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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years

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A Little Mean For Me PART ONE. Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.2k] smut, mean steve, sweet steve.

The sun was properly starting to set now, Steve’s bedroom a glow of sherbet orange and pink, the sky outside hazy and the clouds in the distance turning navy. It meant that the boy’s face was all gold highlights and inky shadows when he turned from the window, sharp lines, dark eyes and a smile that cut through you.

He was pressed against his headboard, legs spread, you between his thighs and Steve was harder than he’d ever been in his entire damn life.

“Gotta do better than that, baby,” he coaxed, pretty, pink lips pouting at you condescendingly. “You want me?”

He was palming himself through his jeans, the denim too tight across his dick but he needed some relief, he was getting desperate. You could tell, you could see it in the way he looked at you, lips parted, head thrown back to look at you from under hooded, dark eyes.

You nodded, kneeling forward to move into him, still grazing over a thigh, trying your best not to grind down onto him.

Steve tutted, reached out to draw a line from your bare shoulder to down between your tits, thumb flicking over an already hard nipple and he smiled when you shivered. His hand found the soft of your thigh, let his palm curl around the back of it as he encouraged you closer.

He sat you on his lap, grinned when you rubbed down a little and he could feel how warm you were, still slick and sensitive from how he’d made you come on his fingers only minutes before. But you were enraptured by the way he thumbed at his jeans, button popping open, the sound of the zipper filling the room.

You wanted to beg, you were almost certain you would if he asked.

The thick outline of him was more than evident through his black boxers, the length of him twitching under your stare and you rocked forward a little more, inching up the boy’s thigh in search of what you wanted.

A hand on your thigh stopped you, wide and warm and squeezing slightly at the doughy flesh there, long fingers close to brushing along your cunt again.

If you whimpered, Steve ignored it.

“Ah, ah,” he whispered, “enough of that. You’re so greedy,” he mused, voice thoughtful, soft, amused.

“D’you already want more, baby?” Steve shifted, leaning forward just enough to tug his shirt off, grabbing the back of his collar and pulling it over his head. It got lost in the mess of your clothes that were scattered on the floor and his hair was left wild. “Really?”

“God, yeah,” you were mumbling, babbling almost, eyes pulled from Steve’s cock to his pretty eyes and his messy hair that you hadn’t really had a chance to yank at yet. “Please, want more, want you.”

He let you lean in this time, his smile pressed to your lips when he allowed you a kiss, lazy and hot, like he was intending on taking his time with you. But his tongue against yours was a dirty flick, teeth grazing, lips bitten, and it only made you grind yourself down once more.

“Yeah?” He asked you, voice like sin. “D’you want my cock, is that it, sweetheart?”

You gasped, felt the pinching grip of his hand on your ass cheek and you clenched your eyes closed, forehead pressed to Steve’s as you panted into him.

“Mhmm.”

Steve laughed, a soft huff of a sound that made your toes curl. “Wouldn’t be very mean of me if I just gave you what you wanted, though, would it?”

Your eyes flew open, wide and surprised, and your heart was pounding. Jesus Christ, the boy was in your head, knowing what you wanted, knowing what you weren’t even sure of yourself but he was pulling it out of you like it was easy.

It’s why you pushed your tits up against his bare chest, all doe eyed and flushed, skirt still twisted around your hips like the naughtiest fucking school girl you could imagine. You combed through the mess of his hair, the brown strands misbehaving almost as much as you were.

“Baby,” you sighed, voice quiet enough to sound sticky sweet, breathy and needy. “Baby, you said you always give me what I want.”

It wasn’t so much a ploy as complete desperation on your part, your cunt clenching down on nothing as Steve’s big hand continued to push and pull at your ass, rocking your back and forth over his denim covered thigh, stopping you when your movements got too quick.

The boy sucked at his teeth, pouted and looked at you thoughtfully, head tilted. He sighed, swept your hair away from your face and tapped at the button of your nose with a finger before trailing it across your top lip, then your bottom. He pushed at your mouth with his thumb, still gentle, but enough that you got the message quick and let your lips part.

He let out a little moan when you took his thumb in, other fingers hooked under your chin and he pressed the digit against your tongue, felt you flick at it before closing your lips around him. Steve liked the way your gaze got a little glassy at that, unfocused and dreamy, just for him.

“I do,” he told you, sounding far too sweet for the way he was pressing down on your tongue, dragging the pad of his thumb across it. “But maybe that’s what’s got you actin’ like a little brat.”

If you weren’t so fucking turned on, you would’ve maybe acted more shocked. But the words only made you suck harder and Steve grinned, wide, dimples showing and making him look entirely too pretty.

Maybe he was trying to kill you, you thought.

“Wanna suck on something else, honey?”

He was, you decided. He was trying to kill you.

Your lashes fluttered at his words, tongue curling around his thumb like it was something else and you moaned around him, nodding, fingertips curling around the already open button of his jeans. You grazed the waistband of his boxers, flicking at the elastic and your breath came out a little too fast when Steve slid his thumb from your lips and smiled.

“Go ‘head,” he told you, “be sweet for me.”

You were greedy as you took him in your mouth, fingers curling into the soft cotton of his boxers, pulling them down just enough to free his cock. Steve sounded like the breath was punched from him when you wrapped your lips over the head of his cock, sucking softly, just like you had around his thumb. He groaned, petted at your hair and rested his palm gently around the curve of your neck, feeling you bob up and down for him.

He was panting, huffing out harsh breaths, swears falling from his lips and when you looked up at him through your lashes, he whispered your name and it sounded like a prayer. Steve let his head fall back, jaw slack, eyes fluttering shut before they snapped back to your own, as if he didn’t dare miss the show.

The length of him slid slick over your tongue, nudging at the back of your throat as you tried your best to take all of him, so eager to please him the way he did you.

But then Steve’s hand was cupping at your cheek, thumb rubbing over the swell there that was all him and he couldn’t help the way he bucked his hips a little, crying out at the feeling of your mouth sucking a little harder around him. He tapped your jaw, once, twice, breathing too heavy and you let go of him with a dirty pop.

You didn’t get a chance to ask if there was anything wrong, why he wanted you to stop. The boy was pushing at his jeans, just enough for them to bundle at his thighs and he was catching your hand and pulling you back towards him.

You shuffled eagerly onto his lap, hands at the zipper on your skirt but Steve was shaking his head, eyes dark. “Leave it on for me, baby.”

So he helped you straddle his thighs, the hard length of his cock sliding up between your folds and you whined, falling forward to hold at his broad shoulders. Steve caught you in a kiss, hands on your waist, fingers digging into your sides almost too tight and his kisses were more urgent than ever. He was all tongue and teeth, nipping and licking into you, your nails clawing over his chest as he did.

You felt a little wild, a little wrecked.

“Steve…”

“Shh, I know, sweetheart, s’fine, you can take me,” Steve hushed, voice sticky with fondness. The sound of it caught in your throat, made your eyes a little glassy again. “On you go, be good.”

You sunk down on him too easily, cunt clenching immediately at the feel of finally getting what you’d been waiting for. You were soaked, warm and tight and it made Steve lose it a little, hands gripping you to keep you still, just for a second.

“You feel too fuckin’ good,” he mumbled into your neck, lips dancing across your bare shoulder, “should be illegal, goddamn.”

A desperate sound left your mouth, a whine, high pitched and wanting. You rolled your hips, grinding yourself down on the boy so you could take him a little bit deeper. Steve’s hand wrapped around your neck, tight enough that you were just aware of it in your hazy state. His thumb stroked down the column of it, lips parted as he took in the sight of you.

Legs spread over his, your skirt pushed up to the tops of your thighs, cunt taking every inch of him. Bare chest, peaked nipples, lips kiss bruised and parted as he held you by the pretty line of your neck.

“You still want me to be mean, baby? Huh?”

You didn’t know, suddenly thinking was too much and Steve still wasn’t letting you move, one hand on your throat, the other on your thigh. You moaned, bottom lip tucked between your teeth and your brow was puckered, trying hard to work out what you wanted other than finally moving.

“I- fuck, I don’t- Steve, please.”

The boy hummed, a soft sound of understanding and he nodded like he knew. Maybe he did. You were sure he did, because he kept his hand around your neck and brought you closer to him, foreheads touching as he finally, finally, fucked up into you, hips thrusting shallow.

You cried out, hands planted on the boy’s chest for purchase as he finally grabbed at your hips, holding you over him in an impressive display of strength, hips pistoning. The burn of it all was perfect - a fast, dirty slide in and out of you, the sounds of how wet he’d made you filling the room and making Steve groan loud.

You were panting, eyes barely open as your nails scratched over bare skin, trying your best to hold into Steve’s chest, his shoulders, his neck, soft uh, uh uh’s falling messily from your lips.

“Baby,” Steve grunted, “baby, need you to come, can’t last much longer, can’t-”

And then he was rolling you both, a little clumsy and almost too quick, onto the mattress and onto your back. You gasped, hair a mess over the pillow as Steve curled a wide hand over the inside of your thigh and he cooed at you all pretty when he pushed that leg up and out for him, spreading you a little wider.

“That’s it, fuck yes, that’s it pretty girl,” Steve murmured, cock sliding in and out of you like he hadn’t just thrown you around. His free hand slid over your cunt, thumb on your clit, spreading you a little dirtily, eyes hooded as he watched the way he pressed down on you. “So good for me, so fucking sweet for me.”

It was a blur when you came again, harder than the first time, overwhelmed by the snap of Steve’s hips against your own, the fucking perfect feeling of being so full. It was all soft sheets that smelled like Steve, the warmth of his skin on your own, the slick of both of you messing your thighs. It was blinding, it was a white hot burn, a flash of pleasure that crept across your skin like a firecracker. It was Steve kissing you as he came, lips parted over your own as he groaned into you, eyes shut, hair damp, hands gripping you like you were both in danger of floating away.

You thought you might be.

“You okay?” Steve huffed, chest heaving against your own. He held himself on his elbows, careful not to crush you and he smiled when you nodded, eyes sparkly as you stared up at him. “Good?”

“Really good,” you replied but he knew you better, knew the look on your face, knew how fucked out you were. ‘Holy shit,’ is what you meant, ‘I fucking love you,’ is what you didn’t have the energy to say.

The boy grinned, leaned into you to nudge at your nose with his, pressed a sweet kiss to your lips and you squealed when he chased your mouth, pushing more to the corner of it, the line of your jaw, the heat of your cheeks.

“So, you like it when I’m a little mean, huh?”

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 10 months

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The First Fairy Tale

ahdbalidbaidf I'M SUCH A SUCKER FOR UNREQUITED KNIGHT X PRINCESS STUFF (even if it's not clear whether or not Lilia's crush persisted beyond childhood in canon) SO. I'M WRITING THIS… 😭This fic is purposefully ambiguous about the type of love Lilia feels in the end for Meleanor. It’s up to the reader to interpret it as they please. This piece was inspired the story of Madame Red from Black Butler. You don't need to know either to enjoy, but if you do happen to know them then I think you'll appreciate it more. There’s also some references to a few Disney films besides Sleeping Beauty—can you find which ones? I also purposefully repeated some phrases and blended a few references together to give the fic a “dream-like”/deja vu feeling. There was going to be a wedding scene opening with “There wasn’t a cloud in the sky” in reference to We Don’t Talk About Bruno, but I had to cut that since the fic was getting long. Even without that and some other cut scenes, I think this is the longest fic I’ve written before. It’s almost 8k words!!

... Do you remember? I told my first fairy tale to you, my most beloved. ***Spoilers for book 7 part 5 of the main story!***

Imagine this...

In a castle forgotten by time, a lone figure walked among the creeping thorns. The plants swallowed the grounds, yet he moved swiftly and stealthily, passing over briar as easily as water over stone. Not a single movement was wasted as he traversed the brambled floors.

His ponytail—black streaked with red—fell in his path, the slight whip of it the only trace of his presence. He had traded his battle armor of old for plainclothes long ago, but still hadn’t filled into them yet. To shed the life of a general for that of a civilian was no simple task.

The small, doughy creature pressed against his shoulder sleepily lifted its head. Upon the infant’s crown was a cap of shockingly silver hair, the same color as moonlight. The boy thrusted a pudgy hand into his cheek, delivering a soft pap to the hardened veteran.

“Tch…!” Lilia pulled away brusquely. “Troublesome little creature, aren’t you? Hold still. We’d have made it out of here by now if only you weren’t so…”

Weak, defenseless, frail, vulnerable.

An array of potential words rose to fill in the gap. He settled on the least abrasive one he could muster.

Something cute.

Children like cute, right…? Right.

“… squishy.”

The infant—no, Silver, he corrected himself—seemed curious about the response, staring up with sudden interest. Lilia’s skin prickled at the sensation. He averted his eyes to an interior that had seen better days.

Once a shining jewel to house the crown princess, Wild Rose Castle was abandoned now. The thorns had invaded, climbing the walls and digging themselves into every nook and crevice. Furniture and weapons devoured, flags and tapestries consumed, meeting a similar fate as the nation that had once proudly flew them.

Ruins entombing stolen time.

What had once been a palace teeming with history, with life, was left a barren wasteland. All that remained were shadows of the past which clung thickly to the thorns. One misstep, and they would cut into him, bringing both pain and searing hot memories.

Funny, that: how the natural forces were unrelenting and indiscriminate. Yet the trace of an enchantment in the air suggested otherwise, its telltale tingle palpable. He knew the bramble had come from magical means.

A fairy's spell lingered. Some bygone blessing or curse, told in the tattered remains of a hazy vision and a wish for more halcyon days. Parents wanting to spare their child from the horrors of war.

Lilia's grip on Silver subconsciously tightened.

What rotten luck. I return after all this time to pay my respects, only to find Wild Rose Castle in this sorry state. How the mighty fall.

Silver fidgeted in his arms, as if sensing that something was off. A bit of saliva dribbling from the corner of his mouth, a soft whine gurgling up.

“You’re fussing again already?” Lilia frowned. He awkwardly laid a hand on the infant’s back. Are all infants this incorrigible? "The journey will be a long one if you aren't able to settle."

The infant turned its head, his cheek fitting neatly into Lilia's palm. There was a coo, then a sigh of contentment.

Still shaking off the sleepiness.

"... You're so needy," Lilia grumbled, noting the drool wetting his skin. Silver blinked at him with large, iridescent orbs. "I don't understand. Do people actually find this endearing? To find such joy in raising their young is..."

He hesitated to finish his sentence.

What did a man like him have to say on the matter? Long-lived as he was, that kind of love was something he had ever experienced for himself.

A gentle, warm hand to guide him through the darkness. The love of a parent.

Yet here I am, a loveless fae robbing a baby from its cradle. Just as the humans believe we do.

What irony.

Sadness nipped at Lilia as his thoughts turned to Silver. If anything, the little one had more power to shape the world around it than he ever could.

It was for this sort of creature that the Dawn Knight made a prayer for the future. It was for this sort of creature that Baul's rigid heart shifted. It was for this sort of creature that she...!!

Lilia's fingers had clenched into a vice grip on Silver. The infant cried out, squirming uncomfortably in his new guardian's grasp.

"Shoot...!! Er... there, there. It will be alright."

He clumsily rocked the baby back and forth. It was too vigorous, for Silver bursted into tears. His wails echoed off the desolate walls of the castle, piercing loud in Lilia's ears.

The fae jerked back, holding Silver at a safe distance from him. His grasp, precarious.

This is proving to be much more challenging than I initially thought... H-How do I silence it?!

Lilia glanced around helplessly at his surroundings. Everything was encased in a cage of thorns: antiques, drapes, even the axes mounted for decoration—to liven up the room. They were impossible for him to reach, else he could swing them around to amuse the boy.

Pieces of the past far out of his reach.

It’s not an option. A human babe is not like a fae babe. Lilia’s head swarmed with stress, Silver’s sobs only multiplying his worries. What do I do? What… would she do?

Meleanor…

The name of his princess emerged. Along with it, a scene blossoming in sepia shades.

Her, in a regal black gown and dripping in green gemstones and finery. Him, in a general's armor. A princess and her knight, straight out of a fairy tale.

She was humming while caressing a large egg, a marbled violet flecked with green, dark webbing laced the shell. It conformed perfectly to her chest, pulsating with a strange warmth as she ran taloned fingers over it. Another role she had adopted: mother.

A low chuckle rose from the back of her throat. "Fufufu Look, Malleus. Our dear Lilia has taken the time out of his busy schedule to come pay us a visit."

"It's been quite some time since I last heard you giggle like a schoolgirl. Nice to know that you remain in good spirits." He arched an eyebrow. "... But since when did you decide to name the child? I thought the medical mages hadn't even determined a gender for your heir yet."

"Oh, some time ago," she replied flippantly. Meleanor was always like a storm, unpredictable and acting on her own whims. "I don't need anyone to tell me what my child will be. I already know... my Malleus will grow up to be an upstanding, beautiful man just like my Raverne."

She had a dreamy, faraway look on her face. A slight blush to her high cheeks, a shine to her eyes, a kind smile at her lips. Completely unlike her, the tomboy who snuck out of the castle unsupervised and caused trouble for all the servants.

So utterly smitten.

For that moment and that moment alone, Lilia would have believed her a patient princess awaiting a knight in shining armor's rescue. Not him, but her beloved.

Raverne.

He had to bite back a terse laugh, mask it with a joke. "Your Raverne? Hold on now, you've got to share him with the rest of us. We'd simply crumble without his wisdom."

"I don't intend to share what's rightfully mine.” A teasing smirk he knew well had found its way onto her pert mouth again. “I'm a very possessive woman.”

"As I’m well aware. Alas, I serve such a cruel mistress of evil.”

She chuckled, resting a hand on her egg. "... When Raverne returns, we shall arrange for tea. The two of you can regale me with the stories of your journeys. It gets to be so dull trapped in these castle walls. Oh, and of course, Malleus will be joining us. He has yet to experience our cozy little get-togethers.”

Their group. Their trio. The three of them. And now a new member. An expansion of the family unit—no, rather, the realization that something didn’t belong among them.

His heartbeat quickened.

"There you go again, making rash requests of me. You really ought to be more considerate of others. I came all this way out of the goodness of my heart, only for you to bark more orders at me. Don't I get to take a break?"

"I am being considerate," she insisted. "I'm considering Malleus. He is invited. You cannot uninvite him."

"That's not the point. Agh, what am I going to do with you?" Lilia ran a hand through his hair. The frustration was familiar—but so was the fondness that chased it.

“My, my. Such insolence. I’m afraid you’ll be stuck with me for a long, looong time. You should be less stubborn and more kind to your princess,” she purred, her words touched with dry sarcasm. “Isn’t that right, Malleus?”

“I’m too kind to you. Too patient as well,” Lilia sighed. “… It’s you who is headstrong.”

“I must be. I have a country and now a family behind me. A scorned mother’s rage is insurmountable, you know.”

He should have said something back. Played into their usual banter. But he didn’t—couldn’t bring himself to. Lilia looked away quickly, but not quite quickly enough.

“Oh? What nerve you have to avoid the gaze of your princess.” She dropped her playful tone. “Something weighs heavy on your mind.”

“… I can never hide anything from you, can I?”

“You will inform me at once.”

“So you can obliterate what ails me?”

“So that I may put you at ease." She lifted a hand, gesturing toward him. "That is the duty of a queen to her people… and, more importantly, of a friend to another."

Friend.

It stung right down to his bones, hurting more than a blast of righteous lightning. A reminder of what he was: a footnote, a supporting cast member in her grand story. Without that, he was nothing.

An outcast.

His stomach clenched. He forced down a bitter pill and spoke.

"I was just wondering what it must feel like to be in your position, Meleanor-sama," Lilia whispered. "Mother to a nation, and to a child. To wholly devote oneself to the service of others... I will never know what that is like."

At this, she laughed darkly. "I am strong. I have to be, because I have people to protect. You have that strength as well. You wouldn't be able to serve as one of my generals without it. There are just some things in this world worth risking your life for, hmm?"

"I don't understand. My loyalty will always lie with you, with Briar Country... but for a child, I cannot...!!" Lilia stopped himself, reining his emotions back to calm. "I've never known how that kind of love feels. I'm not capable of it."

Meleanor narrowed her eyes as she listened to his woes. Unwise men would think her contemplative. He knew better—she was scheming.

"... Let me tell you a secret, Lilia," she said at last. "A dragon's egg needs its parents' love to hatch. However, true love is a special spell. It's more powerful than any magic, and able to be cast by anyone. If you are able to protect me, then that alone is proof enough that you are capable of 'true love'."

"You make it sound so simple, but is it really like that? The children of man say that fae cannot tell an untruth, yet you so expertly reassure me with lies."

"You're questioning me? Laughable. I am a woman of my honor, unlike you with all your tall tales."

"They're not tall tales. They're real stories of the danger I was in. Danger that, mind you, I got in half the time on behalf of your demands."

"Is that so?" Meleanor had smiled at him then, her teeth gleaming in the dim candlelight. Long lashes fluttering against the emeralds of her eyes. "Then you wouldn't mind sharing a story or two with Malleus."

Lilia bristled at the thought, an old wound reopened. There was a burst of relief that accompanied the dull pain.

I can't sing her lullabies. I don't have her strength either. No partner to speak of, no family to look to. What I do have is...

He pressed Silver into him, keeping a hand rested reassuringly on the infant's upper back. Muffled cries and a warm wetness pooled on Lilia's shoulder. His steps slowed, coming to a steady pace.

The first words were the most difficult to get out.

"... Once upon a time, there was a princess living in this castle." His voice was slow and deep and sorrowful. Not a song, but a longing croon for days he could never return to.

They entered a corridor lined with paintings. The sound of Silver's sobbing funneled into the passage, a greeting to the dour faces of important officials portrayed in each frame. Horned, with raven hair and reptilian eyes, obsidian scales dotting their skin, milky and smooth as wax.

Lilia lowered his head to one as they passed--a woman upon a throne, scepter in hand, her pointed features dappled by moonlight.

"She was many things. Selfish, impetuous, and stubborn… but also brave, strong, and beautiful."

So beautiful.

That had been his first impression of her. A single pale rose amid a garden of thorns.

She was tiny in those days, still trotting about in small, polished heels that clicked with each step, her black dress swishing about. A scaled tail—fluffy at the end--poked out from under there, proof of dragonic heritage. Her long hair was slicked back, proudly displaying a pair of horns and the scales that crowned her forehead.

When she wailed, the skies turned stormy. When she beamed, the sun came out. Her expressions so lively as she spun around in her skirts, the fabric unfurling like the petals of a blossoming flower.

A princess both adored and feared by her people.

"She befriended an unruly ragamuffin.” Lilia's lips quirked, unable to fight them from tugging up. “He was without loved ones, so the princess extended a hand to him."

Lilia had stolen glances at her when he was convinced she was distracted. During royal processions, tending to the horses, when they crossed paths in the halls.

He never let himself stare for too long. To do so was nearly a death sentence. The guards would be upon him in an instant—or worse, she would.

But without doubt, she did.

She would look back, letting a telltale grin take shape when their gazes met.

Him, the nobody picked up by the royal family on a whim. A hopeless squire boy, a knight-in-training, a ward.

Him.

She noticed him.

Picking up her skirts, she'd made a beeline over. Grinning like a gremlin, she would inevitably set a tragedy into motion.

"Lilia, I'm sick of studying! Let's play instead."

"What? I don't want to. Besides, I have training to tend to."

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport. That's an order from your princess, so you can't refuse!"

“And that's the way the story always goes, a princess and her knight." He passed a glance at Silver. The infant's crying had quieted, and he returned the look, eyes wet with wonder.

Lilia sighed. "... I guess you wouldn't know that, would you? Well, it’s not as though she were your average girl.

"A wicked princess, that’s what she was. There was not a day when she wasn't making mischief and pulling the knight into it with her."

She had had many games, not all of them clearly defined or with rules. Sometimes she changed them on the fly. Sometimes she played without guidelines at all.

Pretend escalated into full-scale magical duels. Scavenger hunts spanned the entire castle grounds. They’d race to see who could relieve the gallery of the most apples in the least amount of time, dig through the treasury for the biggest gems.

On particularly lazy days, a roll across the lawn was enough to amuse them. Petals were plucked, sugary honeysuckle trapped between their teeth.

"You have something stuck in your hair," she'd tease him, picking loose petals out. "Let me get that for you, my most loyal retainer."

He'd hold still, as commanded, let her take as long as she wanted tidying him up.

When the guards combed the garden for them, they’d squish into shrubbery and lay low until the coast was clear. Sometimes their lids would grow heavy and collapse—and when they roused, stars had spilled into the sky, and they’d count constellations until the morning.

Starlight dappling her noble face, her fiery spirit ablaze.

How many diplomatic meetings had they crashed? How many ancient items had they broken? How many headaches had they collectively caused?

Lilia chuckled faintly.

… Those were the good old days.

He continued down the path laid before him, the paintings seemingly chugging along in slow succession. Both people and time passing him by.

"There was another as well. A clever, kind-hearted duke who also warmed up to the knight. The three of them formed a most formidable group.”

“Are you two at it again? You never stop, do you?”

The voice came from the top of the stairwell.

"Raverne. So good of you to join us," Meleanor said breathlessly—she had been running about. She slicked back a strand of glossy raven hair and beamed toothily. It wasn't the smile of a princess, but of a dragon yet to be tamed.

He quirked a brow. "Am I joining you? Whoever said that?"

“If you’re jealous, no need to play coy," she teased as the Dragon Duke descended the stairs. "You’re welcome to join us anytime.”

"The princess has already roped me into her antics," Lilia sighed. "Why not make it a party of three? We can all get scolded together later. Misery loves company."

"A tempting offer." Raverne lazily tilted his head to one side. He always had a languid way of moving, like a curtain of night veiling the day. "I think you've got me convinced."

"Why did you agree when Lilia asked and not when your princess did?" Meleanor demanded, stomping a foot.

Raverne shrugged. Effortless, defiant. "Perhaps you're not as charming as you think you are."

Any other person would have faced her wrath. Anyone else would have been forced to tango with lightning.

Not Raverne. He was too hard to stay mad at, and too easy to forgive. His presence alone smoothed over tensions, settled storms.

“He’s a dreamer,” the dusty old court advisors would remark with disdain.

“He’s a dreamer,” Lilia would say, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“He’s a dreamer,” Meleanor would sigh, the stars in her eyes.

Now, she just smirked at him. "I'll have to demonstrate to you just how charming I can be."

She had looked at Raverne differently in that instant. Her eyes did not glint at the sight of new prey to toy with, but with keen interest. There was something else too, an undercurrent of some tender feeling Lilia couldn't quite place.

Meleanor had never looked at Lilia like that.

Only Raverne.

He shook his head.

I should have known then... I was fighting a losing battle.

"With time, they grew ever closer. Unexpected feelings arose. The knight came to love the princess.” Lilia's feet came down upon the bramble that knitted over the floor. He could not feel it through his boots, but it felt as though he was still being pierced in the chest.

Silver blinked as Lilia plodded along. The gentle rise and fall drying his tears.

It had been a heady spring day, another escapade dodging servants and sneaking beyond the gardens. The flowers had blossomed, the same as the princess. She had grown lovelier by the day, her spitfire attitude untempered.

His flower of evil.

They were crossing a brook then, Meleanor lifting up her skirts to float to the other side, Lilia hopping on rocks to cross. He could have flown with her if he tried, but he was feeling cocky, had wanted to shown off the fruits of his training.

One misstep, and Lilia went flying forward, crashing into her. Their bodies collapsed against one another's as they roll, roll, rolled into a field, blades of grass and stray petals collecting on them. When they at last came to a stop, they laid on their lacks and laughed until their lungs hurt.

Lilia had stared at her again. Her smile, a powerful spell. She caught him in the act, demanded what he was looking at.

"You have something stuck in your hair," Lilia told her as they sat up. "Let me get that for you, my most benevolent princess."

"Stop stealing my lines," she giggled back.

Only if you stop stealing my heart first, he thought. But Meleanor was selfish, and once she had claimed something as her own, she refused to return her new treasure.

Lilia reached--and produced a single white daisy between his fingers. Kneeling, he offered the token to her. "Here. For you."

"Prankster. You planted that so you could appear impressive," Meleanor chuckled, accepting it. "... However, the gesture is sweet, so I thank you for it."

She held the flower to her nose and inhaled its scent. Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, lips brushing the velvet-soft petals of the daisy. Wind weaving its hands through jet back hair, spots of sunshine dancing across her.

The entire universe was conspiring against him, it seemed.

He remained kneeling, remembering his place. Him, the knight. Her, the princess. But if that was the case, then weren't they perfectly suited for a fairy tale?

Lilia steeled his courage and let the words he had been holding in all that time loose. "M-Meleanor-sama! I... I like you. Not just as a friend. More than that. P-Please accept my feelings!"

Rare surprise dashed her beauty. A crack of light, dawn chasing away the darkness. “Lilia...?"

Here was his weakness, more terrifying than any enemy their country had faced. One young lady, and he folded like a paper crane. His heart in her hands.

And she squeezed.

"I'm not sure if I enjoy this joke. What we had before... I liked that."

More delicate than he had ever heard her speak. Like she was afraid of breaking this.

"This isn't a joke. I'm... I'm serious about you! Please answer me!!" he pleaded. "Will you be mine?"

At once, her face fell. The daisy, and his heart, slipped from her grasp.

"Oh, Lilia," she whispered, a hand clamped over her mouth. "I'm sorry. So, so, sorry."

A resounding rejection, chased by a dreadful loneliness. It had been nothing like the storybooks had promised. Lilia almost wanted to weep at his juvenile naivete.

He hushed, the awareness of it all consuming him.

So this is love.

Love, and the lack of it. How it hurt him so, as it had from had the start. He was always alone, no matter how many people he surrounded himself with.

Was that really love then?

The thought struck him like a fist to the gut.

I thought I loved you. But maybe that wasn’t true love. Maybe I was desperate to be loved back. To have someone to call my own, when I had no one at all before. Maybe I clung to the first person that showed the slightest bit of attention to me.

Even so, my heart ached for you. Longed for you. Believed it was meant to be. Dreamt of you. I wanted to give you my everything.

Lilia tucked the infant’s cheek to his chest. Felt the child’s warmth, his physical presence. The steady drum of something buried deep in him.

There was a wobbly yawn in the silence. Silver, tuckered out from crying, awaited the next part of the story.

The breath Lilia held released. The words, painful as they dropped from his lips.

“But she had eyes for another: the duke. The knight watched as his two best friends fell in love.” Lilia’s nails dug into the cloth that swaddled Silver. “The princess and the duke were happy, so the knight, too, was happy. And why wouldn’t he be? The woman he loved the most was going to marry the man he loved the most. It was a happy ending for the trio."

He had been summoned by the princess that fateful day. Returning triumphant from the battlefield, adrenaline running high, he hadn’t even bothered to make himself presentable first. His hair was a mess, his armor stained with the remains of slain foes.

She waited for him beyond the door.

“Melea… Oh.”

His princess was seated beside Raverne. She clung to his arm like a vine on a trellis, beaming like the moon on a cloudless night. Meleanor was drunk on the Dragon Duke.

He had never seen her so happy.

“Lilia! You’re here at last,” she called, waving him over. “Just in time.”

He glanced from her to Raverne. “In time for what?”

“For our exciting announcement.” Meleanor wasn’t looking at him. Instead, she gazed adoringly at the man beside her. Somewhat shy. “Would you like to tell him? Or should I? Ooh, this is quite exciting."

Raverne smiled softly—but Lilia could sense the slight discomfort in his eyes, the way they darted to his. Guilty acknowledgement, an awareness of betrayal.

I'm sorry, he seemed to say.

Lilia’s blood ran cold.

“I think you ought to tell him,” Raverne suggested. His voice was gentle, but they felt like a slash to the throat, cutting deep.

Then Meleanor announced it, unable to contain the secret any longer. "We're getting married!!"

She showed her left hand. The flash of the silver band upon her fourth finger was unmistakable. A ring, binding them with a promise.

Together forever, those two.

Lilia’s world violently tilted. The castle crumbling, the sky collapsing around him. Yet he, the trained soldier, dug his feet in and stood his ground.

You've been bested. Admit it. Admit defeat...!!

He said the only word he could.

"Congratulations."

Lilia could make out the light at the other end of the tunnel now. The world beyond the walls and castle corridors. He knew the end of the story was fast approaching, and how it would sap his strength, his will to fight on.

Still, he continued.

“The new couple were soon expecting a baby. Someone much like yourself.” Lilia prodded at Silver’s flabby chin. “You’ll be graced with his presence soon enough. The princess’s legacy, Malleus Draconia… My responsibility these past 160 years.”

Silver gurgled.

“So enthusiastic. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” Lilia softly chided. “We fae and humans…”

… can never hope to understand each other.

"We fae and humans can understand each other," Raverne would have countered him. "We can make it a reality."

Tiny hands wrapped around Lilia’s finger. His touch, fragile.

You can afford to be hopeful. It drew a bitter chuckle from his handler. Brief reprieve before the plummet into something deeper and darker than the night that guarded them.

“… In a period of great unrest, the duke went missing. The princess was beside herself with worry—yet she remained stalwart for her people, and for their child. She wished every night for her husband to come home safely.”

They had magical might, but the humans had numbers. Each battle, an exchange of hard blows, casualties high on both sides. Reports rolled in as frequently as bodies did.

The people grew concerned, and so she had donned her mask to reassure them. Stoney faced and strong atop her tower.

“We will recover the missing couriers. We will secure our land and resources. We will beat back the outsiders. Briar Country will rise victorious in the war. Man will rue the day they came upon our shores. This, I swear to you as your princess!!”

Uproarious cheering and applause for her, their sovereign. A goddess of victory.

But he, watching from the shadows, knew better than that. All those years roughhousing with her, and he knew.

The face she showed the public and the face she made in private were two sides of the same card. Princess, mother, wife, friend. So many roles, all of them she played with such strength.

Meleanor only slipped when she thought no eyes were on her. When the servants had all retired for the night, and the moon and its stars came out.

Pressing his back to the wall, Lilia shielded his candle’s small circle of light from view. The hallway was drenched in darkness again.

A few paces away, her chambers to which she retreated every evening with her egg. With her dear little Malleus.

He listened.

Soft whimpers sounded from the abyss. Sounds and sights she would not dare show her people.

A leader such as she could not afford to be weak. The same leader who clutched her child to her and furiously prayed for a happy ending.

“Raverne, where are you? Come home… Come home, you idiotic, idealistic man!!”

CRASH!! BANG!! BOOM!!

Lightning lit up the sky. Lilia's flame trembled before righting itself.

Her voice dropped to a devious coo. "... I'm sorry, Malleus. Did that scare you? There, there. It's alright, your mother is here. Your father will be too... and when he does, I shall give him an earful for being away for so long!!"

He listened, for he was the only one who could. He listened until his lids began to droops. He listened until he had to tear himself away.

Before he knocked upon her door. Before he could tell her he was here, to please let him in. Before he could confess, “I miss him too.”

Hold her. Cry with her. Dream with her.

Ask for Raverne back.

“I will never wish for anything more than this. Please. Please…!!”

He had listened then, but no one had listened to him in return. Not even the stars.

Cruel celestial beings, he cursed—if they would not grant his wish, then he would take matters into his own hands.

Raverne…!!

Lilia swallowed thickly. His footfalls had grown heavy, as if weighed down by cinder blocks.

Silver sleepily gummed his finger. Oblivious as to what was to come.

“The conflict escalated.”

It had all happened so fast. Flying by, a blur. Time was not a concern to most fae—a year was barely the blink of an eye. Everything blending together into an indiscernible mush, taken down with ease.

But war never became more palatable. He had simply trained to become numb to it all. The strong smell of iron, the corpses piled high. It was sensory overload, the taste of too many things at once.

A crimson-eyed demon stood at the boundary of a burning village. Inhaled the fumes, smoke and flesh wrapped in fire. Witnessed the leaping flames stretching to the sky.

Who had lived here? Who had died here? Lilia thought of neither.

Had to, or he would fall to his knees and wail.

He held a small cloth doll, long black hair and red dress. Somehow it had survived the carnage. The lone survivor of a massacre. The rest had been slaughtered or evacuated from the area.

Abandoned, just as he had been.

His gaze lidded, fingers closing around the doll. "… As if it were a day. Everywhere I go, it will be in a blink of an eye. Far Cry Cradle.”

Memories arose, pulled by the strings of magic. They exploded across his vision like fireworks. Tinted green and blue and pink.

There was a ghostly child walking among the ruins, smiling as they clung to their mother, doll in their other hand. Daily life making the rounds in the village, helping with chores and playing games. Story events on fast forward.

Then came the knights stomping in their silver suits, masked fae cloaked in black. Buildings caving in, bodies falling, the clang of weapons colliding.

Screams.

Red, red, so much red.

The child horrified, dropping the doll. Staggering steps backward.

He barely cast an eye at them. Surveying the scene straight out of a hellish dream, he sought out a familiar shadow. Had he walked among them, seen the same things he had?

To no avail.

Lilia blinked, and it was the end.

He had not treaded along this path.

“… Damn it, Raverne.” He gripped the doll harder—as if to squeeze out its secrets. Making me hunt you down like this...

“General Vanrouge.”

Lilia did not turn. “Baul.”

“Sir.” He saluted to his superior. “The troops are rested. We are prepared for the final march to the Eastern Fortress.”

“… Yes, I understand. Let’s move out.”

He let the doll fall to the ground. His hands now freed, he pulled his hood up.

“General?” Baul called tentatively.

“The weather is chilly today, don’t you think?” The question, dismissive. Lilia slipped his mask back on—a beastly bat, glaring, teeth protruding.

His tears hidden from view.

Baul nodded. “… Yes, it is. I will remind the men to bundle up, sir.”

He looked away. “Good.”

Lilia firmly set his jaw. “War came knocking at their door, claiming many lives… and threatening to take the princess and her child too.”

There was something automatically off about the fortress when they slipped in. The infiltration too smooth, the corridors too quiet.

Combing the building yielded few results. There was no Raverne, no Dawn Knight. Only cowering staff and scattered humans in iron armor piloting sputtering metal monstrosities.

He cut them down the same as the rest. A mad boar, seeking a true challenge.

"Where are you?! Show yourself...!!" Lilia's demands were hollow in the empty hallways.

A demon snarling for sacrifice, the humans called him. A heartbroken dreamer, seeking the love that he had lost, his troops would whisper amongst themselves.

They found him at the end of a trail of carnage. Panting, sweating, hoarse. The lines between man and monster converged in Lilia Vanrouge.

Then the message was delivered, striking fear into the fearless fae.

"... What?"

The weapon in his hand faltered as realization ripped through him.

“Wild Rose Castle is under siege?!”

"She summoned her knight to her side.” Lilia’s voice quivered, growing small. You’re weak, he snarled at himself, so very, very weak.

Silver, too, seemed to sense the shift in him. He rubbed his cheek against the fae’s finger. Was he trying to comfort himself, or his newfound caretaker?

“The princess asked of him to take her child to safety somewhere far, far away. To forget her. It was her final selfish request for him.”

He had found her seated upon her throne, one arm curled around her precious egg, the other grasping her scepter. It was a sight so familiar, so safe, his chest lifted with relief. Lilia ran to her, calling her name.

"Meleanor-sama!!"

Her arm swept out in an arc, face twisted with fury. On command, a bolt of lightning crashed down in his path.

"Tch...!"

Tucking and rolling, Lilia darted off to the side, narrowly dodging the strike. Where he had once been was a massive scorch mark on the tiled floor.

“You’re LATE, Lilia!!” Meleanor roared. "What if something had happened to me or Malleus before you had arrived?!"

"Hah. As though you would allow that to happen," he scoffed. "You would kill the Silver Owls dead if I weren't here to stop you."

It was their usual game, a playful chase, the exchange of pokes and prods. Today, Meleanor had no such humor. Her expression turned from rage to one of eerie calm.

Lilia shivered.

"They've come for us," she whispered, hugging her egg tightly.

They had always known this day was a possibility. Now it was here, so palpable it was unreal.

From the bridge that ran to the castle came ugly chants twisted with hatred. Hot, oppressive, heavy. The sound like smoke snuffing out the daylight.

“Kill the witch!”

“Seize the castle!”

“Bring me the spoils!”

Horror raced through him.

“Let’s get you to safety, princess. Quickly, before they breach the drawbridge. My men can only hold them off for so long—”

She rose from her throne, descending from her dais. Her stride was not urgent, not eager to flee—the pace closer to the kind one might set for a garden stroll.

Meleanor faced her knight with a small smile. The same one she offered right before suggesting some sort of mischief.

“Lilia.”

“Princess…?”

“I refuse to run.” Her eyes flickered like green fire. “I will stand and fight.”

Panic pulsed in his ears.

“What?! Of all the foolish, hard-headed decisions you’ve made… This is absolutely the most foolish and the most hard-headed one!! I won’t let you go out there. I can’t. You’ll be…!”

A fist closed around his throat. The word died there, half-formed.

“What is it that you wish to say? That I will be hurt? Killed?” Meleanor challenged. So steadfast, so brazen. “You think so little of your princess.”

“This is NOT the time to argue the technicalities!! We need you safe and well, Meleanor-sama. Think of your people! Think of Raverne, your child...!"

Think of me.

She bared her teeth. “What is my power for, if not to protect those I love?”

Her gaze lowered to her egg, then to Lilia. “... You must flee to Black Scale Castle. They will not be able to follow you that deep into the mountain range.”

"I won’t abandon you. If you will stay, then let me fight alongside you as your sword and shield!"

"You have already done plenty for me. Do not mean to play the role of martyr too." Meleanor straightened, looking the part of a regal ruler. “You must go. I have guests to receive.”

"Argh, you stubborn princess!! How will you fight by yourself when you have your child to consider?"

"That," she laughed softly, "is a simple riddle."

His eyes sharpened with recognition of her next scheme. Meleanor wordlessly deposited the egg into Lilia’s arms. It was warm, humming from within the shell.

A life yet to be born, wishes yet to come true.

“I am entrusting you with Malleus,” she murmured sadly. “Please take care of him in his parents' absence."

“Don’t speak that way!!" Lilia snapped.

Don't speak as though we will never meet again, as though this is the final page of our story.

“In the first place, I could never… I can’t raise this child. I don’t know what it is like to love—not the way you and Raverne do. I’ve never had parents. I can’t be one, not when I don’t understand that kind of love!”

Meleanor’s face softened. “But you love me, don’t you? And you love Raverne too.”

He nodded. Slow, hesitant. “We were young. It was a long time ago,” Lilia mumbled.

“You love us,” she grinned, “so surely you are capable of loving our child, the product of our love—and Malleus will feel that. He will respond to you.”

“I’m not…”

“You are deserving of love, Lilia.” This, Meleanor spoke firmly. “Do not let yourself believe otherwise. I shall never forgive you if you do.”

The shouts were growing louder. The castle shuddered, stopped, and shuddered again. Doors being rammed at, forced open.

“Go,” Meleanor hisses. “This is an order from your princess. You cannot refuse.”

She had told that to him many times before. In dreams, in their games. Now, it hurt to hear more than any blow he had taken from battle.

Something in him gave, and instead of stepping away, he stepped forward. Inching closer to the woman out of his reach, but never touching her.

“I’m scared,” Lilia confessed, quiet as snowfall. “What if I lose you like we lost Raverne?”

Then I will be alone again.

“Be not afraid,” she reassured him. Meleanor did not meet him in the eyes.

“Do you promise we will meet again?” he pressed. The egg felt as molten as magma against his armor. “Do you swear?”

BAM!!

The grounds shook—the Silver Owls had successfully taken down a set of barricaded doors.

The cries had reached a fever pitch. Boots trampling upon the sacred grounds. Louder than ever.

Meleanor’s expression darkened, turning grave. It was the look of men at midnight, alone in the woods. Hollow, haunted, unsure of their fate.

No.

“No…!!”

He launched himself at his princess, a hand outstretched for hers. She made no effort to reach for his.

Did not have to.

Lilia fell short, his foot snagging on something. He instinctively twisted his body, shielding the egg in his arms from the floor. His gaze tore to his ankle, where bramble has sprouted up and tangled itself with him.

More thorns crept up around him, swallowing the ceiling, the walls. They latched onto his limbs, dragging him away, away from her. He grunted, struggling against them, against his fate.

Her doing, her magic.

"... Farewell, Lilia."

Tears prickled. His voice raised, pleading with her.

"Meleanor-sama, don't do this.”

She walked past him and ahead, forever out of his grasp.

"Farewell, Malleus."

He tried again, even knowing it was futile.

The bramble was weaving together, forming a tough wall between him and her.

"Meleanor-sama...!"

Through the last opening, a perfect circular window, she uttered her final words to him. That knowing, daring grin. Eyes beholding a gleam brighter than starlight.

"May the Night bless you."

And then she was lost to him forever.

"MELEANOR!!!"

Lilia laid a hand upon the ajar doors to the fallen castle. Fingers curled. At last, he had made it to the frame separating the inside from out.

“... That was the last time the princess was ever heard of. The end to her tragedy.”

He summoned his strength and broke free, entering the waiting night.

The moon, a spotlight for the two.

Silver bristled as he felt his first cool breeze. Still, he did not fully burrow into his blanket—for his glimpse of the stars stilled that instinct. That's right, Lilia thought, of course he would be enchanted. It's his first sky.

Many firsts.

"If you like that, you'll be excited to know that it's always changing. There are a number of new skies to see. It follows us wherever we go."

So we will never be alone.

The sky, so sprawling, so grand. So accustomed to everything and anything.

His small, lonely, insignificant existence was nothing compared to it.

Ah.

A single tear rolled down his cheek, landing on Silver's nose. The infant stilled, feeling the wetness upon his skin.

Lilia furiously wiped it away, then rubbed at his traitorous eyes. The sadness failed to recede, the memories welling. Promises, hopes, dreams dredged up. Yesterdays calling out to him.

"... You lied, Meleanor,” Lilia rasped into the night. “You told me I would be stuck with you for a long time. So why… Why did you have to leave us so soon?”

A thousand swords stabbed into his chest. The pain radiated outward, a bloody bloom.

"It’s not fair," he sobbed, hanging his head. "It’s not fair at all. Meleanor, Raverne… You’ve gone off together to a place I cannot reach, a place I cannot run to. You’ve left me behind. How am I meant to go on like this?”

I'm scared. I’m scared of the dawn and the tomorrows it will bring. Tomorrows without her and him in them. Tomorrows I must face alone.

More tears, plip, plip. A light drizzle upon Silver's face.

The infant stared up through aurora eyes. Not understanding, not knowing anything.

"How could I...”

Lilia’s voice caught on something sharp. He took a trembling gulp.

How could I learn to love you? When your kind, your very father, has taken nearly everything from me?

"... Hey, Silver."

The child cooed, as if in recognition of his own name. More likely, just responding to the sound of Lilia's voice.

Silver, the color of his hair. Silver, the shine of cloud linings. Silver, the start of something new.

"Tell me. What should I do?" Lilia's forehead and his touched.

Silver kicked his bendy little legs at the contact. Flailed his arms.

“Please guide me. I’m lost." He choked up. "I’m… so lost.”

Be the moonlight that guides me in the darkness. When all hope is lost and the stars have gone out, there will always be a silver light illuminating the path out of the black forest.

Show me the way, Silver.

“Show me if I can truly love you from the bottom of my heart.”

Lilia hugged the child to him. Felt his heartbeat, the same throbbing warmth that had radiated from Malleus’s egg.

After all that time alone amid the bramble… He was here. He was alive.

Up until her final moments, she had been thinking of them. Of this. The people she cared for, a baby not yet born.

The love he had let go, the love he had lost, the love he was he had to learn… It slipped away from him so easily, like grains of sand sifting between his fingers.

Lilia sighed with his entire body. The wind, drying his tears. He looked again at the child he had taken.

Silver giggled when he saw Lilia’s face. The boy’s eyes were clear. An unclouded, colorful aurora.

A weight in his chest lifted.

“… Did you enjoy that sad story?”

No answer, but a bop on his nose. Unintentional, he was sure.

Lilia rubbed at the place where he had been struck. There was no wound, no mark. Just a rapidly fading warmth where Silver's small fist had connected.

“… Silly thing,” he groused. In spite of himself, a stuttering chuckle rose from his throat. “If it will keep you from making needless noise, then I will tell you as many stories as you like. You need only promise to not laugh if I shed another tear.”

Silver squealed—close enough of a confirmation for him.

Lilia tried smiling. The corners of his mouth quiver before giving up.

Meleanor’s parting words floated to him. “May the Night bless you.” With that, it was the end of her tale.

The very same words uttered anew, a blessing for the boy once blonde. A fresh chance, the beginning of a new story.

Lilia looked to the horizon.

The first rays of sun were peering through the darkness. Gold streaking black in small slivers. Dawn had arrived.

A new chapter to their fairy tale.

213 notes · View notes

lanitaminaj · 6 months

Text

lapvona 🐑🧺

a story about love, lust, and love.

literalmente based on ottessa moshfegh’s lapvona.

cw: heavy religious themes, mentions of abuse, death, mentions of bodily fluids (just vomit i know im sorry).

armin loved the quiet of the forest.

nothing, save for the occasional birdsong or the swaying of the sycamore trees, manifested to bother him while he prayed.

his ivory knees, jaded with ruby-red scarring and amethyst-purple bruises, pressed against the roughened surface of the cliff's rocky edge. across his view was the waterfall; the constant stream constant, yet hushed. to the right of it, carved naturally by the seasons and time, was the face of Jesus Christ himself.

that's what the sunshine-blond boy found himself praying to every sunday.

he prayed for his mother and father, singing soft hymns to himself as he pictured what he could remember of their soft, doughy faces. he prayed for his grandfather, the knowledge of him being devoured by titans caused a shiver to run down his spine. armin never prayed for himself, because in doing so he'd be committing the third out of the seven deadly sins.

"God has given you what you need," armin could hear pastor erwin's voice ringing in his ears. "God has given you what you deserve. what, my dear child, could you possibly be pesting God for if naut for earthly, petty whims?"

an icy breeze rushed through his tresses. opening his eyes, the lone boy was quick to discover how the once river-blue sky had shifted to that of a tangerine-orange hue. the birds had stopped chirping, their brawny wings streaking through the clouds as they flew.

armin knew he would have to return to his village, his belly rumbling in both hunger for supper and anxious thoughts. desperately wanting to recite a prayer for himself as he would make the short travel back home, he ultimately thought against it. it wouldn't be wise to anger God right when nightfall would arrive soon.

his scrawny, little legs stood up from his knees, his tattered shoes crunching the leaves and twigs under his soles.

his sapphire eyes squinted at the amber lights of his village's torches.

not a lot of villagers remained out, save for a few adults who'd been smoking rosemary cigarettes as they watched the children run around and play.

entering his own home, a tiny home made of ivory cement and olive-green wood finishes, armin shrieked as he felt a smack landing on his right cheek.

"where've you been?" eren's cool, baritone voice questioned. when armin didn't answer, the brunet was quick to give the blond another blow.

"you can't answer me now?" eren hissed, his cyan-blue eyes focusing on how iridescent tears rolled down armin's ballerina-pink cheeks.

"i was with God," armin sniffled, his hand soothing his aching face.

"and you didn't bother to let me know?" eren chastised, his head cocking as he endulged in the other boy's agony. "don't think God would find that pleasing, would he?"

armin anxiously shook his head, his babydoll eyes wide and glossy from his suffering. how pathetic, eren thought. he strode towards him, nonetheless, his lengthier legs pausing right before armin's shaking form. his rough palms cradled the lamb's warm cheeks, a cruel smile emerging on his lips as his tongue peeked out to lick the remaining tear droplets.

salty, eren internally voiced. yet tastes like honeysuckle. there was a sudden swell in his chest, his shoulders subconsciously straightening in pride. he had a certain hunger for seeing the shorter boy like this; a teary mess underneath his hands. his cock hardened at how armin hiccuped, how armin sought the comfort from eren as if these weren't the same hands which tormented him.

"God wouldn't like how my little lamb seems to wander off without his shepard knowing, hm?" eren's voice whispered. his left hand's thumb gently caressed armin's cheek, before his fingers spiraled down to rescue the boy's bottom lip from his own gnawing teeth. "i take care of you," eren purred. "i bathe you, i feed you, i home you. the least you can do is tell me where you're wandering off too."

armin's peach-toned lips wobbled. he felt so stupid, ashamed of how he disappointed not only eren with his insolence, but how he abashed God, too.

"i'm sorry," armin softly cried, his only comfort being a consoling 'good boy' that slipped from eren's lips.

"bed time," the silk of eren's words stated, the warmth of his fingers banishing from armin's face. the blond's shoulders dropped at the loss of affection. "you've had enough fun for the day."

wordlessly, armin found himself in the little space that they deemed a kitchen. in a wooden bucket was days-old rain water, the water in which the blond palmed at after his fingers has rustled through the amber-colored honeypot on the tiny room table. emerging with a mint leaf, he rubbed the plant against his teeth before using the water in his other hand to gargle his throat before he spat it back into the bucket. they would be getting new rain, anyways. it would be raining someday this week according to marco, the town's forecaster.

stepping just five feet into the bedroom, armin stripped himself of his soiled clothes as he tossed it into the pile that eren had already made.

the brunet himself had been laying on the straw-filled mattress, the sheepskin blanket pushed off his bare, sweat-shimmering body. armin joined him, his knees making a dip in the mattress before his body peacefully laid. he could feel eren stir beside him, his soft words of 'goodnight, pet', lulled armin to sleep.

eren had gotten angry again at armin the next morning.

the poor doe couldn't even remember why. all he could recall through his watercolor thoughts was eren throwing a straw-woven basket at his blond head.

not wanting to upset the irate man any longer, armin decided to visit mikasa's little cottage.

his bare feet trudged through her wild-grown lawn, the little bunnies hopping wildly as they sensed his arrival. they leaped away, however, when the baby approached her door to knock.

"mikasa?" his honeyed voice questioned, his darting eyes peering in through her windows to try and spot her.

it didn't take long for her to answer, much to armin's joy. mikasa simply opened her door, her lavender smell dancing through the boy's nostrils.

"hi, baby," mikasa greeted, her right hand reaching up to tuck a few loose, golden strands behind armin's ear. "what's wrong, hm?"

"eren's mad at me," the boy confessed, making sure to widen his eyes to garner extra sympathy. "cause i went to go see God last night."

"why would eren be mad at you for that?"

"cause i didn't tell him," armin's voice trailed off. his ultramarine eyes looked anywhere but mikasa's eyes.

eventually, desperation got the best of him.

"can i come in?" his bambi voice asked. "please? i need you."

"yes, baby," mikasa cooed, widening the door behind her to let the boy in.

the lavender scent, coupled with a whiff of vanilla, grew as armin laid on her wool-textured mattress. he dug his nose into her velvety pillow, his nostrils harshly inhaling every remnant of mikasa.

he could hear the ruffle of her cotton, pearl-white dress. he could feel the dip in weight on the mattress, the boy picturing mikasa on her knees as if they were on the temple's pews. he began wondering what her knees would look like reddened, her pale skin all cherry-blushed as eren commanded her to her knees.

"come 'ere," mikasa adored, rocking the blond in her nurturing arms. "i've got you," she whispered.

armin knew that eren and mikasa fucked occasionally. he pretended he hadn't been conscious during it, feigning sleep when the brunet forced the blond to seek bedding on the wooden-floor. he'd mellow his gentle breathing, the young man trying not to gasp and whine when he'd hear the slaps of eren's pelvic against mikasa's hips. his cheeks would flush, the sounds of mikasa's erotic whines and eren's obscene words caused the poor boy's cock to angrily harden.

in those times, armin felt enraged. he felt maddened at how eren's cock was made to illicit beautiful melodies from mikasa's throat, infuriated at how mikasa was graced with the rage and coarseness that was eren's harsh fucking. it was supposed to be him who'd experience eren's aggressive nature. him who eren's misdirected anger shall be pointed at. him who would endure eren's wrath.

like how God intended.

in an episode of furiousness, armin found himself wanting more.

"can i suck?" armin questioned, his fingers subconsciously fingering the trim of mikasa's dress.

"yes," the young woman simply answered. she pulled the top of her dress down, her pillowy tits out for display. armin's peachy-lips wrapped around one of them, his eyes shutting as he nursed from her as if imitating a newborn doe.

in these little moments, he determined that this was his revenge against eren.

they laid there for a spell, unmoving except with the occasional melody sung and a soft suckle.

armin supposed it must've came natural for the brunette. he hadn't known much, but he was aware of how mikasa had been there for eren after the passing of his mother. he assumed mikasa must've nursed eren like this, too.

that only made armin suck harder, a soft hiss emerging through mikasa's gritted teeth. good.

by nightfall, mikasa had sent armin home with a straw-basket filled with loafs of baked bread, jars of lamb's milk, and freshly plucked figs. she offered a kiss on the side of his cheek, her soft words of "be good for eren, baby," hummed the young boy a goodnight.

armin felt himself getting angry all over again.

arriving home, armin set the basket on the kitchen's counter, carefully examining the tiny home to determine eren's whereabouts.

he wasn't home.

trucking into the bedroom, the blond found himself getting ready for bed. shedding his clothes, he tossed them into the familiar pile when something shiny caught his eye.

a pearl. a pale, opalescent pearl shone greatly underneath eren's pillow, its gleam so great even under the nightly lack of light. lifting up the pillow, armin discovered a letter, the paper folded and the contents slightly smudged with octopus ink. his fingers grasped onto it, his cerulean eyes squinting as he struggled to encode the words.

mikasa, you have been the subject of my dreams for as i can remember. my mind often pictures your face, my thoughts serving as pictures of how your body trembles while under mine. it's your voice which sings in my ears, every laugh, every moan, every gasp more beautiful with each tone. you're the woman in which God intended, the woman in which shall belong to me. there's been word that the northerners are experiencing much more pleasantries than us down in lapvona. i plan on wedding you, mikasa. i plan for you to bear my fruits in the swell of your womb. father fritz had agreed to wed us, and from then we shall make our ascent up north. as for the boy, I'm not sure. he's not intelligent, and runs around prancing like a doe. he's not capable of many things, and yet i find him endearing. we could leave him here, i suppose, however the boy would never survive on his own. perhaps he can tend to our farm animals, or entertain our young ones up north. i understand you're quite fond of him, and so i assume this'll be a bridge that we will cross in the near future. for now, just understand that you are my woman and my priority. your being takes hold in my life, and in my heart. yours truly, eren.

by the end, armin found himself shaking with unadulterated rage. he knew he was disobeying god with his envy, his jealousy and outrage at how he wasn't eren's prime concern. he wasn't who eren would inflicted his chaos onto, the blond not deemed worthy enough to indulge in the brunet's fury.

he wasn't worthy enough to reach salvation. how could armin reach heaven, when only the select few were cherry-picked by God Himself? how could armin prove to God that he was noble enough to be chosen, when there would be no suffering to be endured?

"Jesus Christ had sacrificed himself for us," pastor erwin's voice echoed. "he endured crucification just for us, just for us to live in righteousness. therefore what makes you worthy enough to join the Lord in heaven? what sufferings had you endured? what pain had you sorrowed that could be measurable to the pain felt by the Christ?"

without cognition, without discernment, without reason, armin's mind had settled on one thought.

the blond is going to kill eren.

he fled to annie's the next morning. the ambivalent girl found herself feeling suspicious at armin’s sudden visit, yet nonetheless fulfilled his pondering questions.

“well,” her steady voice spoke. “the mandrakes cause hallucinations. they’re rather hypnotic, armin, so i’d stay away from those.” she pulled out a box from above a cabinet, the silver-plated chest carved with an artistic rendition of Christ's crucification. she unlatched it, turning the chest around for armin to see the next root.

“you can try mugwort,” she shrugged, holding the plant in her fingers before dropping it back into the velvety-cushioned interior. “it’s not as harmful, so it wouldn’t really kill. it would just lightly harm you, however.”

armin stood wordlessly, his vision distorted as he heavily contemplated between the two plants.

and then, "do you have anything stronger?"

annie stood just as soundlessly, her turquoise blue eyes sizing the strange boy up. she struggled to decipher what exactly brought the young man to her's, what cause the blond to ask for the strongest poison she had.

her silence arose anxiety in armin, the pregnant pause causing the insistent man to blurt out an, "i'll pay you extra."

well, then. annie turned to open a cabinet behind her, the stoic woman re-emerging with a tiny, cream-colored, wool bag. she dropped it on the counter, the woman taking a small step backwards which went unnoticed by her, but acknowledged by armin.

"belladonna", her voice dropped, her form moving slightly over the bag as she leaned over the counter. armin leaned in, too, the young man feeling a hint of arousal from sharing a potential secret. the tips of annie's little lips glazed gently against the lobes of armin's ears, a shiver running down his protruding spine.

"or," she whispered, the boy struggling to not laugh as the movement of her lips against his skin tickled him. "as you might know it as, deadly nightshade."

she backed away quickly, yet gracefully, like a lake swan. it was as though the short conversation hadn't occurred.

"what are you willing to give me for it?" annie questioned, humorously observing how armin struggled to swiftly pull whatever it was out his worn-down cotton pants. he managed to have it swaying in his hand rather quickly; a solid-gold rosary decorated with red-ruby jewels shone beautifully, even in the dim light of annie's shop.

she didn't question where he'd got such a luxurious rosary from. he didn't feel rather inclined to answer it, too ashamed to admit he'd stolen it from the praying hands of the Virgin Mary statue from the temple. annie rarely visited the church, anyways. she wouldn't have realized, or snitched.

"deal?" armin questioned, bringing it closer to allow the rosary to hypnotize annie into accepting the deal.

it worked. "deal."

she took the dangling jewels from armin's fingers, her left hand shoving the little wool bag towards the blond's direction.

"they're in blueberry form," she explained, as if it was a rapid disclaimer she was obligated to give. "don't leave it around anyone who'd mistaken them for such."

"yes, annie."

"and when you use them, make sure to use every last one. it'll cause harm onto you if anyone were to discover you with them, and harm onto me if anyone were to know i sold them to you."

"yes, annie."

"okay, then," the blonde breathed, her stress alleviated as she chose to trust armin with the poison.

the young man was headed for the door, poison bag tucked into his pocket, before annie's curiosity got the best of her.

"hey, armin," she called, absentmindedly playing with the lobe of her ear. "what exactly did you need it for, again?"

armin, with the sweetest smile he mustered, swiveled delicately around as he answered with his dulcet voice.

"for rats."

armin hadn't known how to bake a pie.

he settled on making oatmeal. it was easy enough; couple of oats, lamb's milk, and belladonna blueberries.

he served it beautifully on their little wooden table; a rusted spoon on the left side of the bowl, with a cup of freshly-squeezed orange juice on the left.

admiring his work, the blond didn't anticipate eren's soft footsteps as he sauntered wordlessly into the tiny kitchen.

"what's all this?" the brunet slurred, the young man still blanketed by sleep. he blinked, fighting the rest that blurred his vision. his cyan-eyes focused on the display before him, before they looked up to meet with armin's baby-blue eyes. armin could swear he'd seen surprise behind those almond eyes, and something deeper. something complex that the blond couldn't name.

"you made breakfast?" eren questioned, his veiny hands pulling back the table's seat before sitting gently on it. "for me, pet?"

armin blushed. "yes."

"what's this?" eren probed, his fingers grabbing the spoon before he fished at the belladonna berries, raising them up to inspect. "berries? they're not in season, lamb. where'd you get these?"

the blond tensed, fighting the urge to pull his bottom lip into his teeth. it was a habit he'd done when he'd conducted a lie against eren, a habit that the meaner man soon picked up on. now, the only thing armin's little habit earned was a sharp slap on his cheek in response.

luckily for armin, eren hadn't questioned him again. he indulged in the oatmeal, his face cringing in the flavor of the berries.

"how sour," he commented, quickly washing it down with the orange juice.

armin's bottom lip was held captive by his teeth. he silently watched eren eat, the twinkle in the blond's eyes dimming with each spoonful eaten.

once he was done, he shoved his now empty bowl back. he got up, his body carrying him to the bedroom. armin followed.

the blond watched eren return back to bed. the brunet's tired form moved to the left, patting the vacant, lush spot near him.

"get in, little lamb."

armin complied. he sunk into the bed, letting himself be pulled into eren's side. he always did love how he smelled; pinecone and earth's dirt. his nose dug into eren's armpit, breathing in his masculine musk. he could feel the brunet's arm wrapping around him, his thumb caressing armin's pale stomach.

"my pet," eren purred, pressing a soft kiss on armin's golden fringe. armin curled deeper into him, his nose pressing farther into eren's warm skin. "i've got to tell you something later, lamb," eren rasped, a sudden cough bursting through his chest. he coughed for a good minute, causing armin to jerk his head up. he settled back down, however, a sudden wave of guilt boiling in his stomach.

"wake me up in a bit," eren waved, his eyelids fluttering as they shut. his lips let out a string of coughs, a string of spit shimmering on them as he spat on the wooden floor.

he fell asleep rather quickly, his breathing labored and harsh.

armin laid, incapable of sleeping as his thoughts raced with worries and sorrows. thou shalt not kill.

armin's breathing hurried, soft little huffs marched out his lips as the realization began to sink in. he got up from under eren's heavy arm, his shaky hands resting on the brunet's stomach.

"eren?" his small voice questioned, his fingers gripping onto his torso. he rocked his body slightly, in an attempt to wake the taller man up.

no response.

armin began to get frantic; his hands jolted eren's sleeping form, little tears began to form in the ducts of his blue eyes.

"eren?" he cried, madly thrusting the boy as he outwordly prayed to God.

"please, please," the pale man whined. he hoped that he could reverse it, hoped that God could hear his pleas and take mercy on this mistake. "please, eren. don't die. God, please don't kill him."

he rested his ear on eren's chest, the blond fighting the urge to not vomit on the brunet's wool sweater.

no heartbeat.

wildly, armin sieged eren's wrist. he pointed his index and middle finger into two standing pillars, pressing them sharply on eren's flesh. no pulse, either.

armin wailed, his body jerking from the bed as he fell harshly onto the ground. he yelped before stammering up to his feet.

"eren?" armin sobbed, taking in eren's slain form. the blond moved in, his head laying on eren's unmoving chest. he laid there, armin's breathing irregular and labored from howling.

he failed to notice the sound of the front door opening, or the little pat-pat-pats of footsteps.

"eren?" another voice, a female's, rung out. "you in here, honey?"

armin's spine straightened.

"armin?" the patting of footsteps entered the room. the blond didn't have to turn around to recognize who'd been calling him. he immediately knew based off the lavender scent.

"baby?" mikasa's soft voice questioned, her gentle hand rubbing against armin's bouncing back. "what's wrong? why're you crying?"

armin couldn't answer her; too ashamed, too regretful.

"honey?" mikasa tried again, before her babydoll-eyes caught onto eren's still form. she pressed a smooth hand against his forehead, before dragging it down to his heart.

she stilled.

"eren?" her voice rose, her actions mimicking that of armin's as she gently shook his arm. "baby?"

she soon realized, however, the tragic scene before her.

she screeched, her cries more piercing and gut-wrenching compared to what armin produced. her upper-body melted into eren's chest, her shrieking face burrowing into his richly, eren-scented, sweater. as if her love and horror would bring him back to life.

armin lifted himself off the bed, his body hunching over as he emptied the containments out from his stomach. the whole act before him made him sick, his heart pounding and his head throbbing.

mikasa turned her head to look at armin, a primal fear developing in him once she did. he couldn't pinpoint what it was at first; perhaps it was her bloodshot eyes, the way the white transformed into a rose-red hue, or the way her pupils were fully dilated. perhaps it was the paleness of her face, her cheeks snow-white from shock. or perhaps it was the way her raven-black gripped onto her face, the sweat that perspired served as the glue.

what couldn't escape his mind, however, was the way her mouth hung open like a dog. slobber escaped from it, her breathing sharp and ragged as she huffed. to witness mikasa, so poised and so elegant, reduced to this inhumane state was what ignited terror in armin's little, quivering body.

and so he ran, darting out the door as he heard mikasa's pained voice yelling out an, "ARMIN."

his bare feet rapped against the brutal rocks, carmine-toned cuts and violet-hued bruises were sure to immediately emerge on his soles. he payed the pain no mind, his adrenaline forcing him to run. he couldn't hear the cries and screams from the villagers, couldn't hear the way they called his name nor the yells that erupted once they quickly discovered eren's state.

he just ran. the young man ran into the forrest, past the emerald-green trees, past the mud-brown branches that stabbed into his arms. up above him, four ash-black ravens flew with him.

he hadn't known where he was going. he allowed his legs to take him where they pleased, as long as he was far from the village. far from mikasa's wailing form, far from eren's still body.

eventually, however, armin grew to realize where his body had taken him.

he slowed down, his feet inching towards the edge of the cliff. the birds above him sang, the sycamore trees swayed gently by the force of the cool, autumn air. even there, to the right of the constant waterfall, was the face of Jesus Christ.

armin found himself hunched over again, spitting out the remnants of his stomach. the adrenaline, mixed with being presented in front of an image of Jesus, had caused the blond to spiral.

"i'm sorry," he wailed, dropping down to his knees as he clasped his hands. "i'msorryi'msorryi'msorryididn'tmeanto." he breathed, before he screamed for the forrest to hear. a couple of partridges fled, yet the ravens remained. they lurked above armin, taking home on the trees and branches.

he coughed, heaving up bile and blood and the evilness that lurked deep within his spirit. judas, he could hear the villagers curse. filthy demon. he could imagine, once they caught up with him, how'd they capture him. he'd be held in the pillory, his body displayed to be ridiculed and demeaned. they'd humiliate him, just before they took him to the gallows. just like Jesus.

except armin was nothing like Jesus. the blond was a coward, running away from his crime while begging God for forgiveness and mercy.

just like judas.

from below, he could hear the pounding of footsteps, the voices of angry men and sorrowful women. his heart raced, his throat closing in fright. were they looking for him?

he choked. his dilated eyes met with stone Jesus' eyes, before they looked below. under the cliff, there'd been boulders which met with the cool stream of the water. there were bones buried just underneath the rill, some animal, some human.

the footsteps grew. armin's eyes darted back up to stone Jesus, before they met with the observing ravens. they simply squawked.

"eternal God," armin hymned, a jitter in his bones as if his soul knew what was to come.

"your mercy is endless and so is your compassion." his voice lifted with every word, his throat bobbing with every syllable.

"look kindly upon me, and increase your mercy in me." his feet inched closer and closer to the cliff's edge.

"with great confidence," he finished, his fists clenching the cotton-edging of his soiled sweater. "i submit myself to your holy will, which is love and mercy itself."

his right hand unclasped, his fingers touching his sweat-rippled forehead. "in the name of the Father," he breathed, just as the ravens began to screech uncontrollably.

"in the name of the Son," his fingers danced down to touch his chest, the home of his heart and soul. he took a glance at stone Jesus, his unmoving figure simply studying the blond.

his fingers grazed his right shoulder, before they crossed over to his left. "and the Holy Spirit," he ended, his eyes peering down the too close, yet too far, cliff's end. "amen."

the ravens warned him how the villagers were arriving, how they'd soon capture him and gut him for his crime.

he had to move, and he had to move quick. with his prayers sent, he took one last glance down the cliff.

there was a fifty-fifty chance of armin landing on either the rocks, or the water. if he landed in the stream, he’d be taken out of lapvona, God’s mercy on him allowing armin to start a new life somewhere. if he landed on the rocks, however, he’d get to see his family again.

through delusion, coupled with the pressure squeezing on his brain, armin jumped, entrusting God with whatever were to happen.

the ravens suddenly stilled, and everything went very quiet.

the end.

#attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan #aot #eren yeager #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #attack on titan eren #eren aot #eren jaeger #eren x mikasa #mikasa aot #attack on titan mikasa #armin aot #eren x armin

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yanderenightmare · 2 years

Note

My everyday thirst: yandere bakugo or kirishima desperate and crying because they realize that their darling would never love them. I get off on this even if it's not sexual. Help.

BNHA ! POLY ! THRIST

Bakugou Katsuki x darling x Kirishima Eijirou

TW: yandere, noncon, bondage, abuse, kidnapping

TEARS

You don't know who's crying more.

It should be you. With every limb in a state of uncomfort and pain. Stringy stiff rope rubbing your wrists with burns in a knot above your head, tied tight to the bedpost, making you stretch on the mattress you've been forced onto. Left no room for kicking where each boy has a leg straddled, resting warm balls and wet weeping cocks atop the softness of your thighs, desperately and pathetically riding you, gliding their heavy stiffies in the slick smeared on your smooth and doughy silky skin.

A shaky hand rubs your clit with a fat fissured thumb while two thick fingers swim inside the velvet of your insides. Spreading and scissoring without tact, though still in a way that has your stomach warm and coil in all types of panic, disgust, and shame. Sobbing in humiliation, begging them to quit, while your hips jerk forward, begging for more.

You can't tell which of them it is. Not with the heavy blond hunched over you. His imposing frame, burly and suffocating, block your vision as he coaxes you to meet his pathetic kisses while he wettens your entire face with drool and salt.

His lips mostly suck on your cheeks, licking up your tears and grazing you with teeth and broken apologies he hiccups between sobs while you try your best to string together any complete sentence stating your plead. But every word you attempt is left in a choke by a tongue entering your mouth or a whine escaping it as the redhead makes a playfield of your chest, leaving marks with sharp shark teeth. Biting you red, then licking the wound, nuzzling into the soft plush of your exposed tits.

He's crying as well but offers no apologies. Rather busy moaning about what an adorable thing you are instead, as well as something along how you're too good for the world and that he wants you so bad it hurts.

Large hands squeeze you in all your soft places, carding rough fingers into the chub of your cheeks, where the blonde proceeds to suck and lick your neck while you continue sobbing for them to stop. Another hand pinches and plays with your breast, rubbing the nipple between a worn thumb and index finger. The other poor mound has the redhead's mouth on it, his tongue swirling the pretty perky nub while his lips suck as though something would come out.

And you struggle to fight the overwhelming weight of barely being able to breathe, but in between those whimpers of pain and fear lies a sensation that clouds them both.

Your stomach feels sticky, and along with all the noise pounding in your heart, your toes curl into the bedsheets while your thighs quake around the arm that's pumping your poor cunt into a slutty mess.

You want to close your legs but can't, so instead, you simply lie there panting on your moans while feeling the hand retract, leaving your pussy lips glossy and fluttering.

Looking up into the sets of teary red eyes above you, you try once more, kindly asking them to let you go. And think for a hopeful moment that they'll listen when they maneuver into different positions.

But just when you're about to say thank you, you choke on it with the sticky bittersweet and salty shaft sheathed inside the pocket of your cheek. Whining as the upset boy jerks into your mouth, you swallow all words before they even leave, only to let out a loud cry instead with the feel of the fat monster that forcibly fucked past all taunt tightness to reach your core in one fell swoop.

Everything burns. Your poor wrists are rubbed raw in your bonds where you've tried wringing them free, and every single place their hands touch stings with welts and bruises. Your throat screams for air only to feel more cock shoved down it while your cunt clenches on the intruder within, pathetically trying to push him out, only to be breached and fucked even harsher than before. Brutally pounded in a series of desperate thrusts, hitting you so deep you fear he might punch through your walls and rearrange something.

You stop crying when the shocking taste of cum coats your tongue, quickly overrun with the charge of disgust as you feel sick bile in your throat, desperately wanting to throw it all up. But you're promptly distracted when feeling the same warmth spill inside your womb as well. Suddenly stricken with such an overwhelming ironclad sense of shellshock, you remain quiet and still as the two boys slink out of you.

Their hands detach and leave you cold in sweaty bedsheets, feeling the ticklish trickle of cum dripping from your tingly hole. And this time, when you look up into the red, you're so traumatized you're actually happy to see they've stopped crying.

tip-jar: Kofi

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kookoofufu · 11 months

Text

Oda's comment from One Piece Color Walk 4 Eagle: "Why does beachside ramen taste so good? The flavor's usually a bit rougher than the proper ramen joints in town, and the noodles are kind of doughy. But the atmosphere is perfect. Sanji never compromises on flavor, so I bet this "Pirate Ramen" is delicious beyond belief. Slurp... Man, I could really go for some ramen right now."

While technically not the first time the sky is colored blue in a spread, this spread is the start of the backgrounds getting more colorful. Spreads will rarely have purely white backgrounds from here on out.

Fun details: Usopp has a naruto stuck on his nose. The boys in line for seconds still have broth, which is why Sanji is only scooping out noodles for Zoro. The smoke from the kitchen blends into the cloud design of the shop. The girls probably aren't sweating because they're sitting much closer to the beach outside. Robin's leg proportions don't make sense, but Chopper's hat covers it up so we don't have to think about it.

#one piece #ch 287 #op color spread #color spread

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fatteningmenstories · 9 months

Text

Benched part 2

Treating himself to the luxuries of his pampered life, Ajay had already taken the time to hire a full-term chief and housemaid, as well taking the liberty of slipping the chief something here and there to cloud the number calories in the meals he would serve if Devon of the question ever arose . The housemaid's job was clear keep the house clean and the pantries and the fridge stocked with all the snacky food Devon had sworn over the last couple of yrs, they had also been instructed to add a little something extra to Devons shakes in the morning but this again was kept hidden away from Devon. Ajays job was easy enough, he would wake up with Devon in the morning as the chief served them both the full English breakfast, which something Ajay always insisted on - explaining to Devon about the yrs he lacked the money to fund it for himself. He also had the task that while Devon went full pig mode on the fat sausages, stripes of queen bacon, the numeorus slices of toast and who could forget the maple-slathered doughy pancakes, he would go down on his throbbing member. He’d like to thing of it as conditioning the pleasure Devon felt with as his meat entered Ajay’s sloppy mouth with the feeling of stuffing himself silly until he popped and squirmed like his sausages in the pan . And when Devon was getting ready to leave, leaving Ajay with a kiss that smelt of bacon and sausage, Ajay admired his work of seeing Devon leaving stuffed with his bloated stomach tightly pushing out his from fitting kit.

“Okay sweetcheeks I’m off, enjoy yourself” Devon said as he pulled away and went to grab his a daily protein shake.

While Devon was out of the house for most of the day, Ajay should have been doing anything productive, however, he fully took on Devon's word to enjoy himself, lazing in bed all day stuffing himself with the pastries the maid will leave- and even having a bell put in to signal the chef to make a hearty lunch. And when the day was done, Devon would always come home with McDonald’s in his hand begging Karan to recreate their first date - and as the Ajays short stay turned into weeks the takeaway bag filled with greasy fast food got bigger and bigger. However all this was only the warm-up to dinner where chief once again outdid himself, it was as if the chief enjoyed stuffing BOTH their employers until there would be too full to even think about ringing his bell once more . Serving up stuffed lobster, glistening hams and deep dish of pasta served with heavy sides, followed by oozing chocolate cake or whatever sweet tooth the footballer and his rent-boy was carving. When the two had finally digested their glutinous dinner, Ajay and Devon would end the night by having hot steamy sex in their quarters, and it wasn’t only their affection for each other that was growing. Over the weeks as they continued to indulge themselves Ajay’s trim frame was bending under his fattening diet, with fat slowly spreading all over his body, covering his once exposed ribs and filling in his stomach, the same however couldn’t be said for Devon whose strict training regime was working overtime to burn off the extra calories.

“Daddy, Daddy, this isn’t happening fast enough “ Chad whined “ Devons barely putting on any fat hes just getting more swole, we have our first game of the season soon and he looks no different “

“Don’t worry Chad, let me sort this out with our little rent boy “

“Ajay! You have to be out of your mind , I ordered a fattened up jock gone to pot not a beef-cake footballer , pull yourself together , or the deal is off and I will go public I promise , and you can kiss that new lifestyle of yours goodbye “

Hanging up , Ajay gulped , deciding it it was time to go take things up a notch

“Honey do you have to go and leave me’

“Leaving so early, I thought we could have a round two”

“But babe the chief made an extra portion of food and it would be a shame to let it go to waste”

Ajay was pulling out all the stops, every day he made a new excuse to lure Devon into staying home and eat into his training time, he would drop the babes and the honeys like smooth butter to guilt Devon into staying home and riding the bell for seconds

“Okay baby just this once”

“Well if you insist, but this time we gonna try things a bit differently”

“I guess it would be shame to waste such fine food’

Devon didn’t know what was happening to him, but how could be leave Ajay here all by himself in this big townhouse, sure he needed to train but he guessed one day couldn’t hurt, and besides his personal coach had seemed to taken early retirement having apparently won it big on the lotto and was now jetting around the world. So he gave in to Ajays puppy eyes, and he was happy to do so as his stomach growled out for more food

It was just the day before an important match that would commence the new season , and as Devon opened his eyes he was met with the new and improved vision of chubbier Ajay, moving in with him was definitely plumping up his lover, but as he admired his chubby lover with rolls of fat and chubbier frame Devon felt his dick harden as he saw all the effects he was having on Ajay, they certainly won’t be running away with anyone else with this lard filled body. All Ajay kept was his slender face, his body was swelling at every angle, his once tender stomach was swollen and bulging over his tight underwear, it curvature supported his puffed up man tits His thighs were starting to become embroidered in small yet noticeable stretch marks that led to his growing arse. Devon only chuckled at Karan’s misfortune, he on the other hand was in the belief that he had the same body he had when they first met, coxed on by Ajay’s lies and the web he had spun. As he stirred to ring the bell- a feature he was quickly getting used to, he felt Ajay wake up beside him as their young chief started serving their 5-star English breakfast. Were the portions increasing or was it just too early in the morning to be thinking straight? Devon’s eyes opened widely as he stuffed the sizzling sausages into his mouth, each one more juicer than the other, he ate like he had been starved , coating his food in Ajay’s favourite maple sauce. As his Arms turned into machines, continually grabbing food from all corners of his plate into his mouth, he felt Ajay stir, abandoning his plate to perform his duty. It was like clockwork, as Devon stuffed pancake into his mouth his meat was being stuffed further and further into Ajay’s mouth. Finishing his plate in he quickly reached over to consume Karan’s leftover fueled by a hunger he didn’t know he had . And damn did it feel good. He came gasping at the sides of his bed as he came straight down Karan’s mouth.

Standing up he realised he was already running late for his training, he didn’t notice however that like his fattened lover his abandonment of his strict training sessions and his ravenous hunger for food was bearing its effect on his once muscular trim-cut body, his rock-hard abs had been the first to disappear and be buried in fat as the burgers and lobster went straight to his now starter gut, the disappearance of his abs followed by his once firm pecs which were now plumped up and were swelled up with pure fat. And as he got up to put on his newly gifted underwear he didn’t notice his meaty butt-cheeks that were supported by his plumped thighs, all over he was the image of a once jock gone to pot as he stuffed himself into his athlewear and yet he still remained oblivious to this, infatuated by his fatty lover

“Don’t go, I get so lonely without you “

” Ajay unlike you I can’y just laze around all day I have to train “

” But please, without you I feel so incomplete and what good is all this money and hard-work of you can’t spend your time with me “

Devon was taken back, it dawned on him that everything he ever wanted he got, why should he waste his time doing the same thing every single day.

“Fine, but I do really need to train“, he remarked as he ditched his tight sports clothes to cuddle in bed with Ajay who was already ringing the bell

As match day approached, Devon felt like in the worst shape ever, him and Ajay had really overdone it last night, it was as if the chief was using magic, the 5 course meal paired with a good amount of beers made him yearn for his sleep. Leaving Ajay sleeping in bed he decided it would definitely be better to forgo their daily feast of a breakfast. Even after his shower he still felt drowsy, shaving of his starter beard that he had been growing since he met Ajay was like a slap to the face. Was that, no way, what in the hell no matter how much he prodded it and smudged it the beginnings of his double chin was going no where, pulling his face close to the mirror he couldn’t deny his face was definitely fuller , his cheeks were rounder and his winkles were creased out . Stepping back in this new harsh reality he surveyed more of the damage, the cold bathroom light was not forgiving - gone were his abs gone were his pecs and gone was his waistline. He had plumped up all over a that food definitely found space to expand, running his hands over he was softer and dumpier, it was easily a pure gain of 15kg of fat, and the worst offender was easily his gut. The drastic difference from his trim frame of abs to his now rounded out gut that jutted out ,this was definitely going to be hard to hard.

Only grabbing a shake for breakfast and resorting to his largest clothes, Devon quickly fled the scene, what was he going to do, sure the damage was bad and it wasn’t going no where - finishing his shake he had to fight with himself not to help self to the pastries in the locker room. No Devon this is exactly how you got like this, but still his stomach grumbled until it was unbearable - sure one croissant won’t hurt, and if I’m gonna have one I might as well have two. This logic was exactly what led to only handful of pastries being left, but luckily his stomach had quietened down and now was time for his first test his kit.

He thought it would be wise to start with his shorts, it was all going fine until it got to his more sizeable arse - long gone was perfect square butt now his cheeks were plumped up and won’t fitting in no size 30, it took a lot of struggling and suck in the put them on - and dam were they tight but at least they were on. Putting on the jersey was a real shock he was used to the breathable loose fit -that was long gone, his wider frame filled up his jersey with ease and the biggest problem would be his gut, it jutted out a few inches and refused to be hidden. God he felt fat, checking himself out in the mirror he looked like a fattened up caricature of himself, what was going on.

In pre-training he kept it light, luckily his team failed to bring up his noticeable weight gain, but he couldn’t help but see the looks and whispering just out of earshot, Chad seemed to be the only one would bring it up

“Looks some needs to hit some cardio”

“Come on big guy catch up”

Big guy, god was it that noticeable, damn the diet starts tomorrow, and why was he sweating so much even after a few light exercises he felt as heavy as a truck. Sure he had missed a couple of trainings but he was the star footballer, what was going on and was that his tummy rumbling.

If Devon had felt self-conscious earlier on the pitch with the thousands of spectators now, he felt like he was being watched from all angles, and it didn’t help that he was far from his a-game - he was slower and barely keeping up with his team, he was red in the face after all the running he had do to keep up. He just couldn’t do it, running was like there was lead in his legs and he felt his fatty body sweat up and rub against his kit - and by time halve time was called he was panting.

A nil-nil start sure wasn’t the worst, but his team were wholly less supportive sure he had missed a couple of goals but surely it wasn’t that bad. Lurking away from the training room, he find a tv running - some commenters on the game were yapping on he didn’t pay attention till a picture of him for last season popped

“I mean look at his shape, fit prime and in charge’

“Now look at this”

A picture for todays match popped, a very unflattering photo he was red in the face covered in sweat and if they say the camera had 10 it looked like it was 20 today, he looked massive taken form a bad angle you could see his gut prodding out, even a bit of underbelly piped out, his sweat hugged the curvature of his gut and his arms and legs were giganitc and with the face he was pulling it like like had rolls

‘Im mean it obvious someone defiantly porked up a bit”

“Ha ha - he’s defiantly pigged out this off season”

“Oh definelty - Devon looks awful and it obvious affecting his play did you see him out there - he was sluggish and red”

“And did you see that backside - God it looked he had a bbl done”

“Geez yh, if this things keeps going I won’t be supposed if he is benched till next seas”

He switched it up, God he felt humiliated ( even a bit aroused tho - God what was happening to him ), He had to pull out all the stops this next halve,

And that he did, he ran faster and tried harder than anything, but still it didn’t work - 5 minutes on the clock and it looked like there was nothing to show but a panting red faced Devon, then suddenly in just the final moments on the game , he saw it - an opening it was just right. The entire world was still, he saw his moment, he felt his breath panting but he didn’t care. With one powerful kick he lobbed the ball into the goal, it went flying soaring straight into the top left corner. The crowd went wild, it was in - he felt on top of the world, but in his moment of victory he just couldn’t see Chad running straight for him, too fast to stop. He only saw it from the corner of his eye - second too late, it all happened so fast, like a train wreck, it all went silent until

CRACK………

#exjock #male weight gain #male gainer #gainer stories

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mungo-grubb · 6 months

Text

Nathan’s Sweet European Vacation Part III

[Male Weight Gain, Muscle Growth, Cum Inflation, Milking, etc. Strong M/M Themes with graphic nudity. 18+ Viewers available on Patreon….]

Gareth continued to stand in the doorway of the kitchen and looking rather amused with himself.

“Hello stud, need a hand?”

The relief of seeing Gareth immediately disappeared, and a frightened Nathan began to panic.

Nathan’s body began to jiggle as he tried to flail his arms to call for help.

“My, oh my!”, said Gareth. “Someone was a little greedy.” Closing the door behind him, he slowly walked into the kitchen.

“I do not know what happened, I just remember trying a few doughnuts, and then everything went kind of foggy.” Nathan pleaded through his chubby cheeks, “Help me, please do something, please!”

The burly baker continued walking up closer to Nathan, admiring the specimen. He slowly reached out and pressed his finger into Nathan’s belly. He watched as it sank deeper into the skin until it reached his knuckles. His skin was cool, soft, and doughy to the touch and gradually bounced back as he retreated his finger. As Gareth adjusted his crotch, he thought to himself, “So many fun possibilities.”

As he reached Nathan’s face, Gareth peered into Nathan’s eyes and whispered, “Hungry, big boy?”

With that, Gareth turned and disappeared from Nathan’s line of sight.

“What! No....Look at me! You must help me!” cried Nathan.

From off to the side, Nathen heard, “But I am helping you” in the baker’s soft calm voice.

“What…How…MmmmmMmmm.” Nathan was cut off by a piping bag being shoved between his lips.

Nathan’s taste buds resumed their dance of ecstasy. As he sucked on the nozzle, the smell, taste, and texture clouded his senses. He was happy again and letting his cares float away with every gulp.

“See, that helped – you are much calmer.”

Satisfied, Gareth began to walk around Nathan’s body observing every inch of it. The arms had lost all definition. A wide fat tube seamlessly connected from his back to his stubby little fingers. Only slight curves in his skin distinguished his palm, forearm, and upper arm before it merged with the back. His legs were not much different except for their thickness. Once muscular powerhouses, now they dangle practically immobile. They just lay against the curvature of the belly, the weight causing a small indentation.

Meanwhile on the other side, Nathan moaned as he felt different parts of his body get poked and prodded. But Gareth simply ignored the boy and continued with his inspection by picking up the fallen chair and bringing it up to Nathan’s rear. Stepping up on the stool, Gareth could see "All" of Nathan. Squarely centered to him were two large pale domes that hung spread apart, each mound had a slight wobble. The baker reached out his hand, giving the left cheek a firm slap! He watched as it caused a Jello-like ripple effect. The agitation spread over to the curved back and down Nathan’s sides. Although not painful, it caused Nathan to yelp.

Hopping off the chair, he took a moment to stand back and marveled once more at Nathan’s voluptuous backside.

Gareth, pleased with his inspection, continued to walk around the blown-up athlete keeping one hand touching Nathan’s belly. He could feel the skin slightly pulsating as it expanded a little further. As he reached Nathan’s face, Gareth peered into Nathan’s eyes again and whispered, “Let’s have some more fun, shall we?”

< To Be Continued >

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janaeekook · 4 years

Text

[12:45]

jaehyundrabbles

warnings: sexy time, power bottom jae, degradation, FILTHY, unprotected sex(be safe children)

word count: 822

a/n: thought of this while in the shower-

•••

You bounced steadily on Jaehyun’s cock, trying to keep your noises as quiet as possible. It seemed impossible that you had even stumbled into this situation but there you were. Having been pulled away by jaehyun into his studio where he’d been working most of the day. When you walked past the small room seeing the door propped open and the older boy inside— you thought you’d pop your head in and greet him. You had been on your way to hang out with Xiaojun in between his schedule for the day.

Though you hadn’t expected the older male who you’d grown an attraction for, to have physically yanked you into his studio before shutting and locking the door. He did it anyway and you were enveloped in the silence the room provided from the outside hall. The small room quickly growing thick with tension as he stepped towards you, effectively trapping you against the wall with his body. His hair was undone, laying haphazardly over his forehead. His simple wireframe glasses adorning his face which was also without makeup, and yet he still looked so pretty.

His lips where plump and a bright shade of red, as if he’d been chewing on them as he worked. A small tick he had when he was concentrating hard. Like how now as you sat above him on the small couch in the studio, shirt pushed above your breasts which where bare, being because you hadn’t worn a bra. He had his lower lip pulled tightly between his teeth as he watched in mere concentration how your body moved up and down to pleasure you and himself. Though it did feel rather odd, you being in control and all Jaehyun was never one to let you take control— but you weren’t surprised— he was tired from working all day and needed release, you were there to give it to him.

Your thoughts lingered as you tried to contain your noises and keep them to a minimum. You thought about Xiaojun, your best friend, the real reason you came here in the first place. You knew he didn’t have much time between his schedule and free time, and there you were fucking one of his band mates.

“Jae- Jaehyun, we shouldn’t-“ Your voice was breathy and you wondered where on earth your morals were. Surely not anywhere near, but the excitement of the rush to not get caught only worked to arouse you more.

“You’re telling me we shouldn’t as you bounce on my cock— dirty whore.” The last part was just above a whisper, it made your walls clench around him desperately. But you continued To mutter that you should stop, that you had to meet up with Xiaojun. Jaehyun probably believed you had been fucked dumb, the pleasure clouding your thoughts but you continued to move yourself over him.

You muttered until the very height of your resolve. You came with a single high pitched moan after calling out ‘Jae!’ rather loudly to sound proofed walls. Your body, extremities and all, shook as you met your undeniable high. Though you had lost your momentum, so Jaehyun took the liberty of riding you through your high whilst also searching for his own. He thrust up into you, each one holding even more power, you jaw going slack.

When he reached it, your chest was leaning against his and your forehead on his shoulder as you tried to calm your breathing. Your core feeling sensitive as Jaehyun’s upward thrusts into you continued though their persistence and speed wavered as he came— groaning into the nape of your next as he released into you.

The only sound to be heard was both of your heavy breaths working to cool yourselves down, and the pounding of your heart in your ears. You climbed off of him knowing you shouldn’t be any later to meeting your best friend. You pulled your shirt down back over your bare chest and then found your pants and panties that were strewn on the floor. Quickly you pulled them on as well before running your fingers through your hair as you slid on your shoes. Jaehyun had pulled his own clothing back on which was only his sweatpants and black a tee shirt.

“Bye!” You said promptly trying to get out of there as soon as possible. Not that your were running away but rather you didn’t want Xiaojun to suspect anything. However your captor quickly grabbed your wrist before you could open the door.

You turned back around to face him, your eyes scanning where he held onto your wrist. His lips then befell yours, it was simple and feigning of innocence over what had just happened not even minutes before. When he pulled away he smiled that doughy smile at you, dimples and all, and your heart melted.

And all he said before letting you go was;

“I’ll text you.”

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gojology · 4 years

Text

Fireworks.

the request :

pairing : not technically a pairing.. but lets just say gojo x female reader warnings : angst and cursing, no editing. wordcount : 2561 a/n : this physically hurt me to write thanks anon. aha all jokes aside i’m so sorry for not making this quick enough, i finally got enough time to finish it and it’s not even that good :( thank u SO much for ur kind words omg u got me feelin like <333333333

You stare at him, and he stares back, you’re sure he’s unblinking behind those shades of his. You knew what would happen after this confrontation, after all, you were the one who had asked him to meet you here. It’s a small, calm park. The atmosphere is still, and the shrill sounds of cicadas are the only thing penetrating the deafening silence between the two of you. “Hey.” he finally speaks up, sounding a bit too impatient for your liking. You flinch a little, and your fist tightens. It was like he never learned how to introduce himself politely. You take a deep breath in and exhale, your breath comes out in clouds of smoke. You remember when Shoko had given you those cigarettes one day and Gojo slapped it out of your slack hands, Geto and Gojo laughing at your flushed face, your heart twists. Truth be told, you didn’t even know why you were thinking the world was ending- it wasn’t. Breaking up with your fellow peer was awkward to say the least, but there were only 4 of you in the jujutsu class, yourself included. It would be undeniably dreadful to see his lanky figure dotting around the back of the class with Geto, and to have to work with him for everything else. “Hey.” you reply, your words dripping with venom. “C’mon, cut to the chase.” he waved his hand a few times in the air as a dismissal of the conversation, a half eaten lollipop dangling dangerously from those limp long fingers. It makes you hate him even harder. Couldn’t he read the room? “I don’t have time for chit-chat, you know?! The strongest needs some rest. I’m human like the rest of us! Sheesh, Jujutsu is so demanding....” “We need to break up.” is all that slips from your lips, and even you’re shocked it came out that carelessly. You wanted to stop resisting, to stop holding back and let loose the long river of hatred and misery you had for this man- no, a boy, he was a boy. A strong wind blows against your warm face, and the lollipop drops onto the grass without another word. Gojo gapes at you dumbly, and in return you look down to study that glistening in the moonlight lollipop, it’s pink and ants are already crawling on their new found prey. Your shoes are slightly dirty, and you could see- “Are you serious?” he scoffed as if it was a joke. It’s not, and you hate being taken like a joke. You weren’t, and that’s all Gojo Satoru did- take everything as a joke, everything was childs play to him. You were looking for a serious relationship, and him? He was looking for sex and quick make out sessions. “Wait- you’re not joking?” he laughs again, but it trails off, you doubt it actually affected him. “Of course I’m not joking. Why would I joke about shit like this?” you spat back. You didn’t care about his feelings right now. You deserved some sort of medal for dealing with him, any sort of compensation really. it seemed to you like the relationship didn’t quite matter for whatever reason. If he wanted to be fuckbuddies he could’ve just said so- But you still can’t wrap your head around why he kept you, he didn’t throw you away, and you falter. You wanted to be his girlfriend in some ways, in others you wanted to punch him in the face with as much cursed energy as possible. Gojo takes his glasses off, slipping them into his jacket’s pocket. It seems like he doesn’t want to talk, but you press on. “I’m fucking tired, Satoru. You treat me like bullshit. I’m not your-” you take a short breather, tears beginning to dawn at the corner of your eyes. “I’m not your fucking doll. And I never, ever WILL BE. I’ve hung onto this stupid fucking relationship long enough and the amount of dedication you poured into this isn’t enough. I deserve better.” Shit. You hated rambling like that. Scratch that, you hated confrontations as a whole, this would be sure to take a toll on you later. Turning your back on him, you allow those tears to finally fall. Tears that had been shut in long enough had finally seen the light of day. You wipe the trails away with the already wet sleeve of your hoodie, a large trembling frown adorned your features. You can’t hide your sniffling even if you tried, and before you know it you can’t even prevent the floodgates from bursting. The tears seeped into the dirt, creating some sort of rhythm as they fell from your cheeks. “Hey-” he places those hands on your shoulder that made your knees go weak, it’s gentle, and he slightly caresses you. It’s strangely intimate for the situation you found yourself in, but you’re still mortified. Why did you enjoy his touch? It feels like you’re in this position for ages, his hands on your shoulder, your back facing him. Somehow, someway, you can taste salty tears and you didn’t remember drinking any, for a split second you feel disgusted, at you, at him, at the world. A small noise leaves your throat. “It’s okay.” he finally spoke, was that a hint of sorrow? Never mind that, he was actually taking this seriously. What a turn of events. He took it better then you certainly thought, especially since this would be a definite blow to his big ego. You turn to face him, maybe as an act of superiority, hell like you knew. Peculiarly, there are tears in his eyes as well. Crocodile tears, probably. He’s most likely trying to guilt trip you- hah, like you’d fall for that. You knew better. “It’s okay.” he repeated again, brushing those tears away with his roughed up thumb, you’re mortified. Why were you allowing him to touch you? A calm silence settles between the two of you, but shortly after you hear the rustling of cloth. Gojo’s taking his jacket off? About to speak, your mouth snaps shut as he placed the impossibly large jacket around your body, small compared to his. Instinctively, you allow it, but your mind is cursing you for not lashing out on him- why did he still care about you, anyways? Gojo takes a step back, and you realize you’re now wearing his jacket. His gaze directed at yours, eyelashes fluttering. Your lips are tingling, and for some unbeknownst reason you wonder how a kiss would feel right now. A part of you still wanted the relationship. “Take care.” And with that, he twirled around with a hint of flair, hands shoved deep into his jeans pockets; wind howling against your ears as he did so. He was finally leaving you, but that wasn’t what you envisioned, you wanted to leave him- not him leave you. You watched him stroll off, heading to where ever he came from. That was how your first, and last relationship ended. ‧₊˚✩彡. The thought of this abandoned relationship nestled at the back of your head, and it had been for several years. It was like it happened yesterday. His glasses still resided on your nightstand, sitting on the same spot that you had hastily dropped it on all those years ago, gathering dust quickly as you couldn’t quite look at it. Gojo’s jacket was at the very back of your closet, and you’d advert your gaze to somewhere else- anywhere else, whenever you saw the wretched pitch-black sleeves that were twice the size of your arms. You had taken a rather looked down upon jujutsu path, one that you knew only one other person had done before you. Nanami Kento was his name, from what you remembered. Sure, you still kept in touch with Shoko, but that was about it. Today was one of those days, Shoko would invite you to some sort of establishment to eat, perhaps make small talk about what had been happening in your life, and that was that. Admittedly, you missed that childish relationship with her so badly- but you could never tell her about that. Japan at night was always a treat though, that was certainly a fact. Perhaps Shoko was thinking about other things when she took you to the Japanese night market, though you didn’t blame her- after all the fireworks festival was today, if you remembered correctly. Stalls filled with games and cheap street-snacks wafted about in the air, sweet tangy sauce, noodles, your stomach grumbled as you thought about taking a bite on the horribly unhealthy junk food. “Here, Y/N. I’ve heard this takoyaki is really good.” You and Shoko had finally found an empty bench to sit at, and for some reason the muddy green color painted onto the wooden bench made your stomach lurch- it was the same shade that you saw nearby when breaking up with Gojo. Shoko gives you this lukewarm yet kind smile, enough for you to give her a small grin to her in return, and you take the still hot container out of her gentle hands. You plop the doughy deliciousness into your salivating mouth, and immediately you’re giddy. Savoring the taste of the thick brown sauce coating your pallet. You had to admit, Shoko, Geto, and... Gojo had amazing taste in food. Your tastebuds had instantaneously dulled as soon as you parted ways with the trio. “Shoko-” you mumble, your mouth still stuffed, you cover your mouth and try to lower the sound of your chewing. “This is really good! How much was it?” Shoko’s eyebrow quirks, and she leans in closer to you, “What was that?” About to repeat yourself, you drink in the scene around you first. Cheerful children roaming the streets; too past their bedtime. Angsty teenagers and the many lanterns strung highly above everyone’s heads, how bright everything was. Then you see it. Someone large, atleast, significantly larger as opposed to the general crowd bustling in the streets. You couldn’t be mistaken, he had the same wild white hair- except it’s gelled up into spikes. He’s wearing a mauve darkish-purple uniform, it seems, a cute shopping bag swinging side by side as he took long strides. One thing you had to note was a blindfold, though. Gojo’s not wearing those classic shades that was practically his signature. You peer over at Shoko, who’s now frantically waving at Gojo, humming, his chin tipped towards the clear canvas of a sky, dotted with many white stars. He seems livelier somehow, an aura of friendliness radiating instead of arrogance, and you drop your takoyaki in suit. He notices you. And then he notices Shoko. “...’Scuse me. Comin through.” he maneuvered himself through the already annoyed crowd, muttering quick polite apologies before finally freeing himself from the tight bundle of people. A large toothy grin is displayed for the world to see on his face, you feel like you’re about to vomit everything you had eaten today. Your eyes scan the bag he’s holding, it contrasted heavily from the dark color scheme of whatever he was clad in; pastel yellow with a cute light green mascot chewing happily on mochi. In bubble letters above it were the words, “It’s a good day for yummy food.” “Shoko!” he exclaims joyously, giving her a quick hug. “Hey, haven’t seen you in a while outside of work.” Then, Gojo glances at you, atleast that’s what you assume he’s doing, the blindfold was really confusing you. He politely smiled, not as big as the one that he gave Shoko, though. “Long time no see, Y/N.” You clear your throat and nod in agreement. “You too.” Polite chatter between the two of them ensued, and you steadily got more bored as the time went on, checking your phone and stealing quick stares at the two of them. You want to comment, to be included, but you doubt anyone really cared for you right now. “...How are you?” you say bluntly, blinded by boredom, and immediately you regret it. Shoko chuckles awkwardly, looking at you with those tired eyes of hers. “Was that for me or Gojo?” Fuck it, if you were gonna go out, you might as well do it now. “Gojo.” “Shit. Putting me in the spotlight like this?” he stands back up from leaning down to talk to Shoko eye-to-eye, now turning to look at you, pausing. “You’re even more straightforward then I remember, and I thought that was impossible.” “Yeah.” you finally say after too many seconds of silence. It seemed like he was hinting at something. “I guess we just grow as people, even though I thought that was basically impossible for you.” you cheekily retort back, crossing your arms over your chest with a smug smirk now proudly playing at your lips. “AND you got sassier? Never quite grew outta the brat phase.” taking a seat between the empty space between the two of you with a huff, his right leg placed above the knee of his left, his thumb plays with the hem of his blindfold, pulling it just a bit so that you could see his snow white eyelashes, alongside with a singular eye. It’s like time stops as soon as you see them, and it’s like Shoko isn’t closely surveying the two of you, obviously perplexed with this sudden increase of the intensity of conversation. You see a split second of something flickering in those eyes of his, you’re not quite sure what it could quite be.. Vulnerability? “Can’t believe my eyes.” pulling his blindfold back down. They’re still as breathtaking as you had imagined them to be. He shrugged, leaning back into the bench casually. For a while, the three of you just watch the stall directly in front of you- it’s a goldfish stall. Gojo had gotten you one when the two of you were still dating. Shit. Why weren’t you over such a silly relationship? It wasn’t like you still had feelings for him, but there was still this emotion you couldn’t shake off. It clung onto you like a leech. “It’s been so long since we’ve relaxed with each other like this.” Shoko mused aloud, turning to look at the two of you. The words are so faint, you’re barely able to hear her subtle voice. At this point, colorful fireworks started bursting into the air- every shade of color could be seen. Vibrant greens, blues, reds, a loud crackling is all the ear can hear, aside from the loud cheering of over joyous children. Both of you are unanswering. Vaguely, you remember the first time you saw the fireworks. Lo and behold, you remember wisps of Gojo’s white hair that you twisted and played with, your legs wrapped around his head. You felt on top of the world. Now, you found yourself at the bottom of it. There’s a grateful, albeit, sad smile on your face. It wasn’t like it was all sunshine and rainbows for you, no. You felt bitter. Hatred, even, that Gojo matured without you. “Yeah. I miss this.” you say through gritted teeth. If you were to be honest, you did miss them. Geto, Shoko, Gojo, running around pelting each other with scrunched up paper. Not just Gojo. But you guess he’s a big factor as well.

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ironhoshi · 3 years

Text

An au of an au? Yes, I think I will.

☆▪︎¤▪︎☆

He bounced on his heels while he held the door open, anxious to get inside. Quin was practically hanging off him while they both watched the group of Mandalorians leave the diner. That wasn't exactly strange, Obi-Wan thought, but it was odd. Normally when he visited Dex, well, those bounty hunters weren't there. Was it because they had snuck out of the Temple for late night pancakes? They usually visited earlier in the day. Quin had convinced him easily enough. Doughy things were his weakness. The texture of the soft discs of dough were like a cloud in his mouth. He liked to imagine about what they might taste like, but he knew he would never come close to the actual flavor in his mind.

Siri swore up and down pancakes tasted like happy memories, but she always said that with a strange twinkle in her eye. Garen merely shrugged when asked and said pancakes weren't his thing.

A most unhelpful couple.

"You think that armor holds a lot of memories?" Quinlan breathed against his ear. Obi-Wan snorted and caught a helmet turn slightly towards them. Oh, kark, had they heard that? He promptly circled his fingers around Quin's wrist to stop him from reaching out. They didn't need to cause a scene. He only breathed easily when the Mandalorians were further down the walkway. He finally dropped his friend's wrist once he was positive the other wasn't going to run after the Mandalorians like a youngling chasing after Master Yoda's floppy ears.

"Come on, let's go see Dex."

And see Dex they did. His back cracked loudly in the usual hug, but he found himself smiling anyway.

Dex and his diner was always a comfort.

"Sit! Both of you. I have some new spices I want to try. Might as well waste them on you boys," Dex said in a half teasing tone. They did as ordered, all grins and excited energy. They hadn't been caught by a Knight yet! This might be an actual successful sneak out for once. Though, Obi-Wan figured Feemor would show up about the time their food arrived. He had a nasty habit of stealing food right off his plate before forcing them back to the Temple.

He'd worry about that when it happened.

Obi-Wan thanked Flo when she set some drinks down in front of them. "The usual, honey. Let me know if you need anything else!"

Quin took a large swig of his drink and then sighed. Obi couldn't help snickering. Finding a soulmate was rare, Quin was chasing after a dream that would never happen. Siri and Garen were an anomaly. He saluted his friend with his own drink before taking a swig.

Blaster fire- warm sunlight- the soil underneath his feet- something comforting- He promptly spit the mouthful of drink out right into his friend's face. Quin yelled horror.

"What the frip, Obes?"

Oh, dear. He could taste and no one else was in the diner besides Dex and Quin… Well, that wasn't good. They were going to have to hunt Mandalorians. He groaned as he dropped his face into his hands.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #jango fett #jangobi #kenfetti #quinlan vos #my dumb soulmate au take two #soulmate au #quinlan x myles #myles the mandalorian #feemor #star wars fan fic #hoshi writes #star wars fan ficition

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stray-kids-react · 4 years

Text

Sitting on their lap

Pt.1💜 -

Soft & Smut reactions

Masterlist

...

Bang Chan

{Soft Reaction}

° Becomes a habit between you two, especially when he is working on a song. You have trouble sleeping without him, so when he is up late working you'll simply bring a blanket and sleepy on his lap.

° Absolutely loves it when you cuddle him on his lap, will sometimes get inspiration of lyrics by you. Has written love songs about you while you were asleep on his lap, he just can't help but appreciate your love.

° The first time you fell asleep on his lap, he couldn't stop giggling and smiling. He wasn't able to look at you because he knew he would wake you up with his fanboying. Was judged by Changbin when he walked in.

° Whenever he is done he'll pick you up and carry you to the shared bedroom, pecking the tip of your nose multiple times. Almost woke you up once when you nuzzled into his shoulder, he just found you so cute.

{Spicy Reaction}

° Knows when you want cuddles or want to be punished, and teases you for hours when you are needy. Like lightly pecking your sweet spot, just waiting for you to either whine or beg him for something more.

° Will never let you take control when you are so needy, would much rather dominate you and be able to tease you to your limit. Acts like nothing is going on, unless you become bratty, then he cages you against the wall.

° If he is working and needs to finish something, he will let you ride him in his office chair. Even though it is impossible to focus on his work while you are riding him, ends up dealing with you instead.

° If the boys are around and you are teasing him, he will pinch your thighs and hiss for you stop secretly grinding on him. You always just smirk and continue your conversations like nothing is wrong.

Lee know

{Soft Reaction}

° Is usually the one to sit on your lap ngl, just because he loves being held and cuddled. Doesn't care who sits on who's lap, just as long as he is getting some kisses and cuddles, especially if he is tired.

° Rubs your tummy and nodes his face into the crook of your neck, even when the boys are around. Sometimes falls asleep in that position, just because you are so warm and he is so tired from practicing all day.

° If any of the members tease him, he always retaliates with comebacks like 'You're just jealous' and 'At least I'm not single and alone.' If you are around he'll kiss you right after a comeback, just to rub it in.

° Loves it when you sprawl across his lap like a cat, always rubbing shapes on your back with a bright smile. Once woke you up laughing when Dori laid across your back.

{Spicy Reaction}

° Won't hesitate to grind up on you, even if that wasn't your intent of the action. Likes teasing you in front of the members or in public, he loves and slightly gets turned on by your doughy shocked eyes and red ears.

° Will hold onto you waist tightly so you won't try and tease him back, because he knows that you will attempt to in revenge. Likes it when you whisper and beg him to stop, because he feels dominant and proud.

° If he is done of teasing you or you become bratty, then he will take you to the bedroom or washroom ( Public or not) and gives you both what you have both been craving. Not caring who hears or walks in on you two.

° Once held you to his lap during game night with the other members, and accidentally got turned on thanks to your shifting. And had to rush to washroom after his turn in Uno, due to an "Issue".

Changbin

{Soft Reaction}

° Loves holding you in your arms and just taking a break from his stressful schedule. You usually listen to random songs on your playlist, as you both spend hours cuddling on the couch in total silence.

° Whenever he is overworking himself, you will plop yourself onto his lap and force him to take a rest. Understands that you are worried about his health when he overworks, but sometimes just needs to finish it.

° Doesn't mind when you sit on his lap in public, since he is constantly teased by the member anyways. Likes resting his head against your back, sometimes pressing soft kisses against your shoulder blades.

° When he feels clingy and wants some attention, he will call for you and pull you onto his lap. Usually talking in his baby voice while hiding his face in the crook of your neck. Making your heart melt every time.

{Spicy Reaction}

° Smirks when he notices a wet spot on your underwear, as you sit on his lap wearing only a shirt of his and a pair of underwear. Gazes up at you with the darkness of lust clouding his eyes, making you silently whine.

° He likes pushing you towards him and softly biting on your neck, especially when you rightly tug on his hair while begging for something more. Always tells you to have some patience, with a cocky grin.

° Gets hella turned on when you squirm every which way to get some sort of friction, which works to your favor since he ends up getting bored of foreplay and just wants to fuck you against the pillows.

° He gets turned on whenever you sit on his lap, but it always depends on whether you want to have sex with him or not. He is good at containing his hormones when you don't feel up to it, and is okay with just cuddling.

Hyunjin

{Soft Reaction}

° Is a giggly mess whenever you plant yourself on his lap, especially if you are around any of the members. Always pulls you back to his lap whenever you try to leave, mostly because he loves your cuddles.

° Pats different beats onto your belly, sometimes asking if you can guess what song he is playing. Fiddles with the ends of your shirt unconsciously, it feels normal to him to fiddle with your clothing and fingers.

° If you wear jeans, he will pull you to his lap by your belt loops, caging you in his arms once you crash into him. Soon looking at you with a sly grin and playful glint in his eyes, making a pink tint rush to your cheeks.

° When you are drinking something, he will grab it from your hands and take a small sip. Occasionally cringing at the taste and asking why you drink that.

° Knows what you are up to almost immediately, and isn't afraid to tease you in front of everyone. And no one realizes your intentions, since you two are very clingy.

° Likes to press you harshly against his bulge, loving the way you squirm and turn beet red. Will secretly spread your ass apart, so he can push even deeper inside you. You hiss for him to stop, but he only ever smirks.

° Whenever he makes love to you, he loves the position where you ride him as he sits up. Just so he can feel closer to you and quiet down your moans if you two aren't home alone.

° Gets hella turned on when you put your head back in pleasure, and never misses an opportunity to kiss and mark your neck. You absolutely love his kisses since his lips are so warm and soft, making your brain go fuzzy.

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passivenovember · 4 years

Text

You Look Stupid When You’re Sad.

Steve Harrington smelled of sour patch kids and unbaked cookie dough.

Billy didn't think it was a bad smell, exactly, just weird; intense, heady, and stuck to the walls of his brain. Doughy when the sunlight couldn't dry the track marks of Steve's sweat before nap time, heady when it got into Billy's system and stuck with him like the thrum of his heartbeat.

Wherever Billy went Steve Harrington was there. Like a shadow. A noisy, scrawny, wire-frame glasses wearing shadow that elbowed its way into the chair across from Billy's during lunch and followed him around at recess; three feet behind and always pretending to spot interesting shapes in the clouds when he thought Billy wasn't looking, but.

Billy was always looking.

It was so weird.

Steve was so weird. The way he made bright, happy noises when he was paired with Billy for station time, how he always drug his mat over from the other side of the room to sleep next to Billy when it was time to zonk out after second recess despite knowing that the spot was saved for Barbara, Billy's actual best friend.

She got nightmares and Billy liked to be there to hold her hand while she dreamed but every afternoon, without fail, Steve came wondering over with his lip stuck out in a question.

It was confusing.

Steve was so confusing. The way he hugged his mat to his chest, chin quivering with a little, "Okay. Sorry, Bills." Every time Billy slapped his hand on the carpet and growled that the spot was taken. Occupation, not reserved for pasty-kneed dorks with wire frame glasses, and.

Billy didn't want to make the kid cry, or anything, but he always managed to do just that. Paint himself as a bad guy.

Billy rubbed his forehead as Barb settled in on his left hand side one afternoon after such an altercation, smiling so big her lips disappeared behind the plastic frames of her glasses.

"What's wrong, Stevie?" She asked, and.

Billy tried not to be jealous.

Steve hiccupped, cheeks growing redder by the second. "I wanna nap with you guys but Billy won't let me."

"Hey, that's not--"

"You can sleep with us if you want to. Billy has a really big blanket, maybe he can share with both of us." Barbara looked at him expectantly, like. "Right Billy?"

And it was dumb.

It was so dumb, that they were staring at him with hopeful eyes and Steve's chin was still quivering and Billy didn't want to be the bad guy; he wasn't Mesogog and he didn't want to hurt the kid's feelings, but.

Steve Harrington got under his skin. With his soft hair and big brown eyes, always following Billy around and begging for the space to be made. Billy got clumsy and nervous when Bambi was nearby, and.

The idea of sharing space. Sleeping next to Steve with his chirpy little noises and warm soft hands, it.

Made Billy feel like he was breaking out in itchy red bumps.

No.

He would stick to his guns; the blanket just wasn't big enough for three people. But then, Billy's grumpy brain supplied, Steve could steal Barbara and keep her as his own best friend if Billy didn't let him stay, so. It was time to cut his losses.

"God, you look stupid when you're sad." Billy muttered.

Steve started crying again.

Billy really wished he'd stop that.

"I'm sorry, Billy. I know I'm dumb but I don't mean to be." Steve whimpered. He tucked his mat under his arm and made to get up.

And leave.

As if Billy would let Steve make him look bad in front of everyone, especially Barbara.

"Lay down, dork." Billy grumbled, tugging the blanket up around his shoulders and peeling it back for Steve reluctantly.

Harrington's smile was so bright it could've melted crayons when he settled in close, chirping happily as Billy pulled the blanket around them and tucked in on impulse. The room went dark, Mr. Talamantez reminding them to count butterflies if sleep wouldn't come.

It didn't.

Steve smelled too much like cream and sugar for Billy to get any rest at all.

"Whatcha making, Billy?" Steve asked, pink tongue poking out in concentration as he peered over Billy's arm at his art project.

A stack of pink and red construction paper was Billy's favorite thing in the world because it meant endless possibilities. Pink was soft and sweet, red was passionate and cool. Like hot wheels and firetrucks and hearts full of warm oven mitts, so.

He pulled the leaflets from his backpack during circle time and got busy, carefully folding the delicate paper hamburger style and then tracing swirly, dramatic lines for each heart on the page.

Valentines was Billy's most favorite day of the year.

Even more than Christmas, even more than his birthday, and only a little bit more than Halloween because on Valentines? The whole universe was covered in flowers and little tin wrapped chocolates and love hearts were the best thing for a kid to make with scissors.

Billy ignored Steve's tongue, turning his shoulders to the room. "I'm making love hearts."

"For who?"

"None of your beeswax."

"Okay," Steve said happily, grabbing a handful of markers and re-situating himself much closer than Billy would've liked. Steve's Nike's tapped the itsy-bitsy-spider on the rug as he declared, "I'm drawing batman on a surfboard!"

And Billy tossed aside his first ruined Valentine. "Oh cool, I don't remember asking."

"That's okay," Steve giggled. "Sometimes I get motor mouth. My Daddy says it's 'cause I'm a fruit."

"My daddy called me that sometimes before he got sick." Billy turned to glare at him. "That's not a good thing."

"It is to me!" Steve giggled again. He was always doing that. "I like Kiwis. My mommy packed some for lunch and I had them for breakfast. They're yummy in geek yogurt. They make me smile because they have beards!"

Steve cackled like kiwi's having beards was the funniest thing on earth and Billy wondered what there was to be so happy about.

He tried not to smile at Steve's dumb face. "I think you mean Greek yogurt."

"Yeah, probably. If I'm like a kiwi, that's alright, I think." Steve's tongue poked out again. "Surfboards make me think of you." He declared, and.

Steve smelled like toasted chocolate on s'mores, his hands somehow kicking up more of his sugary sweet odor each time he reached for a new piece of paper. Billy didn't know how he was supposed to get anything done when his circle buddy smelled like a chocolate birthday cake.

It was kinda gross.

Billy pulled out a sliver marker and traced Stinky Butt Max on one of the smaller Valentines, remembering to fold down the corners so the sensitive skin on her palms wouldn't get hurt when she inevitably started smacking him it.

The pink Valentine looked more like a chewed up Starburst gummy this way, but. Max wouldn't know the difference.

Steve peered over his shoulder again, cooing softly. Like a baby dove. "That ones pretty, Bills! Is Max your Valentine?"

"Ew," Billy wrinkled his nose like he sometimes did when Max needed a diaper change. "She's my baby sister, don't be an Ick Monster."

"What's an Ick Monster?"

"Somebody who makes weird jokes and says weird things, so." Billy shrugged, scrawling his mothers name on a second love heart. He poked Steve's tummy with his marker. "That's you, I think."

Steve giggled before slapping Billy's hand away, and. Watching him work.

After a while Steve inched closer. "So you don't have a Valentine?" He wondered, and.

Billy didn't understand the question. "Mr. Talamantez said we're all each other's Valentines so nobody feels sad."

"Yeah, but. Everybody has someone they want to smooch on Valentines." Steve started playing with his hair, fingers twisting waves in a sea of brown, like they sometimes did when he was nervous. "Someone they like best-best. Better than all the other kids."

Now it was Billy's turn to giggle. "That's icky."

"Smooching?" Steve's eyes sparkled. "It's fun sometimes."

"Like you've ever kissed anyone."

Steve looked offended. "Have too."

"Have not."

"Have too," Steve pouted, crossing his arms.

Billy began work on a third Valentine. "Who did you kiss?"

"Nancy Wheeler."

Billy snorted, not sure if he wanted to imagine Steve kissing Nancy Wheeler, or. Kissing at all.

Steve's chin started quivering. "You don't believe me?"

"No." Billy said lightly, capping the marker with a sniff.

Kissing was not fun. It was wet and violent and looked like it maybe hurt a little bit, the way he'd seen his mom and Susan kiss when he got up to go potty at night. Billy regarded Steve through easy, narrowed eyes; Steve wasn't the kind of boy who kissed like that.

"How come you're so weird?" Billy wondered.

"I like being weird." Steve said, reaching for a green marker to color in his surfboard. Steve nodded at the small pile of Valentine's strewn on the carpet between them. "You should put the love hearts on foam when you're done."

"I was already gonna do that, genius."

Billy wasn't already going to do that, but he'd eat a centipede before he let Harrington know he came up with a good idea.

"They could be superhero colors!" Steve hollered suddenly. He was so loud all the time. "That way your mommy and sissy can know that you love them because they're cool. Like Aqua-man."

Billy frowned, watching Steve fold his Batman drawing over and over again until it all but disappeared from sight. He leaned back against the wall with an eye roll, shocked out how much Harrington lacked any concept of taste, or.

Shame.

"Aqua-man isn't cool," Billy said. Because Aqua-man wasn't, he was like. The lamest of them all. "His only power is making the bad guys drown, at least the other heroes can punch really hard."

"Punching isn't always the best, though." Steve tucked Batman into the front pocket of his shirt, leaning into Billy's space. "Sometimes punching just makes the bad guys stronger. Like Wilson Fisk."

Billy frowned. "Punching works for Spiderman."

Steve considered this fact, pink tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth again. He thought really hard for a long time, as if Steve didn't have Spiderman socks on everyday at recess when he removed his Nike's to fill them with rocks.

Such a weird guy.

Finally, Steve smiled. "I like water, though. Your eyes are like water. From the fountain in the hallway, and like the lake at camp." Steve pushed his way into Billy's space, frowning with his head cocked to the side like there was more thinking to cross of the list. "You're very pretty, Billy. Like a cloud."

And.

Billy didn't have the words to articulate the way Steve's smell went a little crazy after that, like a bag of powdered sugar had caught fire from a signal light once he realized what he'd said. Billy waited for Steve to take it back, because.

Boys calling other boys pretty wasn't allowed in Mr. Talamantez' classroom, or. Anywhere else.

Steve didn't take it back.

"You wouldn't like Aqua-Man's water, 'cause you'd drown." Billy said, getting back to work on his Valentines if only for a distraction from the way Steve was watching him. "He doesn't control his power very well and sometimes the mean guys get hurt real bad."

Steve kept right on talking. "I wouldn't be a mean guy though," He reasoned, sliding impossibly closer on the alphabet rug. "I'd help him fight crimes. Like Captain Underpants!"

And.

Billy had nothing to say to that, sucked in and drowning by the way Steve's eyes were glittering.

"You're a weird guy, you know?" Billy breathed.

Steve's giggle went right to Billy's tummy, teaching it to do backflips, somehow.

"That's okay." Steve said, reaching back for a fresh piece of paper. "You'll remember me better and maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine."

Steve's hair fell across his eyes, head bopping along to whatever song he was singing to himself today. His lips glittered like a frosted donut. Like he'd been eating a strawberry ice cream cone instead of confusing all the boys around him.

Maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine.

Huh.

Billy started work on a new love heart and pretended not to notice.

On Tuesday morning Billy woke to the smell of pancakes and fresh squeezed orange juice.

Maxine was already up.

Her long red hair was piled on top of her head in two Princess Leia buns. Susan had put in little heart clips and the pink dress Billy's mommy had made special was already covered in mashed banana and something that looked like magic marker.

She was all ready for Valentines day.

Billy didn't understand why they bothered trying to make her look dainty when Max was more interested in destroying Billy's favorite toys and starting fires.

She sat on the floor of the room they shared together, sucking her thumb and playing with Billy's favorite race car. Her wet, chubby fingers made the blue Camaro shine brightly with spit and Billy felt like his face was burning up.

"Hey," He said, rubbing at his eyes. "Hey, you're getting spit all over my--"

"Race car!"

Max held it out to him triumphantly. Billy frowned, moving to grab it from her chubby little fist. "I know that's my race--"

"It's a blue car," Max said thoughtfully. She looked at him, like, "Blue cars are my favorite."

"It's my favorite too--"

"Can we share?" Max wondered, putting the little wheels on Billy's knee and letting the car zoom back and forth. He imagined that Evel Knievel was in the drivers seat wondering why his car wasn't first in the race.

She looked happy, like always, to be playing with Billy's toys.

He sighed. "Yeah, I guess we can share. It's Valentine's Day."

Max seemed to enjoy that. "I like today!"

"You do?"

"Yup," She said happily, little chubby fingers tangling in Billy's hair because he hadn't brushed it yet. "Candy and sour gummy worms and kisses from cute boys!"

Billy glared. "You're kissing cute boys?"

"Uh-huh!" Max hollered. "Lucas gave me a dandelion."

Billy thought long and hard.

About Valentines Day and all the things that came with it. The pink shirt that hung pressed in his closet, fresh cupcakes with plastic rings, a bag of Scooby-doo Valentines Susan had picked up at the market for all his classmates, homemade love hearts at the bottom of his backpack. Three with red foam, one with a delicate lace doily, and.

Kisses.

Max was getting flowers and kisses from a boy.

From someone special.

Billy took the race car from Max's hand and drove it around, thinking about boys with brown eyes and soft hands.

Maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine.

"Wanna eat some breakfast, Max?"

"I had 'nanas." She said with a smirk.

Billy hummed, standing to get dressed. "Mama probably made chocolate chip pancakes, you don't wanna eat something special?"

Max's little red eyebrows pinched together. "I can have yours?"

And.

Billy didn't know what was so necessary to her about taking everything that was his. Playing with his toys, sleeping in his pj's, eating his breakfast, it was like Max didn't know how take something and make it her own.

Billy pulled the pink shirt over his head, feeling every bit like a turtle when Max did the same with the collar of her dress.

"You can have my pancakes." Billy concluded, puffing out his chest. "If you'll be my Valentine."

"You don't have a boy to kiss?"

"I might," Billy picked the race car off the ground with a smile. "This is practice for when I see him at school. So, will you be my Valentine?"

She thought about it.

Long and hard, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, before nodding with her entire body. "I think he will."

Billy sighed. "Really?"

"If you give him sour gummy worms and smooch his forehead he will," Max said.

And.

Maybe things would turn out okay. Billy nodded, grabbing the race car and driving it across Max's forehead, careful that the little plastic wheels didn't get stuck in her hair.

From the stucco ceiling of the classroom beautiful strands of silver and gold hearts painted a mirage of stars.

All the desks had a rose and a cardboard mailbox intended for the delivery of Valentines and at the center of the room a table filled with cupcakes and strawberry Capri-sun packets. Preparation for the party this afternoon, and.

Mr. Talamantez had turned their space into a glittering, perfect fairytale.

Billy hugged his basket of Valentines close to his chest and tried not to search for Steve before dropping his backpack at the cubby station.

He was right in the middle of tugging his special sweater down over his head when Barbara scooted in next to him, pretty in a little pink jumpsuit.

She handed him a tiny, delicate giftbag full of chocolate hearts and dinosaur erasers, smiling from ear to ear as Billy hugged her nice and tight before handing off something he had made special. A tiny paper crane his mommy helped him fold, and a bunch of rainbow goldfish sat nestled in a basket of paper Mache.

They were her favorite snack in the whole world and Barbara was Billy's favorite person, so it seemed fitting.

She hugged him and Billy smiled, peering around the room for a head of wavy brown hair. "We could share our presents with Steve," He muttered, like. It wasn't a big deal or anything. Billy tugged on the sleeves of his red sweater and tried to stay cool. "Where is he?"

Barbara pointed to the book shelves.

Steve was sat under a string of twinkly lights, shoulders tucked against the pillows Mr. Talamantez set aside for circle time. His face was buried in the crook of his elbow, and.

He was crying.

Of course he was crying.

Billy felt the Valentine in his pocket grow heavy.

Barbara said, "Steve broke his glasses, maybe you could make him smile?"

And.

Billy wanted to do that. Longed to make Steve giggle and chirp with happiness like the annoying little Meadowlark he seemed be. It would be so easy to. Walk over there, tap Steve's shoulder, and say the words.

Pose the question.

Will you be my Valentine?

Steve was making huffy, nervous little noises when Billy came to a stop beside him.

"Hey Harrington, playing with all your friends?" Billy sneered, confident that Steve would giggle like he was did, but.

When he finally turned around his face was red and puffy. As if he'd been crying all morning and all night, too.

"What do you want, Billy?" Steve whispered.

He sounded sleepy. Spread thin, like the last spoonful of jam on burned toast.

"What's wrong?" Billy asked carefully. "What happened?"

Steve sat and rubbed at his eyes, chin wobbling as more tears spilled over. "My daddy broke my glasses." He whispered.

And Billy hated it.

He always hated when Steve cried but today. Right now, he.

Felt like he had to do something about it.

Billy took the love heart from his pocket and sat down next to Steve, cuddling back into the pillows until their shoulders were touching. It took all of five seconds for Steve to settle in next to him. Roll his head back against the wall until he was looking at Billy with a question in his eyes.

Steve looked at Billy's shoulder and back up at his face, like.

"Can I--"

"Come here, stupid." Billy grumbled, Pulling Steve in until they were cuddling on the pillows.

Steve chirped. It wasn't his usual sound, light and airy, it was.

Thick.

And heavy.

Like a blanket sopped with rain water. Steve buried his face in Billy's neck. "I don't have any Valentines to give this year."

"That's okay."

"I made something special for you," Steve whispered, pulling back to study Billy's face. "I know Mr. Talamantez said we weren't supposed to, but--"

"Will you be my Valentine?" Billy's stupid mouth said.

Steve blinked at him, and.

Billy wanted to hide in the bathroom for thousand years.

Steve pulled away to sit crisscross-applesauce. Facing Billy, like this was something important. "Huh?"

Billy mirrored him, tucking his hands away so they wouldn't shake when he held out the love heart.

It was pink. Big and bright and outlined with a white doily that Susan helped him glue around the edges. Billy had dug through Max's box of stickers for the one with Winne the Pooh, the one he'd been saving for someone special. Winnie was covered in tiny valentines, eating right out of a jar of honey with a butterfly sitting on his nose, and.

Billy had thought it was perfect.

He worked for hours on the font. The saying that made his mommy laugh when he read it to her; you're bear-y sweet. Be my Valentine.

Steve took the love heart in his hands, and.

Didn't say anything.

Billy frowned. "I just. Remember you asked me to be your Valentine, or. For you to be mine. And--" His hands were shaking again. "It's stupid. God, this is--"

Steve leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

It was gentle. Like the brush of butterfly wings, barely there and then gone before Billy had a chance to really register the movement, or. Think about what it could mean.

Steve wasn't crying anymore when he said, "I'll be your Valentine."

Billy's brain took a minute to catch up. "Huh?"

"I'll be your Valentine, Billy." Steve giggled, staring down at the love heart once more. "This is so cute. I loved Winnie the Pooh when I was a baby. My mom always put me in footie pajamas that had Eeyore on them. And tinker bell too, sometimes. You could've put the Red power ranger on there instead. He's my favorite--"

Billy sat back against the pillows.

He was learning that Steve Harrington was weird.

Like a puzzle with one piece missing, or. An empty tube of bubble mix. Steve was colorful and loud and all over the place with opinions. He shined bright and loved hard, and.

Sometimes it was best to sit back and listen.

Happy Valentines Day!!

I really just sat down and wrote this. Wow. Anyway--thank you for reading and supporting my work. Your comments and endless kindness keep me going when I don't always feel like trucking on, and I wanted to do something to remind you that if this was an elementary school classroom I would give you so many lollipops.

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #valentines day #first kiss #kidfic #soft billy hargrove #I know I'm late #but I love ya #and I will everyday #so really #everyday is valentines #not to be a fucking sap #but it;s true

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