a balm over your stormy thoughts. You hiss when it stings in certain places, the ones where Coriolanus left marks that are still visible.

Your gaze drifts down. As you watch blood trickle from between your thighs and swirl down the drain, your stomach clutches.

You cling to the bathroom tiles, breaths growing heavier.

Panic escalates inside you. For a few minutes, you remain this way. Steam surrounds you as you spread your fingers over the wall. Hot tears drip down your cheeks, melding with the water sliding along your bruised flesh.

By the time you step out of the stall, your skin is pruned from how much time you spent in the shower. Much longer than usual. Furiously rubbing and scrubbing at your flesh, as if your shame and disillusionment could be washed off like grime and dirt. Shaken off like a bad dream or a pesky thought.

When you trudge outside of the bathroom in your robe, Coriolanus is on the bed, waiting for you as he said he would. You fidget beneath his stare. He rises and approaches you.

“I should probably take a shower too. I’m filthy,” he observes, his nose scrunching as he sniffs his shirt.

“Sure. Go ahead. I’ll…get dressed.”

You try not to flinch when he drops a quick, chaste kiss atop your head.

“Thanks, angel.”

He disappears in the bathroom. The pitter-patter of the shower fills the room, ropes of steam escaping through the crack at the bottom of the door. Your shoulders sag. You allow yourself to relax, using that reprieve to sift through your clothes until you find a decent outfit. Your spirits dim. The state of your closet is beyond desolate. It didn’t bother you before. After all, no one cared what you wore. But now, you realize how much it matters. You don’t want to be a blight upon Coriolanus’ perfect image. He’s always dressed so well.

After a lengthy internal debate, you settle on a long, black dress at the very bottom of your wardrobe. One you bought on a whim but wouldn’t have worn in a million years before. Elegant, flowy and flaring at the waist. You’re grateful for the long sleeves and high collar that will conceal the marks Coriolanus left on your skin.

You don’t want anyone to see. And, if possible, you don’t want anyone to know.

It likely was a one time thing. After all, Coriolanus has his pick of girls from Uni to choose from. So many who have been batting their eyelashes at him since the year began. He’d never go for someone like you. No, he’d rather court somebody like Livia or Persephone. Even Clemmie would be a far better match for him.

It must be as he explained. He got lost in the moment. You surmise this happens sometimes when people are drunk. They do things they wind up regretting afterwards.

You go to your bedroom door, bemused when you find it locked.

As soon as the door opens, Walter leaps into your arms. He meows loudly, rubbing his face against yours while licking his paws. You chuckle.

“Hey, buddy. Let’s get some food in you, okay?”

You pad across the living room with Walter clinging to your neck. You grimace as you walk, an ache still radiating in your lower body whenever you move.

You note that his bowl is still half-full, meaning that Coriolanus must have fed him like you asked. A sliver of relief flutters through you. You felt so guilty for not returning home earlier. The ginger ball of fur is reluctant to part from you, his claws sinking into your collarbone.

“Walter,” you admonish. “I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry.”

He ends up allowing you to put him down. You sigh as you fill his bowl with dry meat and fish leftovers. You know how anxious Walter can get when you’re not around. You sometimes wonder if it’s because of the time he spent in your mother’s lab, being poked and prodded. Does his memory even go that far back? You genuinely hope not, a shudder coursing through you at the knowledge of how your mother treats her test subjects.

You stroke his fur as he bends down to eat. The familiar softness beneath your fingertips soothes you.

You’re so distracted that you don’t hear the muffled steps creeping behind you.

“Should we go now?”

You bolt upright, startled by Coriolanus’ abrupt presence.

“Sure,” you mutter.

The corners of his lips quirk upward.

“You look pretty,” he says, prowling forward.

“T-Thank you,” you stammer in response.

Without thinking, you stagger backward, your stomach flipping when he matches your steps. Your back hits the counter.

The blond crowds your space, placing his hands on each side of the countertop. Your heart misses a beat beneath his ponderous scrutiny.

He cocks his head, his index finger outlining the buttons of your collar.

“It looks a bit uptight though, doesn’t it?” Amusement sways in his cobalt orbs. “Why cover so much skin?”

He flicks the first two buttons with his finger and the top of your collar comes loose, revealing some of the hickeys on your neck. Gasping in shock, you rush to button it back.

“Coriolanus…” you chastise.

He snatches your wrists before you can fix your dress, his intense gaze ensnaring yours.

“Are you trying to hide them?”

Fire blooms in your cheeks.

“I don’t want people to see and gossip,” you reply quietly.

When he inches closer, his potent scent fills your nostrils.

“Let them gossip. Only useless people do that.” His inflection is dismissive, final. His smile broadens. “You shouldn’t hide. You and I had a wonderful time. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“O-Okay.”

He leans to plant a soft, slow kiss on your lips.

He strokes the side of your head. Long, lithe fingers attach to your collar. He undoes more buttons until a hint of cleavage is exposed. You don’t protest or argue this time, girdling your breath until he’s done. His eyes roam over you, satisfaction lighting his handsome features.

His voice is silky smooth as it pours from his lips.

“There. Much better.”

Just like last time, Coriolanus opens the door of his car for you.

“Climb in, angel,” he whispers against your ear, making your heart race.

For a while, he drives while humming a soft tune to himself. You twine your hands in your lap, lost in the mayhem of your thoughts. You try to bury last night as far in the depths of your mind as you can, loathing the tendrils of dread coiling around your insides every time a sliver of remembrance slips through. It’s a brand new day. You must look ahead.

Astonishment slithers through you when you realize Coriolanus is headed towards the Corso.

Your head snaps up.

“I thought we were going to the city.”

“We'll stop by the penthouse first.” He turns to you. “I need to change, and check on the Grandma’am.”

“The Grandma’am?”

A soft smile hovers on his lips.

“My grandmother. I live with her and my cousin.”

Your brows knit. Right. Tigris Snow, you believe her name is. You may have seen her and Coriolanus together before. You always thought that was his sister. They both don the signature Snow blonde hair and blue eyes and share the same towering stature.

“Oh. You’re lucky,” you say absently.

He tosses you an inquisitive glance.

“Lucky?”

“To live with your family.” A forlorn smile spreads onto your face, your head dipping. “My mother she’s…she’s never around.”

His brows crumple.

“Truly, never?”

“Never.”

“What about your father?”

Your heart sinks to your feet.

“He…He’s never had any interest in being in my life. He left when I was a baby. Mother says he hates the Capitol and left to start a new life in District One.”

His hand drops over your thigh. His fingers caress you gently as he says, “I’m so sorry, angel. You deserved better, from both of them.”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance despite the prickling in your chest.

“It’s fine. I can’t miss someone I’ve never met.”

His gaze locks with yours.

“Still, it had to be tough, without your parents.”

Uncomfortable, you veer the topic in his direction.

“What about yours?”

You don’t recall ever seeing his parents around either. Neither at the Academy. Nor that first day at the University. Just that statuesque blonde girl around his age you are fairly sure was his cousin.

Coriolanus’ cheek flares, his face hardening.

“Both were killed by rebels…in different ways.”

“Different ways?”

“Yes. My father died while serving and my mother…” He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second before opening them again. When he speaks again, his tone is icier. “She bled out in labor because of those damn rebels.” You flinch, floored by the sheer rancor bleeding in his voice. His lips tighten. “Both she and…my little sister died.”

Your mouth drops. Coriolanus must have been so young when it happened. You and your mother aren’t close, but you can’t picture your life without her in it. Coriolanus lost his so soon and clearly had so much fondness for her. A wave of sympathy fills you.

“That’s awful. I don’t…I don’t have any words,” you say, tentatively covering his hand with yours. He surprises you by lacing your fingers together.

“None are needed,” he replies tonelessly. He turns his focus back onto the road, concluding in a matter-of-fact inflection, “It’s why we need the Games. To keep those filthy district rats in their place.”

Your mouth clamps shut. You don’t believe in the Games, finding them needlessly cruel. But your mother and Coriolanus do, actively working together to raise the viewership for next year.

A wave of queasiness swells within you.

Silence hangs between you and the blond, not another word leaving your mouths until he arrives at his home.

Coriolanus takes your hand and drags you inside. The two of you make your way through the lobby and up the twelve ornate flights of stairs leading to the Snows’ penthouse. You get lost in the gold and blue patterns swirling beneath your feet.

When he crosses the apartment threshold, he tells you to wait for him and takes long strides towards what you assume must be his bedroom.

You awkwardly linger by the entrance, your eyes meandering about. Everything looks recently renovated, a veil of tarp hanging by a glass window where some construction still seems underway. You step further inside, pacing across the living room while waiting for Coriolanus.

“Hi, I don’t believe we met.”

You whirl, blinking at the appearance of a stunning, slender blonde bearing an eerie resemblance to Coriolanus.

She smiles at you. You relax, gathering that this must be the cousin he mentioned. Tigris Snow.

“We haven’t,” you say.

She studies you. “You must be something special for Coriolanus to bring you around.”

“I-I doubt it,” you reply with a shrug.

She shakes her head.

“My cousin’s never brought any other girls here. Some friends visited but…no one like you.”

“No one like me?”

Sadness flickers over her delicate features briefly before she approaches you.

“Just be careful with him, okay?” she whispers, her voice hushed and secretive, almost as if she dreaded being heard. Her gaze lingers on your neck, a frown forming on her brow. “You just seem so nice and sweet. And Coriolanus he…He’s changed a lot lately. So promise me to take care of yourself.”

You’re stumped at first. It seems such a strange thing to say about her own cousin to a perfect stranger. Your forehead creases.

“Changed in what way?” you can’t help but ask.

Her mouth opens to form a reply but the loud clearing of someone’s throat forestalls whatever she was about to say.

You both whip your heads at the same time.

“Tigris,” Coriolanus says tersely while smoothing the cuffs of his shirt. He’s wearing a fresh new suit, his platinum locks neatly slicked back as always. “I see you two met.”

Tigris blanches. She gives you a quick hug.

“I hope to see you again,” she says before scampering out of the room.

“Me too,” you respond, still perplexed by the peculiar exchange.

Coriolanus turns to you.

“Is everything alright?”

“Of course. Why?”

He takes a step forward, a strange look on his face you can’t read.

“Tigris didn’t say anything strange to you, did she?”

“No, nothing,” you instantly reply. You kick yourself inwards. Why did you lie? You can’t even say yourself. Pure instinct drove the answer out of you.

He tilts up your chin, his intense blue eyes plunging into yours.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, angel? If she said something, I mean.”

The drumming of your heart grows deafening.

You yield beneath the weight of his unflinching stare, words tearing from your tongue in a nervous heap.

“She told me to be careful,” you confess.

He snickers. But even as he laughs, you note the way his gaze hardens ever-so-slightly. He doesn’t like that Tigris said that to you, you realize. You should have kept your mouth shut.

His thumb sweeps over your bottom lip.

“I’m glad that you told me,” he croons, his tone much softer than before. “I hope you know that you can trust me, angel. Always.”

“I know,” you mumble, sinking in the sea of his gaze as he cradles your face.

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

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ladykailitha · 1 year ago

Text

The Fallen

I blame @vecnuthy for this entirely. Seeing all their Sleep Token posts has completely intersected with Steddie and you get this.

***

Modern AU: Corroded Coffin makes it big. Like Metallica levels huge. Like every up and coming metal band is clamoring to open for them levels of fame. When this metal band, The Fallen comes on the scene and are dismissed as glam rock wannabes.

They are very theatrical. They are dressed in long coats with hoods and face masks. The guitarist, bassist, and drummer all have full Venetian masks of different colors. The bassist has one that looks like a starry night (but not Starry Night if you know what I mean). The Guitarist has a red devil’s mask, horns and all. The drummer is in a black death mask. The eyes of the mask are closed and it looks eerie as fuck. The most dramatic of the masks belong to the lead singer. He wears an opaque white lace mask with the mouth and chin cut out so he can sing.

Their outfits match their masks.

The lead singer, Abbadon, the fallen angel is in all in white with a splash of color on the lining of his coat. Sometimes it’s pink or baby blue, sometimes it one of the colors of bandmates, black or red or starry midnight blue. He wears high heeled boats and not always of the combat variety. Once he wore stilettos with a baby blue stripe up the side. It’s the outfit that gets made into dolls and merch the most. Most of the time he’s shirtless, but has been known to switch it up with lace or sheer tops.

The guitarist plays up the devil persona to a tee and calls himself Asmodeus, the demon of lust. Red leather and fetish gear. Thick red combat boots. His guitar is even blood red.

The bassist is called Astraeus, the titan of the night. While in certain light his clothes look black, but they are in fact a dark blue with bright stars, swirling galaxies, and glowing nebulae. His bass is of the night sky as well.

And finally the drummer, Azrael. Angel of death. Always in black. His drum kit is black with black metal fittings. Even his drumsticks are black.

Like I said, at first dismissed as wannabes but they are killing it. It’s clear that not only are they talented, their flare for the dramatic adds to their mystique. Soon they are the new rising stars of metal.

Dustin is their biggest fan. He loves them. Eddie is offended at the highest level. How dare this little butthead like The Fallen. Dustin rolls his eyes.

“Dude, Corroded Coffin is still number one in my book,” he tells Eddie. “But you can’t deny that Abbadon is a beast on vocals.”

Eddie is forced to concede the point. Abbadon knows how to really get the through to the emotion of a song.

So when Dustin gets front row tickets to The Fallen’s concert in Indy, Eddie reluctantly joins the little twerp.

And the concert starts. First the drummer gets lowered into his seat on giant raven wings.

“Azrael!” the announcer calls out.

And the crowd goes wild.

The man slips out of the harness and wings ascend. Eddie cocks his head, yeah all right that’s kinda cool.

Azrael hits his drums and the bassist gets lowered on to the stage. All shimmering blues and purples, like actual stars, lands deftly on the stage and Azrael hits the high hat.

“Astraeus!”

The crowd is frantic now. Screaming and jumping up and down.

As soon as the wings are unstrapped and lifted away Astraeus riffs on his bass and the crowd eats it up.

Eddie likes this one. It’s unique.

Then Azrael starts up again as another man is lowered and it takes everything in Eddie’s power not to roll his eyes at this one. Red leather gear, horned mask, and fucking bat wings.

He stomps on the stage and really wails on his guitar. Eddie looks over to see that Dustin is absolutely eating it with the rest of them so he wisely keeps his mouth shut.

“Asmodeus!”

Dustin is vibrating so hard that Eddie’s fears he might literally crawl out of his skin with excitement.

And then the entire stadium goes silent. Like stock still. Eddie is looking around him confused.

He looks back at the stage and there descends the absolute most devastatingly handsome man Eddie has ever seen and he hasn’t seen his face.

His arms are out stretched and his head is bowed. Once he lands air cannons shoot out white feathers out at the crowd and the wings ascend without this man.

“Abbadon!” the announcer screams for the final time.

“Indy!” he shouts into his mouthpiece.

And the crowd screams could deafen the most resilient of metal goer.

Abbadon starts singing and the crowd is losing their god damn minds. And yeah, yeah. Eddie is one of them.

They’ve got a stage presence that can’t be manufactured.

And then about half way through the concert he sees it. Abbadon turns his head just right and holy fuck, Eddie is losing his mind for a different reason. He manages to take a picture with his phone before Abbadon turns.

After the concert Eddie grills Dustin about the band all the way home. But the only thing the kid knows is how awesome the band is.

He gets to the hotel and starts watching every interview with The Fallen ever. And he pulls up one from about a year or so back where Abbadon is talking about the masks.

Abbadon pulls out a black mask and holds it up to the light. “See? You can tell that the eyes have mesh covering over them. They work the way two way mirrors do. Azrael can see out of them just fine, but you can’t see in.”

There are a lot of impressed nods, Eddie is definitely one of them. That’s certainly a neat trick.

“So what’s the reason for the masks at all?” the interviewer asks.

Abbadon looks at the members of his band and they all nod. He licks his lips.

“Because if we had been ourselves when we started on the scene,” he said, “we would have be called posers and we wouldn’t have even gotten this far.”

Eddie paused the video and took a deep breath.

Fuck.

Just then Jeff wanders into the hotel room and looks at the TV.

“Is that The Fallen?”

Eddie hums. “Yup.”

Jeff grabs a drink from the mini-fridge and makes his way over. “Oh hey is that poser interview?”

Eddie hums again.

“He can’t really be serious about that,” Jeff says with a huff. “No one in the metal scene would call anyone posers, not if they truly loved the music.”

“We would have,” Eddie says with a finality that brings Jeff up short.

“The fuck we would have, man,” Jeff snaps. “There’s no way.”

“We would have it was Steve Harrington’s band.”

Jeff’s eyes go wide. “There is no way that’s Steve Harrington.”

Eddie pulls out his phone and zooms in on Abbadon’s neck. He hands his phone to Jeff.

“Okay so the dude has moles on his neck,” he says handing the phone back, “lots of people have them.”

Eddie goes through his phone and pulls up a picture of Steve. He’s not in the exact same pose but it’s close enough. He hands the phone to Jeff again.

Jeff squints and then zooms in.

“Holy fucking shit!”

Eddie drapes his hand over his mouth and purses his lips.

“Steve Harrington in a metal band,” Jeff says in awe. “All be damned.”

“When The Fallen came on the scene,” Eddie says dropping his hand so his talk, “we were outselling Metallica in records and ticket sales. If the rest of the band are preps like Steve we would have mocked them relentlessly.”

Jeff sits down hard on the sofa next to Eddie. “Shit.”

Eddie buries his head in his hands.

“We got to tell someone, man,” Jeff says. “This is huge!”

Eddie in his haste to look at Jeff accidentally hits the remote.

“Do you think you’ll ever do a reveal?” the interviewer asks.

Asmodeus leans over to speak in the microphone. “Ask us again in ten years if we’re still selling out crowds.”

Eddie fumbles it again, but manages to turn off the TV.

Jeff and he looks at each other.

“We can’t say shit, man,” Eddie hisses. “It would be like outing someone as gay or trans before they want to.”

Jeff slumps in his seat. “Fuck. Yeah. You’re right. Shit.”

They’re silent for a moment.

Eddie cocks his head to the side. “What I don’t get is how the kids don’t know.”

Jeff opens his mouth and then closes it. He shakes his head slowly. “Sorry but if I was Steve I wouldn’t tell them shit either.”

Eddie frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Look,” Jeff says turning to face him, “they’re great kids. Brilliant D&D players, nerds, geeks, and dorks the lot of them. But I would not trust them with a secret that big.”

Eddie thought about all the time that they accidentally blurted out something that didn’t make sense out of context, but once you knew, holy shit was it a miracle these kids didn’t get into more trouble.

“Yeah okay.”

After a moment of silence Eddie looks over and frowns at Jeff. “What are you doing my hotel room anyway?”

Jeff holds up his beer. “Your beer was cold, I forgot to put mine in the fridge when we got in.”

“Asshole,” Eddie grouses, bumping Jeff’s shoulder.

Jeff kisses his cheek. “You love me though.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

Steve is in his dressing room after their last concert of the tour for their second album scrubbing the hell out of his face because that mask is prone to giving him the worst breakouts, when he notices the blue roses.

He gets a lot of flowers but never blue roses. He rinses off his face and walks over to the them.

There’s a note and he thinks he recognizes the handwriting. It’s short and sweet and absolutely terrifying.

“I know your secret, sweetheart. But don’t worry, I’ll never tell.”

It’s not signed, but the ‘sweetheart’ gives it away.

He messages Robin.

“Get Eddie Munson in here right now!”

She protests that she doesn’t know where he is. But Steve knows he has to still be in the building and sure enough she finds Eddie waiting in the wings, looking smug as hell.

Her eyes go wide and cursing up a storm drags him into the dressing room.

She presses her back to the door.

“Who told?” she squeaks.

Eddie laughs. “No one, I swear.”

“Then how did you know?” Steve asks.

He hands Steve his phone with the picture he took at the concert. Robin wanders over to peak over Steve’s shoulder.

“So it’s a picture of his neck,” she murmurs.

But suddenly Steve gets it. “It’s my moles!”

Eddie nods, pressing his lips together so he doesn’t giggle.

“Shit!” Robin hisses. “Do you think anyone else figured it out?”

“I doubt it,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I’m just obsessive that way.”

“About moles?” Robin says with a frown.

“With Steve.”

Robin blinks. “Right I’m out of here.”

She closes the door behind her and they are left alone.

The night ends with Eddie in Steve’s bed asking him for The Fallen to join Corroded Coffin on their next tour next year and there is no way Steve could say no to that. His bandmates would kill him.

They go on tour and the hardest part is dodging rumors that Eddie is two timing Steve with Abbadon because when The Fallen and Corroded Coffin perform together they make out on stage.

Then for The Fallen’s ten anniversary they do a reveal and Dustin is livid.

Robin and Steve had been telling him for years that they were just low level PAs and not a famous rockstar and his equally mysterious manager.

They’re forgiven when Steve tells him that half the songs on the first album are about him and the rest of the kids.

***

This is just a rough draft. I might expand on it in full later.

ETA: Story here.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar steve harrington

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isabeauwolf · 3 months ago

Text

Dabi x reader: As you Wish (Period Comfort)

It was back.

Mother nature's curse, Aunt Flo, Jason, whatever the hell you wanna call it.

Your period had come.

Dammit.

You'd think I'd learn by now, but noooo. You sighed, covering your eyes with the back of your hand.

All of the signs were there: you was overly horny all week, then you wanted to cry out of nowhere and over the must dumbest shit, or was extremely moody and pissed off. You were so sleepy yesterday, even after oversleeping past your usual nap time and your breasts ached and were sensitive. Seriously, your nipples just barely grazing against your shirt made them tender and stiffen up, cut fucking diamonds.

All of this drama, only for your body to punish you for not being pregnant.

For the next seven days.

Seven days of hell.

To make things worse, Dabi was dropping by tonight.

Not that you weren't happy for your boyfriend to be coming over.

You loved seeing him. The thrill of a villain sneaking into your house without any of your neighbors noticing, or they didn't care as long as the couple wasn't too loud or disturbing the peace. It was great, one of the many perks to living in this neighborhood that was under the protection of the Shie Hassaikai, the yakuza. You paid your rent on time and were never late. Never asked questions and kept your head down whenever Mimic or one of Overhaul's eight bullets collected the months payment.

Of course, your period had to strike as you were about to take your early morning nap, as you rose to your feet you felt it.

The pool of blood staining your underwear and favorite pajama pants, dripping down your thighs, the uncomfortable dampness and stickiness.

The painful cramps in your abdomen hit, making you close your eyes harder, and focus on your breathing, simple breathing exorcises, deep inhale and exhale. In and out.

Who would have thought working as a nurses aid in training in a nursing home worked. All of the older woman teaching you tricks of the trade from their time as midwives or nurses at the local hospitals in their youth.

"Fuck," you cursed underneath your breath, making your way awkwardly towards your bathroom, waddling and shuffling without straining the floor. You felt gross already, yuck. Striping from your dirty and soiled, blood covered underwear and pants, throwing them into the hamper with a heated glare.

Opening your period drawer and checking on your supplies. Lips thinned into a firm line, clicking your tongue, and grumbling bitterly, "Of fucking course."

Your period supplies and stash was running low.

Damn near out of almost everything.

Groaning in frustration, you opened the drawer wider. Pulling out your period panties, placing a pad into it on top of the rest of your stack of clean clothes, you placed on the counter earlier after getting home. Bulky hoodie, check. Navy colored sweatpants, check. Pad and period underwear, check. Tank top and socks, check. Lazy girl outfit all here.

Turning on the shower head as hot as you could stand it, then removing the rest of your clothes as you waited, Need to wash these before they stain. thinking to yourself, inwardly sighing.

Hoping onto the shower, frowning as the water, blood and blood clots went down the drain. The heavy smell of blood and iron hit your nose making you wrinkle your nose in disgust. Closing your eyes once more, letting the warm water hit your now aching lower back as a thought came to mind. I need to tell him.

It's not the first time he's come over while you were on your period, and hopefully not the last. It's funny. You'd think that having a villain for a boyfriend, he would be a major asshole most of the time. He kept surprising you, awkwardly being kind and sweet. He grew up with a mother who birthed his dickhead of a father four kids and he had a younger sister, of course, he knows about women having their periods.

Chuckling, washing all of the iciness away with your favorite shampoo and body wash, rinsing and turning the water off.

Stepping out of the shower. Feeling like a drowned rat, slowly and still soaking wet, hesitantly and quickly, stepping down on the green furry rug, shoving your new underwear with a pad over your hips, then grabbed a blue towel, drying the rest of your body while checking to make sure bloody drops weren't running down your legs.

Sniffing and frowning, you finished getting dressed, grabbing the bottle of midol and shoved it into the front pocket of your hoodie, opening the bathroom door wearing a separate towel on your head, and walking back towards the living room. Retracing yours steps, eyes glued to the floor, thank god, there was no mess.

Standing in front of your favorite chair, opening the matching ottoman beside it, placed down a hidden pillow and red towel down as you sat back down, reaching for your favorite large fluffy blanket and phone.

Swiping your thumb over the screen, finger hovering over the message button, pushing it and waiting for it to load, then pressed Dabi's name, "alleycat" - he still snickered at the fucked up nickname you picked for him in case any dumbass tried to steal your smartphone.

"What?" You replied, giggling. "I can't put your villain name, or blue flame. That's amateur bullshit, 101." Rolling your eyes and snickered, adding, "Besides it's true, isn't it?" You teased lightly, "You are my chill and lazy alleycat." You reached over and lightly caressed and pet the top of his soft raven locks through yours fingers.

Dabi rolled his eyes, a light grin on his scarred lips. "Whatever works for you, princess."

A small smile graced your lips.

You: I'm on my cycle again, yay..... not. -_- If it's not too much trouble do you mind picking up some supplies for me?

He replied immediately.

Alleycat: Yeah, whatcha need? Send pics, I'm already at the store getting snacks anyways.

Your smile widened, you were lucky to have such an understanding boyfriend.

You: Thanks, babe~ U R the best! ;) See you soon and be safe.

Scrolling through your camera roll at the last time you forgot to write down your period shopping list, you sent them to him: pads, midol and chocolate.

Your good mood soured as another wave of cramps hit, forcing you to suck in a hissed breath. Closing yours eyes once more, trying to blink away tears spilling from the corner of your eyes, rubbing them away, burying yourself deeper into the chair, turning and laying your head against your arms, phone in your lap and spacing out.

You passed out in a matter on seconds it.

Or at least, that's what it felt like.

Your door bell ranged twice, letting you know that he was here.

Blinking and rubbing your eyes, groaning and yawning.

I don't wanna get up. You thought, blinking as a wave of tiredness and an incoming headache coming on. "I'm coming," you raised your voice slightly, licking your dry lips and rubbing the ball of your hand across your temple. The bell rang again, he must not have heard you, trying again, "hang on, hold your horses," rising once more from your comfy nest, "impatient, kitty, I swear," dragging the blanket along, unlocking it and opening the door.

As soon as you saw your villainous boyfriend, his sexy deep, heavily lidded ocean blues. Something in your overly hormonal brain flipped, like a switch: to overly painful cramps to overly horny, your drowsy eyes widened and your breath hitched. This isn't fucking fair! Down in between your legs, your traitorous clit ached, throbbed hard and painful.

Why the fuck can't your body make up its damned mind?!

Dabi leaned against the threshold of your doorjam. He titled his head, a playful smirk on his scarred face. "Special delivery." Hold two large grocery bags in his hand. "Your butt napkins and sugary snacks, my lady."

You should be pissed off, but instead a giggle slips past your lips. "My dark knight to the rescue." Rolling your eyes, opening the door wider and letting him in. "Take-out's on the way. I hope you don't mind Chinese." You mentally recomposed yourself as your cheeks heated and body grew more flushed and overly excited, "I don't feel like cooking tonight."

He walked in and waved, slipping off his boots, "Yeah, that's fine."

You watched him as you closed the door.

Dabi placed the snacks down on the coffee table. "Might have went overboard. Whatever we don't eat tonight, you can eat whenever." He shoved his hands into his pockets, watching and observing, then slowly, shrugging off his coat and lazily laying it on the side of the armrest of the couch, and beside his spot for easy access whenever he wanted his smokes.

"You didn't have to, you know." You smiled sheepishly, pulling the bottle of midol out from the pocket of your hoodie, opening it and popping two of the white and blue pills into your mouth as he opened a bottle of your favorite soda, sipping it and swallowing it down. "Thanks."

"Hush and let me spoil you a bit, yeah?" He replies, lightly pulling you into his warm chest, knowing you would enjoy the comfort of his body heat against your body. He loved whenever you were super clingy, it didn't bother him. Must be the touched-starved part of him that craved affection and attention he was denied growing up, he never said it, but somehow you knew, and you couldn't say no to him.

Closing your eyes and smiling, nuzzling into his chest and sighing in content, hugging him. "I've missed this, I've missed you," you admitted, enjoying and indulging both him and yourself.

This was nice. You needed this, your sweet and caring boyfriend.

Dabi smirking, lightly rubbing your back, and lazily trailing his hands down to your hips, and cooed gently into her neck. "Ah, my poor little ketchup packet."

And there was the asshole part of him, you didn't like that.

Mother always said every man is an asshole. Your boyfriend was no different.

Leaning away from him and gawking. "You are supposed to comfort your girlfriend, not be an asshole, jackass." Smacking his arm with tears prickling the corner of your eyes. It's stupid. You knew he was joking to try and make you laugh, but instead he had done the opposite.

Dabi's eyes widened. "Shit, sorry, m'sorry," he pulled you into a hug, holding you against him again. Resting his head against the top of your head as you buried your face into the his chest. "Please, don't cry." His voice was soft and genuine. "You know, if I didn't tease ya a little bit, then you'd think I was mad at ya."

You sniffed and muttered a soft and quiet, "I know, baby, I know." Nuzzling more into his chest, inhaling his cologne and the smell of smoke from both his flames and nicotine.

"What crappy, cheesy, romance movie do you wanna watch tonight?" He asks, picking you up, making you squeal cutely and giggle, swinging you around like a princess before plopping down on the couch and laying you sideways in his lap. He tilts your chin up, meeting his gaze as his thumb wipes your tears away. "What does my princess want?"

You hummed in though, smiling as the perfect movie came to mind. "How about The Princess Bride?"

Rising an eyebrow in amusement, "Again?"

You laughed, "C'mon you know you love it whenever Wesley beats Prince Humperdick and steals Buttercup away on their wedding night."

"Yeah, that spoiled dickhead deserved it." he agreed, smirking and nodding. "Alright, alright," He winked and kissing the top of your head. "As you wish."

Smiling you put on The Princess Bride, nibbling on some chocolate to hold you until food arrived. It didn't matter, if it was the first time or the thousand time, this movie never got old for you. A true childhood classic.

When Princess Buttercup and Wesley were entering the Fire Swamp, the food arrived as Dabi was reaching for a bag of chips.

"Perfect timing." You muttered, slipping more of your soda and paused the movie, "Gotta go to the bathroom."

"I got it, babe." He gave a small smile.

You stood up and winced, the ache in your lower back and hips were back as you slowly made your way into the bathroom, "I'll be right back, ouch."

Dabi's smile dropped, standing, walking towards the door and opened it, and looked completely bored at the young kid, holding there take-out, grabbing it and muttered, "thanks" as he lightly slammed the door in their shocked and scared face. "Punk ass," he grumbled underneath his breath, peaking into the bags, his scowl curled upward as he saw his favorite meal sitting on top.

Seriously, you spoiled him. How he was lucky enough, a bastard like him got a great girl like you he never knew, and didn't bother asking.

Grabbing some napkins from the kitchen he placed the takeout spread out onto the coffee table: dumplings, fried rice, chicken on a stick, chicken lo mein with extra chicken(his favorite), and donuts.

You came back, watching as he set everything up all nice and neatly. "Think we can eat it all?"

He turned his head, smiling smugly, "Hell yeah, we can. It's gonna get messy cuz I'm hungry."

You blinked and sat down. "Did you not eat again before you came over?"

He shrugged his shoulders, pulling you into his side. "I'm fine. We've got food, you've taken your magic pain away pills. Now, let's eat. I'm starving." Dabi hit play on the tv, then handed you a plate and chopsticks without looking away.

Complain all he wants, but you are certain that he loves this movie just as much. What's there not to like? Revenge, fighting, true love and miracles.

By the time, the movie was almost over most of the food and snacks were eaten, and what was left Dabi was sweet enough to put everything away and wash the dishes.

Of course, you cried when Prince Humperdinck pulled a jealous dick move and had the machine suck 50 years of Wesley's life away, the actors anguish cry of pain had you choked up and in tears. As Dabi pulled you into his side, pouting as he offered you comfort.

When the movie was over, both of you were quiet.

Dabi spoke first. This question had been on his mind, the whole time.

"Why do you love this movie so much?" he asks, watching the credits roll and listening to the song playing at the end, but its was just background noise. "It makes you cry every time and yet, you still watch it over and over again."

"I watched it plenty of times with my mom growing up." You said smiling, pressing into his side with your head underneath his chin. "No matter how many times, we would both laugh and cry together. I miss her and this movie like many of her favorites brings me a strange form of comfort." Blinking back more tears, you straighten and face him. "I know you haven't had the best life at home, but know that no matter... what happens you will always be my home, and I hope that I am yours, Touya."

"Of course, you are, Y/n." He whispered, cupping your face. His touch and eyes were gentle, warm and you trusted him completely. "You are my light in this fucked up world." Dabi swallows the lump in his throat as he tries to calm his breathing, bloody tears prickling his eyes, and falling. "You see the man behind the burns and the scars, a broken and insane bastard who loves you. Would burn the fucking world for you. I love you, my princess." He pulls you into a slow and tender kiss which you kiss back, holding him against you and crawling into his lap, and straddling his waist.

Panting you break the kiss first. A breathless string of giggles slips between your kiss swollen lips. "Come on, let's go to bed, my dark prince."

Dabi sniff and laughed, grinning. His turquoise gaze bright in the dark room and the moonlight. "As you wish, princess buttercup." He picks you up again into his arms, a soft smirk appearing on his red tears streaked, burned, and stapled face.

You laugh, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck. "Whatever am I going to do with you? My dark prince? More like a bratty king."

"Yes, as you are my Queen." He whispers into your ear and gently places you onto the bed with care, stealing your lips again. "Your King of hell will take no refusal, my love." He purrs, lightly nipping into the crook of your neck as you squirm against him and cackle.

"Alright, alright, you win, dammit." You pant in between fits of giggles, lightly trying to shove him away. "You Mister need to wash your face before you stain my sheets." You give a light glare, watching as Dabi pulls back, dramatically grabbing his chest.

"My Queen Buttercup, you wound me so deeply." He gasps, raising an eyebrow and smirking. "Such a heartless woman I have for a lover."

"Oh, go on you big baby, shoo, shoo," You wave him away, getting up and heading towards the bathroom, feeling his gaze on you as he follows close behind. "Besides you need to brush yours teeth."

"I'm going, I'm following." He chuckled, pulling his white shirt over his head and dropping it into the laundry basket beside yours and the rest of his clothes follow. He doesn't care that he's walking around buck naked in your place, he's confident and has no shame. Finding a pair of black sweatpants in your hall closet and puts them on, tying the drawstring around his waist, then heads back into the bathroom, washing his face and brushing his teeth with your toothpaste.

Dabi turns the lights off in the house as he makes his way back into your bedroom, where you are already in bed, and waiting for him. "The castle is safe and your king is tired."

You snicker and pat the space beside you. "Well come on, King Touya. It's rude to keep a maiden waiting."

Without a word, he turns the light off, slowly stalking his way towards the bed and on his side. Dabi's strong hands pulled your body closer, your back against his chest, he rested an hand on your lower abdomen caressing it. "It's getting colder at night, let me help warm you up." He whispers into your ear, purring and his voice growing low and husky, dripping with dark promise. "I'll behave tonight, but no mercy tomorrow, baby."

Your breath hitches and you gasp, when he trails his over hand underneath your shirt, caressing the skin and travels upwards, lightly cupping your swollen and sensitive breast. "Touya, you horn dog. Cheater." You moan and pant as you pull him into a kiss.

He smirks against your lips, chuckling. "I am behaving, honest. I've been a good boy all night," Dabi pulls his hand away as if he did nothing, and placed it behind his head underneath the pillow. "This is my reward for pampering you all day." The heat of his body hitting your lower back, leaving his other hand over your abdomen, heating up and drawing patterns with his fingers.

Calming your breathing, shifting onto your side, you close your eyes, reaching behind you, finding his free hand and squeezed it lightly, whispering. "Thank you. Good night, Touya." Sighing in content and falling asleep.

He hummed, watching as the discomfort disappeared from his girlfriends usually happy and cheerful face. He wished he could do more to help. If he needed to use his quirk to help ease his baby's suffering, then he'd do it.

For once, he was happy to be cursed with his fathers quirk. Only during times like this was he genuinely happy, holding his lover in his arms, all his, no one else's.

He decided that in the morning, he would make a light breakfast knowing that chocolate pancakes and hot chocolate always made you smile.

Scooting closer, tangling their legs together and pulling the blanket over them, he laid back down and closed his eyes. Listening to the steady breathing and light snores below him as a small smile curled against his scarred lips, kissing the top of yours head, and whispered, "Feel better soon, baby."

He fell asleep.

He didn't care, if no one in the else in the world loved him, or hated him. As long as he had you, his baby, his whole world.... his reason for living, he could live with himself, with these scars, burns and broken body.

A little period blood wasn't going to keep him away.

Not now, not ever.

Even while moody, pissy, tired and grumpy, you were still the most beautiful.

You were their for his bad days, so why shouldn't he be there for yours?

💙----------🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥-----💙

I did it! Took a minute, since I'm not used to writing in canon x reader, so please excuse the cringe! ^^

To all my fellow period buddies experiencing there cycles with me or after me! I made this for you! Wanted to spoil my peeps! I hope it showed?

Love ya'll! Plus, I wanted to throw in more Dabi fluff! He would be the sweet, but still teasing boyfriend, well, in my eyes anyways ;)

#villain lover #dabi todoroki #dabi x reader #period comfort #fanfic idea #periods suck #touya todoroki #soft Dabi #teasing Dabi #mentions of period blood #The Princess Bride reference #Princess Bride Spoilers #super Dabi fluff #ooc Dabi #reader x Dabi

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