#college is doing very normal things to my brain

[samw1se]

I was born blind in my left eye. It never got fixed. Many of these points are true in my experience, except I still have an eyeball. Here are some additional fun facts from my realm of experience:

-my elementary school knew I was blind in one eye but did not tell my parents. I started to get a little farsighted in the 4th grade so I went to get readers and the eye doctor told me, a nine year old girl, that my life was forever fucked and I’d never be fully independent, never drive, never go to college, because I was disabled and it was too late to fix it. We got a second opinion. And then a third.

- (you can try to fix my kind of blindness up until about the age of five because the brain is still really elastic and capable of fixing the broken shit. They fix it by putting a patch over your good eye to force your bad eye to see. They tried it when I was nine but it was too late, so I essentially spent a year having my life ruined by being suddenly completely blind all the time and it sucked ass.)

- you make a great marksman and baseball batter once you figure out how your lack of depth perception works. Not a great outfielder though.

- things sometimes just kind of vanish on you. I got a massive concussion as a kid from running into a pole head on. The pole had been there as long as I could remember. I interacted with the pole every day. But one day I was running and the last thing I remember is thinking, hey, where did the pole go? Like the equipment holding it up was still there but the pole just seemed gone. This also happened several times to me when trying to catch pop flies or headbutt soccer balls. They’d just go away.

- people will indeed forget all the time and throw shit at you from the blind side and hit you in the head, or hug you and scare the shit out of you. A boy asked me out once after he hit me with a frisbee on my blind side.

- and then some people will always think of you when they encounter one eyed things. When I was an RA in college, some of my residents were so very pleased to bring me a one-eyed goldfish they’d found in the feeder tank at the pet store 😩 we named him one eyed Willy and he lived for like five years and survived two cross country trips in a car (in a Nalgene bottle both ways)

- I don’t have a traditional lazy eye (my eyeball can see but there is no connection between it and my brain so the message goes unrecieved) so I don’t really have much of a wandering eye, unlike other folks with amblyopia. I can also only cross my good eye, I cannot wink with my good eye without moving my entire face (and I had to learn how to do this by pushing my cheek and forehead muscles together with my hands until I could do it on my own so I look very stupid) and my good eye also tends to have trouble when looking at blue light for too long since it gets all the strain.

-additionally, the only times my eye seems to look lazy is in the occasional picture. I call it my googly eye.

- re writing advice: I took a writing class in college where we spent a lot of time journaling about our own bodies and then writing stories with what we had learned… my wonderful teacher guessed that I was blind in my left eye because of how I described things. I never used left or right when talking about objects being around characters’ bodies, only front and back. She fucked me up with that one.

- I get a lot of bruises on my left arm because I struggle with depth perception when walking around corners/doors on that side

- they gave me glasses as a kid to try to fix it after patching didn’t work (leading to the discovery that I don’t have a traditional lazy eye) and the left side was the biggest and thickest fucking lens you’ve ever seen and the right side was just normal glass no rx. It made the glasses sit crooked on my face so I stopped wearing them.

- they test you for amblyopia during your drivers license test and I cheated both times I’ve had to go take it 🙃 they put a ball on one lens and a box on the other and they ask if the ball is inside or outside the box and I didn’t see no goddamn ball but the man next to me said it was inside so I did too.

- if I hadn’t cheated, I could still get a license, just with a special note on it, which i didn’t know both times I cheated.

- and yes, cannot agree more with being a safe ass driver. People get frustrated because I follow so far behind other cars and give people so much room all the time but I have a clean ass driving record.

- following that, I have a hard time sitting in the front seat when someone else is driving, especially if they are tailgaters because I feel like I am always about to crash. My husband, a notorious tailgater, says I have an invisible break I hit whenever he’s too close to someone.

- my parents made me go to a chiropractor as a kid to see if the reasoning for my blindness was a pinched nerve. It did not work.

- a redditor once told me he would end himself if he were ‘as cursed as’ me because the idea of being blind in one eye was so insanely distasteful to him. I tried explaining to him that it’s literally the only life I’ve ever known and he kept trying to tell me it was disgusting and unnatural and I lived a hideous life. I was like, dude. Go to therapy.

- if you are blind in one eye but still have an eyeball, you have one fun fact for Two Truths and a Lie always directly on hand and no one will ever guess that’s a truth.

- I am especially clumsy, and sometimes when I get up to do something and start knocking shit down, my husband plays the Godzilla theme song in his phone and it always makes me die laughing.

- when my parents found out, they demanded to know why I didn’t tell them, and I had to explain to them that it was literally all I’ve ever known, how did I know it was wrong? I thought everyone could only see one side of their nose.

Sorry this got long. I can’t sleep lol.

writing advice for characters with a missing eye: dear God does losing an eyes function fuck up your neck. Ever since mine crapped out I've been slowly and unconsciously shifting towards holding my head at an angle to put the good eye closer to the center. and human necks. are not meant to accommodate that sorta thing.

[whatisamildopinion]

if I lived in ancient Greece I would wear the FUCK out of a chiton. those things look so comfy

[alphascnsual]

As the two finally exited Alexander's office; they were the image of a glowing pair- all smiles and pure delight. Nobody could guess from looking at the two that one of them was a cold-blooded serial killer and the other was under a months-long hypnotically induced sex haze. Alexander made quick. precise work of cleaning the office- using bleach wipes and neatening everything back to where it had been before their tryst, erasing any evidence of Connor being there. He then gathered the very few important items from his office- namely his laptop and his file on Connor; those were the only two things that connected him to anything more than being a regular counsellor. He stored both things in an expensive leather briefcase that held everything else he truly needed, which again, was minimal as the sociopath had planned and lived carefully to appear normal but was prepared to disappear without a trace at a moment's notice.

The campus was quiet- since the killings had ramped up so much, people were afraid to simply be out-and-about on their own so nobody was really around to see the two leaving together. Nobody noticed Alexander walking his mindless lover to his dorm room to help collect his bare essentials. He couldn't help but run a hand along Connor's bed, "The amount of times I've watched you jerk off right here ..." he mused with a smile, "The amount of times I've slipped in here to steal your underwear or smell your pillowcase ..." he sighed blissfully as though he spoke of the most normal, delightful memories. "Just toss your things in here-" he instructed, snapping out of his daze for a bit to focus on the task at hand and tossing a black duffel bag on the bed, "Don't worry- We'll get you much nicer things; things fit for my beautiful bitch boy," he smiled, "We just need to make it look like you left of your own accord in case somebody decides to be a pain and come snooping," he explained with a sigh, now and then shaking his head and letting the younger boy know what to pack and what to abandon, leaving only college study-related items and other things that were unimportant. Connor's purpose in life would be him from now on, he wouldn't have need for material belongings.

He opened Connor's laptop while the other packed and emailed administration a notice that he was leaving the school and quitting his program before snapping the device closed and tossing it into the bag as well- he'd destroy it eventually, anything that could be used to trace Connor's whereabouts from this point would soon be taken care of. Once they were packed, including the spyware he'd planted across the dorm room, Alexander resisted the powerful urge to fuck Connor again as an poetic 'goodbye' to his former life and as a fulfilment to the fantasy he'd long had of doing that right here while watching the other through his secret cameras but his emotionless, computer-like brain told him they didn't have the time and it was risky to contaminate a scene with their joined DNA and also there was no time to waste.

Soon, Alexander escorted them to his vintage but unassuming vehicle, loading their belongings into the back, opening the door to usher Connor into the passenger seat, and then letting himself in and taking off into the early evening light. Once they'd hit the highway, it was all Connor could do not to let out a massive yell of accomplishment; he'd done it. He'd actually fucking done it. He looked over at Connor with a wicked grin and took his hand, kissing the back of it. All these long, arduous months of careful planning and ruthless killing had paid off- he'd won his prize. Connor was his and his alone. The thrill and the realization of it all were some of the first and only things Alexander had ever really felt and that was how his brain convinced him that this wasn't some heinous crime or psychopathic spiral- this was destiny. His blood was pumping and the excitement now manifested itself in another way ...

"Baby ..." he cooed over to Connor, "Be a good little boy and take care of this, will you?" he hummed casually before using his free hand that wasn't on the steering wheel and reaching it behind Connor's head, then pulling the other down and across their seats so that the other's head was in his lap, face-to-face with a his hard and pulsing crotch, still tucked beneath the layers of his clothing, "Remember ... 'No thoughts ... only Master's cock'."

Connor knew he had lost this fight. His deepest desires, the carnal needs that went beyond all reason, had won out. At least for now - but did it make a difference? Even if his suppressed consciousness, the part of him that was able to form enough proper thoughts to see Alexander for what he was and what he'd done, was to regain enough strength to take back over - a line had been crossed that he couldn't come back from. He had given himself up, had allowed a monster, a psychopath to claim him, to use and take his body and turn him from an abstract object of desire into a very real 'lover', for lack of a better term. In Alexander's twisted mind, Connor surely was exactly that. And in the boy's subconsciousness that had been pulled to the forefront? This man wasn't a psychopath, not a murderer. He was a protector, the one he needed to submit and devote himself to, because that would equate pure bliss. No worries, no fears. No thoughts. The only need he felt was to be taken by Alexander, to be fucked, and while his own body convulsed and came, he felt his only true need fulfilled in the same moment. Alexander's seed filling him, pushing his struggling consciousness once again way back into the locked away parts of his psyche.

His fear, his terror, his disgust - not at Alexander, but himself - was drowned out by bliss, the endorphines flooding his system making Connor push away the horror he should feel at the fact that he'd just had climaxed to the gigantic cock of his friends' murderer pounding him like a living sex doll. Alex's words echoed in his brain like a mantra - no thoughts, no worries. Only the other man. Only being made to feel this ecstatic bliss, only being kissed. Connor did not respond, only smiling softly with his gaze feeling absent, only a whimper coming from the brunette when the larger man pulled out of him. An anxious young man like Connor wasn't exactly having a lot of sex these days, and certainly not with a man as hung and virile as the therapist, leaving the student feel rather empty, almost disappointed at the sensation of the other's seed spilling out of his tightness, clenching his entrance not to lose Alexander's gift, eagerly licking every last drop off of the man's fingers when he fed the cum to him.

He heard every word Alexander said, although seeming rather absent-minded upon the madman's monologue about finding them a proper home. Connor's instinctive urge to flee, to run from the other and go to the police, had resigned for the moment, barely struggling to even come to the forefront of the young man's mind. Instead, he smiled with oddly empty eyes, happy that all his reasons for worry and anxiety were gone. He let Alexander dress him, still feeling the warmth of the man's cum inside him, and internalized the sociopath's words as he repeated them like he was being indoctrinated. "Nothing else matters except being a good boy for Master." Humming happily, he nodded as Alex said it was time to go - not that Connor had any clue where they were going. That wasn't for him to worry about. Master would take care of it.

[sharkieboi]

headcanon that Edward Elric is lactose intolerant (hence the hatred of milk) but no one in this universe has the words for that so everyone is just like “you’re short because you won’t drink milk”

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。the dictionary definition of a rich boy

synopsis. that rich guy who won’t stop asking you out is your partner for this project—send help

contents. pre dating rich boy! gojo, college! au, implications of a zenin being pushy on the first date, satoru being distraught you went on a date lol, pre relationship shenanigans with the cutest loser boy !!

word count. 3.8k (it’s literally all just him being a handful)

notes. thank you niku my most cherished gojo stan for comming this (and giving me the most ridiculous tip) i adore you so much :,) mwah 💋

he’s late—gojo is late. in fact, he’s very late, by forty-five minutes and thirty-two seconds to be exact. you aren’t really the count-by-the-second type of person, but somehow when it comes to that irritating, smug, too-talkative brat that you’re stuck with…well, you can’t help but be petty and use the seconds against him too.

he shows up close to an hour after your agreed time, waltzing in with a grin on his face—and, oh, you should kill him. he has the audacity to send you a wink when he walks over, coming up to your table and pushing his sunglasses down his nose just a bit to look you in the eyes over the lenses. 

what kind of person wears sunglasses indoors? surely only the kind that are nothing but trouble.

“aw, you’re here already,” gojo hums, “that excited to see me?”

“you’re late,” you spit.

“am i? i could have sworn—”

“now it’ll get dark by the time we get through what we planned for today,” you glare. he looks enthused, positively delighted by the statement—it’s almost as if you’ve offered him candy. 

“well, then i’ll just have to walk you to your apartment,” he offers smoothly. 

what a jackass. of course, just as expected, he’s still attempting to worm his way into your personal life (and likely your pants) in the most obnoxious of ways. over your dead body, however, will you ever allow him to know where you live, let alone accompany you on the way. you value your sanity, and having a conversation with gojo satoru longer than you absolutely have to seems like the most efficient way to fry every nerve and brain cell you have left.

“absolutely not,” you grit, “you can call me an uber. you pay.”

“alright,” he nods, “i’ll get an uber for you. but i’ll need your number to make sure you made it home safe. otherwise, what kind of partner would i be?”

typically, any normal pair of partners are meant to exchange numbers for a project—it would be the easiest form of communication, and more importantly, you can spam call if gojo decides not to carry his weight instead of just hoping and praying he checks his socials. but you can’t let him have your number—he’s not trustworthy enough for that. the last thing you need is him bombarding you with texts, or worse: calls, in the middle of work and class. so instead, you strictly inform him that any and all communication will occur via social media.

he pouts at that—it’s a cute pout, you have to admit. it’s slightly dangerous, too, because had you not had the self-control you do, you might have caved. but then he lights up at the prospect of you adding him back on socials. 

i’ll get your number one of these days, he says confidently. his confidence is as aggravating as the way he clicks his pen in the middle of class. he still chooses to sit right beside you despite all the free and very available seats the entirety of the lecture hall has. 

but no, he insists on sitting right next to you—and you? well, you have to hope you don’t get charged with homicide by the end of every class from the constant clicking he makes you endure. despite all that, gojo is surprisingly smart, which means your project might not be so doomed. 

he’s annoyingly smart, actually—he never takes notes, and just when you think the professor has him cornered by asking him a question when he’s seemingly dozing off, he answers immediately with the correct answer. 

you hate him.

“absolutely not happening,” you grumble, opening your laptop, “anyway i think we should start with—”

“well, i hate to inform you,” he sighs sadly as if it genuinely pains him to say this, “but i’ve actually deleted all my socials.”

“what?” your eye twitches.

“yeah,” he nods, “it’s a bit of a cleanse if you will. staring at your screen all day and finding value in fake posts is not good for mental health, you know? i’m trying to be more in tune with myself. it’s been a real self-journey.”

before the end of this project, you might either be a college dropout or an inmate at the county jail. you’re not sure, either is equally as possible.

“gojo satoru, i am sick of your games,” you spit, “we both know—”

“and i would hate not being in touch with my partner since it’s a crucial part of this project for us to work together,” he hums, something of a smug look plastered on his aggravatingly gorgeous face, “that thirty percent deduction for ineffective partner communication would be such a shame to get when we’re working so hard already on this, wouldn’t you agree?”

is he threatening you? for your number? with your grade? he is, you realize—and you clench your fist tightly around the phone in your hands as he eyes it with a knowing look on his face. he has you right where he wants you, whether you like it or not.

“you’re an asshole,” you spit.

“i’m a mental health advocate,” he gasps—he has the nerve to act offended, even as he’s so obviously enjoying working you up like this. you wish he’d drop dead immediately. maybe you could take his card from his wallet as his cold body lays lifeless on the table and order yourself a new laptop if he did—that would be ideal. 

“i saw you post on your story last night—”

“you didn’t watch it,” he pouts, “i posted a shirtless gym selfie just for you—wait a second, you pay attention to my story, huh?” he cuts himself off with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows at you, “c’mon, you don’t have to force yourself to skip them. you know you wanna watch them.”

“no, i don’t,” you seethe, “it was just the first one at the top. stop being self-important—”

“anyway,” he drawls, eyeing your phone again. you want to splash your coffee in his face. “i’ll need your number,” he sniffs, “the crushing disappointment of you skipping my story made me realize i’m too focused on getting social media validation, so i’m taking a break. it’s the best thing for me to do in my headspace right now. hope you understand.”

“are you kidding me?” you stare at him. he grins before shaking his head.

“i would never joke about mental health,” he says seriously—it’s not as serious as your desire to slap him, however.

“fine,” you take a long, slow sip of your coffee to calm down, “give me your phone.”

“oh, you’re gonna set your own contact?” he brightens, immediately handing you his phone. it’s brand new—the newest model, in fact. it’s barely been a few days since it dropped. truthfully, you’re not even sure why you’re shocked—of course, he, of all people, would upgrade immediately. “how intimate,” he gushes, “it’s almost like we’re going on a date—”

“do not text me outside of project purposes,” you interrupt, thrusting the phone back into his hands, “got it?”

“you got it,” he grins triumphantly.

—————

like all things he does, gojo finds a roundabout way to keep his word without actually keeping it. it’s his secret talent, you think—finding loopholes through all the technicalities of things.

hey when ur free can u read over my portion? i just finished

btw r u going to that frat party this wknd? u don’t seem the party type haha but u should come 

i’ll introduce u to suguru! he’s my best friend he’s super nice u’ll like him

oh and when do u wanna meet this week? promise i’ll be on time this time ;)

you make sure to only respond to the questions regarding your project—just because he technically kept his word and started the conversation centered around the project before getting off topic doesn’t mean you have to indulge him. and the way he types is infuriatingly annoying—who shortens every possible word like that? only him, you think.

okay, maybe you’re just nitpicking now, but every time you see his name pop up on your screen, your mood sours tenfold. you decide to answer as dryly as possible.

k i’ll look. we meet same time as last.

the period at the end should add the perfect touch—you grin to yourself in pride at that one. instantly, bubbles pop up and indicate he’s typing again. your smile very quickly drops.

wow ur a rly dry texter aren’t u?

that’s ok i don’t judge

so how bout the party? 

i can be ur escort ;) 

it’ll be fun!

from his side of the screen, gojo watches as your contact shows notifications silenced at the bottom. he pouts to himself—no party, then, he thinks.

—————

gojo satoru, the guy who seemingly has everything he could ever want, likes you. 

frankly, he’s not really sure why—at first, he finds you mildly amusing, and he thinks it’d be fun to have a short fling with you perhaps. somewhere along the line, however, that changes. he watches you dedicatedly take notes in class, no matter how tired you seem from work the night before. he notices the way you chew on your bottom lip when you’re really focused—it’s actually very cute, he thinks. and he’s entertained by the way you always have some smart little retort waiting on your tongue. you’re not boring—and more than anything, you leave him a little humbled. it’s refreshing, and he kind of likes it, if he’s being completely honest.

he’s never liked anyone before—it’s a weird feeling. at best, he’s had a crush where he could appreciate that someone is generally pleasing to the eye and has a personality that might mesh well with his, but he’s never yearned for someone before. 

it just so happens to be his luck that the same person he wants more than anything in the entire world (for the first time ever, too) seems to hate his guts. it also happens to be that the same person he wants more than anything is currently getting asked out by some kid from the zenin family. right in front of him. and you’re saying yes. 

why on earth would you say yes to a zenin of all people? don’t you value yourself? 

gojo can admit that he’s had his fair share of heart robbing and tear inducing moments—he’s not exactly someone with the best track record for commitment, but at least he doesn’t use people for his own benefit. plus, he does, in fact, actually plan on committing to you. that zenin boy most certainly can’t be any good news if he’s anything like naoya, who gojo has met on a multitude of occasions, and knows very well is a scoundrel of a guy. 

“see you at nine?” he hears the zenin (what was his name again?) ask you. you nod, smiling sweetly. 

why don’t you smile sweetly at him like that? he buys you coffee every week. sure, he only gets to buy you the coffee because you have no choice but to meet him for the project, but he even offers to get you a slice of cake—you don’t ever accept, though, so he ends up eating both. but you do like coffee, very strong coffee that’s probably not sweet enough for his liking, but you enjoy the coffee he buys you nonetheless, and that has to count for something.

“sure, see you at nine,” you hum.

gojo watches in absolute shock (and abject horror) as you look down shyly. as soon as the zenin boy walks away, he stomps up to you.

“hey, what gives?” he asks petulantly, making your face paint on that irritated look that it always seems to adopt when he’s in the vicinity—how rude.

“what do you mean?” you ask tiredly, “i don’t speak toddler, so please use your words—”

“why’d you say yes to that zenin boy—”

“he has a name. it’s—”

“who cares what his name is? he’s an asshole! he won’t treat you right even if his mother’s life is on the line—”

“oh, and you would?” you raise an eyebrow, glaring at him. how is it his place to tell you who’d treat you right and who wouldn’t? how is it his place to even care?

“i would,” he gasps at the accusation, “you’d date a zenin but not me? how come?”

“because you’re annoying,” you counter like it’s obvious.

okay, now that is technically fair—gojo has heard his fair share of you’re annoying’s from people in his life. in fact, a good amount of them come from his own mother, but he’s also dashingly handsome, very good in bed, has soft hair, is tall and muscular, can buy you whatever you like, and can be smart and funny too if you really don’t care for those kinds of things. he’s the entire package and more. and more importantly, he’s not from the zenin family, and that automatically means you’ll actually be treated with an ounce of respect.

he looks at you incredulously, feelings a little hurt. “that’s not true! name one annoying thing i’ve done—”

“you laughed in the middle of me speaking in class.”

“that wasn’t at you! suguru showed me something funny on his phone—”

“and you took like twenty minutes in line ordering the most sweetest drink on the menu while i was running late—”

“you can’t use that against me, that’s not fair! i’m a paying customer, i should be able to get whatever i want. plus, it’s technically not my fault you were late.”

“you rubbed in the fact that you had a black card.”

“you mentioned it first!”

“you were late to our first meeting for the project.”

“okay, that was an honest mistake! people are allowed to make those, you know—”

“i don’t want to go out with you,” you say frustratedly, “and it’s really annoying when you act like a spoiled brat that can’t handle the word no and keep on insisting, okay? so leave me alone unless it’s to discuss our project—which weighs fifty-five percent of our grade, by the way, so don’t even think about getting lazy.”

he is not lazy, he wants to argue.

but before he can, you roll your eyes and take a step to walk around him, leaving him there to blink in shock. okay, he thinks with a huff, so you’re playing hard to get. that’s no matter, he’s good at the chase anyway. 

—————

the date doesn’t seem to have gone well. gojo can tell because your eyes are slightly red and puffy, and you’re extra grouchy today in class. your professor seems to have noticed, too, because instead of calling on you today, she calls on gojo extra as a rare show of mercy. 

gojo doesn’t mind—this class is surprisingly easy, and he’s bored half the time anyway. he might as well indulge the uptight professor in an ugly brown pencil skirt and answer her pretentious questions that aren’t as complex as she thinks they are. 

“so,” he finally breaks the silence, “how was your date—”

“if you’re looking for a chance to say i told you so, just get it over with, you jerk,” you grumble. he raises his eyebrows in surprise before both hands go up in surrender.

“i wasn’t,” he says genuinely, “you just…uh…you look upset, is all.”

you hesitate for a short second, gauging his sincerity for a moment before sighing and slumping on the desk, cheek resting on your arm. gojo resists the urge to poke the soft flesh—it’ll probably make you mad, and you’re already in a bad mood. 

“he was…pushy,” you say quietly, “i don’t really believe in taking things far on the first date. he didn’t like that.” instantly, his fists clench tightly, eyeing you from the side carefully, almost in concern. “nothing happened,” you wave off, “but he did make me feel disgusting,” you mutter.

“yeah, well, he is a zenin,” he points out, “they’re…well, my family’s known them for a while. my mom hates them.”

you look over at him in mild interest, raising an eyebrow. “don’t tell me there’s drama in the rich community,” you gasp, “i thought you all just came as one to sip fancy wine and laugh at the poor together.”

he snorts, throwing you a toothy grin that you think for a moment is kind of cute—but that doesn’t mean he’s any different from the rest of the rich folks. someone of gojo satoru’s caliber has no business mixing with someone of yours—it’s common knowledge. gojo has everything he wants, and if he doesn’t, it’s a simple matter of asking before it’s his. there’s simply no way you can mold into his world to be what he needs you to be, and when the time inevitably comes when he realizes you’re not what he wants, well…you’d like to save yourself the wounded pride and crushed soul while you can. 

“sometimes we have fancy appetizers too with the wine,” he jokes, “don’t forget those.”

“oh, my apologies,” you chuckle. gojo likes it when you laugh, he decides. it looks much better than when you’re glum—he thinks seeing your lips quirked in anything other than a smile is a waste of your perfect features, and he can’t have that.

“my mom married my old man in this stupid arranged marriage or something,” he explains casually, like it’s just the norm. you suppose it is—for the rich, at least. you wonder briefly if gojo will have a marriage planned for his future, too, and you wonder if he’s okay with that. surely it’ll be some wealthy and fancy socialite of a girl that fits his family’s standards. someone who’s not you—not that you care anyway, you wouldn’t marry him regardless. “my grandma wanted her to marry the zenin, but she said no. said he treated her like a piece of meat every time they met, so she settled for my dad instead. lucky her, 'cause now i’m her son,” he beams. 

settled—something about the way he says it makes you think his parents must not really care for each other as a husband and wife should. it makes you think briefly about what his childhood might’ve been like, not watching his parents happy and in love the way they should be. but still, the way gojo talks about his mother is fond, with a gentle smile on his face as he recalls the things she’s told him. you can’t help but smile a little too.

“i think that makes you the lucky one,” you snort, “you’d still be her son. just that you’d be a zenin.”

he crinkles his nose at the thought, dramatically shivering and making you giggle. “gross,” he gags.

“well, now you have her to thank,” you hum, “your dad would’ve been…whoever the zenin she was supposed to marry is.”

“yeah, well, trust me,” he mumbles, his smile dropping ever so slightly, “my old man’s not that big of an upgrade from a zenin. even my grandfather’s sick of him. imagine being such a douche, your own dad can’t stand you.”

you’re learning more about gojo in one sitting than you ever imagined (or planned) to learn—part of that is because he seems like he’s the type to overshare on the first meet; the other part…well, you have to be honest with yourself, it’s not exactly a bad pastime hearing him talk about himself. gojo is an odd piece of work, and you can’t say you hate learning about the little pieces that come together to make him so weird. 

okay, perhaps weird is a bit rude, you think—he’s…unique.

“oh, so you’re the dictionary definition of a rich boy, huh?” you hum, resting your cheek on your hand as you sit up and face him—gojo, for a quick moment, feels his heart stutter when you talk to him like that: with your undivided attention like he’s the only one in the room. 

“what makes you say that?”

“daddy issues is like…the first thing in the rich boy starter pack.”

he laughs at that, smooth and almost sweet—it’s a dangerous thing. it’s easy to attract you to him, like a bee to honey, with the way his lips curl like that, showing off his dimples. but the bees can easily turn into maggots—and you don’t want to find yourself as a dead carcass by the end of this.

“i don’t have daddy issues,” he says smoothly, “that old man should sleep with both eyes open. if anything, he has son issues.”

“you’re hands down the oddest person i have ever met,” you mumble.

“what was that? did you say hottest? yeah, i know—”

“shut up, jackass,” you scowl, shoving his shoulder when he leans closer with a bat of his lashes. he laughs, and so do you—and just for one, quick, momentary instance, gojo satoru is not so bad. dangerous and a bad choice maybe, a setup for a big mistake perhaps, something you should stay away from, in fact. 

but not so bad. 

“how about i show you what it’s like to go on a date with a gojo,” he grins, winking easily. he’s persistent—very persistent, you note. “you might like it a lot more than a zenin.”

“no, thank you,” you hold a hand up, “never going to happen.”

“never say never,” he hums, “you might eat your words.”

—————

“hey, satoru?”

“that’s not my name.”

“that actually is your name,” you say tiredly.

“hmph,” satoru rolls over, dramatically tugging the blankets over his body as he shuffles away from you, “not to you, it’s not.” 

you sigh, pursing your lips at his antics. “oh my god. okay—hey, toru?” you correct yourself. and just like that, he turns back around, grinning brightly as he inches closer until his head is resting on your chest.

“yes, baby?” he says sweetly, earning a roll of your eyes as your fingers weave into his hair. it’s soft—you don’t think you ever want to let go.

“it’s way better dating a gojo, by the way,” you murmur, “than a zenin.”

“oh yeah?” he grins smugly, arm draping over your body as he kisses your jaw, “i told you it would be, didn’t i?”

“i haven’t dated other rich families to compare, though,” you tease, “you might get replaced.”

“unlikely,” he chuckles, “no one,” there’s a kiss to your jaw, “will love you,” another kiss to your cheek, “like me.”

finally, there’s a slow, soft kiss to your lips—and when he kisses you like that, you have no choice but to believe him.

satoru sooooo sends multiple texts back to back he just like me for real

[rosylix]

flower

짙은 어둠 속에 피어난, 한 송이 꽃처럼 𔓘

after practicing with felix, you try to go back to normal. unfortunately, the universe doesn't seem to want that for you.

pairing: bff!felix × gn!reader

wc: 7.3k

content: two pining idiots, inexperienced reader, fluff! (but make it awkward), slight angst, smut?ish, only one bed trope kinda lol, wet dream (like kinda somno? not really but just in case), 'dude' is used gender neutrally. umm yea! college au

a/n: so i got a bit carried away and added way more plot than necessary here. woops. also made it a college au bc why not! kinda made them nerds sorry lol (they were always nerds.)

so this is the first segment of the final part. aka part 3 but there will be a part 4 [dizzy emoji].. for now i hope you enjoy this bit! 𖹭

[also read on ao3]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

—

A week passes, and contrary to your expectations, the two of you actually do go back to normal. At least, Felix seems to have, so even if your brain still feels a little funny around him you follow suit and pretend nothing happened.

Not that it's been easy. Especially when his neck was still covered in those stupid marks you left. Thankfully, he can cover them up pretty well (you know, considering the state you left him in) but it was still irritating as hell; seeing the shape of one just barely peeking out of his hoodie or the way you’d find your eyes instinctively drawn to his neck whenever you saw him throughout the week.

The marks have faded to the point of being barely visible, but they're permanently seared into your brain, along with the memory of him underneath you. But that’s all it is now, a memory. You make sure of it.

And it's fine. Mostly. It’s easy enough to ignore any lingering awkwardness by focusing on more important things. For instance, midterms are coming up, and Felix is losing his mind.

He’s sprawled out on the floor of his room, papers spread out around him and a pout on his lips. “Ugh, I can’t believe I’m gonna have to study all weekend,” he whines, throwing his pencil down in frustration. He’s been studying for hours and he’s already at the ‘pulling his hair out’ phase.

“Yeah…” you agree with a half sympathetic, half amused smile. He always gets like this around exam time. 

He lets his head fall onto the ground in front of him, narrowly avoiding the various papers, pencils, and textbooks littering the floor. "Why do they have to make these fucking tests so hard? It's not like the stuff we're learning is even relevant to anything. Oh my god. I'm gonna fail,” he says, voice muffled from under the carpet.

“You’re being dramatic,” you laugh as you toss the textbook you’d been reading for your own class aside.

Felix groans and (dramatically) turns over on his back. “I am not being dramatic. I’m suffering!” he exclaims, bringing his hands to cover his face. “I am dying. I’m a dead man and you don’t care. You're gonna have to plan my funeral after this.”

You roll your eyes. “Ohh nooo. You have to study over the weekend. It’s the end of the world.”

He peeks out from under his hands to glare at you. “I'm glad this is so amusing to you. You're supposed to be my best friend but you're doing nothing to help. Wow. I’ll haunt you when I'm dead after this.”

You laugh and roll your eyes again. This time, your eyes seem to catch on how his hoodie is pushed up above his waist a little from when he flopped onto the floor, showing a sliver of skin. 

...Seriously? Focus. Think about literally anything else right now.

Shaking your head, you slide off the bed and make your way to him, sitting down and crossing your legs next to his head. “Sit up and I’ll help you study,” you sigh.

"But I don't wannaaaa,” he whines, but he starts to sit up anyway. “I just wanna relax,” he pouts like a child, looking up at you with his signature puppy eyes. “Help me procrastinate instead?”

You laugh in disbelief. “You've procrastinated enough. Shouldn't you focus?”

(You haven’t been very focused either, but that's besides the point.)

He shakes his head fervently and slumps against you with a groan. “Nooo. Stop being responsible. Let's take a break.”

You huff, choosing to ignore the way your heart beats a little faster when he leans against you. “You’re so annoying,” you say, trying to sound frustrated but you can’t help if it comes out a little fondly. “Alright, fine. We have been at it for a while,” you admit.

He pulls back and grins, all too familiar with your inability to deny him when he’s being a big baby like this. It's too effective. It’s actually a little infuriating how good he is at being cute, and how effective it is on you. You cave. Every time. Though, this time he looks particularly pleased with himself.

“See? Even you couldn’t be the responsible one for that long,” he snickers. “I knew you’d give in.”

You groan and look away, as if that will somehow counteract his point. “You're a bad influence.”

He laughs again, shifting backwards before flopping back down to the floor, but this time he lays his head in your lap, smiling up at you. The close proximity has your heart fluttering in your chest and you swear you can feel yourself overheating a little. Why is he like this?

This is normal. It’s normal. Chill.

He grins up at you, oblivious to your internal crisis, and he makes himself more comfortable in your lap, shifting his body a little. "There. See? Isn't this so much better than studying?"

You swallow. The warm weight of his head in your lap, the way he peers up at you through thick lashes, hair falling around him like a halo, some of it falling into his eyes... It's— it's something.

You clear your throat, gently pushing him off, ignoring his little frown as you do so. You stand up and extend your hand down to him and sigh. “Come on. Let's go procrastinate then.”

“Ugh, why—” he starts to protest but you grab his hand and help pull him up anyway. “What are you doing? I was comfy,” he pouts.

You give him a sly look. “So, you don't wanna make cookies with me?”

You have to resist the urge to laugh at the look on his face. “Wait, really?” He perks up instantly, eyes glowing.

“Yeah, I mean, if you want,” you smile.

He bounces on his feet. “Yes! Can we make the ones with the white chocolate chips? The store finally had them when I checked last time.”

You make a face of mock disgust as he starts pulling you towards the door. “No, we are not making the ones with white chocolate chips. They're atrocious.”

“What?!” he gasps, acting scandalized. “Fuck you. They're good!”

You roll your eyes at him as he pulls you into the kitchen. He’s still holding onto your hand. It should be normal, but since when has anything felt normal these past few days?

“White chocolate chips are fine! I don’t get why you don’t like them,” he continues with a pout, finally letting go of your hand to rummage through the kitchen cabinets.

“They're not even chocolate, Felix,” you point out, watching in amusement as he struggles to reach the top shelf.

“Okay? I'm failing to see your point," he replies, making a little noise of triumph when he finally reaches whatever he’s looking for.

You just shake your head. “Yeah, whatever…” You help him set some things on the counter before sighing. “You're so lucky your dorm has a kitchen. If I had one I swear I'd be baking stuff like every single day.”

“I guess I am lucky.” He laughs, grabbing the mixing bowl from the corner cabinet and placing it on the counter. “Isn't there a shared one for your floor or something?”

“Yeah, but it's…” you shudder.

“Ah. Yeah…” He pauses, pondering something, before raising an eyebrow. “So that's why you come over so much? For the kitchen?”

“Duh.”

"I knew it… You’re only using me for free oven access?” he teases. "I’m wounded.” He drapes his hand over his forehead in a dramatic flourish and slumps against the counter.

“Yep, you caught me,” you laugh. “You and Hannie keep it somewhat clean at least.”

“My own best friend… The betrayal…” he tries to pout but ends up giggling. Then, he seems to think of something and claps his hands excitedly. “You should move in with me!”

Whoa. “W-What?”

“You know how Jisung is always over at Minho's? He's gonna officially move in next year,” Felix explains. “Like, I'm happy for them but Sung's ditching me? What happened to the bro code? But, anyway,” he laughs. “There'll be an empty bedroom. You should totally take it!”

You blink at him, brain short-circuiting for a second. "You— you’re serious?"

"Yeah," he says casually, like he didn’t just propose something so life-altering. "It’ll be like a sleepover every night!” he exclaims, grinning widely.

You can’t help the way your heart thuds a little faster in your chest, a fluttery feeling in your stomach. Living together? With Felix?

The idea is tempting. Like, incredibly so. Your own place is small, the communal kitchen area is… horrific, and your roommate tends to ignore your existence. It's a bit less than ideal.

But… you know there's a big risk of things becoming very awkward very quickly. It sounds like a dream, and at the same time, it’s a recipe for disaster. Spending that much time together could either bring you closer or push you apart. And with your recent… weirdness.. about him… you’re not sure which one is worse.

You must be silent for too long because Felix glances at you and looks a little unsure, like he suddenly regrets saying it. “I mean— you don’t have to, of course! It was just an idea. I’m sure you’re comfortable in your place and all. I didn’t mean to, like, push that on you—”

You cut him off before he can go too far. “No! No, it’s—” you shake your head, trying to choose your words carefully. “I… I'll think about it.”

He looks surprised, like he wasn't expecting that response. He lets out a breath, relief and a tentative excitement evident on his face. 

“Okay,” he says softly, the corners of his mouth twitching a bit like he’s trying to keep himself from breaking into a big smile. “Uh, yeah, of course. No pressure,” he continues. “But, y'know, I'd be way happier to have you than some random new person. You practically live here already anyway. I think it'd be fun.”

Or it could ruin everything. But when Felix smiles at you, a hopeful look in his eyes… you can't bring yourself to shut down the idea completely.

“Yeah. It might be fun,” you say, trying to keep your tone neutral.

He grins, and a wave of excitement suddenly washes back over him. "We can bake all the time, and play games, and watch movies— Oh my god, it would be so fucking awesome.”

You laugh at the sparkle in his eyes. "Yeah, okay," you tap his head with a mixing spoon. “Shut up and grab the sugar. Let's not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Yessir.”

—

You end up splitting the cookie dough and making half with normal chocolate chips and half with the ugly white sugar chips. They turned out better than they had any right to be, considering you and Felix goofed off a bit too much while making them. (Even the white chocolate ones are pretty good). The two of you munch on them as you return to studying. Felix doesn't argue, content having taken a long break and sugar in his system.

You work in comfortable silence, listening to the soft pitter patter of rain until the sun starts to set. With a yawn, you shut your laptop in front of you.

"I think I'm done for today," you say, standing up and stretching.

Felix glances up from his spot on the floor, chin in his hand, surrounded by a mess of books and papers. "Really?"

"Yeah. How about you?"

He sighs, leaning back and stretching. "I still have so much left to go through," he complains, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"That's your own fault for playing games all week instead of studying," you laugh softly.

He pouts at you. "I know, I know." Then he groans and falls backwards on the floor, throwing his arms over his face. "Man, I'm tired. I'm done too."

You giggle at the sight of him splayed out on the floor. “Alright, cool. I should be heading out anyway,” you say, starting to gather your things. Then, as if on cue, a loud rumble of thunder echoes outside.

Oh shit. You both glance at each other, then towards the window, where the rain you thought would have passed by now is quickly developing into a full-on storm. Great. The universe must be out to get you.

Felix gets up from the floor and walks to the window. "Damn, can you even go home in this? It looks pretty bad out there.”

You join him at the window and peer outside. The rain is coming down harder, droplets hitting against the windowpane incessantly. You grimace. Well, it's not that bad, but it still isn't something you'd like to walk through.

Oh well. You sigh. “It's.. it's alright. Could I borrow an umbrella?”

He doesn’t answer right away, continuing to peer out the window. A frown spreads across his face before he speaks. “Of course, but… are you sure? You can stay the night if you want.”

“Uh—”

Well… normally, you wouldn't mind. You've slept over tons of times before. But this time feels different, and suddenly the thought of staying is a bit nerve-wracking. 

"A little rain won't kill me,” you settle on saying. 

Felix glances back at you, eyebrows furrowing in concern. He looks like he's about to say something, but another crash of thunder interrupts him.

He frowns and crosses his arms, leaning against the frame of the window. It's undeniably attractive. “A little rain? I can't let you walk home in this, are you crazy? It's dangerous.”

“But—” you start to protest.

"Nope,” he cuts in. “You’re not risking it. It's getting dark too,” he points out. He looks outside, then back at your face, sighing. His face softens. “...Okay. If you really want to go, at least let me walk you.”

“You don't have to walk me, Felix.”

“Yeah, I kinda do. Who knows what could happen to you? You could get struck by lightning! Or…” He gives you a once over. “You could, like, slip and bleed out in a puddle or something. Or die of hypothermia or some fucking thing. I don't know!” He throws his hands up.

You let out a breathless laugh. You don’t want to argue with him, but staying the night is definitely making you anxious to think about. You don't want to trouble him with walking back and forth in that weather either, but Felix seems stubborn on the matter. What's worse, the look on his face has you worrying he might think you're trying to get away from him or something.

(Which isn't… wrong. But Felix would misunderstand. It's not because you don't like him. It's…)

You exhale, looking outside one more time. With the rain getting worse by the minute, staying the night seems like the only reasonable choice. 

Felix taps his foot impatiently, observing the growing storm. “So?”

“Okay, fine. I'll stay… You're right, it's getting pretty bad out there," you concede.

He opens his mouth but then quickly shuts it again, suddenly looking a bit unsure. He studies your face and you almost want to hide at how intently he's staring. Why, why is he staring like that? Like he can see right through you. Didn't you just say what he wanted? Did he change his mind about letting you stay?

But, the moment passes before you can do anything and he looks away. "Thank god,” he huffs. “I was really fighting off the mental images of your dead body in a ditch.”

You scoff. “I'm not that weak.”

“I know,” he says with a soft smile. Then he smirks, glancing back at you. "You're not weak. Just clumsy.” 

You shove him in response and he laughs, the smirk on his face turning into a grin. The tension from earlier dissolves a bit and you can finally breathe again; the air starts to feel less awkward, comfortable.

“So,” he says, standing up straight. "Since you're staying, want some clothes to change into? I don’t think you wanna sleep in jeans.”

He doesn't wait for an answer, already shuffling through his drawer and handing a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants over to you.

You take them gingerly, trying to ignore how your nerves suddenly spike again. "Thanks," you murmur, clutching the soft fabric in your hands.

Maybe he senses something because he keeps his distance, eyes roaming over your face once more, curiosity and something else in his gaze. 

Then, he clears his throat. “You know the bathroom is all yours if you need,” he says, turning back to his mess of papers on the floor. “I'm gonna try to get a little more studying done. Maybe. I'm really fighting the urge to open League right now.” 

"Felix," you raise your eyebrows at him with a laugh, "If I find you mid ranked match in twenty minutes, I'm pouring water on your computer."

He purses his lips. “You wouldn't.”

“Try me,” you taunt and make your way to the bathroom. You close the door behind you and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

That was good. See? You can banter with him and everything like normal. There's nothing to be weird about. You can be normal about this.

You sigh. Yeah, right. This is so dumb. You’ve stayed over countless times before. You’ve worn his clothes before, shared a bed with him before. It's just Felix.

So why… Why is it so hard to be normal right now?

(You're not so stupid you don't know the answer to that. You're definitely in denial about… something, and you'll gladly stay that way for as long as you can help it. It's easier to not think about it.)

Your head hurts. God. Maybe a shower will clear your mind.

It does. You feel lighter and refreshed when you step out and you quickly change into the clothes Felix gave you; his scent envelopes you as you slip on the shirt and you instantly feel more at ease, comforted. You're good. Everything's cool.

When you step into Felix's bedroom, you find him exactly where you left him, leaning on a pile of pillows on the floor, hunched over a textbook. True to his word, he's trying to study again but he looks like he's seconds away from giving up.

"Hey,” you announce your entrance. “Successfully resisting the clutches of League?” you ask, giggling at the sight of him sprawled on the floor.

“Heyyy,” he drawls, not looking up from his book. “Proud of me? I'm actually studying. Not like I'll ever reach silver no matter how much I fucking—”

His words seem to die in his throat as he finally glances up and sees you standing in the doorway. His eyes widen instantly, scanning up and down your body, lips parted in shock.

"That's, um, um. That's—” he stutters, tongue tied all of a sudden. 

You frown a bit at his reaction, feeling self-conscious. Is your hair too flat? Are the clothes not right? You adjust the falling neckline of the shirt before taking a seat on the floor, trying to ignore the way he's still staring.

You swear you see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows and he quickly looks away as you sit next to him.

“...What?” you ask, trying not to assume the worst.

“You— uh, the,” he gestures to your outfit vaguely. “It fits, uh— better? Than it used to? Yeah. Looks nice.”

He sounds a bit strangled and now you're definitely convinced you look strange.

“Um, thanks…" you mutter, trying not to show how thrown off his reaction has you feeling. You toy with the hem of the soft material self-consciously. Obviously they don't fit properly, they’re Felix’s clothes after all. You’ve borrowed them before, why is he suddenly being so weird?

Felix fidgets with the corner of his textbook, avoiding eye contact as if the words on the pages are suddenly the most interesting thing he’s ever read.

He clears his throat. “Uh, yeah, anyway. I'm pretty much done. Was just waiting for you.” He closes the book and finally lifts his eyes to meet your gaze and he has a strange, shy smile plastered on his face. You open your mouth to ask if he’s alright, but he starts speaking again, barely giving you a moment to get a word in.

“I— Dude, I'm like— I'm honestly gonna fail this class,” he groans, burying his face in his hands. “Like, I'm actually just not built for academia. I’m gonna drop out and then start working at the… fucking convenience store or something.” He lets out a long sigh. “Or, y'know, I'll start streaming. That seems pretty nice. I could be, like, a huge streamer guy. Tons of people will watch. I'll be famous. You could be my manager.”

You blink, trying to make sense of the sudden topic change. 

“Uh, First of all,” you say, gently knocking his knee with your own, “You're smart as hell. You'll graduate just fine. Second, I highly doubt many people would suddenly start watching some nerd’s League streams.”

He whines and gives you a pouty look. “Why not?? I’m funny, I’d be great,” he protests, sitting up with a huff.

“Yeah, right. I’d be managing a streamer who can’t even get to gold rank. Embarrassing.”

He scoffs, acting offended. “Hey! I didn’t say I'd make League streams. I could be a variety streamer, y’know.”

“Oh yeah? So you can stream how fast you lose at every game?” you say, grinning at his sulky expression. You understand him, the way he teases you all the time. It's fun when you're not on the receiving end. 

He places a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “Wow,” he deadpans. “Can’t believe you're attacking me like this in my time of despair.”

You grin a bit and roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Stop being dramatic, you know I’m right. You need to get better if you want to start your streaming career.”

“Dude. I could get to gold if I wanted to. I just... choose not to. Bronze is a good rank, y’know. It’s like, the vibe.” The pout returns on his face. “Plus, my viewers wouldn’t care about that. They’ll be there for my personality.”

You arch a brow. “Your personality.”

“Yeah, my personality! Shut up. If League doesn't work, I could play like, Call of Duty, or… or like, Animal Crossing! Hey, I can't lose at Animal Crossing now, can I?”

“You might be onto something,” you muse.

“No…” he groans. “It’s never gonna happen. My dreams of becoming a famous streamer have to die because of… stupid calculus and… all these boring things.”

He drops his head on your shoulder, pouting at the thought of having to spend more time studying. You laugh and reach a hand up to pat his head, playing with his hair absentmindedly. 

"It's not that bad. You'll get through this," you say, trying to console him. "But seriously,” you continue, “I can’t believe you play so much League but never got past bronze. What are you even doing?”

He whines and buries his face in the crook of your neck, mumbling something about “bad teammates”.

The contact is familiar and comforting. He gets clingy like this often, especially when he's tired. You can feel his warm breath against your skin, its steady rhythm sending tingles down your spine. His hair is soft under your fingertips. And you are so, so normal. 

“Have you ever considered… that maybe you… are the bad teammate?” you can't help but tease.

“Heyyy,” he whines again, lifting his head to look at you with an offended expression.

You giggle at the sight of his disgruntled face and it seems to only make him sulk more, the pout on his face growing deeper. Cute.

“After all we've been through…” he breathes out. “After I’ve trusted you with my life. I can’t believe I’m hearing this from my own best friend… the absolute backstabbing…”

He's ridiculous. "You might wanna think of some new material, Mr. Variety Streamer,” you laugh. “The theatrics are getting a little old.”

He continues to pout, his gaze fixed on you. He’s so close, face just a few inches away from yours, and your heart jumps at the realization. Or maybe it jumps because of the way he’s looking at you; scrutinizing your face intently, his eyes flitting across your features like he’s trying to commit them to memory. You shift around nervously. Something's off about how he's looking at you. You thought you’d seen a flash of… well, you don’t know what it was. But it makes you feel…

Warm and fluttering in your stomach, but in the worst, most uncomfortable way. You hate the way your body reacts so vividly to literally nothing. You really, really hate it.

Luckily (or unfortunately?), a particularly loud rumble of thunder echoes outside and he jumps.

He instantly leans away, as if he just realized himself how close you were. “Sorry, I— Geez, this weather sucks,” he complains, glancing toward the window. The storm outside is still raging, rain pelting against the window mercilessly.

“Yeah,” you say dumbly, feeling cold now that Felix has pulled away.

You push down the thoughts of how badly you want him to lean on you again, or how you wish he could hold you like he usually does. It’s easier to ignore whatever you’re feeling while he’s busy being all silly and clingy.

This is stupid. It's just so… frustrating, and you have no idea what to make of any of the thoughts that are running through your mind.

There’s a pause as he continues watching the rain outside, eyes following the raindrops dancing down the window panes. You try to study his expression; it’s pensive, almost contemplative, much like the look in his eyes earlier. 

“Are you tired?” he finally asks.

You blink. “Uh.” You realize that you are actually pretty tired. “Yeah, a little.”

The admission makes you yawn and Felix smiles in return, his expression softening. 

He pushes himself off the floor and looks at you for a moment, like he's about to say something — and then he doesn’t. Instead, he offers a hand to help you off the ground.

“Come on,” he says, hand extended. “We should get to sleep before the electricity inevitably goes out.”

You let him pull you up and he lets go of your hand quickly as he motions for you to get on the bed.

“I’ll go and— um,” he stumbles over his words, taking a few steps back. “I'll go shower real quick and then we can, uh… sleep.” 

He disappears before you can say anything and leaves you sitting on the edge of the bed, suddenly feeling more tense and awkward than earlier.

You release a long breath. Okay. Okay, everything's fine. Just the two of you, sleeping in the same bed. No big deal. That’s happened plenty of times before. You try to steady your breathing as you sit there on his bed, surrounded by his pillows, his blankets, his scent.

You run a hand through your hair and scroll through your phone, trying to distract yourself. It’s going to be a long night.

When the door opens ten minutes later, you look up. Felix's hair is damp and he's wearing a loose white t-shirt with sweatpants, the material hanging low on his hips. His skin is a little flushed from the shower. He looks so soft and effortlessly pretty, you kind of want to scream.

“Hey,” he whispers as he shuts the bedroom door behind him, “You good?”

You nod, throat suddenly dry.

He clears his throat and walks towards the bed, standing there quietly. He doesn’t look at you for a long minute and you start to wonder if he’s thinking the same things you are, or if you’re overthinking everything and he’s fine.

“Well, let’s head to sleep then.” He breaks his gaze from the floor and turns to look at you again, a hint of worry on his face. “Uh, you can take the bed tonight, alright? I’ll just sleep on the floor or something.”

“What— Why?” you exclaim.

“I—” he blinks, taken aback, as if he didn't expect you to ask that. “I don't know? If, I mean, if you... like…” he trails off, looking away again. “The floor doesn't look that bad.”

It does. The cold, worn floor does look that bad. You must look worse. You're not an idiot, you can read in between the lines. He's uncomfortable sleeping next to you.

There’s no other reason for him to not want to sleep in the same bed as you. You've shared this bed with him countless times before. If he's not comfortable with you now…

Your mind is racing. Even if your awkwardness is because of your unbidden… lunacy towards him… he explicitly told you he doesn't see you like that. As much as you've been trying to repress everything and act normal like he's been… it hasn't worked. This is decidedly not normal.

There's a tense silence as you try to figure out what to say. The knot in your stomach tightens with every passing second and you try to push down the hurt that’s threatening to surface. You're making him uncomfortable. If you could just be normal about all this— Fuck. It's all your fault. 

"Shut up," you finally manage to mutter, starting to shuffle off the bed. “It's your bed. I'll take the floor."

“What— No, hey, stop—” he protests quickly, stepping forward to grab your arm. “Don’t— I couldn't let you do that. It's not— no.” he sputters.

You meet his eyes in confusion. He still has a grip on you, fingers warm and soft against your skin.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” he says firmly, voice a bit lower than usual. “That's stupid. I just thought, maybe…” his grip on your arm tightens the tiniest bit.

“...What?” you ask quietly. 

He shakes his head, releasing your arm with a sigh.

You look at him, really look at him, the way his eyes won't meet yours, shoulders slumped, fingers tapping his thigh nervously. “Just,” you sigh. “You said it's stupid if I sleep there. Same for you. Just come here.”

He looks at you once more, searching your face. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod, hopefully sounding more confident than you feel.

Your heart is pounding. You’re trying your best to ignore the tension in the room and act like everything’s fine. Like spending the night sleeping with your best friend when he clearly doesn’t want you to be close to him anymore isn’t breaking your heart. 

You give him a tight-lipped smile as you finally get under the blankets and lay on your side with your back towards him. 

Felix hesitantly climbs into bed next to you, keeping a fair distance. He doesn’t say anything at first. You think he’s just going to sleep and you’re both going to ignore whatever that was about. Cool, you can do that. You're great at doing that. Then, he huffs. 

"I’m so fucking tired," he mumbles as he shifts beside you and you hum in agreement.

“Yeah, now imagine sleeping on the floor.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Thank you. Um… sorry for being weird.”

You don't know what to say to that. “...You’re always weird,” you manage quietly.

He lets out a low chuckle and you feel some of the tension leave your body. It’s a familiar banter, one you’ve done with him for ages, so you grasp onto it, desperate for any semblance of normalcy.

“I’m sorry, though,” he says seriously. “I’m kind of an idiot, you know.” 

“...Yeah, I know.”

“I— wow,” he laughs softly. “Chat, what did I do to deserve this?”

You mirror his laugh and turn on your back to face him. 

His hair has gotten longer. The messy locks are fanned around his head on the pillow. His eyes are wide underneath his bangs, studying your face with an expression you can’t quite pin down. 

He’s so pretty. You wonder how you ever thought you could act normal after everything that's happened.

“Is the chat in the room with us?” you ask around a smirk, and pray your voice doesn't sound too breathless.

He snorts and you swear you can almost see the pout on his face. Yeah, he’s fine. He’s back to his regular self. You should be, too. 

“Shut up,” he pokes your shoulder weakly. 

Your heart does something stupid in your chest at the contact and you press your face further into the pillow to hide the flush that’s undoubtedly on your face right now. 

A few moments pass in silence and you close your eyes, hoping sleep will come soon and end this mess of a night. You don’t know how much time passes. Felix is silent and you feel yourself drifting off, sleep tugging at your consciousness, when you hear him whispering in the dark.

“Hey,” he says your name quietly. “You awake?”

You hum in response and reluctantly blink your eyes open. His face swims into view and you realize he's closer than before. Now only a few inches separate you from him.

“Sorry… um, I'm cold. Can… can I...?” He hesitates, leaving the question unfinished as his eyes search your face.

His breath ghosts your cheek and you freeze, trying to keep your breathing even as your body stiffens.

“Yeah,” you murmur, trying to sound nonchalant. “Yeah, of course.”

A flash of relief fills his face before he moves even closer to you. He lays next to you, resting his head on your collarbone and draping one arm over your waist carefully. You hold your breath.

“Is this alright?” he mumbles.

You’re not sure if you can speak without sounding like a goddamn idiot, so you just nod in reply.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and you have to remind yourself that it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just Felix being Felix: the most physically clingy person on Earth. Also your best friend who you definitely do not have untoward feelings for.

That would be really, really bad.

Especially in a situation like this, where Felix’s nose is pressed in your neck, and his arm is around your waist, his leg tangled with yours at some point and his hair is tickling your chin. He’s everywhere. It's entirely overwhelming.

And he's so warm. You didn't even realize you were cold until he pressed against you. Warmth seeps deep into your bones as he sighs and pulls your body further against his. It's cozy and familiar and you try to focus on the comfort of the action instead of the way your heart is hammering in your chest.

It’s quiet for a few moments as he settles against you and you try to relax, waiting for the rise and fall of his chest to even out beside you, signaling he’s fallen asleep.

Instead, he shifts and you feel his lips brush against your neck, his breath fanning over your skin. Oh.

“Hey,” he murmurs in that low, low voice of his that only really comes out when he's sleepy. “Hey, I… um.” 

You can feel the vibrations from his voice against your neck as he speaks. Oh. You’ve definitely thought about this in a much different context before.

He’s silent for a moment as if collecting his thoughts. But he just sighs, pulling his head away slightly. “Nevermind… Um, good night.”

“Night,” you manage weakly.

It’s silent again. The only sounds that fill the room are the incessant beating of raindrops against the windows and Felix's soft breathing by your ear, drowning out the occasional faint rumble of thunder.

—

You wake to the sound of groaning.

Unsticking your eyelids, you attempt to get a look at your surroundings. It’s still dark, but the room slowly comes into focus as you blink slowly, trying to discern what woke you up. 

The first thing you notice is that it's warm. Hot, even. The air is thick and heavy in your lungs and there's a warm weight pressed against you.

It takes a few moments before you become aware of your current predicament — Right, you're at Felix's place, sleeping in his bed. His body is completely pressed against yours, his chest to your back, his head nuzzled in the nook of your neck. You’re practically spooning. There’s a leg thrown over yours and an arm wrapped snugly around your middle, making it virtually impossible to move.

And — it's not that unusual. It's not far off from the position you fell asleep in and Felix's clinginess is really quite endearing, even if your fragile heart can't handle it anymore. No, what's unusual are the sounds coming from him.

He’s making small noises as he fidgets against you, like he's in pain. He's probably having a bad dream. You start to turn over in order to wake him up, but his grip on you tightens and his breath hitches and—

You freeze.

That was definitely not the sound of someone having a nightmare. 

It was more like… like… Quiet, soft, and breathless; little sounds caught in his throat that spill into your ear.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, his body is moving — restless, shifting against you. His hips moving minutely. It takes your sleepy mind a second to put it all together.

Holy… Holy shit. Is he…?

You're suddenly very awake, fogginess replaced by a white hot rush of panic and disbelief.

He’s— Oh no.

Felix is asleep. He's definitely sleeping but— He must be… having some sort of… dream and… What the fuck are you supposed to do? Wake him up? Absolutely not. You literally— You'd rather die than face him like this. Not to mention how mortifying it would be for both of you. You would actually rather choose death.

He twitches slightly, his hips pushing up against your body. A low groan leaves him as he pulls you closer, completely against his body now, the thin material of his clothes doing nothing to hide his—

You squeeze your eyes shut. Oh my god you are going to die right now. You're seriously going to pass away for real this time. This— this is—

“Mmmn…” he moans, low and needy and right by your ear and wow, that’s… wow.

You have to be dreaming… this is just some very fucked up dream, the sane part of you implores. The rest of you is ignited in flames. 

It's not a dream.

Another little sound slips out and he presses even closer to you, his body flush against yours, like he’s trying to get as much contact as possible. His hips move against yours with a subtle roll and you feel shameful sparks of heat pooling in your gut.

This is so bad. This is so, so bad, fuck. Fuck.

He’s grinding against you in tiny movements, little gasps and moans escaping out of his mouth every few seconds and your entire body is burning. His arm is tight around your waist, his whole body pressed flush against your back. You don’t even dare to breathe as he rocks his hips forward ever so slightly, his nose nuzzling your neck as he lets out a soft whine. It takes everything you have to keep your own whimper at bay, suddenly desperate to grind back against him but— Christ. Are you insane?

You’re frozen. You’re not supposed to be here, you’re not supposed to be feeling this, you really should wake him up, this is so wrong, yet you’re still frozen like an idiot. You can't think. Your brain is made of cherry slushy. The heat death of the universe is imminent. 

Your mind is completely blank but your body is overstimulated and you’re just trying your best to figure out how not to die in this situation. Not easy when Felix is moaning into your neck and it sounds so good and he’s shifting and his body is impossibly warm and he’s—

His breath stutters abruptly in the midst of a long moan and he goes completely still around you. All you hear is heavy breathing for a few moments.

Shit, shit, shit. Is he awake? You're caught between relief and something like disappointment but aren't left enough time to dwell on that thought before you hear a shaky whispered, “F-Fuck.”

You hold your breath. 

Your heartbeat is ringing in your ears, body buzzing with tension, but you do your best to stay completely still. The air is so thick. You almost can’t believe what just happened, but the evidence is pressing into your back as Felix lets out another quiet swear.

His grip on you tenses for a moment before releasing you entirely. He untangles himself from you and pulls his body away from yours so suddenly that you nearly think you hallucinated the whole thing. 

His breathing is ragged and you don’t dare move a muscle. You keep your back resolutely facing him, try to relax, and you are asleep. You are asleep. You are asleep. You repeat it like a mantra. 

You don’t know if he believes your act, your eyes pressed shut, as you try to keep your breaths even and slow.

The sheets rustle a bit. You stay motionless, heart pounding in your ears. He’s sitting up now, you can feel the weight shifting beside you. It’s completely silent for a few seconds before he whispers your name in question.

You are asleep. You are asleep. You are asleep. You pray he believes it.

“...Thank god,” he breathes. You hear more rustling, sheets moving, and he's getting up.

Only when you hear the door shut do you allow yourself to breathe, wondering how the hell you made it out of that situation alive. What the fuck. 

Like, what the fuck.

You stare at the wall in shock, eyes wide and heart hammering hard in your chest.

He doesn’t know you were awake. You’re alive. You survived.

You bury your face in the pillow and try to collect yourself, shaking slightly in the aftermath of whatever the hell just happened. The heat of his body is still surrounding you, his presence lingering on your skin and you can’t help the traitorous part of your brain that wishes for him to crawl back into the bed and hold you again. That wishes you were brave enough to do something other than lie there.

You push the thought away with a quiet groan. You can’t think about that. You can’t. You're barely holding onto the last threads of your sanity as it is. 

But you can’t fall back asleep.

Of course you can’t. After what just happened, your brain will probably never be fully operational again. You press your hands to your face and let out a pathetic whine, wondering if it's possible to die of embarrassment. You're sure this is what a heart attack feels like. It's a wonder you're still breathing. 

This is so much worse than last time, when you got too into practicing. At least that was mutually agreed on and Felix made light of it pretty easily. But this? How are you supposed to act normal after this? That wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to know what it feels like to have his body up against yours, to hear him moaning in your ear. And you pretended to be asleep instead of stopping him. So he doesn't even know… It's so wrong on so many levels.

You sigh. Felix doesn't know you were awake, so he doesn't know you know and maybe, maybe you can get away with pretending it didn't happen. You'll have to play it cool, of course. Or even better, you can forget about this entirely, convince yourself it was all a fever dream.

Maybe.

—

a/n: AHHH. so it really wasnt meant to be a cliffhanger here lol but then i ended up splitting it so... sorry. the next (and final for REALL THIS TIME) part will be out very soon! nothing like the 3 month long wait for this (ty SO MUCH for ur patience) andd yeah! i hope this is at least somewhat living up to expectations so far, tysm for reading!!

[gladiatorcunt]

FIND YOUR LOVE | CORIOLANUS SNOW

summary: modern!coriolanus snow thoughts

cw: crack treated seriously vibes, typical coryo warnings, possessiveness/obsessive behavior, piss kink mention, period blood mention, spit kink mention, slight impact play mention, coryo and reader both have double majors because they’re overachievers, plus sized reader implications, drake mention, reader has bunny teeth & hip dips & glasses, talks of carving letters into skin, spying mention, overstimulation mention, images used in social media elements are not an exact represtation of the reader’s gender or image & are more about the vibes, “wife” usage but he’d feminize you no matter what, implications of sejanus playing the long game, 18+ minors dni

word count: 2.4k

requests are open (read the rules first <3)

block & move on if uncomfortable.

do not repost or translate!!

Unaware rich kid because while a tragedy did happen in the family (his mother dying in childbirth according to his politician father who was later assassinated) nothing happened to really set them back to square one like in canon. He never really has had to claw himself back to the top, he’s just always been on a steady elevator ride to it.

Clumsy in the beginning in the way that he tries to be intimidating. He’s never had to starve so how can he understand its usefulness as a weapon?

Meets scholarship student double major classics and archaeology (minor in philosophy) reader who has only ever struggled.

The type to violently beat someone to near death on a whim and smirk as he’s escorted out of the police station with apologies because his family’s amazing team of lawyers were called.

Definitely part of some Saltburn ass family where you visit and you’re just like “what the fuck?” the things the 1% normalize (there are rumors of his family being cannibals back in the day, they might be a crime family, his high school principal fucked his mom AND his dad) never cease to disturb and confuse you but the gardens are very nice!

Strolls with you through them to seem romantic but also to brag about his family on your second date that he insisted be at his house (he was kind enough to let your first be at his family’s vacation house in the south of France)

Piss kink (creaks the bathroom door open to hold your hand or he leans against the door and stares you down if you take too long), period sex (more the type to eat you out on your period though) spit sharing and smearing, etc. Because of his carefully manufactured image, when he’s in love he just wants to completely let go and be gross and have that he accepted by the person be loves (plus it scratches the possessive itch in his brain by marking you and knowing you’d be too embarrassed to do it with anybody else)

Really only hand spanks you when you’re actively fucking and he’s so caught up in it all, he just grips the flesh of your ass and furiously jiggles it in his hands in between brisk strikes of his open palms and gets caught on your hole accidentally, it gets to the point where you’d want him to hit harder even if you thought you wouldn’t be into it because it’s just so unintentionally teasing.

Unlike the stereotypes, wouldn’t really be into drinking (other than wine because he thinks he’s above the beer drinking peasants) or drugs (other than the occasional line of cocaine 🤭) thinks keeping a clear head while you’re doing evil plotting is important. Typical white college rich boy hypocrisy (keeps you away from it though, even weed because it can kill your brain cells and he likes his bunny smart.)

He WILL carve his full government name onto you like a womb tattoo if you answer his texts 5 seconds after he expects you too. You CANNOT play with him.

Asked you out by leaving a bouquet of roses on your desk every morning with a note like “these are my grandma’am’s roses, and their beauty could only remind me of you 🥺🥹” (he threatened your roommate to deliver them and made sure they did thanks to the hidden camera he also had them put in)

Double major Political Science and Latin, minor in Philosophy but he likes ancient/older philosophy more. #1 “um actually 🤓👆” offender (hell is hot but his body runs ice cold, so he does not care <3) someone says they like philosophy and he goes “name three philosophers other than Nietzsche and Camus. I bet you’re the type to read Kafka too huh? whore.” (/j)

So hot though like modern Coryo has the curls but a touch shaggier. Everyone on campus turns their phones to the side and takes “discreet” pictures and makes those whisper posts like “need me an unhinged crazy jealous psycho possessive bf” but they’re not you so that wish will never come true :)

Say you’re going to McDonald’s, and he will kill you (if you’re from the south and you try to feed him anything traditional you’re used to, his charcuterie board and caviar eating ass will implode)

Another student in class asks you to borrow a pencil & his brain genuinely goes haywire so without looking he sends them the “let’s play a little game I made” TikTok (by the time you look back at him, he’s warmly smiling as he makes sure you see his hand sliding up his thigh)

If you think you’re working after getting your degree (he could’ve made you drop out, be grateful you get to spend more time together this way) then you’ve got a big storm coming (hope you can accept being baby trapped mwah)

He’s your little chihuahua named sparkles that bites people.

Emotional drake listener

The type where if you 99.7% (he will allow some wiggle room) give into his delusion and insanity, it’s nothing but smooth sailing (for you) and sex would still be passionate but never rough. Sometimes he slips a bit, but you just get more family heirloom jewelry and 5 billion sessions of oral as apologies.

On the swim team and runs track (somehow still looks hot no matter what doing those sports, wants you lick all the sweat off his body after he’s done. (he’d do that for you.) has a private yacht and does polo with Sejanus.

You once sat down, opened a package of cabbage leaves and went to town & Coryo knew in that moment that love is not a choice, it’s a curse.

Buys you mountains of clothes (the softest sweaters or the tightest evening wear because he loves how nothing about your body is hidden from him and one of his favorite ways to wind down is to soothe the marks left by the tight clothes digging into the chub of your tummy with his tongue) also loves how much bigger your thighs get when they spread out as you straddle him in one of his buttons up that reaches just under your ass.

Has a garage full of classic cars that he fucks you in and takes you on drives in.

(Insp. by that one video) fucks you on your stomach while cradling your jaw and when he’s done, he’s kissing down your back and all over your ass while hold a hand on the back of your neck. Eats you out upside-down kneeling straight up on the bed, the skin of your thighs spilling between his fingers as he grips them and nearly bends you in half. You don’t really ride him because he uses you like a fleshlight.

Tits guy no matter the size, prefers jerking off over them and covering them in cum over a boob job.

He won’t let you out in it, but you can be his bunny for Halloween since your front teeth remind him of a bunny, he already has the ears and tail waiting for you. That tweet where it’s like “okay everybody my bf’s about to walk in you all have to clap or I’m blowing this whole fucking building up” but that’s him when it comes to you.

Canon era snow is a girl dad, but modern snow is a boy dad, I fear.

Met you when you had just finished checking into your dorm, you were scrambling all over the place and without looking you bumped into the it boy of the school. His hands suddenly curved like shackles around your hips, his fingers subconsciously stroking your hip dips being the only reason you both didn’t careen to the floor from the collision.

“You should be more careful, wouldn’t want you to get a nasty bruise now, would we?” said with an unreadable yet playful tone and a snake’s smile, lips slightly curled up in the corners and a little too many teeth showing to feel truly comforted. His tongue flicks over his canines for a split second.

Smells like Maison Francis Kurkdijan’s baccarat rouge 540 (buzzcut Coryo gives Dior Sauvage vibes)

Matching airpod max sets and lets you put little bows on his.

Impeccable cable management, phone wirelessly charging on the nightstand or kitchen counter until it’s at 100% and doesn’t charge it again until it’s at 1%

Teaches you how to swim if you don’t know how, with a hand curled under your neck and another under your thigh to help you float. But has no problem just lounging with your back on his chest on the deck of his yacht or laying his head on your chest while you read together on the private beach he booked during your trip.

Slowly fingers you while making out with you and massaging your throat with his other hand. His chunky rings make clanging sounds against your pussy, and he smiles into your lips when you whine. He rests his forehead against yours & slowly spits in your mouth when it falls open as he makes you cum over and over until you’re too tired to leave the apartment he bought for the two of you.

Jiggles your tummy rolls when you’re fucking but sometimes, he’ll just casually bite them, loves laying his head on your stomach and when you sleep. He likes to have a firm grip on the chub of your tummy. He also just plays with it, pulls it, and kneads it but occasionally he’ll gently smack it.

NUTS ON YOUR STRETCH MARKS LIKE HE’S ICING A CINNAMON ROLL

Anyway, his grandma’am owns a fleet of flower shops across the country as well as managing the snow family’s gardens, and luckily enough the one closest to campus was hiring when you enrolled!

Pisces sun Capricorn rising Aries mars, stay strong.

Has to look you in the eyes or he can’t cum.

Always keeps glasses cleaner and a microfiber cloth on him so the second he sees you rub your eyes in frustration because you can’t see through them anymore (because in your mind that would somehow fix it) and reach to grab them off your face, he’s snaking his hand out and snatching them up. He doesn’t even give then back to you; he tenderly tucks your hair behind your ears and slowly slides them back on your face. literally booping the center of them with a grin. Also has your custom designed glasses case (with his initials) in one of his bag’s front pockets.

You asked him to buy you the Gojo skin in Fortnite and he grumbled “you already have my information.” But in his mind, he’s like “what does he have that i don’t?” 💀 (he’ll lose his mind when he finds out you like Geto more). Will play with you on a team consisting of the two of you and Sejanus. (so, he can keep an eye on you two)

Has very pretty cum, pearly and so thick you get jump scared when it leaks out because your pussy tries to weakly clench to keep it inside and it just pushes through. Cums less often but when he does its huge continuous loads, humps against whatever part of you he can like a dog and lays his head on your chest.

You could almost argue he likes anal more than anything else. When he eats you out, you run an extremely high risk of him “getting lost” and starting to eat out your other hole. When his dick slips out, he makes you watch while he slaps it against your clit and drags it through your slick to teasingly act like he’s going to push it into your ass.

Kisses his camera when you fall asleep on facetime if you’re apart from each other. wipes his lips afterwards though for sanitary reasons.

For sure the type to go overboard when someone says they want honest advice. Then when they’re on the verge of tears and he’s made everything worse, he goes “that’s just me though, who am I to judge yk? take it with a grain of salt.”

Museum dates but he’s pointing at depictions of goddesses and saying, “that’s you.”

Will drop kick those annoying Sephora kids if you need a certain product that they’re going after.

Y’all are battling for who has more products, your bathroom so is huge but every time you move something’s always falling off the double vanity sink.

If you need an inhaler or an EpiPen or anything like that, he’ll always have one on him. when you need it, his reaction is so fast you almost can’t see it and he tries to hide how his hands shake slightly even if the attack you're dealing with is more minor.

You could tell him you hate coconut and when you go on your fancy little dates to 5 stars restaurants, if your plate has even the tiniest hint of coconut, he’s sending that back with the harshest glare on his face imaginable (“They asked for no pickles!” *Gunshots* vibes)

Gets jealous of fictional characters, you show the slightest interest in a man who’s literally not real and his eye nearly falls out from how much it twitches.

The possessive bf coded TikTok trends you’d make him do would go crazy though like the nails on his dick through his pants one, any princess treatment one, any one where you’re dancing and he has to cover you, “hey daddy” & other text ones.

Alarms every five minutes, not only for him but he wants to be awake at the same time as you for a bit before you have to go your separate ways during the day. (kisses your temple when you slump against him while you try to wake up)

“What’s up, Petal?”

“What’s up, Coryo?”

While he acts like he’s been doing you a favor all this time, he would get you that engagement ring that has a spike going through the finger bone in it, and he would get a matching one <3.

Double penetration with a dildo that’s a replica of his cock 😻😽

Closet bi (childhood crush on Sejanus, who btw has been eyeing you too much for his liking lately.)

Scars on his back from An Incident. shaved his head and dropped out of school for a bit but it wasn’t hard for his family to get him back in

Gives you the worst side eye when you ask him to play Roblox total drama island with you but when Sejanus offers, he’s galloping to his pc (he absolutely kills it, like he’s undefeated and he’s not afraid to bully whatever kids are in the game)

Vibes:

a/n: this is lowkey so cringe but i am free. i hate him (i'd tell him i love him on the first date.) will definitely do more with this verse but have this brainrot for now. hope you enjoyed anyway! btw i'll actually be opening comissions next month. so i'd really appreciate it if y'all would keep that in mind! talk to me about modern coryo or any version of coryo lol.

[love-toxin]

a lil raunchy whoops

omg im just thinking of (after many more months together and getting a LOT more comfortable) reader eventually pulling 💕Tommy💕 (tcm my beloved) into doing all the slutty slasher behavior that would normally get an unsuspecting college student killed.

pulling him into skinny dipping at a nearby lake…. fooling around in the barn…. drooling rn

(also cause of u i’ve started doing “//GUNSHOT” whenever i say smth completely wild. thanks for that 😪😪)

HEHE!!!! I've rotted ur brain <3 good <33

anyways AAAUAGYGGGGHGHHHH i want him so bad. Tommy never having any of the experiences a normal kid/teen/adult would have and not realizing the thrill of being a lil naughty until you drag him into it like the bad influence you are. so diabolical you would bring up skinny dipping the very idea has me RABID--just the thought of Tommy all antsy and nervous as you slip away with him but slowly growing more comfortable as you lead him to the edge of the lake, help him out of his clothes and gently pull off his mask. once you get in the water he's almost done a 180, and starts splashing you and being playful with a crooked, scarred smile on his face. he manhandles you and throws you around like you weigh nothing, and doesn't realize how hot and bothered he's making you when he paws at you with those big, grubby hands all over. doesn't quite understand why you're all hot in the face and squirmy until you start touching him back, and then oops--looks like you woke up the beast!

and the barn......Tommy getting the idea to put you in the breeding stock. him putting you in the stock and realizing it's way hotter than he even imagined it'd be. Tommy making you both late to dinner cause he's making you dinner, trying not to shake the whole thing too much as he grips the bars and plows you like he's gonna make you meet your maker, you having to dust the hay and the dirt off your clothes and try to mask the limp when you both hurry back into the house for a cold supper.....mhmmngghhn.

[sinkingnotsoslowly]

Menace

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader (pronouns not mentioned)

Non-idol au, fluff, very little angst

technically is a part 2 of this fic but could be read as a standalone

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK. REBLOGS AND FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED

“Why aren’t you dating anyone Minho?”

Minho stops devouring his pudding to gawk at you. “I’m not questioning your decision to stay single but why are you really not dating?”, you ask.

“Because you haven’t said yes yet”, he goes back to eating his pudding as if he didn’t just say the most outlandish thing.

“Yes to what?”

Minho rolls his eyes in feigned annoyance, “Yes to me asking you to date me, duh”

“Ugh be serious Minho”, you huff.

“What makes you think I’m not serious (yn)?” he looks at you with something in his eyes that you can’t decipher. “I think I should head back now, my break ended ten minutes ago”, with that gets up and walks out of the café.

This was two weeks ago and it still hasn’t left your mind. It is not unlike Minho to randomly ask you out on a date but you never take him seriously. He always jokes about how you two should just marry each other if you were still single at thirty. But that day at the café he did not seem like he was joking about you dating him. Did you hit a nerve by asking him that? But if he was indeed upset, he would tell you about it, you guys always talked things out if either of you were upset. He has been behaving perfectly normally since then.

“I ate pudding today”, you waited for him to continue but only silence followed. “Minho you called me in the middle of the day to say that you ate pudding?”, you asked. “Yeah, and it was so delicious. Buy me more when you come over. Anyways I got to go, bye”, the call ended. Yep, very Minho-like.

You met Minho at a college party and then proceeded to make out with him only stopping when you accidentally moaned your best friend’s name instead. But he never held it against you. You eventually opened up to him enough to tell him that you were in love with your best friend. The said best friend was getting married in a month. And you would be there, as a guest of course. To your surprise you weren’t exactly heartbroken when Seungmin called you, gasping for breath like he had run a marathon. You could almost hear him grinning his puppy grin, “She said yes”.

Just because you were not heartbroken did not mean you were not sad. After all, there were years of pining, wishing that one day he would finally realise that the love of his life was always in front of him. That did not happen. You guys graduated, you got a job, he went for higher studies and found someone there. That night Minho came over with beer and let you ugly sob on his shoulder. Since college, he has always been there with you, your graduation, your first job, bad dates, going out for drinks on Friday nights and talking shit about your bosses. You thought he was good for you; a great friend.

“I’m going on a date tomorrow”, Minho said while setting up his laptop for the movie. It was your weekly movie night at his place, “Thought I should try getting out there”. He was still looking at the laptop avoiding your eyes. For some reason, you felt a pang in your chest. “Is this because of what I said? Minho I didn’t mean to upset you-”

“You didn’t upset me (yn). I’ve just been thinking of settling down”, he started the movie without further explanation. You wanted to press him on but you thought better of it.

You couldn’t concentrate on the movie. Throughout it, you kept thinking about what Minho said. You couldn’t blame him for wanting to settle down but you kept feeling uncomfortable with the image of Minho dating someone and then marrying her.

Minho has always been a menace but he became a little more annoying the next week. He always has this look on his face like he knows something you don’t and it has been eating at your brain. Midweek your composure breaks and you snap, “Ok what is it? Why do you look like you are up to no good?” At that Minho looks at you like you just sprouted two heads, “I don’t know what you’re talking about”

“Oh you know what I’m talking about Minho”

Minho keeps looking at you like a cat who did not just knock off the flower vase, and then he blinked like a lightbulb went off in his head, “Ah right! Come over on Saturday I need help to pick out what I’ll wear for the date.”

The date. Right. He was just excited for the date. You felt your spirits dropping. Maybe in no time, you’ll be attending Minho’s wedding too, as a guest. Wait what? Why would you think that? How else would you want to attend a friend’s wedding if not as a guest?

Oh.

OH.

Oh no.

You stood up abruptly almost knocking over your half-drunk coffee on the table, “I-I have to go, I haven’t even started the new project yet”. Without sparing Minho another glance you grabbed your bag to just get away from him as fast as possible.

“Huh? That was sudden. Well don’t forget about Saturday.”

You faked a smile towards him, “Yes, yes, Saturday, I’ll be there.”

Saturday came faster than you could blink. And it seemed like the universe had a personal vendetta against you this week. Missed deadlines, unnecessary hourlong meetings, spilt coffee, missing the bus- you name it. At this point, only a year-long vacation could give some mental peace. And on top of that, you couldn’t stop thinking about Minho. You didn’t see each other again after that one day when you barely escaped humiliating yourself.

“Should I wear the blue button-down or the black one?”

“Black”

“Hmm, ok blue it is” menace.

“Why am I here Minho? Not like you are listening to me”, you were sitting on his bed munching on the last of honey butter chips Minho had stocked up. You spent the whole day buried in the blanket, wallowing in self-pity, and almost didn’t show up today. You even contemplated going back home while standing in front of Minho’s house. God knows what you were still doing there sitting in Minho’s bedroom while he dressed up for his date.

Minho looked at you through the mirror, scoffing, “For moral support of course”. He went back to styling his hair without another word.

“Well then if am done providing moral support to your honour, I’ll be taking my leave”, it was time for you to go back to the safety of your blankets and cry yourself to sleep since you did not seem fated to have requited love in this life. The only option left was arranged marriage.

Before you could leave Minho’s room you were stopped. “W-wait, don’t you have anything to tell me?” Minho asked. You turned around, brain going into overdrive. Why would he say that? Does he know about my feelings? Is he teasing me? Oh God please no. But what if-

“Like- are you okay with this? Me going on a date?” Ah, so he was just worried. How sweet. “Of course, I’m okay Minho. Why wouldn’t I be? This is completely your decision; you deserve to be happy-”

“Oh my god, you’re so dumb (yn). Why can’t you just say it? Why can’t you just ask me not to go? Why can’t you tell me that you like me?” Minho paused, taking a breath to calm down, “I like you (yn). And I know you like me. There is no other girl. But I do have a reservation for dinner if you’re up for it”.

It would be an understatement to say that you were dumfounded. You had thought of many scenarios while laying awake in bed but not this. “Why didn’t you just confront me if you knew that I liked you?”, you asked, fiddling with the hem of your shirt which looked very interesting suddenly. Minho sighed, “I wasn’t sure at first. So I wanted to see your reaction by saying that I have a date. And it seemed like you weren’t sure about your feelings either. So are you up for it?”

“Huh?”

“The date. Do want to go on this date? Look I understand if you are pissed, and it’s fine if you say no-”

“Just drive me to my place so I can dress up atleast. You’re such a menace Lee Minho”

Minho grinned like a cat, “Yeah but now it’s too late to get rid off me. So this menace is now your responsibility”.

So you were fated to have requited love it seems.

masterlist

Autumn's sighs- little soft thoughts about our favourite boys

[strangethlngs]

── ❀⋆.ೃ࿔ somebody told me | steve harrington x fem!reader

✧ summary: [based on the song somebody told me by the killers] after breaking up with steve because of impending freshman year of college, both you and steve are haunted by what could have been. in an attempt to cope with the swirling emotions, you pursue a sexual relationship with eddie munson. halloween rolls around, and eddie invites you to a party. your blood runs cold in the midst of sweaty bodies when none other than steve harrington finds you in the crowd.

pre & post s3 steve harrington x fem!reader x slight fwb!eddie munson | angst, very slight smut vibes if you squint | no use of y/n

✧ word count: 4.8k

✧ warnings: MDNI! no full smut but talks of sex and sexual touching/dancing, use of marijuana, cigarettes, and alcohol, steve is an asshole, college struggles | if there is anything that i missed that should be listed, please let me know

✧ a note from s: hi everyone !! i listened to this song for the first time in a while the other day and immediately pictured this storyline and had to write it. this is my first ever fic on this account / first time writing for steve so please be gentle. i also want to put a disclaimer out there that don't write for eddie normally, but i did enjoy writing him in this fic so if everyone enjoys my eddie writing too i might add him to my list of those i write for. sidenote: as i was writing the party scene i couldn't get the image of steve harrington as jacob elordi in the club scene of saltburn out of my brain so enjoy that mental image xoxoxoxox

i'm so nervous to post this so plz lmk your thoughts & plz reblog/like/share to support my writing! enjoy <3

You gently pick at a loose thread on the quilt draped over Steve’s bed. You feel his eyes boring into your head, but you can’t bring yourself to look up at him and meet his eyes. You know they’re sad. Pleading. You can’t bring yourself to face it.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I really am… I just-“ you don’t know how to finish the sentence. You just what? You want to go into college single, why was that so hard to get out? It’s not like you and Steve had dated for years. You’d been casually together, only sporting the girlfriend label for the past 4 months. So why was this so hard? Had you known Steve wasn’t going to be able to get into the college you were going to, or most colleges for that matter, you wouldn’t have gotten as involved with him as you did. You never wanted to hurt him.

“You just what?” Steve prodded, not moving from where he sat, across from you on his bed.

“I don’t know Steve,” you struggle to get out, words failing you severely.

“I think you do. Just say it. At least give me the decency of a reason why you’re… dumping me.”

“I just think… when I leave in the fall,” you swallow, your voice pathetically getting smaller. “I should be single.”

He is silent for a moment.

“If this is a distance thing, we can just do long distance. We can make it work. I know plenty of people who were able to do that. I’m sure my manager at Scoops and I can work out a work schedule that leaves my weekends open. And we can alternate weekends to visit, or… or something,” he rambles on, shaking his head as if the idea of breaking up was not acceptable in his mind.

Maybe because, to him, it wasn’t acceptable. You were his dream girl. Even after a few months, you had him wrapped around your finger. He would walk through a wall of fire if you were on the other side. He hadn’t felt anything close to this since Nancy Wheeler. And you were nothing like Nancy Wheeler. And that’s one of his favorite things about you. But you hadn’t realized how deep his feelings for you ran, and you didn’t realize how deep leaving him would cut. It wasn’t easy for you either, sure, but at least you had a freshman year to look forward too. What did Steve have? Slinging ice cream? That insecurity of not being able to experience college at all was gnawing at him more than he’d let on to you.

“I just think this will be easiest for both of us in the long run… and who knows, maybe I’ll end up back in Hawkins after I graduate, or maybe in a few years you’ll be able to make it to college,” You offer, trying to be as gentle as possible. You stand up, walking to his desk to pick up your backpack.

Once you slip it on, you turn and finally make eye contact for just a moment, before he makes a noise between a scoff and a sniffle and breaks the eye contact, looking out his window. The vein in his neck twitches. You can tell something you said just set him off.

“You mean it will be easier for you.”

You furrow your brow. “What?”

He shakes his head and lets out a sigh, exasperated. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and slaps his palms on his knees.

“You know what… go and have fun at college. Go have fun and be single, while I stay here and make ice cream sundaes. That’s all I’m good for, right?” he sneers bitterly, his tone shifting from the soft pleading he just tried to offer moments ago.

You’re stunned and frozen to your spot next to his desk, hands gripping the straps of your backpack. “Excuse me?”

“I just don’t understand how you don’t want to even try to make this work. And I can only think of one reason you are refusing to try.”

You ignore the last bit, not even wanting to go there. “Steve, I just don’t think I have the mental capacity to maintain something between us. I worry I’d end up neglecting this relationship,” You really are trying to be a peacemaker here, but you feel Steve heating up, frustrated that his attempts to rectify this relationship were futile. Truth is, you don’t want to be single to date around. College was daunting as it is, and you wanted your time to be free to dive into your studies and figure out your place in this world. That, along with keeping up somewhat of a social life in a new big city far from the one boy you’ve ever actually liked would be hard enough.

“No,” He starts, shaking his head. “I think you want to be able to go out to parties and bars and flirt with and date whomever you’d like, right?” He spits, standing from his bed and folding his arms across his chest.

“Wow…” you slowly nod. You know he’s projecting, but damn if it didn’t hurt to hear your boyfriend you’d really started to fall in love with say. “If… if that’s what you think of me, I’m just glad I did this now.” You turn to leave before either of you say things you don’t mean, but Steve beats you to the punch.

“If that’s not the truth, why wouldn’t you at least give it a chance? You’re leaving me no choice but to believe that it’s the truth,” He saunters close to you. Angry Steve is not someone you are fond of. Sure, you had a huge crush on Steve junior year when he donned his iconic, yet asshole-ish King Steve persona. But you hated being in King Steve’s line of fire, just like you were right now. He’d grown and changed from those days, but if you got him upset enough, he would rear his ugly head. He stopped right in front of you, reaching around you to the door to exit his room. He gave you a look up and down you can only describe as pure disgust and muttered close to your face, “have fun with those college boys.”

You let out an airy laugh, his condescending words and tone sending you over the edge. You turn and fiercely walk to the staircase and stop at the edge. You know it’s a low blow. You know it’s hitting him where it hurts. But you’re so mad, you don’t recognize the man you’d gotten to know for the past few months. You spit out the sentence without thinking twice.

“I know you couldn’t possibly understand what I’m feeling because you couldn’t get into any colleges, but it’s not my fault you slacked off and didn’t get the grades. Don’t be bitter at me because I’m leaving in the fall and you’re not.”

You don’t have time to see his hurt reaction before you turn on your heel and race down the stairs and out the front door. As soon as the words left your lips you felt guilty. He’d been so insecure with his college application troubles and you used it against him. But it was over. You slide into your car and quickly speed down the road. You take a shaky breath in and out as you drive, trying to put Steve in the back of your mind and bring college preparation thoughts to the forefront of your focus.

✧

You push through the front door of your dorm building, heaving your heavy backpack through the long hall. Your eyes ached from reading your textbook for hours to cram in a last-minute study session for your exam tomorrow. You were teetering on a failing grade; you just knew it. This class in particular, but all your classes your first semester, were kicking your ass. You couldn’t afford to pay to retake classes. The stress of juggling all these hard classes was bogging you down, and you still didn’t know what you even wanted to major in. It’s not an exaggeration for you to say college was definitely not the exciting, thrilling fun you thought it would be.

When you push your room door open, you’re greeted with the smell of liquor and cheap cigarettes. Neither of these things you were above, by any means, but not on a Tuesday night when you have an exam in the morning. On top of your grades being atrocious, your roommate was downright terrible. Throwing dorm room parties constantly, always up at the worst hours, and messy. So incredibly messy. And the worst part is, she doesn’t even like you. She acted as if you were the one intruding on her.

You push through the group of girls in your way, ignoring the snide remarks, throwing your backpack onto your bed, fishing out your wallet, and immediately removing yourself from the room. You trudge over to the vending machine, hoping for some kind of food before you force yourself to sleep through the inevitably restless night. You grab some candy and turn, nearly bumping into another person. You mutter an apology and step to the side, engrossed in opening the packet of M&M’s.

“Hey you’re one of the girls in room 13 right?” The voice from behind you asks. You turn and see a vaguely familiar girl.

“Yeah,” you respond.

“You got a call at the payphone earlier,” she steps up to the vending machine. “Some guy named Eddie.”

Eddie.

Throughout the awful college experience you’d been enduring, your one saving grace had been Eddie Munson. You thank the girl and nearly race up to the one of the phones down the hall. You shove in some quarters quickly and punch in the all-too-familiar number. He picks up on the second ring.

“Hello?” you hear his voice answer, and heat flushes over you. But not the giddy, lovey-dovey heat you’d had when you and Steve would have your routine nightly chats, back when you were still with him. This was a different heat. Darker, more lustful.

The summer after you’d broken things off with Steve, you found yourself having a harder time moving on than you thought you would. The things you’d said to Steve you knew you didn’t mean. His hurt face swam into view every time you thought about it. It was haunting you, and you’d do anything to forget about it. One of your friends had suggested Eddie, being a drug dealer and all. You couldn’t recall who Eddie was exactly, but you knew he sold things that could take your mind off real life, so you were set. Soon, you found yourself not just picking up weed from him. It became smoking with each other and ordering a pizza, getting to know each other at a surface level, watching stupid movies and laughing at stupid things. You didn’t like him, definitely not in the way you liked Steve. However, you were very attracted to him. So, when he made advances one night you two smoked in his van out at Lover’s Lake, you most definitely weren’t going to stop him. It was just a one-time thing, you’d both agreed. Until he called you a week later. Then it started to happen more often. When you left for college, you both expected things would fizzle out. Oh well, you’d had your fun rebound.

Though, on a particular Friday you were getting weighed down by the toll college was taking on you, you found yourself calling him from your dorm, asking if he was free that night. Phone calls between you and Eddie started to become more frequent. Usually it was, “what are you up to this weekend?”, followed by him saying something along the lines of, “you should come visit. I got a new batch from Rick, and we should smoke it and see how long we can go without touching each other”. Because of this, you started to make occasional trips to Hawkins to smoke weed and hook up to cope and escape your personal hell that was freshman year.

“Hey, you” You smiled into the phone.

“I was starting to wonder if you were ever gonna call me back,” you could hear him smiling on the other end of the phone too, a lusty drawl to his voice you detected immediately. “You weren’t cheating on me by being smoked out by some other college stoner, right?” he teased. The thing you liked the most about you and Eddie’s agreement was that you both knew where you stood. There were no complicated feelings involved.

“You know I would never,” you fake-gasp.

“So, listen,” you hear him shift on the other side of the phone. “There’s this huge Halloween costume party this weekend here in Hawkins. I’m not one for Hawkins parties… but this one actually sounds like it might be fun. Wanna come?”

“Most definitely,” you nod. “Are we coordinating costumes?” you tease, fiddling with the phone cord.

“Well, I actually have an idea, but it’s kind of...”

“I expect nothing less from you,” you cut him off. He begins to ramble about some Motley Crüe music video that he loves and how you could dress as one of the ‘hot chicks’ and he could dress as one of the band members and it would be ‘totally awesome’. He explains the costume details to you in the best way a male brain can, and you make a mental note to stop by a video rental store tomorrow to rent the music video and see what you’re working with here.

“I’ll be there Friday night, costumed up.”

“Oh, I do like the sound of that,” he breathed out. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

✧

As you pull up to the party, Eddie makes a point to trot over to your van door and pull it open for you. Ever the gentleman, dressed head to toe in an undeniably incredible Tommy Lee costume.

“Why thank you,” you smile, taking his hand as you step out of the van. You could hear the bumping bass from the party all the way from where Eddie parked down the street.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Eddie started, giddily walking, already producing a joint and sparking up. “Your costume looks insane. I don’t know how you managed to do that within a few days,” he lets out a puff of smoke and hands you the joint.

You give a twirl and slip the joint past your lips. “It’s pretty easy to be out shopping for things when you wanna spend as least time in your dorm room as possible.” It was true. After your big exam, the rest of the week had gone by smoothly with you busying yourself by either being at the library or out shopping and crafting your costume.

You both pass the joint to each other a few times and before you know it, you’re both making your way through the people crowding the lawn. Just before you make your way into the house, Eddie stops to chat with some of his D&D buddies. You decide to leave him to his friends, it’s not like he’s your boyfriend or anything.

You already feel a bit tipsy, mentally thanking Eddie for roping you into taking a few tequila shots before leaving for the party. The inside of the house is dark and smoky, save for some flashing colorful lights illuminating the crowd of closely knit dancing bodies. You spot an opened, nearly full bottle of… Merlot? Was it merlot? You soon realized you didn’t care. Your fingers tighten around the sticky bottle, and you heartily swig it, the liquid grossly warm. Your feet take you to the edge of the crowd, immediately getting engulfed in the group of people, dancing to the music, happy and carefree to be anywhere but your dorm room.

You lose track of time. After a while of dancing on your own and progressively letting the wine, tequila, and weed all take their effect, in the haze of the dark, smoky crowd, you hear a wolf whistle over the music in your direction. You took a spin, expecting to meet eyes with Eddie.

Your blood ran cold, and you choked the swig of wine you’d just taken. Steve’s beautiful face was illuminated by only the occasional flashes of light in the large room, a lopsided, drunk smile on his face. He stood closely in front of you, slightly swaying to the music. You quickly take in his Scarface costume, a small voice in the back of your mind immediately assuming that a beautiful, blonde Elvira is close by.

You both stare at each other for a minute, you stand still amid drunk dancing teens. You quickly realize you are obscured from wherever Eddie’s view happened to be by the large crowd around you, but why was that your first thought? You try to glance around to see if Eddie had decided to come inside, or if he was anywhere in eyeshot so he could rescue you. But you’re feeling Steve’s eyes raking over your body. Heat flushes over you, and you clamp your thighs together, stifling the thoughts and feelings washing over you prompted by his seductive gaze.

“What do you want”, you ask, it coming out snarkier than you’d meant for it to. You’re just… uncomfortable under his heavy gaze. But not uncomfortable, like you didn’t want him near you. No, no. Moreso… uncomfortable because when you saw him looking at you the way he did, a heat ignited somewhere in you. It had been so long since you’d seen his face, nevertheless seen him look at you with such… lust? Could you even call it that?  

“I’d been trying to get over to you for the past 17 songs,” he retorted over the music, just loud enough for you to hear. “You are hard to track down, you know that?” More teens were dancing into you, of course pushing you and Steve closer. Too close. So close that you could smell that he had been drinking whiskey and smoking cigarettes. And his cologne. The cologne you’d complimented one of the first times you’d hung out. The cologne that reminded you of being close to him. Smelling it on his neck when you had been kissing his collarbone…. Heat flushed over your cheeks, and you’d hope he didn’t see it in the rhythmic flashing of lights. A particularly hard jab from a girl dressed as Madonna hit your arm, causing your bra strap to fall to your arm.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” you choked out, frantically adjusting the strap of your top back to your shoulder, finally finding your voice again. You were suddenly feeling very self-conscious. Your hands grow sweaty as the wine bottle slips through your fingers. You take a swig, desperate to break the charged eye contact he was making with you.

“Did you happen to forget I still live here?” He snarked back, a goofy Steve Harrington smile on his lips.

“And so what if I did?” You respond, looking to try and brush past him. You need to find Eddie. He’s your crutch here. You need to remove yourself from the situation, because you know you’ll get in far too deep if he keeps looking at you this way. But his large frame steps in front of you, blocking you in between him and the group of girls behind you.

“You leave town onto bigger and better things and end up rightback next to me, huh?” He gives a cocky smirk and takes a sip from his cup, not breaking eye contact. “Funny how that works.”

“I’m just here visiting a friend,” You retort.

“Yeah, you know, I did hear about that…” He started, a hint of a scoff bubbling out through his lips. He leans close to your ear, one hand grazing the fabric on your forearm, dangerously close to the swell of your hip, the other hand clutched around his red solo cup. Beads of sweat form on your forehead, but not from the heat.

“Somebody told me you’re actually here with Eddie Munson,” he chuckled a bit, as if it was unbelievable. You pulled away and scanned his darkened and unreadable eyes, trying to get what he’s playing at. You notice the King Steve persona again, like you did the day you dumped him. You don’t know it, but something inside him flipped when he saw you dancing on the dancefloor, skirt riding up your thigh, bra strap slipping down your arm.

“Why do you care? I’m sure there’s some girl around here you brought,” you play it off like it doesn’t sting your tongue to say. You wanted to know so badly why he was asking. Did he care? Was he going to make fun of you? Was he hurt? Jealous?

“I just didn’t think he was your type, you know…” He persisted, raising his cup to his face, a dark smile starting to form as he speaks. “I mean… now that I think about it, something about him reminds me of Nancy. I think it’s the curly hair…” He said with a wink and a swig of his drink. You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. You immediately knew what he was getting at. You’d been so insecure in your entire relationship with him that you were just his Nancy rebound. Idiotic Tommy and Carol would never let you hear the end of it with how different you were from Nancy, and it ate away at you and made you so insecure. Because you weren’t like Nancy Wheeler, like, at all. And with this comment he was not only insulting you, but your choice in having Eddie Munson as your date to this party. This was his response to the low blow you had made before leaving his house the day you broke up with him. You take a deep breath in, releasing your arms and shoving his chest with the top of the wine bottle.

“Was that the best insult you could come up with, Stevie? Is Eddie Munson making King Steve that insecure?” you mock him, the alcohol finally giving you your fiery attitude. “You know what, he may not be as manly as you think you are but trust me…” you drunkenly grab a fistful of his shirt and bring him close to lean towards his ear, “he’s more of a man than you ever were. Especially in bed,” you purr. You release his shirt and shove him away.

You’re expecting him to be stunned, to be speechless. King Steve, dethroned. But to your horror, he gives a dark, dry laugh.

The opening riff to a new song starts playing, and the crowd cheers, causing Madonna to bump into you so harshly that you’re thrown into a compromising position. Steve places his hands on your arms, steadying the both of you, so your back close to him, and he starts moving with the music.

“Oh, I’m not worried about him competing with the way I made you feel,” he leans in, millimeters away from your ear, hands sliding dangerously close to your hips. “I’m sure Eddie Munson doesn’t know you well enough to know the right ways to pleasure you like I did. Tell me,” he breathes, hot and close to your ear. Shivers run down your arms. “Do you let him use those pink handcuffs on you? You know… the ones I bought for you?”

Your mouth goes dry, numbly moving as his hands guide your body to the music with his. A gasp hitches in your throat as you feel him closer behind you.

“Just give me tonight… for old time’s sake. I think I need to remind you just how good I made you feel.” A shiver runs up your arm as his hand runs down your arm, gripping the wine bottle with his hand over the top of yours. He brings it up to his lips, your hand trapped under his. Once he swigs a few gulps, he slides the bottle down the front of your body, letting go of the bottle, but his touch lingering on your collarbone.

Maybe it’s the weed, maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the fact that the song that just started playing is one of your favorites and Steve knows it. But something in you chases the high that his touch is giving you. So, what the hell. You give in. You know it’s what you want, deep down, even if you were stone cold sober. You couldn’t deny that nights spent at Eddie’s trailer, long after Eddie had fallen asleep, memories of Steve haunted your memories. You couldn’t deny it, even though you wanted to pretend it didn’t keep you up some nights.

You begin to sway to the music, Steve’s strong body behind you guiding you to the rhythm. His touch never leaving you. It felt so right, like returning to a proper stasis after chaos for so long. It felt right and comfortable and normal. His hands wander your curves, and you throw your head back. Steve knew your body in a way Eddie never had. Intimacy with Steve wasn’t just about immediate sexual satisfaction. It was about intimacy. Steve had cared about you, actually cared. He wanted to make you feel good. You knew the persona he was playing up tonight was a front to hide how he really felt. He yearned for you, especially yearned to make you feel good. You’d refused to admit it since you started hooking up with Eddie, but Steve had made you feel good in a far different way. And the fact that he knew it simultaneously pissed you off and turned you on.

You feel Steve’s hand ghost up your arm and to your shoulder, and almost instinctively, as if you were back to your old ways, you let your head lull to the side. Steve’s lips immediately attach to the spot on your neck that he knows you love. You let out a moan, inaudible under the music. Your fingers tangle into his thick hair, willing him to keep going. His hands lightly trail up the front of your thin shirt, and you can feel his fingers brush against your nipple. And suddenly, he detaches his lips from you, much to your dismay.

You turn your head, sighing in protest, and turn to him, inches away from your face. His drunken breath fans across your face, intoxicating you more than any weed you smoked or wine you swigged tonight. The lights flash from behind his head, lighting up his beautiful features. His eyes fall to your lips, and his large hand moves from your chest to cup your cheek, and he pulls your face forcefully to meet your lips to his. He wastes no time making the kiss as sloppy as the environment you’re in calls for, his hands running wild. To your surprise, you feel your hand gripping his shirt, your body aching to get him even closer. You give into the sensation and let your hands tentatively rake down the front of his shirt. You waste no time slipping under his shirt, hands dancing up his torso, Eddie a long, distant memory. But your lips grow cold as he pulls away. He sloppily smirks at you, knowing he has you in the palm of his hand. You hate him for it.

“Ditch Munson and come home with me,” he says, still close to you. Under the smug façade he puts on, you can see that his eyes are almost desperate. Your brain tries to formulate a sentence to decline, but you look at his face and see Steve’s real self through the mask. Not King Steve, but the real, genuine Steve. The one you love. Lips puffy from crashing into yours, cheeks flushed, hair tussled from where your fingers had raked through it. The smell on his breath intoxicates you. He feels safe. Familiar. Something about him you can’t resist. You never could resist.

“Steve, I don’t want to get you tangled up in something complicated,” you find the words tumbling out of your mouth, suddenly feeling guilty for dumping him only to end up getting involved with another Hawkins boy. What a slap in the face that must have been. But he leans in and kisses you deeply, stopping your train of thought. When he pulls away, he keeps his face close to yours.

“Let’s worry about this in the morning, yeah?” He nods, encouraging you. You know you want to too; you just worry you’re going to hurt him in the process. His hand finds its way to your cheek again, his thumb brushing against your chin. “Let tonight just be… tonight, okay?”

You gaze up at him, brain racing through a million answers to give him in the span of a millisecond. But you respond with the answer you know deep down that you really want to say.

“Let’s get out of here,” You slide your arm around his and start to push through the crowd.

please do not repost anywhere. please do not plagiarize my work as your own. please do not use my writing for any AI purposes.

[unlikelypandahologram]

Reasons to ship every single version of MegOP

since Very Dumb Discourse™ exists about whether or not certain versions of this ship are valid, this is going to be THE most positive post about all versions of MegOP. refer back to this post for reasons to ship your favorite version of MegOP if anyone gets weird about it with you. now let us begin!!

G1: goofy '80s faction dads fighting each other in a denny's parking lot every week LET'S GOOO, that shit is fun as fuck. orion pax also totally had a celeb crush on megatron before megatron ruined that and shot him and his pals 😔 and there's a lot of angst you can add with megatron becoming galvatron and optimus coming back to life to see how much he's changed!

BW: it's the sheer fucking comedy gold factor of a newly minted college graduate and a terrorist dinosaur IMMEDIATELY singling each other out on a prehistoric rock and deciding to call their daily gang slap-fights the BEAST WARS, what iconic drama queens LMAOOOO. also, megatron made his final body in BM look like optimal optimus SPECIFICALLY to fuck with him, and that's just...incredible

UT: the fact that megatron CANONICALLY acted like a grieving widower over optimus after he died in armada is. amazing. never forget their absolutely insane obsession with each other that they can never EVER give up on played a direct part in unicron nearly ending the world <3

Bayverse: this is the one continuity of all fucking things that gave us the lore about megatron being prime's lord high protector. absolute galaxy brain writing from the tie-in comics. also these two would ABSOLUTELY have the messiest, nastiest, most brutal hate sex imaginable, and that's beautiful. <3

Animated: optimus being a rookie washout underdog and megatron being a super scary much older warlord is a really interesting and underrated fresh take on their dynamic! lots of fun to be had with exploring what their relationship would be like after megatron finally acknowledged him as his archnemesis, lol. also...age AND size difference ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Prime: do i even need to say anything, i'm pretty sure that one flashback still of orion and megatronus being friends is responsible for birthing a million shippers for this pairing alone LMAOOOO. the bitter ex-boyfriends energy was TRULY off the charts in this show, it's a damn shame megatron never appeared in RID15

Cyberverse: same bitter ex-boyfriends energy but this time with dates at maccadams. megatron also dies encouraging optimus to beat the unhinged alternate dimension megs AAHH THE ANGST

IDW1: they're both depressed gay war criminals in this one who CONSTANTLY live in each other's heads rent-free and that's amazing, lmfao. also, megatron becoming an autobot means this is one of the VERY FEW continuities where it's not nigh impossible to figure out a way to give these two a happy ending together in fanon

IDW2: space date space date SPACE DATE. they were falling together and everything. megatron also LITERALLY tells optimus to open himself to him...to give him the matrix...yeah megs my dude i'm sure that's the ONLY thing you wanted from optimus "opening" himself. toootally positive, lol

G1 Marvel: megatron was SUPER fucking pissed and weird as shit about the time optimus died over a video game. it counts

Dreamwave: their first fight had megatron urging optimus to join him AND they disappeared together in a space bridge explosion once which is like, a fanfic-esque setup for them to be alone. also i'm pretty sure this is the continuity where optimus accidentally gave megatron a lobotomy, so...uh...potential for angst is to be had

SG: mirror universe!! evil crazy villain optimus with noble goody-goody hero megatron has so much potential for absolute chaos. bonus if you also bring in the normal versions somehow through multiverse shenanigans <3

KP: the only way this version of prime can redeem himself from the creepy underage human girl bullshit is if he gets a good hard dicking from megatron. next

Prime Wars: huge "ex-husbands go on a road trip with their disgruntled daughter" energy here. megatron also LITERALLY says "oh optimus, if only you could see me now" <3

Earthspark: again...need i say why? they're pals and working together from the get-go, what's not to ship??

Skybound: optimus literally wears megatron's arm. truly beautiful <3

TF One: it's not out yet but give it time. the entire movie is going to be about orion and d-16 being madly in love and tragically breaking up, baby!!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for entertaining a friendship with a child?

okay so this might be a weird one or even a controversial one i honestly have zero clue how other people will receive this, apologies in advance if i ramble!

to begin, i (23ftm) and this kid (15f) first met about a year ago. one of my best friends (23m) is a pretty big model and tiktoker and she was a fan of his, and she was pretty recognized online for making cool edits and stuff of him and coming to meetups etcetera, so he knew of her from there, and over time with always seeing each other at meet ups and her being in his discord server (where i mod) she kind of became pretty well known to us.

an important thing to note is that she's SUPER neurodivergent and she's had a really tough life. she lost her older brother a few years back and she's (i'm not sure of the correct way to put it, her family is originally from the netherlands and their english is kind of in the works so this is how they put it) developmentally behind a few years - her parents describe this as her being "mentally more 13 than 15" but her behaviour to me is even younger than that. she's very very innocent and trusting, very overemotional and sensitive to criticism etc, loves stuffed animals and pink and cartoons and all of that. she's told me she feels like a little kid sometimes and will talk/act like one so maybe there's an element of trauma-rooted age regression there, i'm not super sure - i'm not gonna get into detail but she's talked to me about her life a lot and she's had some pretty fucked up shit happen to her.

from the beginning she pretty much imprinted on me - she's told me before i remind her of the big brother she lost, and ever since then she's called me her "big brother" and "family" etc. at first i was more just playing along with it to make her happy but over time she really has become something like a little sister to me, i feel super protective of her. i want to become a teacher after college (not to mention eventually a parent with my fiancee) so i think at least part of it is that taking a kid 'under my wing' so to speak is giving me experience with it all. i've always been kinda paternal/protective over kids in general but i was the youngest sibling in my family so i never really had anyone to utilise that on before

she does rely super heavily on me emotionally, especially because after i found out she was being bullied pretty badly at school i started dropping by to keep her company during breaks/lunch and making sure shit was okay (which her still-living brother used to do, but he's a famous?? - unsure How famous, i don't know sports at all - footballer/soccer player who's often in another country and can't see her often anymore), and i've been working with her to curb that. i'm actually currently working with her parents to find her a good therapist and support system. she's no longer in the tiktok friend's discord just because it was getting a little all-consuming for her and we encouraged her to take a break, but she's done a TON of work on herself and maturing since then and she does plan to rejoin at some point soon.

however, i find it really really hard to gauge whether being so close with a child is... like normal? or not. i honestly can't tell if it's kind of the internet caution about adults talking to minors kind of warping my brain and making me overly wary of what people will think or if i'm doing something wrong or if it's genuinely like a weird situation, so i guess i'm looking for outside perspectives.

the things that make me question it is that like i said she's very 'mentally young', she's very sheltered, and there definitely seems to be an element of her kind of replacing the older brother figure she lost with me. on top of that, we met through her being a fan of my friend, and though she's now separate from that i worry there could still be an element of power there because i'm close with the guy she calls her idol. her family knows me and seem totally chill with everything, but they've told me she tells people at her school that i'm literally her brother and basically 100% talks about me as if i'm her biological family, which i find super sweet but at the same time wonder if it's healthy.

she obviously needs therapy and hopefully soon we can get her it, but: AITA for entertaining a sort of found family dynamic / friendship at all with someone very vulnerable and young or is this genuinely helpful for her?

What are these acronyms?

[anjelicawrites]

Because Michael finds math so easy, when he sees the pretty girl in his class and she distracts him, he loves the challenge. Math is hard (and it’s not the only thing) because he has to concentrate on the questions instead of her tits.

When he finally accidentally ends up with her, she realizes that he likes having to do problems while she distracts him. She tells him that if he can get all of the problems on a worksheet solved without cumming, she’ll give him a reward. He’s come very close a few times to getting them all done, but he has never managed to. Is he really expected to be able to do what would normally take him twenty seconds when she’s sucking him off or riding him or playing with herself??? One time he actually did a problem wrong because he wrote the wrong number down when she was moaning and bouncing on his cock wearing just a tiny crop top and the shortest skirt he had ever seen.

-🪴

Let's focus on that time he made a mistake, shall we, 🪴 anon?

Maths for Michael is an afterthought. He runs problems and equations in the back of his head while he's living through his life. That's why he accepted her 'little challenge': solve all the problems and equations written in one random page of one of his maths books while she 'distracts' him and "I'll let you have my arse, sweet Michael", she told him one night, back from a date. Michael didn't even ponder her proposal, he accepted immediately, all of his blood running to his cock at the thought of her tight, virgin arse at his disposal. He imagined he could win this challenge easily: how hard could it be?

Harder than his cock every single time she giggles and plays with her stupid pencil during class, apparently.

Michael groans, the pencil almost snaps with the strength he's using to hold it. He's desperate to keep his mind focused on the easy equation and he simply can't. The numbers swim in his head faster and faster as she bounces on his cock, moaning and whining at his girth.

She popped by his college room wearing a suspiciously long coat, a bit too warm for the incoming spring. She had jumped in his arms and kissed him soundly, pushing his glasses over his head, before standing in the middle of the room, letting the coat fall from her beautiful body with a giggle.

He had almost come on the spot at the spectacle of her frame, barely covered by a crop top that's more a sports bra, and a plated skirt so short it's more a piece of tissue than anything else.

"Do you want to try again?" She asked, already breathless and Michael didn't have to be asked twice.

"So big Michael!" She moans in his ear, squashing her breasts against his jumper. "Oh! There!"

She grinds against him, her cunt so wet and tight around his raging erection that his eyes cross and his hands shake violently as he tries to write.

He's sweating and whining when her hips start fast figures of eight shapes to house him fully. He can barely fit, she has to mold herself around him to bottom out, making him arch his back, trapped between her and his chair.

He scribbles hastily, desperate to finish before she does, his brain lost to the fog of pleasure that starts in his belly and burns through him.

He throws the pen on the floor, grabbing her hips to bounce her properly on his cock, his lips finding her nipples through the sheer material of the crop top to suck them savagely, biting the soft flesh as she's reduced to a rag doll in his arms.

He's fucking her with purpose, bullying her sweety spot and cursing at the way she tightens around him. Faster, harder, hands slapping her arse to make her move at his leisure.

She comes with a shout when he grabs her arse and forces her to grind against him, her clit sliding against his sweaty skin. He follows with a groan, pushing once, twice, deep and painful, sure to leave marks on her beautiful skin.

They don't even make it to his bed, having fallen on the floor with the stupid book next to them.

She's cuddling against his chest, rubbing her cheeks and giggling at the way the hairs there tickle her.

"Did you solve it?" She asks, since he's still reading his answer.

"No."

"Lemme see!"

She tries to grab the notebook from his hand when he doesn't share it with her.

They wrestle and laugh on the floor, until she's on top, her cunt enveloping his spent cock.

"Oh! You made a mistake sweet Michael." She giggles.

"I didn't. I was distracted!"

She throws the notebook away and bends to him, lips barely hovering his.

"I think you need a punishment for trying to hide it from me." She giggles with a dark glint in her eyes.

"What punishment? And it wasn't in our deal!"

He tries to hide how excited the idea makes him but fails, since she's sitting on his growing dick.

"I think you're gonna like it." She answers, sliding slowing down his body. "You're going to love it, actually!"

[system-network]

✨✨ooooo you wanna write me Tim/Masky head cannons ooooo you so wanna do it ✨✨✨

Tim & Masky Headcanons

Oh no... It's working...🌀🌀 I'm so sorry if this is short, my brain is so slow when I want to write istg.. also!! This is kinda a combination of Slendermansion/MH/some other things so keep that in mind!

Tim Wright

-Bi romantic cis man

-Dude is old, but that's okay

-He is plus size!!! Stop making bro a twink☹️

-Definitely a father figure to most other creeps

-Dude is 5’7, compared to the other people's heights he is in fact a short king

-He's very minimalist in everything

-Tim still has some of his old college clothes

-He has some of Jay’s and Alex's old things as well

-He really misses his college life

-He wishes he could go back and just go to his classes and work like a normal human

Masky

-Is less talkative than Tim

-He mainly uses sign language to communicate but he could talk if he wanted to

-I hate when people make him overly mean, like yeah, sure, he could be a dick but I feel like he doesn't mean to be a dick

-He's definitely Tim's protector but also a prosecutor

(People seem to forget that some alters in a system can have multiple roles..)

-He formed when Tim was around 2 years old

-He tends to front whenever he feels Tim getting stressed or whenever he has to see the Operator (Slenderman)

-Masky tends to be very distant with people even if he loves them dearly

[luveline]

Steve zombie au with reader getting hurt at the new camp (like always) and Eddie offering support as a friend but Steve gets all jealous while trying to take care of HIS girl

for you my love ♡ steve zombie au —steve is riddled with guilty jealousy as you and eddie become friends. fem!reader 2k

It's a brave new world.

For starters, there are enough guns at camp and able bodied gunmen for fires in the daytime. There are warm meals eaten under the sun, songs sung quietly but nonetheless sung around the fire. There are happy children. There are books to be read to them, and batteries to power flashlights for story time under the stars. 

Things aren't perfect, but after the tragedy of The College, things are good enough. Steve can bring himself to leave your side (though not for the first few days where he's bed bound, and not for a few more after that). 

He can't lie, he hates that you like Eddie so much. His jealousy is a raging monster of stiff spines and dry eye twitches, insecurity that you've met someone new and that you trust them so quickly. 

You were cagey at The College, scared of Steve's friends and petrified Steve was going to break up with you. He couldn't understand at the time how you would ever think such a thing, but now, with Eddie sitting by your knee and a piece of string between his fingers weaving a cat's cradle, your eyes alight with delight, Steve gets it. He totally gets it. 

"It's not hard," Eddie promises you, letting the string fall from his fingers and into your lap. 

"I don't have a complicated brain," you say. 

"It's not rocket science. Even Steve can do it." 

Steve picks an overcooked Lima bean up from his discarded dinner tray and aims to flick it between Eddie's eyes. You're gathered around the campfire in your cold weather coats, a procession of young (ish) adults knee to knee chatting away the worthless hours. When the Lima bean smacks Eddie in the cheek, Steve could pin it on any number of the people gathered. Christopher is a renowned professional when it comes to bothering people, and Jonathan has that older brother's penchant for being irksome, but Steve owns up to it. 

"That's a touchdown." 

Eddie gives him the finger as he instructs you, completely unbothered. "It's those two fingers– No– Yeah, you got it. And then push this finger under this, and this finger… Nice." 

In another life, there's a Steve who doesn't care. He hasn't had to vy for your attention before besides sharing your friendship with Robin, and he's pathetically sorry about it —you should have friends. Steve thinks unabashed that you're the best person they ever made. All you want (all you've ever wanted) is to be loved and to give love back. He's known that about you for a very long time. And in his eyes you deserve what you want. 

You deserve to have friends. He can share Robin, and you can have friends of your own, too. You can have everything. 

Steve can't get a handle on how it's making him feel, is the issue. He's envious as a teenager with their first crush. 

"You honestly just need to practise," Eddie assures you, laying back in the grass with his arms behind his head. 

"You'll have to show me again." 

You stay sitting and Eddie shows you the pattern again without sitting up. You aren't flirting with one another. Steve wonders if that would feel better, to be jealous of something substantial, but you're doing normal things. Eddie is treating you with exactly the kindness and friendship you deserve. Steve wishes he managed it himself when you first met, because you're his best love and his best friend. 

Robin not included. (Robin is always included. Steve would die for her.) 

Like she can sense his devotion, Robin puts a hand on his shoulder, pulling his weight gently to the left. "You'll burn a hole in his leather jacket." 

"I hope he catches on fire." 

"What are you so worried about? She had plenty of chances to leave you for somebody new. Jonathan's been nothing but sweet to her the entire time they've known one another and she barely notices." 

Steve grimaces. "Jonathan likes her too?" 

"He wants to be her friend, just like Eddie. I, on the other hand, want to marry her." 

"Funny." Steve yanks grass up from its roots, the blades soft and cold between his fingers. There's an ice patch growing on his ass and thighs from the cold as the temperature drops. "It's fucking cold." 

"You can move closer. I need to go and find Sarah for a bit. Don't burn your new kicks, Steve, they were a great trade." 

Robin swapped a useless handgun for them to the resident portable blacksmith. Steve wriggles his toes in them gratefully. 

Steve and the remaining group move closer to the fire slowly. When the sky is black and smooth as velvet dotted only by stars like pin holes, Will comes running with a miraculous bag of marshmallows, trailed by his ragtag group of friends; Dustin with his fraying hat, Lucas, and a teenaged boy named Peter. 

Steve couldn't believe Lucas was alive at first. Eddie told the story to him when he was recovering in the shitty portable medbay. You'd been sleeping in the plastic chair by Steve's bed, your face pressed to his chest, a puddle of drool soaking into his t-shirt. He'd stroked your forehead for hours. 

Eddie and a whole bunch of Hellfire members didn't quite manage the escape rendezvous orchestrated by Hopper at the start of the apocalypse. You and Steve must have just missed them when they set out in Eddie's van for safety. The story goes that Eddie's shit with directions, and while he managed to get to Michigan eventually, it was hard. They met up with a group of much older people who were able to take some of the weight off, eventually finding a group of military soldiers who'd been drafted to protect a politician's family. Their group kept growing and growing. While they never set up camp somewhere permanent, they've kept it together. If Eddie's group (or moving community) had managed to make it to The College, Steve thinks they might have survived the attack.  

But you're together now. Hawkinites reunited, Hopper alive and well and nursing new plans. 

"Hopper give those to you?" Christopher asks Will. 

"How's that fair?" Eddie asks. "Family favouritism." 

"I have to share them," Will says. 

"Oh, well. Never mind. Accusation renounced." 

The teens kidnap Eddie and run off to find sticks for marshmallow roasting. You turn to Steve with a smile that makes him feel worse rather than better, so subtly devoted. 

"How's your arm?" you ask, leaning into his shoulder. 

"Aches." 

"Can I have a look?" you ask. 

Steve offers his arm with no qualms. You fight to push back the sleeve of his coat and jacket. His wound is closed and healing nicely, but the infection must've been in his muscle or something because the ache won't go away. It feels as though he's done a hundred pull ups with one arm alone. 

You don't touch anywhere near the site. 

"I think it's looking better." You thumb over one of his little moles. "Pretty." 

"You're pretty." 

"You're prettier," you say, folding his sleeves down again with infinite care. He thinks you might be batting your lashes at him. That, or he's whipped to the point of delusion. "You feel okay, hm? You're mopey tonight. Do you want to go sleep?" 

Steve shakes his head vehemently. "And miss marshmallows? No way." 

You both notice that your question of mood went unanswered. Luckily for him, you dip down to rub your cheek against his sleeve. "Love you." 

He loves you too. He says it under his breath, pressing his cheek to your head for as long as you're willing to stay there. 

"Y/N-kins, Steven," Eddie says, returning with a handful of long branches covered in foliage. "I have a job for you." 

You pull leaves off of the branches. It should be an easy job with the three of you sitting criss cross applesauce yanking the twigs naked excitedly, but you pull with too much enthusiasm and stab the meat of your thumb. 

You hiss and look down. Your noise draws Eddie and Steve's attention in tandem, Eddie closest to the injured hand. 

"Oh, shit," Eddie says, pulling his sleeve over his hand. He presses it to your skin as a surprisingly fat rivulet of blood springs and drips down to your wrist. "Here, don't get it on your clean coat." 

Steve doesn't know why he does it. He isn't proud. But he thinks, That's my girl. Eddie's being friendly, and Steve knows that's all it is, but he can't stop himself from batting Eddie's hand away and moving in protectively. 

"Cop a feel somewhere else, Munson," he bites. 

"Steve!" you say, laughing. 

Eddie rolls his eyes, sitting back in his spot with a laugh of his own. "Ridiculous. I wouldn't cop a feel ever 'cos I respect women–" 

"Nice," you say. 

"And if I were trying to flirt with her, Harrington, I'd definitely do it better. But as you both know my heart is promised to someone very important. I'm busy keeping the memory of metal alive, I don't have time for stealing girlfriends. Not that you're not worth stealing, Y/N." 

Steve dabs your hand. You wink at Eddie playfully. "You keep her alive, Eddie. Are you gonna play some more rock songs for us tonight?" 

"Duh." 

"How do you manage to hurt yourself every single day?" Steve asks, distracted from the conversation by your cut. It can't be a quarter of an inch long but it's bleeding in a rush. 

"See how it got faster when you came to save me?" you ask Steve. His heart drops, but you continue, "My heart gets faster when you're close. My blood pressure rises." 

Steve tries not to show how pleased he feels at the compliment. You tap his elbow knowingly. 

Steve assesses your cut. It stops bleeding just as soon as he leaves it alone and the kids arrive with their marshmallows, putting an end to Steve's makeshift medbay. 

Someone puts a couple more logs on the fire to get it roaring now that night is creeping in. Steve insists on roasting a marshmallow for you. 

"I have one working hand left," you protest. 

"And knowing your luck, you'll burn it." 

"I'd never control you like that," Eddie says, deadpan.

Steve stabs Eddie with a stick that's lightly smouldering at the tip. You tell Steve off, but when he presents you with a roasted marshmallow for eating you give him the world's greatest thank you kiss. Another after you've eaten it, your lips sticky with sugar. 

"Do you want mine?" Steve asks. 

You wrap your arm around his waist for a lopsided hug. "No. Don't ask me again though, I might say yes." 

"Do you want mine? Seriously, honey–" 

"I'll have it," Eddie says with a shit-eating smile, eyes trained on the fire where he toasts his own marshmallow. 

You wave your hand at him. "No, you won't." You lift your chin to kiss his cheek. "It's yours. Don't let it burn, handsome." 

Alright, Steve might have jumped the gun on the whole jealousy thing. 

[yeonzzzn]

Hi I'm that anon who requested about the enha hyung line sperm sample. I've had that thought for a very long time already, glad u liked it. I also have another req. Enha hyung line as your college classmate who loves to finger you while your prof discusses in front.

-🪻

omg yes I enjoyed your req so much!! it was so creative your brain is *chefs kiss* and omg my first emoji anon 🥹 you now have ur own # for when you send me stuff 🫶🏻 hope you enjoy this one as much as the last req! these are long 🤭

・❥・ heeseung would have his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he slowly reaches over to you, sliding his hand under your skirt and slowly rubbing his fingers against your folds. you’d try to not jump in your seat, fingers gripping your pencil and other into a fist that laid on top of the table. you should have known heeseung was up to something when he suggested to sit in the middle of the classroom today. heeseung fingering you during lecture is a normal thing, but it was usually in the back of the class. he wanted to watch you squirm under his touch. wanted to watch the way your body shudders when he slides your panties to the side and slides his long fingers inside you. he knew with being in the middle of the classroom, the easier it would be to get caught and that turned him on so badly. you secretly cursed at him while trying to act normal, thinking if you closed your legs tight enough around his hand that it’ll be easier to stay calm, but no, oh no, it just made it easier for heeseung to push his fingers in further until his knuckles were inside, curling his fingers into your g-spot. you covered your hand over your mouth, biting down on your lip to keep from making any sounds. heeseung just chuckles, seeing the way you came undone with his fingers through his peripherals. 

・❥・ jay just stares with a blank face at the front of the class, paying attention to lecture as his fingers work their magic inside your cunt. the buttons of your jeans would be undone and the zipper as far down as it could go as his hand is shoved between your panties and skin. you slouched down in the seat, giving him more access to push his fingers deeper inside you. you thanked any god who was listening that the two of you sat in the back of the classroom away from the eyes of your classmates and professor. your hands gripped the sides of your seat, knuckles turning white as your held your breath to keep from making any noises beside the small inhales from his touch. even though jay seemed calm and collected, on the inside he was going insane. he was loving the way your were giving him more access, being so dirty for him in such a public space. he loved glancing over to you, seeing your squirm and bite your lips. loved that your black laced panties even just a little, were displayed only for him to see. unfortunately for you, a small moan escapes your lips. it wasn’t loud, but just loud enough the professor stops lecturing to face you, “everything okay miss yn?” jay’s eyes were now on you, his smirk so obvious that it was making him so hard that you both were caught, his fingers not stopping, “yeah, yn, everything okay?” you nodded and apologized, saying you had a small cramp in your leg, eyes shooting daggers at jay once everyone’s attention was back at the front, his fingers moving at a faster pace as he kept eye contact with you this time, making you cum in his hand.

・❥・ jake would be trying so hard to not come undone just from fingering you. his own hand palming himself in synchronization with his fingers pushing inside you as he stares at the front of the class, watching the professor write on the board. jake couldn’t even focus on the lecture, the professors voice was muffled, the only thing jake was able to hear was the sounds your cunt was making of his fingers moving in and out of you. it was so lewd and so fucking hot it made his head spin. jake slumped down in his seat, hitting his knee with yours to signal you do the same. which you did, slowly sliding yourself down in your chair, giving jake more reach into your pussy. it took everything in him to not fling his head back and release a moan, to pump his fingers faster into you just to hear you moan out his name, to let everyone in this classroom know how good he was making you feel. jake glances over, loving the way you had your lips tucked between your teeth and hands gripping the chair. oh fuck he almost came just from seeing that. his eyes wander down, loving the sight of his hand moving in your sweatpants, imaging what it would look like to finally finger fuck you without any clothes on at all. the image alone made him palm his cock faster, biting his tongue and locking his jaw in place to not moan. but the moment he felt your cum coat his fingers, he was cumming in his pants.

・❥・ sunghoon would be so relentless. he’d already be sitting in the front row of the classroom, index finger pointing at you and then into the seat beside him. you already knew what you were in for, sunghoon was in a mood and you knew there was no way to convince him to move to the back of the class. but sunghoon would have a plan, waiting until ten minutes into lecture when he knew everyone’s eyes would be on the professor or their notes books or off in lala land. he slowly leaned over to you, whispering, “act like you’re writing something,” your heart raced, picking up your pencil and flipping to an empty spot in your notebook, writing scribbles onto the paper. sunghoon got to work quickly, his fingers unbuttoning your jeans and moving down the zipper, his cold hand then sliding down your panties and between your folds. your body shuddered against the coolness of his hand, trying to focus your hand to keep writing nothing on to the paper. his fingers slide inside you, pumping into at a slow pace and then picking up the pace. his thumb tapped your thigh, signaling you to spread your legs. you were scared to get caught, and due to nervousness you only slightly moved your legs, but felt his got breathe on your ear not even a second later, “I said spread your legs,” he whispered aggressively then moved back into his seat, so you did as you were told and moved your legs further apart. but that wasn’t enough for sunghoon. his free hand reached across him and landing on your thigh, fingers gripping the fabric of your jeans and spreading your legs out wide, his hand that was in your pants moved down further, shoving his fingers knuckles deep into your cunt. you tried to push your legs back together out of pure instinct to keep his hand there, but sunghoon was quick to wrap his leg around yours, keeping that one spread out. you knew better than to move the other leg, deciding to wrap that one around the leg of the table. you glanced over at him, already seeing his lust filled eyes staring back at you, “good girl,” he mouthed, “keep writing,” you tried to focus on the paper, now drawing terrible circles all over the paper, biting your tongue to keep from making a sound.