#for realizing that i have a different voice and talk differently bc i probably have a condition

[webvampzz]

mfw i realize how shitty and bad i sound and that i should probably shut up and never talk again because i talked in the wrong tone and everyone thinks im an asshole but i forgot to analyze how my voice sounds because i have a specific voice for everyone so that they dont say i sound mean and like a military guard ans

[satorena]

#INTRO2MUNCH101

summ. when suguru “eat it off the bone” geto actually turns out to be suguru “flaps the left lip until she calls it a night” geto, he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew about his skills. . . talk about a rude awakening.

cw. explicit content. foul language. fem!reader. college!au. eventual smut (but not in the way you think. . .) mild modern lingo. allusions to music artists. cunningulūs. male masturbation. reader has a belly piercing. she’s also depicted mean by the boys. gojo cameos bc i can’t not mention him. tattoo artist!geto. substance consumption. lowkeyyy self-indulgent reader. 10k wc.

rena's note. this is a spin-off to p power, so i’d suggest reading that first to understand the correlation!

suguru geto is a simple man.

your pleasure is his pleasure. he’s always prided himself on being a pro at the art of cunningulus. honest— he’s always left with swollen lips, a heavily sprayed face and a solid five star ratings at the end of his work. his jaw feels tired out, scalp burning from consistent hair tugs, and his breathing uneven from lack of oxygen. but at the feel of plush thighs squeezing his face and the repetition of his name flowing into the air before getting squirted on, he remembers it’s always worth it.

no pain no gain, right?

wrong.

because here he finds himself, a hefty hour in since he first dove in between your soft legs, and there’s been absolutely no development. sprawled on your back on his sheets, arm slung over your eyes, and your breathing even. you look fucking bored, and his heart is sinking to his ass.

geto will use every trick he has in the book. he’s noticed overtime that girls have different bodies, therefore he needs different tactics to stimulate those bodies. he nips at your puffy bud, sucking on your clit for external pleasure. no use. fine, then he’ll push your thighs up some more for a deeper penetration of his fingers in your cunt— still no use. the only sounds being produced are his mouth slipping against his own saliva at your pussy because he can’t even get you wet enough.

the pit in his stomach grows larger. he wonders if maybe you’re just the silent type? he’s come across those before.

he’s getting nervous out of his mind, so shaky and uncoordinated that his hand slips and meets your lips for the umpteenth time— and only then do you release a guttural groan, the very first sound you’ve made in a long ass time. wait—

“did. . . did you cum?” he pants, pulling his sticky lips away from yours. his face feels moist, blood rushing all in his head and he’s lightheaded. but still, he has to know.

you push yourself up to your elbows, annoyance clear as day. he’s yet to seen this look on a girl after pulling every card known on the table, “yeah. . . to the wrong fucking house.”

oh fuck.

☆ ☆ ☆

he first spotted you chatting it up with your friends on the school’s soccer field, on a random tuesday afternoon, and he’s been hooked on you ever since.

the universe played a funny game, and he realized university truly is a small ass world. amongst your friends, he noticed a familiar face. one he’s been hearing and seeing of one too many times lately, on multiple separate and traumatic occasions— gojo’s girlfriend. suguru found himself bonding with her due to their familiar point of interest— that being gojo— and believes he can now make of her a friend.

geto watches his best friend’s eyes shimmer and he flashes his infamous million dollar smile. he really is obsessed with his girlfriend and she doesn’t even know— and geto finds himself wishing he had somebody he’d be this ecstatic over. must be nice.

“i’m gonna go say hi to my girl real quick,” gojo taps at his shoulder, and geto nods. he’s cool on it, he’ll wait back here until he’s done, or can make his way to his next class depending on whatever gojo and his girlfriend arrange. “you comin’?”

“i’m probably gonna head to our next lecture.” geto voices out, pulling his phone from his pocket to check the time. he feels gojo peeking over his shoulder, in which he assumes to verify if that would be necessary.

over forty-five minutes. damn it.

“that’s mad pointless, class doesn’t start till more than half an hour,” gojo says, and geto doesn’t see himself waiting around that long for a lecture. no way, “just come— her friends are chill.”

fuck it, he goes. naturally, gojo is all over his girl and her friends expect it. geto does give them a little wave when gojo introduces him. one of the girls mention having heard of him through a friend— something about a failed talking stage. mad federal, and the sheepish chuckle geto offers when you give him an unreadable look makes him want to crawl into a ditch.

so now you think he’s a whore. awesome.

and gojo’s smirk definitely doesn’t help him out. he doesn’t help out at all actually, so enamoured by his girlfriend that he leaves geto to fend for himself against a pack of wolves (read: nosy girls). he replies only when spoken to, nods when necessary and throws in a few “that’s crazy,” to which the girls fail to pick up he’s out of words to say.

well, everyone except you.

you’re quiet. in fact, the whole time, you haven’t said shit to him. you sit back and observe, occasionally typing on your macbook, or reapplying your lip combo. you didn’t have any words to say to him. even when your friends would talk to you, you gave them short answers and went back to listening to whatever was playing in your airpods. he could tell from that small interaction alone, you were the mean one out of your clique.

and fuck if that didn’t make him want you more. there was just something about mean women that made him want to break through their fake ass exteriors and watch them turn all soft and chummy for him.

blame it on his corruption kink.

gojo confirms his thoughts when they’re finally on their way to class. he kissed his girl goodbye and waved off her friends, to which they all (minus you) collectively cooed, “byeee gojooo!” which he found odd, but kept silent. he gave them a small nod before following his best friend.

they’re a few steps in the science building when the words slip before he can help it, ultimately cutting gojo’s rambling off, “yo, who was that girl?”

gojo glances at him before chuckling, “there was like seven of ‘em. which one?”

“the quiet one.”

it throws him off guard when gojo laughs hard. like, really hard. it attracts the attention of bystanders, who give him a crazy look but gojo ignores. as if they’d try to press him about his volume— the two were pretty adored around campus.

geto does find his reaction quite interesting, to which he cocks a brow and offers a chuckle of his own, “what?”

“oh, you definitely mean y/n,” when his laughter dies down, he finally answers. he lifts his shades to his hairline to swipe a tear. “she’s mean as fuck, bro.”

“right?!” geto laughs, tapping at gojo’s shoulder. it only charges gojo’s laughing fit back up, “i could tell from her vibe. she gives off those ‘men ain’t shit’ girlies on twitter. whole time, she’s probably laid up in bed with one.”

“you don’t even knowww,” gojo holds his shoulder and shakes him a bit. geto does in fact know, because he’s dealt with girls like her before. they’re always a good ass time. “she does men dirty. like, absolutely dogs them. heard one phone call too many.”

oh? even better than he expected. she’s probably the type that used to love hard before getting her heart trampled on and decided to seek revenge on all men. like, on some jennifer’s body shit. geto can’t help but smirk, “lemme see for myself. put me on.”

gojo falters in his step. his grip on geto’s shoulders loosen and his expression changes— not by much, but the once lighthearted smile switches to a skeptical one, “you serious?”

geto lets out a soft sigh, shrugging gojo’s hands off his shoulders. “don’t start asking too much. i did a favour for you and your girl, didn’t i?,” well, technically speaking it wasn’t like his comment had been the deciding factor for the two, but it did open gojo’s eyes. “you owe me one.”

“i don’t owe you shit,” gojo laughs, throwing his arm around geto anyways, “buuut you’re my boy and i’m not stingy. i’ll see what i can do, i know you’ve been getting a lil jealous of wifey and i.”

“shut the fuck up.” geto’s chuckles contradict his statement.

from that point on, it’s smooth sailing. gojo texts his girl asking if she’s seeing anybody. they have a little back and forth because his girlfriend assumes he’s asking for himself— which gojo gets all dramatic and throws geto under the bus for free. welp! it all worked out anyway since after he and gojo parted, you’d thought he was fine shyt. judging from your character, he doesn’t exactly take gojo’s words for what they are.

but he’ll take the opening, it’s as good as any.

time to plot.

☆ ☆ ☆

the second encounter was purely coincidental. and simultaneously embarrassing.

see, geto prides himself on his mysterious act— granted he was anything but. people see all that is gojo and automatically assume that geto has to be the cool one. it creates a perfect balance, no?

haven’t people heard of birds of a feather flock together?

so yes, he’s also a nerd. he typically enjoys spending his wednesday afternoons at dice board cafes because why not. it’s a chill, lowkey joint right off campus and not a lot of people gravitate towards, therefore the perfect spot to camp out before his evening lecture.

besides, his buddy choso works there and it gets him discounts. it isn’t the only reason he shows up, but it does help a lot on his pockets. being a student is awful, financially.

geto sips on his choco latte through a straw, browsing through the board games pamphlet as he decides what he’s going to play today. most of these games are pretty pointless if he doesn’t have an opponent, but he likes to think it helps develop his iq. he hears avenoir playing through the cafe and knows choso’s on aux.

who else could be playing this toxic ass shit?

he’s torn choosing between snakes and ladders or chess when he hears chimes at the front door, signalling somebody’s entered the establishment. he doesn’t think much of it, going on about minding his business when he hears choso say your name.

the latte enters the wrong tube and he chokes.

geto collects himself quickly, wiping any stray liquid past his mouth as his head snaps up. you’re propped up against the counter, and though he can’t see your face, he definitely recognizes your build. . . okay, yeah that sounds fucking pervy but if he stalked your page a few times, who’s business is it but his own? it’s not like you’d know. granted, he had got caught up liking one of your older photos but he took the like right back!

he debates on walking up to you. how would that even work without seeming desperate? you’ve been checking out all of his boxes so far— your face, body and attitude (question mark) are all tens. he does want to get to know you— at least be somebody in your life. but damn, why is he overthinking this? all he has to get up there and sweet talk you. he’s done this shit before.

“yo, suguru!”

shit.

purple orbs shift towards where his name was called, and lo and behold, there stands choso. and naturally, you look back to who was summoned, but god— social media does not do your face justice. he last seen you about a week ago, and had nothing but your instagram and his memory to rely on.

he makes his way to the counter and ignores you. doesn’t spare you a glance once— though he stands right at your side and watches you watching him through his peripheral. he nods at choso, “what’s up?”

choso, ever the genius, flicks his eyes between geto and you, before clearing his throat, “shoko just texted— somethin’ about a new client. how’s the studio looking?”

“booked all week,” geto answers truthfully, and he notices you’ve shifted your gaze, “little to no openings. why though?”

choso hums, jolting down online orders into a little notebook, “not even for a special friend?”

geto squints his eyes at that. there isn’t anybody he’d call a special friend that hasn’t already been booked or wouldn’t have his number to squeeze in an appointment. granted, he is a dnd warrior but even his friends know of that quirk of his, “depends. who’s the special friend?”

“me.” and he feels his heart skip a beat. fuck. he tilts his head over to the side, and good lord, your face card gave every girl on campus runs for their money. seriously, your facial features complimented you in a way that told aphrodite— the textbook definition of beauty— to go fuck herself, and hard.

“oh?” geto cocks a brow, and lets his eyes roam up and down your frame. shameless, yes, but he has a reputation to uphold. your rest in face makes his own look like child’s play, “didn’t realize we were on special friends basis.”

you click your tongue, “didn’t realize we were on lurking spam accounts but pretend we don’t exist the next day basis either,” you quip right back, picking at the white bow glued to your acrylics.

sassy. geto chuckles, now fully turning his body around to face you. you match his movements, and he toys with a ring on his middle finger, “guess you got me all figured out,” he pauses, shifting his gaze to choso, who’s already eyeing him. “sounds like you wanted me to reach out.”

“boy please,” you scoff, pausing your nail inspection. you let your hand hang, “you choked earlier because you heard my name. that corny nonchalant act isn’t the flex you’re thinking it is,” a huff escapes your lips, and geto feels blood rushing to his face. “your lurking ass was months deep into my page just a week ago— did you find any men ain’t shit vibes from the photo dump?”

choso stifles a laugh, and when geto looks at him, it dies into a cough. well damn, you really didn’t hold anything back. read him like a book actually— and it doesn’t help that gojo can’t keep his mouth shut for shit. it widens the grin on his face. he thinks he likes you.

“well,” geto smirks, “can’t say i have— means there’s still an opening.”

you furrow your brows, “oh? an opening to what exactly?”

“an appointment, of course,” he shrugs, running a hand through his hair. his locks are getting in his face, but the messy look always gets him compliments. might as well shoot his shot, “you know. . .” leaning his chin into the palm of his hand, “for a special friend.”

his double entendre definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by you. he watches how, despite the mean mugging, there’s a glint of mischief in your eyes. you’re squinting just slightly, almost as if you were weighing out the pros and cons. geto won’t break the eye contact first— he’s on a mission. he hopes the tired eyes look will be on his side this time.

tattoo or dick appointment— he would one hundred percent make an opening for you. anything to get his hands on your body.

“are we still talking about the tattoo parlour or . . .”

both you and he turn to choso, who’s watching the situation unfold. just count on him to ruin the mood, whether the obliviousness was feigned or not. choso tightens his brows at the look geto shoots him, “what?”

“i’m gonna head out,” you grab at your handbag, hopping of the seat. nicely played choso. you gather your items and slip them in your purse, sliding a few bucks across the counter. choso grabs the bills and stick them in the tip jar, nodding at her. “catch you in poly sci?”

“if you don’t skip again.” choso snorts and you flip him off, slinging your bag over your shoulder. you turn on your heel and make your way towards the exit, ultimately dismissing geto. that doesn’t feel too nice, he should probably stop that bad habit.

he rises to his feet before he can help it. his hand grabs at your wrist and notices how much smaller it seems in comparaison to his, and he hates the next words that leave his mouth, “what about me?”

you glance down at his hold on you, before looking back up at him, “what about you?” your face says everything your lips haven’t— you’re getting the ick.

he wants to wince. okay, yeah that was corny, “when do i get to see you?”

you drag out a mini hum, your gaze dancing over his silver chain around his collarbone, “dunno. you have my socials so i assume in the next hour.”

he tilts his head to the side, and the pad of his thumb grazes over your smooth skin. he doesn’t fail to notice the way your hand stiffens under his touch, “so if i slide in your dms in the next hour, i can expect an answer?”

a snort leaves your chest, and he can’t tell if it’s a condescending one or an amused one. what he does know, however, is that he’s going to be seeing you sometime soon. you take your hand back into your possession before laying it in the dead centre of his chest, pushing him back just slightly, “i’ll see you around, geto.”

his eyes trail over your figure, every step you take out of the establishment, slightly starstruck by the entirety of you— your boldness. the thrill he was beginning to feel felt like a high. he hasn’t met anybody this entertaining in a while.

“you’re so fucking corny.” he thinks he hears choso insult him from behind. he doesn’t pay him any mind, despite the middle finger that tips towards the ceiling. partynextdoor blasts in the cafe, specifically freak in you, and he hates how he finds himself relating to the lyrics,

room full of beautiful women but he only wants one.

☆ ☆ ☆

“you stalking me, pretty?”

“sure,” you nod your head, raking through the items on the clothing rack. you don’t spare him a single glance, picking a top off the rack and inspecting it, “if stalking means visiting the busiest thrift store on the busiest hour in the busiest city.”

geto lets out a small laugh, shoving his hands in the pockets of his cargos. you make him feel like a nuisance, like he’s a pest wasting your time. ironic, seeing as he wasn’t that much of a bother just last night, when you’d been indulging him in your inbox, “of course you’re the thrifting type.”

you pause your actions, price tag in your fingers as you side eye him through locks of your hair, “and you’re not?”

“didn’t mean it in a bad way, sweetheart.” geto shrugs, pulling off a cropped baby tee and bringing towards you. it has sequins sewn in the material, the gems writing out juicy couture. “this would suit you— belly piercing and whatnot.”

the top is cute, there was no denying so. a pretty shade of pink that suited your complexion, but letting his ego inflate bigger than it already was out of the question. he could tell your thought process from the judgmental look you offered, “oh god—you’re one of those fake ass, streetwearing fashionistas, aren’t you?”

geto blinks a few times, before letting out a sincere laugh. he’s been called a multitude of things before, but that one was new, “you got all that from me suggesting you buy this juicy couture tee? don’t all girls fiend over this vintage shit?”

“it’s that corny ass personality of yours,” you grab the shirt, throwing it in your cart. he wants to make a comment on that, but you beat him to the chase, “the phoney nonchalant act, the streetwear, your insta aesthetic— you’re so scripted.”

“my insta aesthetic?” he repeats, and doesn’t miss a step to catch up to you. your hands are back on the handle of your shopping cart, and if the way his elbows bump into your shoulders bothers you, you don’t make point in commenting on it. “who’s the lurker now, hm?”

you roll your eyes, pushing the strolley ahead, “don’t let it get to your big ass head. your feed screams you’re those toxic ass brent faiyaz wannabes,” he watches your fingertips rake through more clothings that pass your way, before you shoot him a glance, “let me guess— he showed on your spotify wrapped.”

his silence speaks volumes, and you click your tongue, “see? scripted.”

“and what about you?” geto counters when you make a pit stop. you pull away from your cart when a denim skirt catches your eye. you lift the skirt up to your eyes, before looking over your shoulder, cocking a brow.

“what about me?”

“the tweet reposts, the song choices for your highlights, the whole spiritual baddie persona,” he presses behind you, his chest meeting your back. he rests his chin atop your head, purple eyes landing on the clothing article that’s lowering in your hold, “if my page gives brent then yours definitely gives jhene.”

you’re mute for a second, and you chuck the skirt into the cart. you pull away from beneath him, spinning on your feet to face him, and you’ve got a scowl on your lips, “what’s wrong with jhene?”

“and you call me the toxic one.” geto pokes at your cheek. you swipe his hand away, and he laughs, “don’t get me wrong though— she makes good music. but let’s not act like she’s all innocent either,” his gaze lowers to your glossy lips, the fullness of the pair hypnotic, “a real freak. should i call you my pussy fairy?”

“do not,” you reply, weaving around him to make your way back to your cart. geto laughs, snatching a few things of the racks before dumping them in your stuff. you give him a deadpanned look and he whistles it off, feigning ignorance. “jhene’s a lovergirl. thought i was part of the men ain’t shit community.”

“you’re not gonna let that go, are you?” geto sighs. he owes gojo another thump in the head.

you roll your eyes, “thank your homeboy for that.”

“two things can be true at once,” geto fiddles with the hem of his jacket. he’s back at walking step by step with you, and you haven’t told him to fuck off yet, so he’s going to milk the opportunity out. “you’re mean but a lovergirl. you hate men but a real freak with them. right or wrong?”

you halter in your steps, and geto’s now a few steps ahead of you, so he looks over his shoulder to meet your bored expression, “i know you’re not trying to read me in the middle of value village.”

“no better time than the present,” he smiles, one that creases a dimple in his cheeks. “come on up— what are you waiting for?”

you stare at him some more, inhaling sharply, “mind you, i never invited you to join me,” you shake your head but comply regardless. cute, looks like you’re enjoying his company more than you’re letting on.

so he graces you his presence some more. he shops along with you, sneaks clothes into your cart when you’re distracted and asks you stupid questions. it’s a good time— to him at least, being able to get to know you some more without interruptions. naturally, you feign that his company is the bane of your existence, but he doesn’t miss the twitch of your lips when he taps his card into the reader at the check out.

hell yeah he’s got money to spend and is willing to show off if it means getting on your good side.

it’s only after he helps you bag your shit into your car, that he realizes this is where the both of you part ways. it annoys him slightly, but he doesn’t need to overstep his boundaries. he closes your trunk and makes his way to the driver’s side, where you’re already buckled up.

he taps at your window and the glass rolls down all the way, to which he leans forward. he’s in your line of sight now and you sigh, tilting your head sideways, “what?”

“do i get a goodbye kiss?” geto teases, honest, the boyish smirk he offers accentuating the playful undertone. the last thing he expects is you shifting in your seat, pushing yourself up and peaking your head out the window.

his smirk drops, brows jumping to his hairline. you’re really fucking close now, and for a split second he thinks you’re actually going to do it. he can see the flecks of colours swimming in your orbs, the tip of your nose bumps into his and your breath fans his cupid’s bow.

fuck, you smell really good. he bets you taste even better. his mouth is running dry, mindlessly darting his tongue out to wet his own lips. he doesn’t realize he’s let himself lean into your space, eyes narrowing on your mouth parting over his.

he’s pulled out of his trance when two fingers press at his forehead and push. he blinks his lashes, snapping back to reality as you sit back into your seat. you look amused— as if you’d played the funniest game right in his face and he’d been the star player.

“i’ll see you around, geto.”

and you drive off.

☆ ☆ ☆

“come back in a few weeks for a checkup. we’ll make sure the healing process is running smoothly. i’ll catch you soon.”

he lets out a tired sigh when the door finally closes, slumping into his seat and shuts his eyes. he’s exhausted— having woken up early for lectures and labs to back to back appointments with clients. this time around, the parlour is always booked and busy. students find it the perfect timing to get tatted to let it heal before showing it off in the summer.

it’s smart for them but idiotic for him. midterms are up, and the only time he has to study is in between appointments. he slides off his gloves and drags his seat towards his desk, redirecting his attention focus towards the blinding screen.

he feels a headache building at his temple, sipping at his iced coffee to keep him energized. contradicting, sure, but you didn’t have the luxury to be a beggar and a chooser when you were a full time student. the parlour he ran resided in his loft apartment, on the second floor. he enjoyed the comfort of his own home, spacious room and wide windows compared to outside stores.

his cat, nanako, purrs at his feet and he feels his heart swell. if there was one weakness he had in this world, it’d be her. he picks her up from the floor, presses her at his rib cage and nuzzles his nose in her fur.

“hi baby,” geto coos, and nanako lets out a sound. he continues to coddle her, fluffing her fur and rubbing at her ears, “it’s been pretty lively in here, hasn’t it? i knowww,” he coos, and as if nanako understands his words, she makes a pitiful sound that slightly shatters his heart.

geto decides to place her on his lap, her company serving plenty of motivation as he rolls back to his desk. he grabs the remote to his built-in speakers, turning the volume higher, before locking back in. exams are full of crap, and words are starting to jumble on his screen— he’s beginning to contemplate if this education shit is even worth the stress.

he’s an hour deep in jolting notes down on his ipad when he hears a knock at his front door. he scrunches his brows and glances at his agenda— he isn’t due for an appointment until another few hours. he sits it out, starting to believe he’d maybe imagined the sound. he knows it isn’t gojo since he’s celebrating an anniversary with his girl, and any other friend would’ve called to let him know they’re outside.

probably some jehovah witness shit, he thinks to himself, fingers hovering over his speaker remote to crank the volume back up. he turns back to his laptop screen, petting nanako mindlessly when his ipad flashes an instagram notification.

yourstruly.yn: open up

he jumps to his feet, chair rolling back. nanako flies to his desk, landing on all fours as she hisses at him for his suddenness. geto grabs her and kisses her ear, “sorry baby,” before sitting her on the floor. she walks off to her mini bean bag right at the foot of his desk, and he senses an attitude coming from her.

damn, he’d forgotten he squeezed you in last night in the midst of his sweet talking. that was truly a stupid move, he was already behind on studying, and because he likes to think with his head instead of his actual head, he’d fall even further behind.

he checks around the flat— picks up stray wrappers and fixes throw pillows, arranges his sheets. he was a clean man for the most part— he had been so distracted with his studies that there wasn’t much to dirty in the first place. his candles had already been lit so he knew the place smelled fine. he’s pretty positive his loft is clean enough to leave a good first impression.

he fixes loose hairs and straightens out his hoodie and sweats. thank fuck he’d showered not too long ago— he’s beginning to understand why his mother was always so insistent on being clean in case of random pop ups.

when he does finally open the door, there you stood. it was pretty chilly outside this time around, so he wasn’t surprised by the harsh wind flowing in and the clutch of your coat in your hold. your nose began reddening, and you sniffled, scowling from the cold.

you’re so cute, he sends you a smile, “hey.”

“hi,” you replied, sniffling again. “you ever planning on letting me in?”

“dunno,” he crosses his arms over his chest. he leans against the doorframe, ignoring the way he was starting to feel the frosty wind setting in his bones, “maybe if you ask nicely.”

you shoot him a deadpanned look, “move.”

“no.” geto smiles, “try again.”

“move, now.” a small pout is starting to form on your lips. he really liked testing your patience, since it always seemed to run low. you must’ve met your match— because geto always had time to fuck around.

“close, but not quite.”

“oh my goddd,” you groan, and that’s when he decides to let up. it really is colder than a bitch outside and he’d already kept you waiting while tidying up. he lets out a chuckle when you turn to the side, “i’m leaving— too damn cold for this.”

“alright, i’m playing,” geto widens the door. you stop your movements and glare at him. he aims an arm towards the inside of his loft, “don’t go, come in.”

you grumble something beneath your breath but comply, walking right past him. he follows behind you, shutting the door close and is immediately greeted back with warmth. you slip your shoes off and place them on the rack, before stepping in further into his apartment.

he slides his hands into his sweatpants’ pockets, catching up to you in the living room. your head is tilted upwards as you inspect the place though you remain in place. he stands beside you, bumping his shoulder into your arm, “so? up to your standards?”

you’re quiet for a while, letting your eyes roam around as the words build in your mind, “it’s typical,” you shrug but don’t elaborate. you’ve been staring at an art piece he’d done first year when he was fried out of his mind. you shift your gaze back to him, “where do i put my shit?”

“you can leave it in my bedroom, if that’s fine.” geto suggests and you nod wordlessly, to which he leads you to the second floor. he’s walking up the stairs and prays he doesn’t fall flat on his face— his socks can be a real bitch sometimes.

you both make it to his bedroom, with you trailing a little behind. he grabs a hanger from his mobile clothing rack, stretching an arm out to you, “i’ll hang your jacket here.”

you slide off the coat from your frame and hand it to him, to which he hangs on the rack. you circle around his bedroom with your tote on your shoulder, while he makes his way back to next to his desk. it’s pretty quiet for the most part, besides the music playing gently in the background.

your gaze lands on the cluttered items on his desk, noticing the half empty cup of coffee, notebooks and ipad on display, “did i catch you at a bad time?”

“honestly? yeah,” geto shrugs, before motioning at your tote bag. you slip it off and hand it to him, to which he sits at his nightstand, “but it’s my fault anyway, i squeezed you in a busy time. you know how exam season gets.”

“i can always reschedule,” you offer, checking your phone screen for the date, “it’s not that deep.”

“i don’t want you to leave,” geto slumps back into his seat and heaves out a sigh. he spins the chair around to catch you giving him a flat look. he leans back in his seat and spreads his thighs, smirking, “would you stay?”

“depends. are you going to be studying?” you quip, crossing your arms back to your chest.

geto ponders on what to say next. it’s not like he doesn’t want to tatt you up, but he really is caught in a bind. he also doesn’t want you to leave— not when he’s been wanting to see you since the last time he’d seen you. does he prioritize his wants or his needs?

he hums, “i’ll do whatever you want me to.”

you roll your eyes, scoffing as you make your way to his nightstand. for a second, he thinks you’re getting ready to leave and a weird feeling of disappointment settles in his gut. instead, you grab the bag and sit on the edge of his bed, pulling out your macbook and crossing your legs.

he smiles at that, “attagirl.”

“corny.” you mumble, chewing on your bottom lip as you begin typing away.

there’s a comfortable silence that fills the room. he’s back to browsing through his lecture notes, noting down valuable information and memorizing terminology. you don’t say anything either, but the sound of your nails typing at your keyboard blends well with his r&b playlist playing. sounds like you’re writing down an essay or report, depending on whatever your major is.

about half an hour into the silence, does he decide to break it. he looks over his shoulder to where you’re settled on his bed, “you good?” he checks up on you, and you let out a burnt out sigh. he knows exactly how you’re feeling.

“i guess,” you huff, twirling your necklace. your eyes are stuck on your screen, brows creasing into a scowl, “this shit is frying my brain though.”

“what are you writing?” he indulges, dropping his apple pen back onto his desk and spins in his seat to face you. maybe he’s also in due of a break— he’d rather be talking to you anyway.

“this crim report,” you answer, picking at your nail, “it’s not exactly hard but mad lengthy. i have to write a ten page report based on this article and how it contradicts societal norms.”

“ten pages?” geto whistles, rubbing at his chin. he’s settled deeper in his seat, naturally manspreading. you’re much better than him, he would’ve given up before even starting— reports were not his thing, “how far are you in?”

“i started this morning,” you hum, “so i’m four pages in.”

geto nods, “and when is it due?”

“tomorrow night.” you push your laptop off your lap. you close the screen shut and stretch out your legs, releasing a breathy moan as you relax your thighs. “i’ll do this shit later— my head’s starting to hurt.”

geto swears he’s never been so in sync in thought. he dismisses the idea of studying the second you had closed your macbook. probably a bad idea but at the moment, he couldn’t care any less, “want some entertainment?”

you cock a brow, “don’t say no stupid shit.”

“twenty one questions,” geto speaks nonetheless and finds himself beaming brightly when you scoff, “can’t a guy want to get to know you better?”

you ease yourself on his bed, slumping into his sheets as you exhale. you shift onto your side— a sinful curve at your side— tucking your knees and lean your head into your palm, “oh fuck off,” a breathless laugh and nanako makes her presence known, hopping right by you in the space between your body and the edge of the bed, “didn’t know you had a cat. she’s cute.”

“how’d you know she was a she?” geto wonders, surprised just slightly by how welcoming nanako was around you. she purred when you stroke at her fur, nuzzling further into your chest. nanako hated everyone— especially gojo, who unironically visited the most.

“instinct,” you shrugged but there’s a faint smile on your lips. not directed towards him, but his baby, “i also have a cat— he’s a fucking menace though.”

that’s one thing in common already, “like mother like son,” geto grins lazily when you flip him off mindlessly, and when you raise nanako in both your hands, he’s ready to warn you she isn’t a big fan of sudden movements— but when she mewls, the same sound she makes when geto brings home a new toy, the words die down in his throat.

he observes you both silently. you cradle nana as if she were a newborn infant, adoring and loving yet simultaneously careful and steadily. you’re cooing, calling her a sweet girl and rubbing at her ear, and nanako accepts you rather easily— too easily.

“woah.” was this those non-sexual turn ons people spoke about? for somebody so mean, you were oddly gentle with pets. he liked that— really liked that, so much that he pulls his phone out and snaps a photo of you two. but of course, because the universe loves to see him fumble, the flash goes off.

your head snaps to the side and he freezes. you narrow your eyes at him, slowly lowering nanako, “did you just—”

“so!” geto cuts you off, chucking his phone back onto his desk. it makes a loud cluttering sound, damn near knocks his drink all over, but ignores it, “my turn. what’s your cat’s name?”

“milo. and don’t cut me off—”

“milo the menace,” he cuts you off regardless, not wanting to have to decipher just what exactly possessed him to do that. he’s never done so, and he wasn’t about to explain why he’d done it just now. deflecting king! “i need to see the little guy. got any pics?”

you huff, extending a hand behind you to find your phone. when you clutch onto the device, you swing your legs off the bedside, always careful with nanako clinging to your lap. you lay her down on the floor, much to her dismay, before making your way towards him.

his eyes are stuck on your body before his mind can tell him to stop. not like it mattered much, your own eyes glued to your phone screen as you searched for the pictures he’d asked. you’ve got a matching tracksuit on— though the hoodie is cropped, thus exposing your navel piercing. he’d always had a thing for those, the pretty good jewel dangling below the button.

it didn’t help that your thong straps sat atop your waist.

he spreads his legs further open, and you stop right in between. for a moment, you’re stuck on your phone, and geto really wants to get those thighs straddling him. you look delectable— he’d pin your knees to your damn ears, sprawled on your back, and eat you out until you pleaded him to stop.

your hair was pulled back into a bun, and from this angle, he spotted scripture at the column of your neck. there was wording inked in arabic, and he made a mental note to ask you what it meant later.

geto leans back into his seat when you fold forwards, and he gets a good whiff of your vanilla scented perfume, tingling his senses in the best way, “found it?”

you nod your head, swiping through your gallery, “yeah, my bad,” you have a folder named ‘mimi’ and as expected, was filled off candid photos of your cat. he pays attention as you slide your finger on your screen, selfies of you both in the morning passing by.

“cute,” he isn’t talking about the cat, and his gaze flicks from the screen to your face. there’s still a considerate amount of space between you both, but he can see your eye colour much clearer this close up. you blink your lashes at him and he smirks, “anything else you wanna show me?”

you sniff, “don’t be gross.”

“i meant of milo,” geto definitely didn’t mean of milo. you cock a brow skeptically, and he mirrors the look, though the smile on his face grows, “what a cute lil thing,” his voice lowers and his words trail off. there’s a beat of a pause for a while, and his gaze falls on the plumpness of your lips, “you gonna let me pet your kitty?”

another beat of silence. you’re staring at his lips, and he wonders what you’re thinking. he can tell you’ve picked up on what he’s laying down (hopefully you in the next few minutes) but he can’t tell what your next move will be.

“depends. . .” a soft whisper, and he feels your breath fanning over his cupid’s bow. you flick your eyes back at him, and he finally understands the whole siren eyes shit. through lidded eyes, your stare is intense— simultaneously pulling him in closer while pushing him back. you’re toying with him, and the hand he slides up from your thigh to your ass is enough fuel. “you any good?”

he brings a second hand to the other ass cheek, and urges you onto his lap. you comply, looping your arms at the back of his neck. he feels your nails grazing at his scalp and he holds back a lethal shudder. your weight feels amazing against him— his hard on poking and making its presence well aware.

“i’d like to think i am,” he knows he is, but playing humble always goes a long way. he lets his hands run over the cup of your ass, trails back up to your hips, and slides a finger beneath the thong strap. when he snaps the material at your skin, your back arches and you press your chest against his own.

“well,” you exhale when he noses into the crook of your neck, right above your tattoo. he’s littering wet kisses at your hot skin, your taste ever so sweet against his tongue. god, you must taste divine. at your jugular, he’s able to imprint your perfume into his mind. “only one way to find out.”

geto hums at that, relishing in the way you moan at a particular suck, and focus on nibbling at that spot once more. you’re tilting your head for easier access, hips grinding against his own for better friction. your hands are soft and cautious— they trail from his nape down to his chest, and further down to his waistband.

he’s on go, ready for whatever timing you’re on. though, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out by the way your fingertip traces right above his pelvis, that you’re both on the same page. he drags his lips from the column of your neck up to your jaw, and stops right above your parted lips.

he has another cocky remark on the tip of his tongue, in typical suguru fashion, but you beat him to the chase, glossy lips pressing against his. the kiss is short and definitely leaves him wanting more when you pull back as soon as you’d leaned in— but you’re a mere centimetre away.

you whisper, not before another kiss, “don’t disappoint me, suguru.”

and he’s never ran into bed so fast.

☆ ☆ ☆

the door slams shut.

he’s left with a painfully hard reminder in his sweats that he fucked up bad. he thinks he dissociated a little between the labia flapping to the coat zipping. it’s only when he notices that instead of hearing lip smacking sounds, he hears bryson tiller’s lame ass (no shade, his ego is simply wounded), that you really left.

fuck.

geto rushes back to his bedroom, the walk of shame up the steps enough to make him want to jump off— as he takes out his phone, immediately goes through his contact list and presses on the name. it rings twice before the call gets picked up.

“yooo!”

“you still busy?” geto asks, voice hoarse as he flops down on the edge of the bed— his now empty bed. damn.

“nah, just dropped off wifey,” gojo replies. he hears music playing faintly in the back, as well as the sounds of honking. he must still be in the car, “why, what’s up?”

“i fucked up.” geto sighs, running a hand over his face.

“oh?” he isn’t surprised to find out gojo’s surprised. he’s still surprised by how the events turned out and it’s barely been ten minutes, let alone five. “say no more, i’m on my way.”

geto hangs up. he throws the phone away, before falling flat onto his bed. he picks up your scent on his sheets, your warmth slowly disappearing— another painful reminder he messed up. where he’s expecting a wet patch of anything on his duvets, he finds nothing. zip. nada.

his eyes fall shut, “shit.”

☆ ☆ ☆

“and that’s pretty much the gist of it all.”

he exhales a cloud of smoke. more silence. geto’s starting to get sick of all this silence. it was radio silence with you and now even more radio silence from gojo. his hand never stops to rub at nanako, who’s been serving as a cuddling partner in this grand moment of crisis. the only person to ever have his back.

so, geto knew that confiding in his best friend this secret of his would be risky for a multitude of reasons. for starters, geto never fucks up. this would be ultimate blackmail content for him, and geto honestly doesn’t blame him. for two, he was just giving gojo shit about never having eaten pussy. that’s just downright humiliating. and for three, he has a girlfriend who he doesn’t keep anything from. on top of that— his girlfriend is friends with the main culprit here.

overall a bad idea. he does it nonetheless, because satoru is his best friend despite it all. he isn’t too shocked when the silence is filled with bellyaching laughter, though.

“wait— i’m cryinggg,” more laughter. gojo’s now kicked his feet off the couch and is doubling forward. his shades bounce off his head and hit the leg of the coffee table. he doesn’t pause his laughing fit one bit, not even when geto throws a throw pillow his way.

it bounces off his big head and geto scoffs, bringing the joint back to his lips, “oh fuck off.”

“my fault man,” gojo apologizes though he doesn’t sound apologetic. he’s leaning forward to grab his shades back, and he’s back to swiping stray tears. “that was a good laugh— shit.”

geto hums at that, extending the blunt towards him,“glad to hear my misery has brought you entertainment.”

“see, you get it!” gojo jokes, welcoming the joint. seems like he got cocky, however, his laughing mood not quite over as he inhales. he quickly chokes on the smoke, which fades back into cackling, “oh shit—”

geto sneers, annoyance quickly rising, “quit fucking around or pass it back.” he was being pissy, yes, but his pride had been curb stomped. and it hadn’t even been an hour ago!

“nah, nah, i’m good,” gojo waves him off, despite his free hand tapping at his chest. he collects himself soon enough, and takes another hit. this time it’s successful. geto lowkey hoped it would get caught in his throat again.

“sooo,” gojo drags out, melting into the couch, “what now.”

“what now?” geto parrots.

“what’s the next move?” gojo elaborates, fingertip tapping at the blunt, and ashes fall into the tray. the end of the stick crumbles in the same way geto’s ego had earlier. “you’re gonna keep letting her think you suck at giving head?”

geto throws his head back and sighs tiredly, “what else is there to do?” he hears the sound of sizzling in the background, “i fumbled bad, bro. you don’t think she already posted about me in her girls’ private story?” more sizzling and exhaling, “i’m the storytime of the day!”

he feels gojo nudge his thigh with his foot. he looks back and the joint is presented to him. he gladly accepts it.

“what even happened?” gojo wonders. and oh boy, if that isn’t the question of the day. geto is still trying to find the answer to that. had it been out of nervousness? had he gotten too cocky? had it been her?

“i honestly wish i could answer that,” geto slips the roach into his mouth. “i didn’t feel nervous until after i realized she wasn’t fazed,” he drags out a hit and ghost inhales, “maybe it was a sign from above— to shut the fuck up sometimes.”

“maybe,” gojo snorts, throwing his legs over geto’s lap. nanako hisses at the intrusion, but the white haired man ignores her, “don’t let yourself go out sad like this. hit her back up— whatever happened to loving challenges?”

“what kind of fucked up ass challenge is this?” geto mumbles, mainly to himself.

“if i was in your shoes— which i’d never be,” because he’s gojo, he feels the need to add, “i’d put my pride aside and talk to her. like no homo shit, but you’re a great eater— yeah, no, i’m taking that back instantly.”

geto looks as horrified as he feels, “quickly, even.”

of course, gojo laughs but proceeds, “the point is, you know you’re good at it. everybody fucks up once in a while— don’t let it define you though. think of it as a minor setback for a major comeback— if you care enough, you’ll put your pride aside and do something about it. if you’re this down about it, then it must mean something to you.”

geto can’t tell anymore whether gojo’s talking about the failed pussy eating attempt or you. regardless, he knows there’s truth to his words. has to be the weed talking.

“and who made you the pussy connoisseur?” geto snorts, pressing the bud of his joint in the tray. it sizzles weakly as he kills it, starting to feel that high course through his veins.

gojo sighs dreamily, “why my lovely lady, of course.”

“looks like she taught you well,” geto relaxes himself into the tight space of the couch, settling nanako on his chest. it’s now his turn to nudge gojo with his foot, his sock-cladded toe digging at his jaw. “woulda never expected this from a rookie just a few months ago.”

“well duh,” gojo swipes his foot away, “i aced that course. got my phD in cunningulusophy and all. even won valedictorian.”

geto laughs, resting his lids. he was starting to feel sleepy, indica will do that to you, “enroll me in whatever class you took— i may need to slut myself out for extra credit. my prof’s a tough nut to bust.”

“intro to munch 101,” gojo nods his head, shutting his eyes close as well. there’s a comfortable silence that fills the air for a while. and despite the fact that his sight manipulated, he could hear the smirk dripping off his tone, “if you ever need a letter of recommendation, i got you— alumni’s honour.”

“oh fuck off,” a mixed harmony of laughter and vibrating chests.

☆ ☆ ☆

fun fact: suguru geto loves showers.

the aroma of cleanliness enhanced by thick fog. the scorching water droplets trickling down his skin, the vulnerability of his nakedness inside these four walls. he strangely feels most at ease, most raw in this moment of solitude.

he’s able to gather himself too. there isn’t much to accomplish in a shower once you’ve gotten rid of the day’s dirt. so, he likes to take the opportunity to think. to think deep and hard.

his mind’s all scrambled up. it’s been about three days since you were last in his apartment, two days since he’d thought about it, and a day since he last seen you (granted it’d been on your story, virtually, but still).

this has been the biggest feat he’s faced in a while. if he recaps it, this is what’s he gotten: he invited you over. you came the next day. he didn’t cater to you the sole reason you came. you didn’t mind. you both studied for a bit. he asked about your cat. you ended up on his lap. he ended up in bed with you. you ended up leaving with a chunk of his dignity.

that didn’t explain shit, but it did remind him of his failure. it reminded him that he’d finally met his match. it reminded him he needs to start backing his shit up. it reminded him of how good you smelled and tasted down there. it reminded him of how pretty you looked.

his cock twitches and he glances down. it also reminds him he never ended up cumming, too engrossed in his anxiety to jerk one out.

he feels as though the glass doors of his shower protect him from reality. he’s hard, though mortified, but still hard. he’d spent a long time (two days) suppressing the memory away, but there was no way to mistaken your taste on his tongue. how sweet you smelled. how soft you felt—

geto fists at his dick before he can help it. his free hand plants at the wall before him, and he works his wrist. he twists at his shaft slowly and closes his eyes— behind his lids are photographic memories of you on his lap. memories of you on his bed. memories of the scent of your panties. memories of your tits in his mouth.

sure, you’d made more sounds off the foreplay for the foreplay— but that didn’t take away how turned on he’d been. how his dick twitched in his boxers. how he’d humped the mattress. how he’d moan in your cunt.

“y/n,” geto moans your name, sinful yet hushed, his hand working faster. his thumb grazes his over slit and his gut drowns in heat. he wants a redo. he deserves a redo— you deserved a redo. “fuckkkk,”

next time, he’ll get it right. and if he doesn’t, then he’ll want to try again and again and again— until it ends with your cunt clenching around his tongue and his face sprayed vigorously in your essence. until your thighs tremble around his face, your hand clawing at his hair and your back arched off his bed. until his name bounces off his walls and echoes so loudly his neighbours complain.

he wants a redo.

he jerks back as he paints the tiles white. the joints in his hand ache, the water from the shower head getting colder. geto pants heavily, chest heaving as his load is released from him. his cum drips from the wall and into the drain at his feet— but his dick is far from well spent. if he spends another hour in the shower, it’s nobody’s business but his own.

suguru geto loves showers.

☆ ☆ ☆

“oh. you actually showed.”

“redo,” geto pants, having sprinted from his apartment. he’d spent the next three days after his shower incident wallowing some more— at some point, it just annoyed him. though slightly underwhelming, he was on his phone in bed a few minutes ago, going through his camera roll when he’d seen that picture he took of you and nanako. his feet guided him to his car before he could help it. choso helped him out with the address.

“redo?” you parrot his words, leaning against your doorframe. you crossed your arms over your chest, and it’s only then he noticed your appearance— flimsy camisole and pink lace panties. fuck, he wants a redo now.

“i want a redo.” geto repeats, but is quickly hit with a gust of wind. he hadn’t brought a jacket with him in the midst of his impulse, and goosebumps were beginning to form at his skin. he shoots his shot, “you ever planning on letting me in?” talk about deja vu.

“dunno,” you play along, eyes narrowing. “maybe if you ask nicely.”

swallow your pride, he hears gojo somewhere in the back of his mind. he shakes that thought off quickly. this desperation had to be bigger than a pride issue— he was ready to get on his knees and beg her to let him in. pride? that had been drained to the sewers the second he busted all over his shower days ago.

“lemme in and i’ll make it up to you,” geto tries instead, taking a step closer, “please?”

that seemed to be the correct answer as you push open the door to your apartment further. you turn your back and geto lets himself drink up your backside— he hadn’t seen it last time but you had dimples sitting right above your perky ass. he watches your hips sway left and right, and even tilt your head back, a smirk etched on your face, “you comin’?”

you will be, “cute.” his lips twitch into a small smile, and closes the door behind him.

☆ ☆ ☆

fool him once? shame on him.

geto doesn’t allow himself to make the same mistakes twice. if one fuck up is enough to tear him down for a week straight then why the hell would he do it again?

you’re sprawled on your back, legs spread with enough space to fit his body in between. his hands plant on either side of your face, his bulge pushed up against your core. he feels your warmth through these layers of clothes, and he rolls his hips greedily, feeling himself already grow addicted. your chin is raised high, lids blown open as you stare at him all doe-eyed.

his brows pinch in the centre of his forehead. that faux look of innocence you’re offering is doing wonders to his dick. your tits sit beautifully beneath your top, arms back on him as you pull him in closer, and he lets himself fall prey to you. for a moment, the tip of his nose bumps into yours, lips ghosting over the other, hips colliding to meet yours.

“mhm, that’s it.” you let out a sigh, throwing your head back into your pillows. there’s an opening to your neck calling his name, and geto wastes no time to latch his lips there. he slips a hand beneath your tank top, fingernails grazing over your skin to creep up to your mounds. he flicks a thumb over the bud and you sigh blissfully again— he then cups the flesh.

he loves the way you squirm when he kisses down your body, “i got you, pretty,” stripped from your cami, his lips leave open mouthed marks all over your skin. from the column of your neck, to your breasts, down your torso and past your navel, “let me take care of you.” the lower he gets, the more intense your rawness reeks— and it’s a damned good smell.

he lands right above your clothed pelvis, and he inhales sharply. he won’t make the same mistake this time, he can feel it. there’s something lingering in the air, something indescribable— but he’s confident he won’t. because when he skips your cunt in favour to pamper your inner thighs, dragging his wet tongue all over erogenous zones, he spots dampening right where your clit would be.

bingo.

your hand cradles his hair, and the other props your body up by the elbow. he glances up at you, cock throbbing against your mattress. your beauty still renders him speechless— runs his throat dry and makes his tongue feel heavy. he doesn’t want to decipher what this means either, and decides to conclude he’s simply thirsty for you.

“suguru,” you call at him. he blinks and the hand in his hair snakes down his neck, and pushes him deeper. his nose nudges at your throbbing clit, and his tongue peeks out of his mouth to lick at the damp material before he can help it. two fingers hook at your panties and push them to the side, revealing glistening folds. your slick drips between your crack and stains your sheets. he thinks he hears his stomach growl a little.

another swipe of his tongue, this time in contact with the raw you, and a breathless moan rips from you, “don’t disappoint me this time.”

and he feasts.

☆ ☆ ☆

gojo’s woken up to a notification from his phone.

it’s still pretty late— or maybe early, and his pretty girlfriend is miles away in lalaland. she snores softly, cuddling into his side, and gojo’s ready to cuss out whoever dares potentially meddle with his girl’s sleep. he’s starting to get grumpy.

when his phone undergoes face recognition, he lowers the brightness immediately. he swipes through his notification center and notices an attachment sent by geto.

now that peeks his interest. he presses on the message.

suguboo: [1 attachment]

suguboo: passed intro2munch101 with an A+ 🫡

gojo can’t help the laugh that leaves him, though is quickly quieted down when he feels stirring at his side.

“well i’ll be damned.”

yes, gojo is obsessed with his girlfriend. also 10k words on geto???

[prodbyton]

જ⁀➴ dirty little secret chapter 5: i don’t bite

half smau, half written wc. idk sorry😭 warnings: smut!!! +18 mdni!! smut can be read on its own but if you want to read the rest of the story here’s the mlist! id still recommend reading the whole story bc yes 🙂‍↕️

tomorrow comes around a lot faster than you expected. you dont know why, but you’re almost nervous.

you dont know what it is about anton, but he was different than other guys you pursued. you were never the type to chase, never the type to be so bold and be the one to call the shots. something about anton being so shy in your presence excited you, and you knew you could use that to your advantage since he was already wrapped around your finger after only talking to you once.

so you dont understand why you’re hesitant to knock on the door to his apartment.

you stare at the door, thinking of all the possible outcomes of what will happen once you step foot into his space.

you’re here to study, you tell yourself, but you know that you can’t focus on that when you’re too focused on your attraction to the boy. he obviously is into you, but you don’t know if he’s into you enough to do the things that you were thinking about. what if he does just want to study, and you make him uncomfortable by trying to make a move on him? what if giselle was right about him being a virgin, not that it would be an issue but you don’t want this to be his first time. or even worse, what if he’s not good in bed?

just worry about studying, thats the most important thing here. you continue to tell yourself, still staring at his door.

right as you lift your arm to finally knock, the door swings open and reveals the tall boy you were here to see. he looks at you and smiles softly, and you smile back before taking in his appearance. he looks good, and he seems a little less nervous than he seemed the day before.

you thank yourself for not dressing up too much for today, seeing that he was in a loose tshirt and some shorts. you wore something nice but casual, a low cut shirt and a pair of leggings. easy to take off, just in case. right when you were done looking anton up & down, his eyes quickly darted back up to your face and your smile grows wider when you realize he was probably looking down your shirt when you weren’t looking.

“sorry if i startled you,”

“its okay, i was just about to knock”

anton moves to the side so you can come in, and your eyes scan the room as you take off your shoes. it was pretty clean for an apartment with college student boys, and you wonder if it always looks this clean or if anton cleaned up for you. and you smile trying to imagine anton frantically cleaning around the house knowing that you could be over any minute.

you let anton lead the way to his living room, where he already has some papers spread across the coffee table along with his laptop. you admire his efforts into making sure that you were comfortable in his space, since he also had various snacks and drinks on the table along with a few blankets and pillows on the floor.

“i don’t know what kind of snacks or drinks you like, so i just bought a bunch of stuff” he lied, he asked seunghan this morning what stuff you like. you stare at the various snacks, smiling when you realize it was filled with snacks you actually like. not like you would’ve declined anything he offered, you’re sure he had good taste. maybe you both just have the same favorites.

“did you wanna study physics again or another subject?” you set your bag on the couch, sitting down on the floor on top of the blankets anton had laid out, and pulling out your laptop once anton sat on the ground next to you.

“you’re really smart, anton” you nudge his arm, and he shyly looks away from you at your praise.

“thanks,” antons voice was so soft, and you hoped that you could break that nervous shell off of him soon. you could tell he wanted to talk more, but it was like he was holding himself back.

“im kinda bored of studying now, can we take a break?”

“yeah, of course"

anton is surprisingly easy to talk to, and you wish that he wasn't so shy because you could have realized how much you two had in common. you stare at his face while he talks, going back to make eye contact with him every few words so he knew you were still listening. you look at his lips, liking the way they curve into a smile while he speaks and the way his lips purse out when he says certain words. you stare a little harder at his lips, and anton notices, and he tries to ignore it but he's starting to forget what he was talking about. you only look back at his face when you hear him stumbling over his words and stops talking.

"why'd you stop talking?"

"sorry," anton gulps, his ears turning red as he tries to come up with a reason, but he couldn't lie to you when you were still staring at him like that. "you were staring"

"you're so cute. do i really make you that nervous?"

"y-yeah"

"can i tell you something?" your words were just above a whisper, and anton nods nervously when he sees you looking at his lips again. "i really want to kiss you right now"

and with that anton was leaning in, pressing his lips onto yours without any further question. you were taken aback by his sudden action, not expecting him to be so bold all of a sudden with you. you couldn't complain though, his lips felt so soft and perfect against yours. you kiss him back faster than you could process the situation, holding on to the back of his neck to kiss him harder. his hands that were nervously playing in his lap move so he could grab your waist, pulling your body closer to his.

anton shifts his body so he could face you better, his other hand that wasn't on your waist rests on the ground to stabilize himself as he kisses you. you pull away for a brief second to take a breath, quickly going back to kissing anton and sliding your tongue against his bottom lip.

it takes a moment for him to get the hint, and you have to bite his lip softly in order for him to open his mouth so you could slide your tongue inside.

anton feels like fireworks are going off in his mind. you were kissing him right now. he couldn't believe it. and you're the one who wanted to kiss him, whatever anton did in his past life he thanks himself internally, because he would never believe that he could ever be in this situation.

you two groan into each others mouths, tongues clashing against each others and spit is dribbling down both of your chins. when you two finally pull away, anton is almost as red as a tomato. you were breathing hard, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you took in antons appearance. he looked so attractive like this, lips swollen and parted, a little shiny from a mix of spit and your lip gloss. he was so kissable. you wanted to kiss him again, and again, and again.

so you do. you kiss the breath out of him over and over, you somehow end up in his lap, kissing him even more. you kiss down his face, down his neck, you even bite him a little bit just to hear his breath hitch. antons hands still lay on your waist, gripping onto the skin a little harder whenever you lick or bite a sensitive part of his neck. you were in your own world, and you only realize how much this is effecting anton when he tries (and fails) at subtly pushing you down onto his clothed crotch and you can feel his boner pressing against your core. you remove your lips from him and sit up, staring at his flushed face then down to where your bodies met.

"you're hard" you say it bluntly, still staring at the bulge in his pants from what you can see from the angle you were sitting in.

"you're really pretty" anton talks in the same tone you spoke in, no point in being shameful when you both clearly wanted each other. it was your time to be shy, you knew anton liked you to some degree, but hearing him compliment you as well as getting this hard from just kissing you has you flustered. you feel your core throb the longer you stare, and your mouth feels empty without antons lips on yours.

you run your fingers through antons hair, smiling at the sight of his eyes shutting at the feeling of your nails slightly scratching his scalp. you give his hair a small tug, and before anton can even react your tugging him again so your lips could connect again.

this kiss was somehow even more desperate, teeth clashing and tongues colling more than lips locking. it was messy, but it only made you feel hotter. you experimentally grind your hips down on anton and he groans, holding your hips harder as you make the same movement again. you let out a small whimper when you move just right enough to feel the pressure on your clit, repeating the same movement until you find a steady rhythm.

anton looked an absolute wreck when you pulled your lips off of him. he threw his head back against the couch, eyes barely open as he watched you grind against him. he looked like he was 3 seconds away from cumming in his pants, and you honestly wanted him to. so you move a bit faster, and you lean down to re attach your lips to his neck.

the moans that leave the both of you fill up the living room, and you forget that anton has roomates that could possibly walk in at any given moment. anton seems to forget too, because he's slipping his hands under your shirt and trailing them up to cup your breasts over your bra. antons boldness has you pressing harder against him, moaning against the skin of his neck which makes him shudder.

"wait- im gonna cum-" anton warns, hands that fondle your boobs under your shirt grabbing onto you tighter as he feels his orgasm build up embarrassingly fast. he hopes that you stop moving, but you keep going, and when he feels you smirk against his skin he knows that it was fine.

without any warning anton was moving his hands back to your waist, holding you down as he thrusted against you while his orgasm hit. he was silent, only a string of small whimpers leaving his mouth as he kept you moving while he rode out his high.

watching him cum in his pants was truly a sight, and you felt yourself growing wetter as you watched. he was almost trembling, and it made you clench around nothing before you started to move your hips again. anton was still sensitive and he whine at the feeling of you still grinding down on him, weakly attempting to push your hips off of him.

you quickly move yourself so you were sitting on his thigh, desperately moving against the thick muscle while you chased your own orgasm

"are you close?" you can only nod your head as you move faster, your clit rubbing against antons thigh so deliciously you knew it wouldn't take much more for you to reach your peak.

"kiss me, please-" anton had his lips on you as fast as possible, kissing away the pout you had on your lips. you moan softly when you feel his tongue slip into your mouth, and you feel your orgasm hit you hard when he sucks on your tongue.

you shake on top of anton, body going limp as you feel the aftershocks of your orgasm. you both stay quiet for a moment while you try to get your breathing back to normal, and anton shifts slightly, the feeling of sitting in his cum stained underwear starting to set in and feel uncomfortable.

"im gonna change my pants- ill bring you a pair too" he was so considerate, feeling that you were probably just as uncomfortable in your soaked through underwear. anton helps you move off his thigh, and helps you stand up as well before he's telling you he'll be right back. you sit on the couch while you wait for him, checking your phone while you wait and seeing that your brother texted you a few minutes ago about your whereabouts. you roll your eyes, not wanting to leave antons right after you both just came in your pants, but not wanting to have to deal with your brother nagging you about how late its getting.

"here, you can change in my room" anton turns the corner and hands you a pair of his sweats, and you take them and follow him back down the hall to where his room was. he closes the door and waits outside for you, and you take your time taking off your leggings and your underwear that was uncomfortable and sticky, slipping his pants on and making tying the strings to make sure they don't fall down. you also take in antons bedroom as quick as possible so it doesn't seem like you were snooping.

the boy is smiling at you like a dork when you open the door, and you smile too before his smile drops at the words that leave your mouth.

"my brothers blowing up my phone, so i have to go, but um, today was nice" his heart thumps in his chest, and he swallows in hopes that the feeling subsides and he hopes that it was only loud in his head and that you couldn't hear his heartbeat from where you were standing.

"yeah, it was. i can walk you to your car, its getting kinda dark." anton helps you collect your things, and you two silently make your way down to where you parked.

the walk from antons apartment to your car was awkward, and you wish that it wasn't. you didn't really know what to say, or what to do in this situation. usually guys you hook up with don't go out of their way to give you some of their clothes, or walk you back to your car, or have good conversation with you. but anton was different, and you felt it the moment you decided to give him attention, because you really don't want to go home, and you really don't want this to be the last time you two fool around.

anton stays outside until your car pulls off and until he cant see you anymore before he starts his walk back to his apartment, and he can't stop the wave of thoughts that run through his mind now.

he's praying internally that you really do text him, and that you enjoyed today as much as he did, and that him cumming in his pants didn't throw you off and that you'd never want to speak to him again. he hopes you text him and that you want to see him again.

all of his internal prayers seem to come true faster than he thought when he enters his room and sees your soaked through panties on his bed.

m.list | prev | next

a/n: sorry for posting this so late !! anyways hope you guys like it hehe haha

synopsis: living with your older brother had its perks, including easy access to his hot best friend

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[strangesem]

hobie brown x shy/quiet!reader headcanons

spider-punk x reader this is not a drill

long as hell I’m so sorry

a/n: reader is mentioned as being a mom friend but imo that can be gender neutral so this can still be read by anyone!! if that makes you uncomfortable though please skip this post :)

I also imagine hobie as being 19-ish so it’s kinda implied reader lives alone but can def be read as younger!!

most people didn’t notice you at first.

you were quiet; really quiet. you’d mumble your thank you’s, whisper apologies, and generally go out of your way not to interact with people as a whole.

I feel like that gentleness/softness would almost draw hobie to you though?

he’d definitely first meet you as spider-man; saving you from some sort of robber or attacker. and then he’d see you be so shy about thanking him and apologizing as if it was your fault??? he finds it sweet but also kinda concerning for you tbh

and over time he begins to notice you more and more during his patrols; something about you just draws him in.

he definitely likes that you don’t try to tell him or others what to do lol

after talking to you enough as spider-man, and you start to open up, he begins to like you even more

you listen to some of the music he likes? your humour?? not to mention how genuine you are???

(also very useful if you happen to be a “mom friend” type who keeps first aid, candy, etc on you at all times!! he’d definitely appreciate a lollipop to help with the pressure changes while swinging around or a bandage for his cuts)

speaking of which if you ARE the type to have those things on you he may start seeking you out if/when he gets hurt

and after that even when he’s not tbh he’ll just pretend to have a headache and eat some of your candy on your couch lmao-

one time though he comes with wounds a little too serious looking for the standard wet cloth and bandaid treatment you had been used to; and it scares you

you raise your voice a bit louder than he’d ever heard, in a scared tone that was different than your normal anxious voice, and you tell him he should probably definitely go to a hospital

“but I like you so much better” he leans in a little too close, holding on to you a little too tight to keep himself steady, and you suddenly realize the reality of you situation

spider-man is in your living room. he’s bleeding a lot. and you’re the first person he thought to come to; because he likes you? not like that obviously- unless it is like that? NO. people barely even notice you, no one would ever feel like that type of thing for-

“you’re staring” you can feel the shit eating grin on his face; it’s practically burning through his mask

you stutter out an apology and after stammering around for a moment you get him to sit down and do your best to treat his injuries

you can tell the disinfectant stings by the way he flinches whenever you apply it, as well as his teasing that he “thought you were supposed to be nicer than the nurses” but he does his best to sit still and let you dress all of his wounds

you both remain still for a moment, and you think you can feel his eyes on you but you’re too scared to look up. your hands are shaking; they have been this whole time.

“that’s everywhere right? I didn’t miss something?”

he takes off his mask to look you in the eye and tell you he’s okay but you’re just like ????

:O

ANYWAYS you are once again staring bc you now know spider-man’s identity???

I feel like he’s gently hold your face and just give you a quick peck to make sure he wasn’t crossing any boundaries

but if you kiss him back? he’s NEVER stopping

he’ll start randomly crawling through your window with excuses of missing you or wanting to show you something

and soon he’s staying the night at your place or he’s swinging you over to his so you can stay with him

I think dates would definitely be super chill and more like hanging out at each others places than anything else

but if he does a show for his music he’d definitely want you there!!

he’d also probably pick you up and start swinging around the city with no warning just for the way you’ll grab on to him so tightly-

but ofc is you asked him not to he’d stop immediately!

doesn’t get super jealous or anything, he’s a pretty chill guy, but he will get sorta bothered if someone’s aggressively pursuing you even after knowing you two are together

like if someone doesn’t know and flirts with you he’s just like “yeah I’m lucky”

but if someone ever went so far to imply you should be unfaithful and/or should leave him he’d probably tell them to back off and either leave with you or put his arm around your shoulder and glare at them until they leave

either way he’s not starting any fights or anything though; he’s super comfortable in your relationship and hopes you are too

genuinely thinks you’re the most beautiful/handsome person ever like he WILL flex to the other spider-people if relationships come up

he’s really not in to pda though; he’ll put his arm around your shoulders/waist but that’s it. maybe hand holding depending on the situation.

but when you guys are alone he likes physical touch; don’t expect to be on top of each other or anything but having your/his head rested on the others lap or him just resting his hand on your leg is pretty common

he’s also not very big into gifts (he doesn’t buy into the capitalist need for abundance and all that) but he does like giving you jewellery/other wearable items bc he likes to see a reminder of himself/your relationship on you

pls make him a bracelet or something he’ll literally never take it off (also jewellery for any of his piercings is fair game)

he values small intimate things in a relationship; like painting each others nails, listening to each other rant about things you’re passionate about, etc

overall he may not be big and showy but he’s an amazing boyfriend and would love you like a lot

he’d also definitely write songs about/for you bc you’re so important to him and he wants the whole world to know that :((

I haven’t written fanfiction in forever but if anyone has any hobie requests I could write as headcanons I’m open to them!! :)

[bloodibambiidoll]

love love love the rafe cameron x weirdgirl!reader au!! imagine reader at the country club overhearing some mean boys making fun of her and how rafe is crazy to date someone like her :(( she stays in her room after hearing this and rafe catches her biting herself and crying (she normally bites him but after hearing this she feels like she can’t) oh my heart-

No bc this is like sooo perfect. This is literally so her. I’ve been having a lot of fun coming up with lore for her so I’m so glad you’re liking her so far!! Warnings: (I’d like to note that weird girl is autistic coded bc I am autistic), Reader gets her feelings hurt, protective Rafe, biting 18+MNDI!! Part of this AU

“Yeah dude, she’s like so hot until she opens her mouth.” Your footsteps come to a sudden halt, your shiny black Mary Jane’s squeaking against the polished wooden floors of the country club. There’s a group of guys about your age standing around the corner in a circle all snickering to each other.

“No, yeah, like she says the fucking weirdest shit in that creepy little monotone voice. I have no idea how Rafe puts up with it.”

“The pussy must be out of this world or some shit because I would never be able to handle that. I saw her last week on the beach collecting animal bones or some shit bro. Bet she went back to check on her kill.” The entire group starts busting up laughing just as you feel hot tears start to stream down your cheeks. You just want to leave but they are blocking the only path to the door so you suck it up and high tail it as fast as you past them.

You were waiting for Rafe to be done with his game of golf but after that? You really didn’t want to bother him with wanting to leave early so you decided to just walk the mile and a half home. If you were lucky maybe you’d run into the neighborhood cat you befriended and he would walk part of the way with you.

When you get home you rush up the stairs and into your room, slamming the door behind you. Your head is swimming with negative thoughts. You were always scared you were too weird for Rafe, too much, too different from him. So when you hear guys he hangs around saying things like that about you? It’s hard to not let it get to your head.

You kick off your shoes and practically tear off the cute outfit you spent over an hour putting together. You grab your pink fuzzy robe, and walk over to your bunny’s cage, smiling down at her with watery eyes.

“I think you’re the only one that really understands me, Lydia.” Your bottom lip wobbles as you pick her up and walk over to your bed. You rock back and forth slightly as you caress her fur, trying to self soothe. You’re realizing in this moment that maybe you really are too much for Rafe because you hardly remember how to calm yourself down without him.

You wish so badly that he was here. You know he would hold you tight and let you sink your teeth into him until your tears stopped flowing. It seems to be one of the only things that truly calms you down so you decide to bring your own hand up to your mouth and bite down on it. It soothes you a little, but it isn’t Rafe. He���s called you a few times but you just let it ring, he’s probably worried, but you’re too embarrassed to pick up.

“Baby? Are you here?” The minute you hear Rafe’s voice you want to run to him, but the words of the boys at the country club playing in your head on repeat in your head cements you in place. “Bats?”

When he opens your bedroom door and takes in the sight of you his heart sinks.

“Baby girl, what’s going on? What happened? Where did you go? You scared the shit outta me.” He rushes over to you, coming to sit next to you on your bed. He rests his large hands on your calves and rubs soothing circles on your skin with the pads of his thumbs. You whimper and shake your head, your mouth still latched onto your hand. “Batty, you’ve gotta talk to me, okay? Tell me what’s going on.”

“I was…” You pull your hand away from your face, resting it on Lydia’s back as you pet her softly, the feeling of her fur grounding you. “I was coming back from the bathroom and I heard Jake and those guys… talking about me.”

“What about you?” Rafe’s voice takes on a protective tone, especially when another fit of sobs erupts through you. He hooks his arms under you so he can pull you and your bunny softly into his lap. “Princess. Tell me what they said.”

“They said - they said that they don’t know how you put up with me because I’m so weird and that you’re probably only with me because the pussy is good.” You sniffle as your tears continue to fall and if Rafe didn’t know you needed him right now he would be on his way back to the club to beat all of their asses until they couldn’t walk.

“Hey, hey, nah, none of that.” He cups your face in his hand, wiping away your tears. “You know I love you, all your weird shit and all. I’m not ‘putting up’ with you, I fuckin’ love your weird little ass.”

“They also… they also said that - that I probably kill animals…” You start sobbing again and Rafe’s entire body tenses. He knows how much you love animals, how important they are to you. He wants to fucking rip their throats out.

“Princess… I’m so sorry they said that. They just don’t know you, aight? You’d never harm a fly. Don’t let that shit get to you. I know it’s hard, but fuck em, they don’t know fuckin’ shit about my baby.” He gives you a reassuring smile as he wipes away some of your remaining tears. His hand swipes past your lips and you turn your head slightly to sink your teeth into it. He chuckles, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “There’s my weird girl.”

[dracoxsworld]

Can you do a fic where ron was jelly bc the reader was being too friendly to draco and had to show her who she belonged to ?

Hello friend! Thank you so much for the suggestion! I hope this is good enough for you :) I’m doing some requests as I prep the next part of arranged, I’m very excited.

WARNINGS: dom!ron x sub!reader, kinda rough sex ngl, jealousy, angry ron, p in v, oral sex both sides receiving, fingering, reader has female anatomy.

photo edited by me :)

You and Ron have been together for quite a while. Everyone knew you were together, no one even questioned it. Ron liked it that way.

You were his and nobody could do anything about it. He had always had a slight jelousy for his best friend, Harry Potter. He always got everything he had wanted. Ron thought Harry could get any girl he wanted with ease. So when Ron met you and got into a relationship with you, he is never going to let you go.

This was his opportunity to show the school, his family, the world, that he wasn't Harry Potter's lame and single best friend, he had the prettiest girl in school on his arm; and he was particularly protective.

Some of your peers liked to use you to annoy Ron; or try to make him feel insecure. This of course, included Draco Malfoy. You were a tad naive to realize it. You were simply thinking he was just trying to be your friend. It started out as you both being assigned as partners in potions. Draco was well aware of you and Ron being together; and used that to his advantage. He’d flirt with you, constantly talk to you, all while Ron would watch, just thinking.

“So Y/L/N, what’re you doing after class today?” Draco asked, side eyeing Ron, who was seated with Seamus. (Not a good mix, by the way.)

“Oh! I’m not sure, I need to study for Transfiguration…I’m struggling a bit.” You said while chewing on your bottom lip, reading the inked-in instructions for the current potion you both were assigned.

“I can help you with that, you know.” Draco suggested. This had caught your attention, you looked up from your potions book and smiled politely.

“Oh, no I’m okay, I believe Ron is assisting me,” you declined, looking over at your red headed boyfriend; who was watching you both the whole time. His arms were crossed, his eyes were darker than usual.

“Are you sure?” Draco voiced again, stepping closer to you, sliding the potions book away with one hand. You got nervous, just before you could respond, Professor Snape announced that class had dismissed, and you’d have to finish todays project tomorrow.

You swiftly grabbed your bag and ran out the door, leaving some of your belongings on your desk.

You ran to your dorm room, feeling a sense of panic. You were hoping Ron wasn’t think you were engaging with Draco’s behavior, that you weren’t flirting back.

You shook your head at the thought. Ron knows better, you told yourself. He would never think I’d do that.

Does he?

You had opened the door to your dorm quickly and slid in and slammed it, locking it. You set your bag in the floor and flung your body onto your unmade bed. “Stupid Y/N. It’s so obvious he was flirting with you.” You mumbled to yourself, your face squished into your duvet. You sat up and looked in your body-length mirror.

Your hair was a bit of a mess, probably from you flinging yourself onto your bed. You ran your hands through your hair to make it look a bit nicer, and gave yourself a small smile of reassurance.

Knock knock knock knock

You jumped, and turned towards your door. “Please don’t tell me your name is Draco Malfoy.” You groaned.

“You’re damn right it isn’t.” Your boyfriends voice boomed through your door. It startled you, it was his voice but it sounded different. “Ron?” You fled out.

“Yes, open the door.” Ron demanded. You did as you were told and unlocked the door and peeked through. You saw your beautiful boyfriend looking down at you, looking not too happy.

You looked down and noticed he had the belongings you had left at your desk in his arms. Some potion bottles, your book, and some quills. You then noticed his knuckles looked slightly stained with red, and bruised.

You looked back up at him with your lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, still peeking through the small crack in the door.

“Are you going to let me in?” Ron asked impatiently. You nodded and let him in, closing the door behind him. Ron set down your supplies on your desk neatly. Setting the potion bottles up on their designated shelves, putting your quills in ink you had, and setting your book in your built in shelf in your desk.

He turned towards you and slowly walked up to you. You were picking a hangnail, unable to get even a sound out. “Draco has taken quite a liking to you.” Ron seethed. You shook your head. “I disregarded him, Ron. You know I’d never—“

“I’m not worried about you, pretty girl.” He specified, his hand lifting your chin towards him. You licked your lips, looking at his. He smiled down at you. “I’m going to show him that you’re mine, he’s going to hear you. He’s going to see you all fucked up from me.”

Your underwear was wet, your eyes widened and you rubbed your thighs together at his words. “On the bed, pretty.” He prodded you, pushing you towards the bed. You listened, wanting him to do whatever he wanted to you. To be honest, you loved it when he got this way. There was something about it that immediately turned you on.

He took off he belt, keeping his eye contact with you. You sat up on the bed, your eyes scanning him up and down. He took off his uniform pants, sliding off his shoes with them. He crawled on top of you, his hands beginning to fiddle with your button up shirt. “These bloody buttons-“ He grumbled before crashing his lips into yours, it was aggressive but loving all at once. It was demanding, you stood no chance of taking over. You let him have control.

He got fed up with your shirt at one point he just ripped it off, buttons flew everywhere. “Ron!” You exclaimed, breaking the kiss.

“Shut it, you have hundreds of those blasted shirts.” He spat. He kissed you again, harsher, and unclasping your bra. He threw it across the room carelessly, not taking any attention off of you, he pushed you back toward the headboard of the bed, putting you in his lap so you were straddling him. His hands were everywhere; your hair, your waist, the hem of your skirt, etc.

Ron’s fingers crept past your skirt, and they lightly grazed your clothed heat. You moaned in his at the feeling immediately. “You drive me fucking crazy, do you understand?” Ron mumbled in the kiss. You nodded, hardly containing your sounds of pleasure from his fingers teasing your soaking wet core, your panties still acting as a barrier. “I want to hear your response.” He prodded. “Yes Ron, I understand,” you whimpered. Ron’s hips grinded upwards towards yours, as his finger continued to tease your core still clothed.

“Please–“ you begged him in the heated kiss. You wanted him now, you didn’t care how. Ron broke the kiss, still teasing you “Please what, princess?”

“I want your mouth,” You pleaded, your face pink from embarrassment. “What a perfect idea, pretty. Only if you moan my name loud enough will determine if I let my pretty girl cum, how does that sound?”

You moaned, his fingers were still lightly touching you. You needed more, this wasn’t enough. You tried to grind towards his fingers more, and he immediately took them away. You whined, it felt like torture. “Don’t be a brat.” He demanded. He slid himself out from under you, so you were laying in the pillows and on your back, and flipped your skirt up into your belly. He laid on his stomach and inches himself close to in-between your legs.

He teasingly licked slowly up the inside of your thighs, making you moan his name, your hands in his red hair pulling it like reins. He hummed as he got closer to your core, with your now saturated panties. You felt lightheaded, this wasn’t fair, you needed him desperately more than ever. Your core was aching for his mouth. “Fuck Ron, please please!” You cried desperately. He finally complied, hooking his fingers under your soaked panties and pulled them off.

“My goodness, excited are we?” Ron teased, licking his lips. Your pussy was dripping, begging for him to clean you up. He went in immediately afterwards, slowly licking your core up and down. Focusing on each inch. In circles, his tongue went. He planted a few kisses, and went back to licking up your juices. You threw your head back and screamed his name, forgetting you both didn’t set a Muffliato spell. Oh well, Draco’ll definitely hear you.

He hummed as he ate you out, making it even more pleasurable. “Ron, fuck!” You moaned loudly, felt like you shook your dorm walls. You saw him smile and he was licking every inch. His tongue abused your hole, going in and out as his thumb played with your clit. “God, Draco wishes he could lick your cunt like this, fuck Y/N.” Ron groans

You felt a knot forming in your stomach, your legs were shaking violently. “Ron, I’m close!” You moaned. He immediately backed away. You moaned in frustration.

“Ron please, I can’t take much more,” you begged. Your boyfriend shook his head at you and laughed. he took your jaw in his hand “You’re going to earn it, you’re going to learn to not even look in Malfoy’s direction. Understood?” Ron demanded. You nodded, tears falling down your cheeks. Your core was dripping, making a wet spot on your sheets.

“You’re going to pleasure me” Ron announces.

You got up on your knees, which were very weak. Ron’s hard cock was easily visible in his boxers, he slid them off letting it free. He got up from the bed and stood towards the edge. You got on your stomach with your legs in the air and crossed behind you, taking his length in your mouth immediately, licking off the pre-cum.

“Fuck baby, you already know what to do.” Ron groaned, collecting your hair and making a ponytail with his hand, wrapping it around his fist. This made you groan in his dick, rolling your eyes back, but still staying stable enough. You pumped him with your hand and he guided your head, bobbing it up and down on his dick. He again, had a majority of control. That bastard.

His dick was hitting violently against the back of your through causing the urge to gag. You free hand was balled up in a fist with your nails going into your skin making crescent-shaped indents, trying to distract yourself from the urge.

“Take it, look at me.” Ron demanded, your eyes fluttered open and looked at him. “Malfoy couldn’t fuck your mouth this could, could he? Huh? You’re stuffed with my cock.” You made noises at his response, rubbing your thighs together. You shut your eyes again trying to focus on not orgasming right there, even with the absence of his touch.

“Eyes on me, I said.” Ron’s voice boomed again. You whined and opened your eyes agin and looked at him. He threw his head back, his mouth agape, “Pretty girl, I’m close,” He groaned, eyebrows together. You bummed around his dick, head being pushed on it up and down violently by his hands gripping your hair. His hand pushing you on his dick started getting off beat and sloppy, you knew he was very close.

You went faster and faster, ignoring the tears and sweat rolling down your face. You felt his warm liquid roll down your throat as his dick twitched and his loud moans were all you heard.

He hands gently ran through your hair, he pulled out of your mouth and looked down at you. His smile was wicked, but you still saw the love behind it. “On your back, on you go.” You excitedly complied. Your body was aching for him, begging him to fuck the shit out of you. you flipped your skirt up to expose your cunt, soaking wet from his sexual torture. Ron hovered over you, his arms on both sides of you, he leaned down and left sloppy kisses on your neck and collarbones, leaving bite marks. You moaned his name and begged for him to pleasure you.

“You’ve been patient enough, pretty girl,” Ron said sweetly, he likes himself up to you, and teased your slit with his cock. You whines and dug your nails into his back.

He entered into you, giving you time to adjust. You felt so full, so good. “Ron, fuck.” You whined.

“Pretty girl, you feel so perfect; so warm and tight, fuck.” Ron groaned into your neck. His pace was slow, it hit the right spot, he knew you so well. The room was full of your moans and the smell of sex.

Ron had sped up, the sound of your skin slapping together joined the sounds of pleasure you both were making together. His dick was hitting your g-spot like a arrow on the middle of a target. Over and over again. Meanwhile, he continued to leave hickeys on your chest, collar bones and shoulders.

He then sat up and tossed your legs over his shoulders, exposing you more. He railed into you, more aggressively now. Your eyes were full of tears from pure pleasure. The knot in your stomach was forming again.

“Ron, please– let me-“ You moaned, looking him in the eye.

“I am too, cum in my cock baby, come on,” Ron grunted.

After a few more thrusts, you both hit your point, both of you groaning simultaneously, Ron then pulling out and collapsing next to you. You both were covered in sweat, and each others fluids. Ron’s hands ran over his chest that was rapidly going up and down.

“Y/N?” Ron perked up, holding himself up by one arm, looking down at you.

“Yes, Ron?”

“I love you, you know that, right? I just can’t stand Malfoy talking to you like that..”

“Of course, Ron. I love you too. He’s not really interested in me, he just does it to piss you off, I think.” You replied, your hand on his cheek. He gave you a doubtful look.

“However, I should talk to Malfoy more often, that was quite fun.” You chuckled. Ron rolled his eyes at you, and gave you a kiss on the nose.

[the-moon-files]

Alright, so I just read through that language barriers post of yours and had a Blast Tm, BUT! Now I have several thoughts that need to be spoken. Firstly, what with english being this really ancient language now, yn‘s basically got a free phd in hyrule, don‘t they?? Predestined for exploration because of their „excellent skills with the language used in the ruins and temples of old, as well as their familiarity with the mechanisms“ or something. The ruin researchers probably beg to have them in their team.

Secondly, apparently accents are really appealing to some people? The chain already finds yn‘s morning voice really hot, but how would they even react to the way they sort of mispronounce the words? Idk too much about how japanese sounds, but maybe they emphasize the consonants too much which makes them sound harsh all the time, or the opposite, too much emphasis on vowels and sounding very soft. Just… brainrot about rambling and not trying too hard to speak perfectly accurately being all it takes to have the boys smitten and kicking their feet.

Thirdly!! What about a yn that knows multiple languages? The chain tries their best to learn english, and then yn comes around the corner like SIKE. THAT‘S NOT ALL OF THEM. YOU WILL NEVER COMPREHEND IT ALL. (That‘s what I‘d do at least.)

sorry for late reply i have a hectic life rn and i got hit by hurricane helene lol

ao3/writing blog author curse is so real u guys, this was like a 100 year not anticpated flood or smth, also we're in the mountains??

anyway gonna assume u mean masc/male reader bc of the reference to this post!! if u want context or a sorta part 1

this is just gonna be a quick reply so i can share anons ideas w/the world tho since ive been hoarding asks 😔

at the very least Wild's Zelda is harassing you

at the very most, every time u guys get near a town or city, u are kidnapped by hylian researchers

just the image of a bunch of nerd hylians mobbing u and fangirling while the rest of the guys, in full armor and swords just stand awkwardly behind lmao

(they get lowkey jealous after awhile i mean what who said that-)

the way Legend, Hyrule, Four, and Twi hover a little closer when you talk

Wild and Twi are practically like excited dogs whenever you speak, perking up when they hear your deep voice, u know, bc u tried randomly talking in the evenings abt nothing and watched them pavlov respond and look to you every time

even when u just started talking about the grass or some flowers

lowkey you accidentally almost mess up their dungeon exploring bc theyre just so used to your accented voice in their heads, just around them, or smth guiding them along, that when they all split up into smaller groups in the dungeon,

each Link pair accidentally starts following a man's voice echoing in the dungeon until they all accidentally converge in a main room and the Link equivalent of the point spiderman meme happens with you in the center with Time, who had been your dungeon buddy (he's laughing at them as every Link goes a little red after realizing they just followed you unconciously)

ur favorite thing to do is leaning down to whisper in each of the pointed hylian ears randomly, just talking about mundane or random things and watching it twitch, some trying to stay still like Time/Twi/Wars/Wild, while others leap away like u burned them lmao Legend/Hyrule/Four, and Sky managing to do both, trying to maintain composure before he inevitably breaks out all red and hides in his hands lmao

(Wind dared you to do it originally, and he snickers every time he sees you doing it again lol)

-

ok but the multiple languages is endless comedy gold

bc everytime a Link thinks he's got it or starts to listen then realize ur actually speaking smth completely different language

u get the most memeable faces of his confusion

like these gems

(four's blue is showing, he's offended u switched languages every other word one time)

they're actually so fed up lmao

☆

anyway sorry for late reply!! I hope u guys are having a good week so far, and ill try to post some more, tho cant guarantee when as the holidays close in for me

(rip my class is also getting near the end too im Stressin)

peace out anon,

🌙

[estxkios]

HEYYY OMG I LOVE UR WRITING WHAT??

ANWAYS, could you do something with drunk bill? not smut, but like bassicly reader picks him up from a party or something and he’s like SUPPERRDUPPERR drunk LOL. and later in the story he’s keeping reader awake by talking so much, and reader just exhausted and so tired of his shit and accidentally tells him to shut the fuck up or something like that. then billy willy starts crying bcs he’s drunk and can’t process and reader just comforts him.

TYSM!! xx

FEELINGS ੈ✩‧₊˚

2008 bill kaulitz x fem!reader

summary : the request :3

warnings: ANGST with comfort!!, reader is grumpy, drunk bill, a lot of swearing, bill gets comfort not the reader...

--------------------------------------------------------

;- 2:16 am

“what the fuck..?” you muttered under your breath.

your room was completely dark, your phone screen turning on as you received text after text was the only thing that illuminated it.

you tried to shift your position in bed, turning away from the phone. 

you tried to ignore the messages.

but they just kept coming to a point where you could no longer ignore the irritating rattle of your phone against your nightstand.

you let out a string of curse words as you shift in your bed once again.

you reach your arm out towards your nightstand and aimlessly grope for your phone until you find it.

you squint your eyes as they adjust to the brightness of your phone, finally seeing who has been disturbing your sleep.

it was your boyfriend.

;- 2:24 am

you and bill had eachothers location, so finding him wasn’t going to be the hard part. 

the hard part was going to be trying not to fall asleep at the wheel as your drove to whatever house party bill was attending tonight.

well, trying to get your drunk boyfriend in the car would be hard too, but based on his texts, he would probably be too intoxicated to break free from your arms as you shoved him in the back seat like you have done previously.

-; 2:35 am

you could hear the faint sound of trashy music playing as you pulled into the driveway and right as you exited your car you bee-lined for the front door.

you pounded on the door loudly enough so that people would be able to hear it over the music. 

no answer.

“oh-! hiii baby!” a voice said behind you, to which you immediately whipped your head around.

“whatthefuck-“ you stopped when you realized who it was, “bill? why the fuck are you outside?” 

“i was jus’ waiting for youu!” he stumbled towards you and smiled.

you shook your head and laughed to yourself in disbelief. how much had he had to drink?

“yeah, okay.” you paused, “we’re going to my house. c’mon” 

you grabbed bills arm and led him to the passenger seat, he was trying to open the door while you rummaged around in your purse trying to find your keys, the darkness which surrounded the two of you definitely didn’t help this.

bill kept pulling the door handle.

“bill fucking stop you’re gonna rip the door handle off-..“ you found your keys and unlocked the door.

“m’sorry! i jus wanna-“ he tried to continue talking but you pushed him into his seat as fast as you could and shut the door.

you were so ready to get back in your bed as sleep. 

-; 2:40 am

on the drive back to your house, bill stayed mostly quiet.

“are you okay?” you asked him in a concerned tone, “because you’re usually a fucking obnoxious drunk-“

“im not drunk.!.” he looked at you with a very stern expression and you couldn’t help giggle.

“okay.”

-; 2:50 am

when you finally got back to your house you did the same as when you arrived at the frat house. 

you immediately bee-lined for the door.

except the difference was you now had a drunk bill following you.

once again fumbling with your keys, you unlocked the door, bill attached to your arm.

“go to the spare room bill, or take the couch, i don’t care.” you said as you hung your jacket and purse back in their designated areas.

“okayyy..” bill obliged, walking down the hallway towards the bedrooms.

you followed after him moments later, walking into your bedroom.

as you went to settle into your bed you saw something that certainly wasn’t one of the many blankets that littered your room.

“bill.”

“hm? oh hi y/n!” you could see his toothy smile at you even in the darkness. 

“bill, i said go to the spare room. i actually need to sleep tonight. please, baby.”

“but- but i don’t wanna be alone!” he cried, “i promise i will never ever do this again, please can i just stay in here?”

you thought about shoving him off of your bed and letting him find his way to the spare room, but then you thought about how hard it would be to get him off of the floor once you pushed him off the bed.

so you scratched that idea.

“fine..” you muttered, “but be quiet, okay? can you do that for me?” you kissed him lightly on his sweet alcohol-ridden lips.

he looked at you with drunken eyes and smiled. “okay..”  

you smiled at him through the darkness and planted a kiss on his forehead, then continuing to position yourself in a comfortable sleeping position. 

after moments of silence, you thought bill had fallen asleep.

but no.

you flinched as he started fidgeting with your hair, although soon after you leaned into the touch as he usually did this to help soothe himself to sleep

then you heard suppressed giggles behind you which soon turned into full-on laughs.

you tried to ignore him, thinking it would end soon.

but once again, no.

“bill, stop.”  you would whisper, but he couldn’t. 

he brought his hand up to cover his mouth. 

big mistake.

the hand he intended to cover his mouth with was the one he had tangled up in your hair, which led to him accidentally tugging on your hair as he brought it up to his mouth. 

“bill what the fuck!? - ow!” you whipped back at him, “that was my fucking hair!”

you rubbed the back of your head where bill had tugged to soothe the pain, muttering to yourself as you did so.

bill didn’t utter a word. 

you stared into his pitiful eyes and spat many insults at him before grabbing a stray pillow and smacking it between the two of you.

that had to keep him from disrupting your sleep, right?

not right.

the giggles that you heard behind your back minutes ago had now turned into small whimpers.

the bed shook behind you as bill whined out an unsteady breath.

he had to be messing with you.

you turned around for the final time, about to completely snap, “bill can you just fucking-“

you fell silent and stared into bills eyes which were somehow even more pitiful than before.

his makeup was not yet running down his face but it was smudged under his eyes, a streak of the black shadow ran up into his hairline where he had presumably wiped it.

bill sat up, but that didn’t keep him from breaking down. “i didn’t mean to pull your hair..!!” he hid his head in his hands, sobbing into them.

“oh bill…” you almost started crying seeing the state that he was in. how could you have made your own boyfriend feel like this?

you removed the pillow that you had put between the two of you, discarding it onto the floor as you practically scooped bill up in your arms.

you hugged him tightly as he sobbed into your shoulder.

“i- im so sorry!!” he whined out almost incomprehensibly. he was a drunk, sobbing mess.

“bill.. please don’t apologize..” you stroked the back of his head, gently combing through his rough black hair.

“do you still love me?” his manicured nails dug into your shoulders nervously as he waited for a response.

your heart sunk as his words. had you made him feel like you didn’t love him?

you moved your arms to wrap firmly around bills torso, pulling him flush against you.

you held him tightly, holding back tears of your own as you rested your chin on his head.

“bill..” you trailed off, moving your head away from his as you gently tried to get him to meet your gaze. “i love you so much.. i’m sorry for snapping. really. i’m so fucking sorry. i’m just so tired and-“ 

bill cut you off by smashing his head into your chest, “i really didnt mean to hurt you.. i was just trying to go to sleep..”

“i know you didn’t mean to hurt me bill.. its really okay.”

you felt bill nod into your chest, the poor boy was so tired and he was just trying to soothe himself to sleep.

god, why did you yell at him?

--------------------------------------------------------

oh i really hate this but enjoy nonetheless

[d0youc0py]

heyy saw your post ab requests!!

can you do simon and konig seeing their s/o for first time without makeup, but she's rlly insecure and overthinking it, while he's totally clueless bc he doesn't think much of it until he realizes she's acting kinda weird. ending with comfort/fluff plss

“You’re mad at me?”

The question rang through your head causing a flood of confusion.

“What? No Konnie.” You assured.

“Why won’t you look at me? You’re barely talking to me. I did something to upset you.” Those sad blue puppy dog eyes nearly killed you. You rapidly shook your head.

“Konnie I would tell you if you did something. I just”- You cut yourself off. You knew Konig was the exact opposite of materialistic and vain, so you didn’t exactly know how to tell him how you were feeling without getting laughed at. “I’m not wearing makeup.” You said slowly. He squinted his eyes leaning forward. He didn’t stop til your noses were touching.

“I like it.” He stated. “You’re mad at me because I didn’t notice.” He also stated. You rolled your eyes.

“No Konnie!” You couldn’t really even hold back a smile. The fact that he was missing your point completely actually made you feel a bit better. Maybe you really didn’t look that different. “I just don’t feel pretty.” His eyes widened.

“How can you say that?” He mumbled. “I don’t like you saying things like that.” He grabbed the empty plate in front of you and began washing it. He muttered a few things under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch.

“What?” You pressed. He didn’t answer you and continued washing the dishes. Once he was done he sat back down with you. This was a common thing with Konig. Him needing time to plan out what he was going to say. At first it felt insincere- having to plan out exactly what you were going to say to a person. Then you realized it just made him all the more honest. He genuinely thought about things- instead of just giving the first answer that popped into his head.

“What do I call you?” He asked suddenly.

“Schön.”

“What does it mean?” He continued.

“Uh, Sweetheart?”

“No, that’s Schatz.” He said shaking his head. “It means beautiful.” That was enough to make your eyes light up. Schön was his preferred nickname for you when you were alone. It was usually mumbled against your skin, but other times it was spoken so proudly as if it were a fact. He held out his arms for you. You accepted his invitation and crawled into his lap.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered.

“Again.”

“Simon.” You groaned. “Can we do this later? My throat hurts.”

“Do you feel it?”

You paused.

“Again.” He insisted.

“I’m beautiful.” You muttered looking at yourself in the mirror. If anything this was worsening your self esteem. Having to stare at yourself next to your god of a boyfriend. Simon shot you a glare in the mirror.

He thought affirmations would help. After you had a small breakdown in the living room when he said you looked different. He didn’t mean it in a bad way at all, but that’s what you heard.

“When Johnny does this it works.” He muttered back, rubbing his jaw. Flashes of the Scot yelling affirmations to himself in the mirror before every mission flashed through his mind.

“That’s cause Johnny is hot.”

Cue another glare.

“You know what I mean. He just rolls out of bed- so do you. Do you know how much work I have to put in to not look ugly?”

“What did you just say?” His voice was so stern it caused you to jump. “You called yourself ugly?” He looked offended. His molten eyes were hard- but there was something else there. Hurt- maybe anger. Probably both.

“You know what I mean.” You sighed.

“No actually I don’t.” He spat. “Why do you talk to yourself like that? Makes me sick.” He growled.

“It doesn’t really have anything to do with you Si. It’s just how I feel without makeup.” You tried to explain. He wasn’t having it.

“It does have something to do with me. You think I have bad taste? That I’m attracted to ugly people? Well I’m not. I’m not saying I like you just because of your looks, you have a lot going for you, but you sure as hell aren’t here just cause you can make me laugh.” He shot back.

“Well you’ve only seen me with makeup.” You reminded. His brows furrowed.

“You’re still here yeah? I haven’t kick you out. You know why?” He took a step forward holding your face between his hands. “You are one of the most beautiful things that have ever happened to me. Don’t you ever insult my taste again, because I know beauty when I see it. Understand?”

A soft smile spread across his face when your glow came back. You smiled widely.

“Yes Sir.”

[loomisadvocate]

the inevitable 𖤐 part five

woodsboro would soon be a distant memory - but some things would make it hard to forget.  

pairing: billy loomis x fem!reader

word count: 7.4k (holy shit i am so sorry)

tags/warnings: strangers to enemies, enemies to lovers, smut (eventually), angst, slow burn (heavy on this), cursing, alcohol and marijuana, make out scene who cheered!, probably others i'm forgetting.

a/n: clearly i got a little carried away with this part... it's the longest one to date. i hope that's not a bad thing. not 100% edited bc i promised i would post today. enjoy!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

masterlist

“I’m sorry, he actually said enchanting?”

Tatum stifles her laughter to avoid any of her soda passing through her nose. That, and to avoid any more stares from the old woman who’d been glaring at Tatum over her less-than-modest plaid skirt. You nod, scrunching your nose up at the memory.

Your outing with Tatum has, so far, been spent filling her in on your entire Billy situation. It was prompted by her asking why, and you quote, “rat-boy,” was so hellbent on the group knowing in the first place, seeing as you’d only formally known each other for a few weeks. In the spirit of having no more secrets, you gladly answered her question.

You started from the very beginning: how a seemingly innocent conversation about red wine versus white turned into a quick trip to the garage that ended in telling him your plans to move. If Tatum thought the garage incident was hilarious, she was sure to piss herself when you told her about him coming to your window.

“Wait for it; it gets much worse.” You laugh along with her and take another bite of the pretzel you were sharing, wiping cinnamon sugar dust off on a useless paper napkin. “So then a week later, I’m writing my paper and hear something outside. I’m thinking it’s a small animal or something, but no. Guess what?” You pause for dramatic effect, Tatum raising an eyebrow and waiting expectantly. A few seconds go by before her hand smacks on the table and she gasps.

“Shut up!” The old woman next to you grunts and picks up her belongings, clearly fed up with your friend’s dramatic reactions. Tatum doesn’t care, and neither do you. If people looked at you and saw two high school seniors behaving like they were spilling middle school gossip, you couldn’t care less. You’d been waiting for more moments like these with her, and you’d be damned if you let a stranger spoil it with just a dirty look.

Tatum lowers her voice and leans in closer to you. “Shut up. He came to your house. Through your window?”She confirms with you, and you nod with your nose scrunched up.

“And I actually let him in, which is the even crazier part. But I talked to him—like, actually talked to him, Tatum. And he wasn’t that unbearable. Then, for whatever reason, he just flipped a switch.” You run a hand through your hair and push the pretzel towards her. Thinking about it all was taking away your sweet tooth. 

What confused you the most about Billy Loomis is why, all of a sudden, he made fucking with your circle a personal mission. You racked your brain, thinking perhaps you had offended him by accident and didn’t realize it. You’d been doing that over and over again, coming up empty each time. Tatum knew him much better than you did and had a different angle, seeing as her boyfriend was the boy’s best friend.

“I think Billy is just a shithead and likes to get under people’s skin. He’s really good at it,” she offers. You already had the opportunity to learn that the hard way. “So what happened after you guys talked? Did you throw him out on his ass?” She asks with a giggle, getting a kick out of the mental image of you grabbing him by his hair and tossing him out of the window. A bit morbid, but a girl could dream.

You hesitate to answer. It’s not that you wanted to lie again; god no, that was the last thing you wanted to do. But something about telling another soul about the tension and the bubbling desire you’d been feeling in your gut since meeting him? It felt eerily similar to the reason you took so long to tell Tatum about leaving; it would make it real. You were perfectly content living in denial for as long as it took, even if that was up until the moment the moving van drove away.

You don’t answer, and Tatum kicks your leg lightly under the table. “Hello?’ She draws it out, waving her hand in the air. “What, did you guys make out or something?”

“No!” You shout immediately—defensively and hopefully convincingly. A few more people turn to look due to your quick outburst. “He got all... angry? Called me ungrateful and said I needed to wrap up my pity party. So I called him an asshole, and then..." You trail off at the memory. He taunts you, his lips now ghosting over your temple and his slim fingers resting on your hip. Through the thin, unreliable material of your t-shirt, you could feel him tracing circles. 

“And then what?! You’re killing me here.” Tatum is growing more impatient by the second, like she’s heard the juiciest rumor about her favorite celebrity on TV, and suddenly the signal goes out. You look at her with uncertainty. Truthfully, you weren’t even entirely sure what had happened yourself. “I swear to god if you don’t spill.”

“And then it got weird,” you continue. Tatum doesn’t speak for you to know she’s asking how it got weird. “He got really close to me, like he was going to kiss me. And then he just didn’t? He said I should finish my paper and said my secret wouldn’t last much longer. Then the party happened, and he tried to give me a ride to school this morning. Well, I accepted the ride only ‘cause I would’ve been late and—“

“Whoa, we aren’t going to just skip that part. You guys almost kissed?!” Your best friend was crazed by all of this. Finding out you were moving, that Billy had it out for you, and that he had made a half-move on you all in one day was a bit much, even for her. She had absolutely zero interest in your ride to school this morning. Besides, she would be reinstating herself as your chaffeur starting tomorrow anyway. 

"It was just weird and tense; nothing crazy happened. But it was definitely something. I just don’t know what his angle is.” You shrugged the entire thought away, entertaining it felt distasteful.

Admittedly, you hadn’t reached the point of being repulsed by him. The Billy you’d met a month ago was lingering in every crevice of your brain. Even the Billy that appeared in your bedroom seemed more kind, more palatable in some sense. Billy had proven thus far to be, if nothing else, a complete wildcard. You weren’t sure which Billy you would get on any given day. One day he is mocking you in your bedroom; the next he’s embarrassing you; and after that, he’s offering to bring you to school.

It was all too confusing, and your mind being seemingly detached from your body was not helping. The manner in which he could keep you frozen in place with a single look, your eyes the only part of your body able to move. Tracing over his stature, his lips, and his hands. It was positively disturbing. Now it had happened not once but twice, and everyone knows what they say about the third time.

"It sounds like he wants to see if he can get the library girl to open up more than her books." Tatum giggles and finishes off the sugary snack, crumpling up the paper to toss into the trash later. You don't respond; you're still fantasizing about the night in your room. Even when he wasn't in proximity he was able to throw your focus. What you fail to notice is Tatum's dawn of realization—the revelation that occurs while you're daydreaming. 

"Oh my fucking god, you want to screw him!" She says it accusingly, pointing a finger at you. This is definitely enough to catch your attention. Your mouth is agape, but nothing comes out in your defense. After stuttering a few times, you manage to say something; however, it doesn't remedy much. 

"Tatum, I don't want to screw him! He's horrible. Abhorrent, even." You throw in a big word in an attempt to throw her off your scent. Tatum knows you. She's known every guy you've thought to be remotely cute based on how you look at them. You never made a move on anyone the entire time you'd been in town. Partly because you preferred to avoid any serious attachments and strife when you eventually moved, but also because boys just weren't something you prioritized. 

"You're basically drooling just thinking about it. God, no wonder there's so much tension." Tatum is enjoying every second of this. Maybe a small part of her is doing it on purpose, just as a little payback for what happened. Your willingness to talk to her about it, despite how humiliating it was for you, didn't go unnoticed. What killed you was how on the nose she was. It felt good to have your best friend in the loop on what would likely be your first and last real boy problem until the end of the school year. 

"Ugh, you're right." You confess, unable to even laugh. Instead, you grab the hair at the top of your head and rest your face on your palms.  "What do I do, Tatum?" You ask for guidance; your voice muffled. First you hear the slurping of the rest of her soda; she'd run through hers in record time.

"Just mess around; you're leaving soon anyway. He’s clearly into you, in his own bizarre, freakish way. What's the worst that could happen?" Tatum answers nonchalantly, and it earns an incredulous look from you. Tatum had personally ensured Billy was nowhere within five feet of you up until last month, and now she was encouraging you to sleep with the enemy? 

"You're insane. I'm not going to mess around with him. He's an asshole; he has no respect, and he's made it clear he likes seeing me miserable.” You shake your head and lean back in your chair; one of the legs must be shorter than the rest because it's been rickety since you sat in it. 

“True, but maybe he could like you? The only person who knows what Billy is thinking is Billy. Stu probably doesn't even know what happens in his bird brain." She offers an explanation, and you can't exactly disagree. You never knew what his motive was, and clearly, he kept his cards close to his chest. 

"I know he's a dick; trust me," she continues. "And I'm definitely not a fan of him after what he pulled. But it's almost summer, and you've never even gone on a date with someone. Obviously, it's not a necessity, but you could probably benefit from a little something to take the edge off. You are a little bit uptight." Tatum's hands are clasped on the table as she tries to reason with you. Not only are you still in shock that she's suggesting this, but now you're surprised to find yourself agreeing.

Even so, there was still the matter of addressing his little stunt. Now that you and Tatum were fine, the next two things to take care of were, first, Randy, and secondly, the fucker that caused all of this in the first place. 

"I can't believe you're telling me to screw around with Billy Loomis." You state, frankly, with a twinge of amusement donning your features. 

"I can't believe you were already thinking about screwing around with Billy Loomis. You wear your thoughts on your face, by the way." Tatum smiles at you patronizingly, but you know it's with a light heart. You definitely had a lot to think about, but most of it needed to wait until after you tracked down Randy. 

The squirrely one of the group was hardly ever taken seriously, but you knew that in this situation he needed to feel heard. He truly did see you as a sister. Whenever Stu would shoot down his ideas, you were always one step behind him, coming to his defense. You always said yes when he asked to hang out after school, mainly because he would go into a dramatic monologue about how much you hated him if you said otherwise.

Even though Tatum was your best friend, it was an unspoken feeling among all of you that Randy had somehow gotten the shittiest end of the stick. Randy was chaotic and, at times, unpredictable, but in a lot of ways, he was the one who bridged everyone together. You were positive that if Randy wasn't part of the group and hadn't pulled you from the library so many times, you wouldn't have gotten as close to Tatum. In the same beat, Randy was a simply guy. You knew an apology and a promise of grabbing food (on you, of course) would likely be enough. You still wanted to make it up to him.

With a clap, you stand up, ready to get out of the food court that was quickly starting to fill up with more people. The mall on a Monday afternoon was, believe it or not, one of the more entertaining places to go around town.

"No more Billy-talk; let's go. I need to find Randy." Tatum agrees quickly, standing up and tossing all of your trash in the bin before looking around in her bag for her car keys. Tatum agreed to stop by the video store on the way back and wait for you to talk to Randy. She assured you that he wasn’t angry, and noted that it wasn’t really in his nature to get angry anyways. That brought you much more comfort. 

"For the record, fooling around when you're mad at someone is so much more fun. Why do you think I start fights with Stu so often?" Tatum twirls her car keys around her pointer finger and catches them in her palm. "Let's roll, Arizona," she says in a deep voice, earning a light smack on the arm from you. 

You push Billy to the back of your mind for now, where he sits at any given moment lately. Perhaps Tatum was right, but if you were going to fool around with Billy Loomis, you were going to need to get your nerves in check. 

Your talk with Randy was equal parts amusing and proactive. As Tatum informed you, Randy was nowhere near angry. Hurt, yes. Shocked, absolutely. But Randy, like your best friend, also knew that you couldn’t be an awful person if you tried. All of your self-hatred over the situation now felt slightly hilarious. You’d caught Randy at the beginning of his shift, luckily for you. That meant he wasn’t annoyed by people making, in his opinion, subpar movie choices just yet.

You’d given him a very similar spiel to the one you gave Tatum, filled with an obscene amount of “I’m sorry’s” and a very long hug. You had to remind him you weren’t leaving that night to get him to pull away. Nonetheless, it appeared that a lot of your worst fears were no cause for concern. Nobody (that you knew) hated you or would be cursing your name for the foreseeable future. 

Randy did make it a point to really hammer that Windsor College was still taking applications despite the priority period ending already. He and Tatum had applied as soon as they opened, wishing to get as far away from Woodsboro as possible. Why it ended up being Ohio of all places you had no idea. Still, you rattled the idea around in your head. You figured it couldn’t hurt, but that was something you had to speak to your parents about.

The last you’d heard, your father was planning on taking a book deal that required him to live in New York in order to be close to the publishing company. Out-of-state tuition was likely going to be way too expensive, even with grants and scholarships. If you were able to convince him to agree on Ohio, you wouldn’t have to completely start over in the friend department.

Tuesday morning arrives, and for the first time since last Friday, you wake up without a weight on your chest. Your usual morning routine ensues, and it’s music to your ears when you hear the familiar horn of Tatum’s car outside your window. The ride to school felt even better today; after all, you didn’t have an impudent troll following you until you got into the car. Stu is taking up his usual spot in the passenger seat, his seatbelt evidently not on. Midway to school, he turns around, practically on his knees in the seat, which earns a reprimand from Tatum.

“So how are things with you and Randy? All better now?” He asks enthusiastically, a twinkle in his eye telling you he was probably asking because he wanted some juicy drama to laugh at.

“Yep, we’re all good. All is right in the world again, or whatever.” You nod once and keep your answer brief, refusing to give in to his wish. Your relationship with Stu was interesting, to say the least. You didn’t quite know him well, but his personality made it easy for you to take his banter in stride instead of taking it offensively.

“And what about things with Billy?” He asked immediately after, and Tatum slapped his shoulder quite harshly. You can see in the rear view that she is glaring at him. You scoff and direct your attention to her.

“You told him? Him of all people?! Tatum!” You lean forward and push Stu away by putting your hand over his face, staring at your best friend with a look of betrayal.

“He was gonna hear about it eventually; besides, he technically brought it up first!” She defends herself, pointing the finger at her boyfriend. You look between the two of them beyond confusion; what reason could Stu possibly have to bring up you and Billy? You raise both of your eyebrows at him, waiting for him to speak.

“You guys were like, eye-fucking each other on Friday. I didn’t know if I should feel awkward or kind of turned on,” he starts cackling as you start hitting him repeatedly.

“Don’t. Even. Go there!” You pause between each word, giving him a final slap on the top of his head. Stu was probably the least observant of everyone. If he and Billy were Dumb and Dumber, he was definitely the latter (which wasn’t saying much, really).

"Hey, fucking chill! I'm all for you getting some. A little weird it's from him, but maybe it'll fix that uptight attitude you've got going on," his words echo the ones his girlfriend had uttered to you less than twenty-four hours prior. 

"Why do you guys think I'm uptight?!" You immediately shift into an even stronger defense mode, pleading frantically to the couple in the front seat for some kind of answer. You were no idiot; you had enough self-awareness to know that perhaps you could take your unyielding need for structure and order down a couple of notches.

Stu catches that you don't comment on 'getting some' from his best friend, and sticks his tongue out at you. "Arizona's fucking Billy!" He yells it as Tatum parks in her usual space, loud enough that if the windows were down people would have definitely heard it.

"Leave her alone! They haven't screwed yet." Tatum speaks up finally; although not to as much of your benefit as you would've appreciated. She puts the car in park and you jump at the opportunity to get out before you strangle Stu for his teasing. You scowl at the 6'4 child next to you and he, as usual, ignores your silent protest. 

"Don't worry, Stu has to be on your side because I'm on your side. That means no Billy tomorrow night, right babe?" She looks up at him to confirm, but you can tell she's shooting daggers at him; compelling him to provide the answer she was looking at again. 

"What's going on tomorrow night?" You ask. Hopefully it was nothing involving as much alcohol as the last time you spent time with them. 

"Movie night, Randy insists there's a movie we need to watch that can't wait until the weekend. Billy will not be there." Tatum's chin turns up and she smacks Stu's chest. He feigns discomfort but she quickly provides him with a swift kiss.

"No Billy," you repeat. Relief washes over you. The unavoidable confrontation with him that had been plaguing you could be put off for one more day. The three of you split up to go to your respective classes, and you can only hope that Stu makes good on his word and keeps Billy as far away from you as possible.

——— 

Stu, surprisingly, keeps his promise. In fact, Billy was nowhere to be seen all day at school yesterday. Today he'd passed by you in the hallway, but he was too invested in whatever conversation he was having to notice you, or he chose to ignore you. Either way, you were content. Stu welcomes you inside, clearly prepared to drink the night away in his signature red 'party robe.' You didn't plan on drinking copiously; after all, it was still a weekday. However, the memories of the last time you were in Stu's living room began creeping up on you as soon as you walked inside.

Nobody brought up last Friday, which you were grateful for. But if you were going to relax enough to enjoy your night, at least one drink was necessary. To avoid falling into the cycle of running through beers all night, you instead asked Stu for a shot of tequila from his parents' liquor cabinet. It was hot and stung your throat as you forced it down, but the warmth that filled your chest afterwards was well worth it. That, and the soda you'd downed immediately after, helped with the foul taste. Everyone else indulged in a shot of well, most of them chasing it with their first beer of the night.

You were comfortable in the same place you were the first time you'd come to Stu's house. It seemed like so long ago. The season had already changed to summer since you'd made small talk about wine with the boy, who would soon become something close to your only adversary. Tatum and Stu were already settled in their places while Randy fiddled with the VHS player, a sight you'd become used to.

The tape's sleeve tossed haphazardly on the small table read Hellraiser IV: Bloodline, and you kept your complaints to yourself. You didn't plan on spoiling Randy's enthusiasm for the remainder of your time in town. You just really did not like horror movies, good or bad. Randy performs his regular pre-movie sermon, this time complete with a full run-down of how the original director had bowed out due to "artistic differences" and that a lot of the characters' fates had been rewritten. You couldn't help but inaudibly laugh at the irony. Oh, how you wish for your fate to be rewritten. 

You actually try to focus on the movie, despite the faint buzz you can feel between your ears from the tequila. A group of guards are attempting to break down the door in order to take Dr. Paul Merchant when loud knocks at the front door scare all of you. 

"Jesus, fuck!" Stu yells and groans loudly, hopping up over the back of the couch. Your attention briefly wanders to the entrance, but the front door is out of sight from where you're sitting. You don't hear much and assume Stu is coming back any second. 

A few minutes go by without Stu's return, but Randy and Tatum are too captivated by the movie to notice. You get up quietly to avoid any other unexpected scares, going through the open archway until you can see the front door. Stu's towering height is hiding whatever he was looking at. 

"You can't be serious, Stu," you hear a voice whisper. Whoever he was looking at. Stu senses you behind him and quickly turns to look over his shoulder, revealing none other than Billy fucking Loomis. Of course, he would be here right now. 

Upon seeing you, Billy attempts to step inside through the small gap. "Just - there you are. Arizona, can I please talk to you?" 

Stu puts his leg out to block his path, his hands clasped together, while his eyes flash between the two of you. It would be a lie to say Stu wasn't finding this a thousand times more entertaining than the movie. 

"What could you possibly have to say to me that I would care about?" You respond boldly, crossing your arms and tilting your head at him, like you were suggesting a challenge. You should drink tequila more often. Billy's lips stay pressed together, and you can tell by the slight twitch of the corner that your reply was both unexpected and unappreciated.

Stu knows his friend far too well and quickly interjects. "How about you guys go talk in my room?" He suggests it, more-so an attempt to beg Billy not to make a scene. Stu is smiling, but it’s strained. Billy was not used to hearing any form of 'no,' and the last thing Stu needed was Tatum yelling at him for Billy showing up unannounced. You glance over at the living room, both of them completely unaware of what was happening in the foyer. 

“I’d rather rot than listen to anything that comes out of your mouth.”

With that, you turn on your heels and walk straight back to the kitchen. Luckily, your arms were crossed to hide your shaking hands from his view. They are just still enough to pour yourself another shot of tequila, and you drink it without a chaser this time. You shake your head first, then your shoulders, and end with your arms in an attempt to get your body to relax. You desperately need to calm down and carry on with the rest of the evening as you intended—Billy free.

You return to your spot just as Stu reenters the living room, and trailing not too far behind him is Billy. So much for him not being here tonight. Tatum finally looks over when Stu sits down next to her, and her jaw drops while she follows Billy with her eyes.

“Really?! I told you not to invite him!” She whispers harshly, making no effort to keep it a secret that he wasn’t exactly wanted. Billy doesn’t bat an eye; he just sits on the floor furthest away from you, right by the arm of the sofa Tatum and Stu were occupying.

“He just showed up. What was I supposed to do?” Stu whispers back, throwing his hands up defensively. “Just watch the movie; who cares?” He mutters, avoiding looking in your direction. You and Tatum both roll your eyes, settling more into your respective places as you attempt to focus on the movie again.

It’s not much longer before Duc de L’Isle is summoning the demon princess, Angelique, into a woman’s body. Even with the movie accelerating, you’re processing none of it. The small television doesn’t give off enough light for you to see everyone, but it does cast the perfect amount of illumination on Billy. The movie progresses without your attention, and even with Randy’s animated reactions, Tatum’s commentary, and Stu’s childish (and inappropriate) jokes, you have no reaction. You feel as though you’re watching yourself from the other side of the room, desperately trying to look uninterested enough to avoid any attention coming your way.

You and Billy are playing the same game. From his spot on his floor, you are just in his peripheral vision. He can make out that you're sitting with your knees to your chest, but he can't see your face clearly without making it obvious he was looking. He is actively fighting every urge to steal a quick glance at you, truly hoping to find you looking right back. Every so often, he adjusts, the hard floor starting to be a literal pain in his ass. Each time, he manages to look at you for what feels like half a second. 

Thirty minutes later, your couple of shots of tequila are starting to wear off, making you painfully paranoid about a certain someone. Just as you'd done before, you get up quietly and pad over to the kitchen. The tequila bottle is sitting in the same place you'd left it, your empty shot glass by its side. You sigh softly, taking the top off and pouring another to the brim this time. You quickly scan the counter for something to chase it with, but all the sodas are empty. You take a few steps to the fridge and pull it open, bending over to look for something. You spot a lone can of root beer in the back and grab it. 

When you turn back around, another lanky figure is waiting for you. You gasp instantly, and the root beer falls from your hand. Nobody in the living room stirs at the disruption; the movie is too loud.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you begin, your mouth immediately snapping shut as your brain catches up to your body. 

"No, just me." Billy gives you a placid smile. You don't say anything in response, stepping around him. You make it a point to hit his shoulder. 

"Fair, I deserve that." He nods in understanding, hands clasped behind his back. You deserve a hell of a lot more than a shoulder-check, you think to yourself. 

The can opening fills the space Billy expects you to take up with a response. He watches you intently, chin turned down, while you chuck back the shot and follow it up with root beer. You do your best not to show it on your face. 

"Arizona, I'm just trying to apologize," he begins, taking a step towards you. Immediately, you fall back and hold your hand up between the two of you. 

"Like last time? I'm not interested in hearing it." You snip back at him. "Why can't you get the hint that I don't want to listen to your fake sympathy? And I sure as hell don't need to be reprimanded by someone like you." You keep your voice low enough to keep this conversation as private as possible. The last thing you want is another confrontation like last time.

He stays silent and stares at you, his face falling just enough for you to notice. It's clear he fully expected his ambush to work, but there was no way you would go through this again. Not if you could help it. His nostrils flare so fast you almost miss it, but what you do miss is how fast his hand is wrapped around your elbow. You begin to protest and try to yank it out of his grasp, but Billy is intent on getting you upstairs. You both struggle up the stairs, and you are nudged into a bedroom with gaudy blue and red plaid sheets. The door is almost slammed behind you as Billy stands in front of it. 

"What the hell is your problem?!" He demands an answer, and you laugh incredulously. 

"Are you serious? What part of I don't want to talk to you do you not understand?" You attempt to leave the room, but he intervenes by stepping over to the left. You huff and try the other side, but he mimics you. 

“I rarely apologize, you should feel grateful. Are you that goddamn stubborn?" His height is an advantage in this situation, and he uses it to make you step backwards towards the bed. 

"Do I need to remind you that this entire thing is your fault?You are always so out of line; you just can't help yourself, can you?" Days of pent-up anger at the boy in front of you bubbled up to the surface. Your fists are clenched by your side, something Billy finds quite endearing. You were right; he couldn't help himself. It was too easy to get you this way: defensive, riled up, with a spunk nobody else in the group had seen except for him. He knew it was in there somewhere; he just didn't expect to find your buttons so quickly. 

"What did you say earlier?" He cocks his head to the side, and his forehead creases. A beat passes, and he snaps his fingers. "That's right, you'd rather rot than talk to me. Rot, Arizona. Bit harsh, isn't it?" He speaks evenly, his words laced with condescension. 

"I meant it, and I still mean it," you confirm. "You had no right to do what you did." 

"Oh, I know that. For the record, I am very sorry about how it all happened," he says, rocking back on his heels a couple times. You allow his words to go in one ear and out of the other.

"But if I hadn't, you wouldn't have told them. You and Tatum seem like two peas in a pod again, so was it that horrible?" His hands are held out, palms facing up as if to say, see? It all worked out. 

It takes a moment for you to decide if you want to even entertain this. 

"That's... Billy, that's not the point. It turned out okay, but it's the principle of the situation." You are too exhausted by the subject to continue holding your ground.

"Girls and their principles," he chuckles. You raise your eyebrows and shake your head once, about to really force your way out, but Billy tries to dial it back.

"It's a joke, Arizona. Relax. I really am sorry. I was a dick that night, and I would probably be one again. But everything is fine now." This boy needs an extensive course on the art of a meaningful apology.

You sigh, almost in defeat. Billy was so caught up in the specific situation that he was neglecting everything that occurred before it. You'd opened up to him; you'd trusted him with your feelings. You told him something you hadn't even told your best friend, and he used it against you. 

"That night in my room?" You start, jogging his memory for him since he had clearly forgotten. "I thought you were actually hearing me. I thought I was gaining another friend before I left, and you didn't care. You embarrassed me in front of everyone, yeah. But you also just..." You trail off, and this is why you didn't drink tequila. You can feel your eyes heating up, and you have to catch your lip between your teeth to keep it from trembling. 

"I what?" He asks. He's speaking softly now, inching closer to you.

You don't want to say it. You'd come to terms with the fact that Billy was not your friend, but it was unusual how simply unkind he could be. You had only been crying because of hurting Tatum, but you hadn't fully processed your feelings about what Billy had done. You were so intent on soaking up more good with your best friends that you ignored the other side of the coin. Now it was just the two of you a third time, and even after your bold display downstairs, you are still scared to tell him how you feel. 

"You really hurt me, Billy." You finally breathe, and Billy is right in front of you. As quickly as the air comes in, it leaves again. You blink profusely, trying your best to keep any rebellious tears at bay. For the first time, Billy feels. a pang of guilt. He wasn't the most emotionally intelligent guy on the planet, but he thought he had enough awareness to remember that this was a layered betrayal for you. 

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." It's the first offering of regret that you believe, albeit not completely. Each shot of tequila has relaxed you up to this point, but you feel that familiar air coming around you again, of your defenses being broken down with hardly any effort. You don't respond, and Billy takes it as an opportunity to move closer. Now you are almost nose to nose, Billy shrinking down to meet your height.

His eyes have that same look that you'd seen the night in your bedroom. His hair is falling in the exact same place. Deja-vu strikes you in the gut when you realize that once again, you haven't moved an inch. Billy's hand comes up to cup your cheek, head tilted slightly so he can get a good look at you. 

"You are so confusing," you confess, mustering up enough nerve to make eye contact. The corner of his lip comes up in a half-smile; he knows he's confusing. It's not an accident. 

"I know; it's what makes me interesting." He remarks, and your head shakes in disagreement. His hand is cupping your chin now. You're talking in order to keep yourself from passing out from the overwhelming heat beginning to build in the pit of your stomach.

"You don't have to be an asshole to be interesting, Billy." Your head is spinning from the proximity of your bodies. You begin to think back to your first encounter in Stu's garage—how charming he appeared to be and how easily his compliments rolled off his tongue. Even in your bedroom, he seemed endearing before it went downhill. In a different circumstance, you actually might've liked him. 

"Then what else should I be, hm? Any suggestions?" Before you can answer, his thumb swipes languidly over your bottom lip. It seems to draw a deep breath out of you, much to Billy's satisfaction. He has you exactly where he wants you, where he's so easily been able to get you.

"You could try being decent for once," you retort, your voice barely above a whisper. But even as you stay firm in your conviction, his touch is getting more distracting as the seconds pass.

Billy's smile widens. "Decent, huh? I can be decent," he replies as his thumb continues its slow descent along your jawline. You almost laugh. He can be decent despite proving otherwise at every turn. 

"Everything is okay with your friends. And we're finally alone. Do you want to keep talking about that, or do you want to talk about us?" He challenges. You want to push him away to reclaim some control over the situation. But there's a part of you that's satisfied the longer you stay this close to him. After all, he was right; everything was better now. He was the only loose end that hadn't been tied up. Tatum's advice is echoing in your head; it couldn't possibly be that bad. Could it? 

"I don't want to talk." Your voice is low but no longer hesitant. Your eyes trail from his lips up to his eyes, and without needing to say a single word, Billy understands.

His other hand cups just under your ear, and he pulls you the few centimeters of space to close the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours gently. The first thing you notice about his lips is the lingering taste of alcohol. You wonder for only a second if he did the same as you, downing a few shots in preparation for some kind of confrontation. Billy takes his time, his grip on you loose enough that you could pull away at any moment if you wanted to. After weeks of dancing around each other and playing tug of war, every logical part of you wanted to stop this. But the other part of you that never gave in to anything but always wanted to try—that part was much stronger right now. 

Your hands come up to wrap around Billy's wrists, and slowly but surely you stop fighting all of your urges to stay away from him. Billy takes this as a signal that you want this just as much as he did, likely for very different reasons. You feel his hands trail down to your lower back, resting right on the dip before the top of your jeans. Your hands find their way to his shoulders instead, and Billy begins stepping back towards the bed.

You follow his every move, completely enthralled by the warmth pooling between your legs to take notice, or really to even care. Billy's tongue swipes along your lower lip just as he sits on the edge of the bed, using his hands to guide you onto his lap. You welcome his tongue into your mouth and greet it with your own, your fingers moving to clasp around the back of his neck.

The excitement was starting to kick in, and kissing Billy turned out to be the most incredible thing you'd done in a while. Your best friend's words come back again, and this time you have every intention of listening to them. 

Your lips are still moving with his near-perfectly. It is a shock after telling yourself how incompatible you were and putting so much of your energy into making sure he knew just how much you couldn't stand him. A wave of urgency passes over you, and you're pressing yourself against him without a second thought. Billy groans when you brush against the steadily growing bulge in his pants, so you do it again. 

Billy pulls away just enough so he can speak, his lips even pinker than usual. "Slow down, Arizona. We have plenty of time," he teases you, and this time you don't take it personally. Your heart is racing, and you don't know what's making you feel more drunk: Billy or the tequila. 

"Sorry, sorry." You shake your head, attempting to get yourself to think clearly. Billy's hands are comfortable on your hips, his fingers dipping just below your waistband to rub small circles. 

"It's okay. Just come here," he says softly, easing you forward, his lips touching your throat instead this time. He places a few kisses, and a shiver runs down your spine that makes your back arch. He catches your lips again, but it's even slower this time. He's torturing you. You whine, beginning to get a little greedy when you hear someone who is definitely not Billy. 

"Well, well, well," Stu leans against the doorframe, shaking his head in amusement. You've never moved so fast before in your life, hopping off of Billy's lap and scrambling to try and look like you weren't just devouring him. 

"I fucking knew it; I told you!" He pumps both fists into the air triumphantly. Tatum and Randy soon pop up right behind him, and you begin to swear under your breath, hiding your face in your hands. Billy is sitting next to you, leaning back on his hands as if nothing was happening.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Randy is beside himself, pointing between you two with a look of horror. Stu nearly collapses in a fit of laughter, and Tatum stands with her arms crossed, trying to hide her smile. 

"Movie's over, freaks. Let's go home." She cocks her head to the side, signaling for you to get up so you can catch your ride back. Thank god for Tatum, whether it’s intentional or not she is helping you avoid further humiliation.

Billy remains quiet, and you almost look to him for some kind of help. What were either of you supposed to say? 

You clear your throat and adjust your shirt, avoiding giving him a second glance, and do the short walk of shame out of the bedroom. Randy is speaking nonsensically—a string of questions and words that don't make any sense. What you don't see is Billy hiding a smile of his own, even coughing to try and remain as stoic as possible. You hustle down the stairs, flushed with embarrassment, and follow Tatum outside to her car. 

Your seatbelts are on, and the radio is off. Now that you're out of that room, the reality of what just happened settles on you. Tatum is looking at you from the corner of her eye, trying to gauge if she should say anything or wait until tomorrow. You look at her, and a few more seconds of silence pass between both of you, and you burst into laughter. 

The third time was most definitely a charm. 

[imrllytootiredforthis]

sub yandere lix is the best type of yan because he's so unexpected, wdym the sweet boy from next door you've known since childhood is actually an obsessed masochist who lives for hair pulling and rough fucking, who doesn't wanna be called sweet names like angel and honey but slut and whore while being fucked by you. I mean the boys so sweet you could've been convinced his blood is honey, so who would've thought you'd walk into the scene you walked into now with Felix on your bed humping your pillow and roughly gripping his perfect strands while moaning out your name assuming you weren't there, which you find hot of course to walk into, but how did he get into your house?

he's literally the best subby yandere, he's like my favourite bc of how sweet and adorable he is too

like baby is just so obsessed and in love with you for as long as he can remember. he doesn't know what to do with himself anymore.

every time he watches a romance movie it's you he's thinking of, a book? you. mommy dommy porn? you.

before you're together he'll probably listen to those asmrs like 'mommy taking care of babyboy' or something. in the beginning he'd taken recordings of your voice in secret that he'd get off to (the meaner the better aka him starting random fights so he can record you yelling at him) before he'd realized that he'd needed something more. he desperately scoured the internet for someone who sounded like you, willing to pay an ungodly amount of money once he did find someone who did. he listens to you but not you every night, hand dipped below his waistband playing with himself, eyes squeezed shut, trying to imagine that it really is you touching him and talking to him.

he'd probably even find the va of the person that sounded like you as well and message them privately, asking them to make different scenarios, rougher things, punishments and degrading terms thrown in. he was always very polite though and paid them a lot for it and they probably appreciated the business.

it's hard and it's not nearly good enough because deep down he knows it's not you. not really.

he knows that and he can never forget that. but sometimes when he falls deep enough into his head, when time and space and pleasure and pain and every little thing melts together and nothing feels real anymore. when he feels like he's actually maybe going insane with want and desire and the desperate feral need to be yours, he can forget for only an instant that he's not.

of course the fantasy only lasts for so long and the post nut clarity/subspace would hit him hard. feeling so guilty and needy, he definitely cries during most of these, just wanting to feel close to you but of course you're not there.

it was one of these times where he goes to your house, but you're not there, not there when he needs you the most.

so he curls up in your bed, wrapping himself in your blanket, your scent surrounding and clouding his mind like a drug, with him taking it in like an addict.

he can't even help himself-not that he really wants to-his body moving on automatic and before he can even catch himself his pants are gone and your pillow is between his legs. the imaginary tone of your voice feeling all too real as he whines, working against the soft fabric almost violently, it's okay though because you still have two more on your bed.

his face up, moans free to roam because he knows that you'd like him more like that, you'd tell him not to hide his pretty noises that you love them too much. you'd love him. you love him.

his neck feels heavy and his eyes squeeze shut, his hands clawing through his hair for some reprieve, for a single strand of sanity in this madness.

and then you're there. standing over him. looking dark and mean and lustful.

he doesn't know if you're real or not, if his insanity desire has reached a peak and something inside of him has finally broke.

but you touch him and talk to him and you feel so, so, so real.

"such a pretty slut~ all pretty strewn out for me~"

tears stream down his face. his thighs burn and his cock throbs.

"a-all for you-only fo-for you, ha~"

and he decides, he doesn't care if it's real or not. it's you and it's always enough if it's you.

[mxbbadperson]

(warning: objectification and fetishization)

...you know the idea where jayce gives viktor his last name and everyone thinks they're married? well...

of course viktor knows what having jayce's last name and being called his partner looks like, has told jayce what it looks like, but jayce just shrugged and said they're not actually so really it's not a problen, that's just a weird rumor. viktor shakes his head and lets him be, he knows what the consequences of jayce not thinking this through will bite him in the ass later

and it does lol because the first time jayce gets together w/ someone, people thinks he's a cheater and they're convinced of that when jayce gets together w/ other people. has a partner but is a serial cheater? oh, fuck no

(when people from the undercity hear of viktor they're proud of him, that's their man of progress! so when they hear abt what jayce is doing well. the people of the undercity heavily dislike jayce) (viktor is seen as the similarly brilliant inventor but not equal to jayce bc he's the poor spouse suffering his husband's infidelity w/ dignity. is it not so tragic yet so admirable?! yes, there's lurid penny dreadfuls of him and jayce both in piltover and in zaun and yes, sky has seen them and... yes, she has bought and read them)

(and of course mel knows, this is a public relations disaster unseen before! but... mel won't help bc jayce brougut this onto himself and... mel finds it all so funny lol she is delighted when sky starts handing her penny dreadfuls abt the men of progress. is this why councilor hoskel likes bribes?)

it finally comes to a head at a party when a man asks viktor if he's ok with jayce flirting w/ someone and it takes the implication of jayce being unfaithful that viktor gets what the man is talking abt. viktor is... amused, and tells the man that jayce can do whatever he wants, it is, what do people say? an open relationship. and the man pauses. then if it's an open relationship... the man looks viktor over, can i bring you home?

viktor pauses. he probably shouldn't, he's already said enough w/ the open relationship thing and this will fuel it. but this man is rather handsome... viktor says yes and the next morning, everyone is in a tizzy. it was open rationship after all?! so scandalous! yet... so intriguing, is it bc viktor talis is a zaunite?

and it's like the flood gates have opened bc after it, whenever viktor goes to a party, men start propositioning him left, right and center. viktor is baffled, he knows he's attractive but this is a bit much isn't it? he rejects most of them and somehow that just makes men want him more. bc of course the zaunite man of progress is picky! he's beautiful and brilliant and he won't be satisfied so easily!

and it escalates even further, when a man flirts w/ viktor. in front of jayce. well. not actually in front of jayce, jayce was approaching viktor when he overheard it but! it's the same thing, ok, it's the same thing! jayce pauses, his mind jerking to a stop as if it's hit a bump in the road. he knows where viktor's interest lies, he has heard of what people have been saying after all! but it's so different to actually hear it. even more different when he overhears the low and considering note in viktor's voice. jayce is listening intently to viktor's conditions (clothes on, don't touch me w/out me telling you, you don't move without me telling you, don't come inside me unless i allow you too, do you understand? good boy)

viktor and jayce both go home. viktor w/ his admirer in tow and jayce w/ his head filled w/ viktor's voice. jayce can't stop thinking abt it. he admires viktor, is pleased viktor is getting the credit and praise he deserves but... this is something else. there's something hot and heavy in his chest when he thinks abt the men that viktor has allowed in his bed. and oh, this is bad, jayce knows this is bad

(mel and sky sees jayce's realization and they're delighted, eager to know what jayce will do and where this will go)

[milksnake-tea]

The Stellaron Hunters were a group renowned and hated across the galaxies, both feared and respected by the factions. But under those skillful manipulations and operations, was an organization as put together as a monkey circus. You should know this best, as a member of this menagerie.

stellaron hunter!reader (no specific pairings)

contains: cursing, possibly ooc, written before version 1.2, just a bunch of silly shenanigans, unedited, can be read as romantic and platonic !!

word count: 3.7k

a/n: i had to rewrite this like... 4 times bc tumblr kept deleting it :// anyways night dancer got me through this piece so :D u can tell i have a blade preference but listen he's hot

Before we get on with the sillies, let's lay down some groundwork.

Every Stellaron Hunter has a specific role in mind. Blade is the feral dog that you throw at people, Kafka pisses people off (and shoots ig), and Silver Wolf gets past all defenses.

You're the expert on espionage and disguise. With the power of masks, voice changers, and makeup, you can become basically anyone if you put your mind to it. Even people with completely different builds than you, you could pull off - as long as the holographs don't start glitching out.

You're often paired with Silver Wolf in order to infiltrate various bases. Silver Wolf can transcend any physical barriers, while you sweet talk your way into the inner circles of any leaders. Sometimes, you implant ideas into people's heads in order to guide them towards a certain path, sometimes you just do it for the fun of it.

Your favorite victim so far has been the Express. Ever since the Trailblazer joined, you've entertained yourself by posing as them or other members of the Express (the only ones you can't figure out are Welt Yang and the conductor, Pom-Pom).

And it was surprising, how easily you could trick March 7th and Dan Heng. You had no idea where the original Trailblazer was (probably up some poor soul's dumpster), but frankly, you didn't care.

You somehow managed to trick the two for the better half of a day. It wasn't until you didn't jump at the sight of the first trashcan on the Xianzhou Luofu that the duo realized that something was off.

"Who- Who are you?!"

March stepped back, Dan Heng already drawing his spear. But you weren't going to give in so easily. No, you wanted to see just how far you could take this.

"Guys?" You feigned hurt and confusion as you faced the two. "What're you..."

"Don't play dumb," Dan Heng cut you off, thrusting his spear under your chin. "You're not them. The real Trailblazer would've started ransacking that trashcan by now."

What kind of freak-

"C'mon guys, I have taste," you sighed, crossing your arms. "The trashcans here don't compare to the ones at Belobog. They're not as shiny."

"Trailblazer said that appearance doesn't matter when it comes to trash!" March shot back, her bow appearing in her hands. "Enough games, who are you really?"

You paused for a moment, contemplating your options. You could try to bullshit your way out of this, but you sincerely doubted you would be able to. What kind of freak personality did Silver Wolf program into the vessel, anyways?

You sighed, making the two tense up. Your face, still that of the Trailblazer's, twisted into a condescending sneer, before you doubled over in laughter.

"Ah... Damnit, and here I thought I was doing well!" You stretched your arms, March backing away from you. "Well, that just goes to show, I still have much to improve."

With a snap of your fingers, your disguise melted away, revealing your true appearnce.

"You're-!" March gasped. "You're one of the Stellaron Hunters!"

"Am I really that famous?" you pondered, leaning back on the railing. "And here I thought Kafka or Silver Wolf were more popular."

"What're you trying to pull," Dan Heng growled, "pretending to be the Trailblazer? What did you do to them?"

"Oh, nothing," you replied simply, popping your bone. "I just sent them a coupon for that restaurant down the street. So don't worry yourselves, I'm just here to have a little bit of fun."

Before the two could comprehend the stupidity of their companion, you jumped onto the railing, balancing on your toes.

"Well, it's been fun, Nameless." You waved cheerfully, taking a step back into the open air. "Let's meet again sometime soon, yeah?"

"Wait!" They rushed to the railing, adamant on catching you - but you had already vanished.

The world might see you as a complete weirdo, but honestly, you aren't even the worst of the Stellaron Hunters. In your humble opinion, you're the lesser evil compared to your comrades.

If you're going to survive in this job, you have to get used to Kafka bullying you. Don't worry, she does it to everyone, it's not just you. But signing up to become a Stellaron Hunter also means you sign up to a life of relentless teasing.

You roll your eyes at the feeling of a familiar gun barrel against your head. Kafka holds it against your temple firmly, but you know her finger isn’t anywhere near the trigger. It’s not like you’re Blade, who somehow survived getting thrown off a four-story building.

“Now who do we have here?” Kafka muses lazily. “A potential spy from the IPC? Or perhaps, one of the Xianzhou Cloud Knights?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Kafka,” you turn around, unimpressed. With one move, you pulled off your mask, glaring at her pointedly as you grab a bottle of water. “I know that thing isn’t loaded.”

“Oh, it’s you, [Name],” Your senior gasps mockingly, removing the gun. “When did you come in? I could’ve sworn an intruder-”

You throw the bottle at her. She dodges because of course she does.

And Kafka isn't even the least of your worries. At least she has a sense of financial responsibility.

There's no doubt that Silver Wolf is integral to the workings of the Stellaron Hunters, especially with her hacking abilities. She's certainly skilled with her work, and she has saved your ass many times before.

But sometimes, you have to play babysitter to her, because homegirl may or may not have a gambling addiction, especially when it comes to whatever those gacha games of hers. Whenever she visits the city's nearby arcade or casino, either you or Kafka have to be around so that she doesn't end up gambling all of your funds away. You would get Blade to do it, except he couldn't care less about your financial problems.

“Let me go! I’ve almost got it, I know I do!”

Silver Wolf kicked at your shoulders wildly as you hoisted her up. You paid her no mind as you left the arcade, Blade walking in tow. You kept a firm grip on his sleeve, making sure he didn’t run off and start any trouble. You saw the look he gave the claw machine. If you hadn’t dragged Silver Wolf away, he would’ve likely broken the thing out of impatience.

“I was so close!” The girl on your shoulder whined, like a kid who didn’t get their favorite toy.

“You already spent 500k on it,” you replied bluntly. “It’s a scam, don’t you know?”

“So what?” Silver Wolf retorted. “I would’ve won!”

“Yeah,” you shifted her up, your shoulder getting sore. You weren’t really built for hard labor. “After you spent another hundred thousand credits, sure.”

“I wasn’t!” She’d stopped fighting you, now hanging limply so that her entire weight pressed down on you. “I could’ve hacked it-”

“Really? You’d put that much effort into a claw machine?” Before Silver Wolf could argue, your phone dinged, as did Blade’s and Silver Wolf’s - successfully interrupting your bickering. You glanced at Blade as he checked his phone for the three of you.

“It’s Kafka,” he reported, typing out a quick response. “She says it’s time to go back.”

“Tell her we’ll be there in 10 minutes, if Silver stops her tantrum,” you said, looking pointedly at Silver Wolf. The hacker kicked you in response. 

“I am not throwing a tantrum,” she huffed. You rolled your eyes.

“Sure, whatever you say.”

Speaking of which, Blade is like your guard dog. A very intimidating guard dog. With a sword. And attitude issues.

Come to think of it, he's more like a cat if anything.

When he's not being launched at the faces of various enemies, Blade often finds himself acting as your shadow. He just follows you around, doesn't say anything, and the second he smells a whiff of a threat, the sword comes out and you have to talk him down before someone calls the cops.

It seems that you’re the only one unaffected by the suffocating tension clogging up the clothing store. There’s an obvious circle of space surrounding you and Blade as you browse through various suits, intent on finding one that would fit the man standing behind you. Elio’s next script required that Blade and Kafka go to a dinner party, and knowing Blade, the man didn’t have any clothes other than the ones you and the other Hunters got for him.

It wasn’t that Blade didn’t have an eye for fashion, rather, he simply didn’t care much for it. Shopping wasn’t exactly his cup of tea either. His hands itched for action, but he did have to admit that this was better than sulking around in his room all day.

You pulled out another suit that had caught your eye, a simple black one with a bronze lapel. It would fit the vest you’d already picked out for him. Holding it out in front of Blade, you squint as you try to picture what it’d look like on him.

Decent enough. You hummed in satisfaction, turning the suit around to show it to him. “What do you think?”

Blade shrugs, only giving the suit a brief glance. “It’s fine.”

You sigh, giving him a look. “Do you like it?”

“It isn’t the worst thing you’ve put me in,” he says nonchalantly. You huff, lightly hitting his chest. For a second, a glimmer of a smile flickers onto his face at your action.

“Watch your attitude,” you reprimand playfully. “Otherwise I’m giving you the shittiest suit I can find in here.”

“You wouldn’t,” Blade says easily as the two of you walk toward the cash registers. “Your heart couldn’t bear to do that to a face like mine.”

“Cheeky brat.”

You remember the day Blade was first brought to the base, picked up by Kafka and Elio like a stray cat. He had a strange resemblance to that of a drowned rat, being absolutely sopping wet.

Your seniors just kinda dropped him off into your room with the only instructions being "Make him look presentable", which didn't give you a lot to work with. You weren't sure how you were going to fix him, but after a lot of bathing, hair drying, and brushing, you soon discovered that the drowned rat had a pretty face.

So basically, you're the only reason why he looks remotely presentable.

And quite frankly, Blade does not make it easier on you. He doesn't care about how he looks, only how his enemies look - and that's dead and unmoving. Sir somehow manages to fuck up his fit every time he goes on mission, coming back with his very expensive clothes, mind you, covered in blood, and his hair messed up.

The audacity of him, to just walk into your room unannounced, clothes completely torn and hair a mess, and plop himself down on your perfectly clean chair and wait for you to fix him up. Granted, you'll do it (you wouldn't allow any of your comrades to leave without a decent haircut), but that doesn't mean you won't rattle his ear off with a scolding.

“Just what did you do to it this time?”

You grumbled as you cut away at Blade’s hair, the man in question sitting in your salon chair and scrolling through his phone. He had just come back from a mission, and this time he somehow managed to cut off the bottom half of his long locks, resulting in a horrendously uneven cut.

“You’re literally so photogenic and then you go and do this?” you huffed, blowing his hair into his face with a blowdryer.

“You can fix it, can’t you?” Blade didn’t even look up from his screen as he texted Silver Wolf, likely using this as an excuse to escape her pleas to game with her.

You scowl, venting your anger as you brushed his hair, cutting a few extra strands. “Just because I can, doesn’t mean I always have the time to do so! Now sit still.”

Oh, and another thing? There's no such thing as privacy when you're with the Stellaron Hunters.

You first learned this when you came back from a particularly grueling mission, early on in your career with the Hunters. You were covered in blood that wasn't (or was it?) yours, drenched from the rain and safe to say, not in the greatest of moods. All you wanted was to take a shower, and preferably, take an undisturbed nap on your warm bed.

Unfortunately, Kafka had other plans.

You opened the door to find her lounging on YOUR bed, IN THE DARK, ruffling through your makeup collection like it was normal. She didn't even seem bothered when you flicked on the light, didn't even acknowledge you until you threw a knife at her.

And what did she say when you made it abundantly clear that she shouldn't be in here? Nothing. She just scrunched up her nose and told you to take a shower.

And that is how you learned that having your own room is utterly useless because every single Hunter could pick a lock. You could try to use an electric one. Silver Wolf sure did. And to her credit, it worked, until a certain dog named Blade came around and just kicked the door down.

Out of all the Stellaron Hunters to creep around in your room, Sam was by far the worse. You could handle Kafka going through your makeup, or Blade judging your taste in books. You can deal with Elio having his fucking shoes on your bed because he's your boss and honestly what are you going to do against an actual seer? Exactly. Nothing. At least his shoes are usually clean.

But Sam? He doesn't visit so that he can go through your things, or just hang around. No. He comes around with the pure intention of scaring the shit out of you.

He just waits?? Outside your door?? In the dark?? Until you open it and he jumps you. It usually ends with someone getting punched, but honestly, it's nothing either of you couldn't handle.

Silver Wolf likes to pretend that she isn't as bad as the other because in her words, she "gives you a warning". Said warning is "You better be decent" before she barges in and starts rambling about the new game she bought.

One time you were not decent and someone had to pay the price. That someone was not you.

There is one good thing that comes out of all this invasion of privacy. Because whatever the others do to you, you get to do right back to them. 

“What does this button do?”

“Don’t touch that.” Kafka playfully whined as Silver Wolf snatched away the console in her hands. The hacker was less than pleased, having returned to her room only to discover that she’d been chosen as the Hunters’ victim for today.

You lean against Kafka’s shoulder, pouting alongside her at your latest toy being confiscated. “C’mon Silver, let us have some fun at least.”

“After you two invaded my room? Not a chance,” she replied, tossing the console to somewhere you and Kafka couldn’t reach. Kafka merely hummed at the loss, leaning back onto Silver Wolf’s messy bed.

“You know, you should really clean up around here,” she commented. “They nearly killed themselves tripping over a stack of DVDs.”

“Agreed, although I wouldn’t mention that last part,” you said, picking up another one of Silver Wolf’s consoles. This one had a fighting game on it. Silver Wolf rolled her eyes as you quickly busied yourself with fighting the boss she had left off on.

“If you don’t want to get hurt, then don’t come in,” she said, plopping down on the bed next to you. Kafka smiled.

“Sure, but where’s the fun in that?” she asked, watching you tap away at the screen. “It was just a suggestion, no need to get all worked up.”

“I’m not, but okay.” Silver Wolf hissed as your character took damage. “If you get my character killed-”

“I won’t,” you retorted, swiftly defeating the boss. You tossed Silver Wolf the console. “See?”

“You’re half dead,” Silver Wolf deadpanned.

“Doesn't matter. I still won.”

Your group chat is an absolute mess, with no one understanding Silver Wolf's slang or dialect. Blade's outdated brain short-circuited the first time he touched a phone, while Kafka just silently accepted her fate. You often have to translate because Silver Wolf sure wasn't going to.

Gambling Addict: Ykw blade

Gambling Addict: This is why u pull no bitches

Gambling Addict: Bc if [name] didnt yassify u 

Gambling Addict: U would have zero rizz

Gambling Addict: Negative rizz actually

You: I see no lie here

Gambling Addict: So stfu about my social life at least i can pull bitches

DONT PICK UP: [Name], translate

Gambling Addict: [Name] i have ur closet at gunpoint 

You: She means Blade can't attract maidens bc he has as much charisma as a blobfish

You: Also stfu silver I know you can't shoot for shit

Gambling Addict: [NAME]

Gambling Addict: Actually no, ur right

DONT PICK UP: Oh, I see

You: I'm always right 💅✨

DONT PICK UP: That does sound like Bladie

Gambling Addict: Listen

Gambling Addict: All i know is that blades been real quiet since i said that

Blade: Silver Wolf.

Gambling Addict: And so he speaks!

Blade: Count your days.

You like to fuck with the others by pretending to be them. Blade nearly murdered you because one time you got bored, and decided that slandering his nonexistent image would be ample entertainment.

In minutes, you turned yourself into Blade's lookalike, and spent the afternoon prancing around in a maid dress because what else were you going to use it for? Unfortunately, that also put you as a target for Blade's wrath. Fortunately, you have a lot of experience escaping people you pissed off.

Silver Wolf still has the pictures. Kafka laughed her ass off until you did the exact same thing to her. And that's when she started shooting.

"I can't believe you did this," you sniffed dramatically, fake tears falling from your face. In your hands was what used to be your pride and joy, the beautiful maid dress that you'd spent millions on (lie).

What used to be a gorgeous garment with frills and lace, was now in tatters from Kafka's bullets and Blade's sword. The two aforementioned culprits weren't the slightest bit guilty as they watched you lament over your clothes.

"You should've thought of that before you started walking around like that," Kafka blew at her smoking gun. Blade nodded firmly in agreement, holding his sword close to his chest.

"It was cute!" you huffed, shaking your head. You weren't actually mad at them. You could always buy another dress to mess with them. Besides, you already got what you wanted.

Your gaze met with Silver Wolf's, who grinned back, holding her phone in between her fingers.

None of the Stellaron Hunters know basic first aid, and that includes you. Most of you just slap on a few bandages, some weird smelling ointment, and call it a day. Silver Wolf doesn't even do that, she just downs three bowls of rice and walks off the broken arm like a Sunday hangover.

But one day, just as your luck would have it, you came back to base with an injury that you couldn't just bandage away. No one knew what to do, and you were bleeding out fast. So what did this hardened group of criminals do?

They googled it. They fucking googled it.

Silver Wolf deadass just searched up how to fix you while you were bleeding out next to her. Kafka, to her credit, did hold your hand to try and comfort you (albeit mockingly), and Blade just stood back and watched. If Elio foresaw a way to help you, well, he didn't say anything.

But it all turned out all right in the end. Eventually, Silver Wolf gave up and simply shoved a bowl of her fried rice in front of you. You still don't know how or why, but it somehow worked. It shouldn't have, but it did.

The scene in front of you reminded you of a bunch of school children watching a chemistry experiment for the first time. The Stellaron Hunters crowded around you, eyes trained onto your closing wound with unnerving fascination. Even Blade, who rarely had any emotion at all, was watching you with the faintest glimmer of awe.

"What the hell did you put in that thing?" you turned in disbelief to Silver Wolf, the only unphased person in the room. The hacker was already somewhere else, her thumbs tapping rapidly as she played another one of her rhythm games.

"Trash."

"WHAT." You almost throttled her before she quickly teleported a safe distance away, clutching her phone to her chest.

"Kidding, kidding, no need to get all worked up!" She sighed, clearing a level without looking.

"Just some solid water and protein rice, that's all."

"You mean ice?" You swatted at Kafka, who was poking at where your wound used to be.

"No."

Safe to say, the Stellaron Hunters are an... interesting bunch, to put it lightly. They're all assholes, including you, and seem to thrive over inconveniencing each other. The only time you all can somewhat work together is when you're acting out one of Elio's scripts.

But you'd be lying if you said you hated working at this job. You live for the thrill of things, and being a Hunter was the most fun you've had in a long, long time, even if your coworkers occasionally annoyed you to death.

None of you would ever say it aloud, but you wouldn't trade each other for anything in the world.

[mashiraostail]

"You know I love you right?" With aizawa please !!!! maybe pining reader instead of established relationship?

yurrr!!!!! i figured you wanted SFW bc you didn't specify otherwise, if not resend and I shall re do :3

At its best hindsight tends to offer a lot of useful illumination, though at its worst it is able to make everyone look like an oblivious idiot.

Truth be told Aizawa isn't sure what comes over him, he's level headed, he tends not to worry even at the worst of times. He knows this is your job, he knows better than anyone how badly you can get hurt doing this sort of work. You're no stranger to bumps and bruises, and usually that thought puts him at ease. He isn't sure, maybe the way you hit that building looked nasty, the way you let out a gurgled sort of half grunt half sob as you hit the ground, the way you held your ribs as you rolled over onto the pavement, or the way the rock of the building crumbled and fell to the ground around you...any of those things could have made his stomach churn. He certainly isn't heartless, he feels remorse every time someone is hurt in a fight, he feels worry too, though usually not so intensely. You were good friends too, Hizashi was always trying to tell Aizawa you were sweet on him, he didn't see it himself but he would be lying if he didn't preen a bit at the thought.

He wasn't considering that now though, and he wasn't considering the drinks you'd had together the night before, the way you leaned over the table to talk to him, the way Hizashi kicked him underneath it when your hand brushed his wrist, or the way you lingered at your door after they walked you home. The realization dawned on him as he and Hizashi walked home, maybe he did care for you, that same realization was cast aside the moment catastrophe struck and hadn't been considered since. All he was thinking about now was your eyes, the way you laughed at his dry and somber jokes, the subtle kick in your step, your hair, the softness of your skin every time you found a reason to touch him, and the way you said his name.

"Holy shit that looks like it hurt." Nemuri materializes beside him somehow, maybe she had always been there, but is just now choosing to snap him back to Earth. "Should we go get them?"

Aizawa looks between you, Nemuri, and the retreating villain. You hadn't gotten up, you were still curled onto the ground, he could see you rubbing your head with one hand, the other cradling your ribs. "You get them, I'll handle this. Send anyone else you find my way."

He regrets it the moment he says it, as soon as he turns away from your body on the street his stomach lurches painfully.

"Are you sure?" Nemuri blinks at him, "you look...different than usual. I can handle the villain, I'm sure Vlad and the others are kicking around out there somewhere."

"I'm sure." What he isn't sure about is why he can get it out that he wants to stay with you.

"Just..come with me to check them out."

Nemuri was a lot of things, most pointedly she was intuitive. He gets to you before she does.

"Are you alright?" He puts a hand on your shoulder and you roll over.

"Shota," You squint at him, like the sunlight burns your eyes, you probably have a concussion. "I've been better. I'll live, go deal with that freakshow."

He doesn't want to, for the first time in a long time he feels...petulant, like a child, he wants to hold firm to his spot, to stay glued to you until you make it to a hospital. But his brain is telling him to turn and go like always, to entrust you to his colleague and go where he's needed, just like he would for anyone else.

"Can you stand?" Nemuri's voice spurs him on, he nods as if to leave, but he can't help but linger on you.

"Shota they need you." You urge him away. Something sits in his throat, he can't swallow it down, nor can he spit it out, and it's heavy it makes his face feel warm. Between that and the way you look he has no choice but to linger, "I-" and it starts to crawl out, but it's pulled back down to the pit in his stomach just as quickly and twice as painful.

"Shota it's going to be okay." Nemuri is checking you out, poking and proding for breaks or blood. Your voice is weak and gravely, the pain had made you cry, he could tell from the clean streaks on your otherwise dirty face, but you said his name with so much care and earnest, as if he was the one laying broken on the pavement.

"I'll come find you as soon as this is over. Call me, text me where you're heading." By the grace of some higher power he can tear his eyes away from you long enough to shoot off into the distance, in the general direction of all the commotion.

It takes barely seconds for it to dawn on him. The way you looked up at him last night, the way you looked up at him just then. He thought about you, the things he always thought about, the way your neck curved smoothly to the delicate arch of your shoulder, the short and soft looking hairs on the nape of your neck and the way your fingers always found a way to them, tugging and twirling them as you thought. He realized this is probably what love feels like,  that this had gone beyond a pleasant adoration..or a casual admiration of your figure.  He could note small, minute things, things that should mean nothing to him if you didn’t. But these things made his heart get a little tighter in his chest. The way your eyes felt on him, the length of your eyelashes, the pout to your lip, and the seemingly perfect bridge of your nose, who else but a man in love would consider these things? He scoffs at himself, and decides to make the fight to come as quick as possible. If anyone notices his rushing they don't mention it.

When he finds you after the fact, just like he promises he would the feeling hits him like a wave, it is equally disorienting as it is eye opening.

"Shota, you came?" You seem surprised, to be fair he'd never come to you at a time like this before. He'd called and sent dinner to your room when you ended up in this sort of pickle before, but he'd never shown face and certainly not this quickly.

"I said I would."

"I figured you meant like..tomorrow?"

"How are you feeling?" He asks, because that was the other thing about you that was lovely, your voice, it was like whistling birds, like evening thrush, like melting honey, it was gooey and sweet and bright and warm like dark brown velvet and down feathers and perfect warm sunshine. It was nice to hear it normally, not gravelly or impaired with pain. He thinks about all the times he's called you with a question that could have been a text.

"I broke my ribs." You lean into the pillows, your middle was pretty heavily bandaged, your left arm was in a sling and you were littered with bandages, some already bleeding through. "I'm hopped up on pain meds though so I feel great. Say, are you alright? You seem flighty."

"I'm fine. I'm just..I was worried I guess. Looked like he really hurt you back there." He takes a seat on the edge of your bed, and though you look surprised at the sudden closeness you don't say anything. "I'm glad the damage isn't too bad."

"Me too." You nod, "thanks.."

You sit in silence for a while, he's looking down at you, like he's studying you, like he's never seen you before or like he'll never see you again. It wasn't an inquisitive gaze though, it was almost warm, appreciative even. He was looking to enjoy not to remember, it seemed like he already did.

"Shota, are you okay?" You ask again, "I'm not hurt so bad, you know I'm just drama-"

"Hey, you know I love you, right?"

You laugh, a nervous, fluttering noise. He realizes he even likes that. "I love you too Shota...we're good friends, thanks for taking care of me..."

"That's good..but I don't mean it like that. I know everyone is always giving you a hard time about me. I just...want you to know I feel the same way." He looks up to the corner where the ceiling meets the walls. "I didn't realize I was always..thinking it and never saying it. I'm in love with you. I want to...be with you. If I'm misunderstanding, tell me."

"You're...not." You feel warm, you're half way tempted to take of your heart monitor incase your pulse spiked or something. "I do love you. I figured you didn't feel that way. What brought all this on?"

"I don't know." He confesses, "i saw you last night, I guess it all dawned on me then and then I saw you get hurt and I...saw you." He shrugs, "I just realized I was always...looking at you, looking for you. I felt so worried when you got hurt." He's looking down at you again.

"It felt like I had left something unsaid, when you hit the ground and I assumed the worst..it was like my brain and my body were going separate ways and it all hit me at once. Like it was obvious this whole time." He shakes his head a bit, "I've probably loved you for a long time. It feels like I've been looking at you like this forever. I don't know why I didn't put it all together sooner."

You laugh again, confident now. "Me either." Your right hand reaches up to his shirt and you pull him downwards, "but I'm glad it all got sorted."

He's happy to kiss you, and happy to feel your hand on his face. It was a good kiss, warm and lingering. It spoke for itself, you were just as relieved with the feeling as he was, glad to have let it out in the open. You both felt 10 tons lighter from it.

"I hate to say I'm glad that villain hurled me into a wall." You joke, nudging his shoulder with your good hand.

"Don't say things like that." He scoffs, "when are you out of here?"

"I'm just waiting for some new bandages and wound wash." You shrug, "hopefully tonight or tomorrow morning."

"I'll come keep an eye on you." His hand is resting on your waist, his thumb dragging up and down your stomach.

"You don't have to go to the trouble. I can-"

"I want to. " He cuts you off, "I want to. Please let me come with you."

You preen a bit, "you wanna take care of me?"

In a moment of uncharacteristic earnest he nods, "I want to stay with you." He's glad to be free of the lump in his throat, and pit in his stomach.

"I guess I can't say no then."

[recluserat]

Hey, It's the Dwayne/Michael anon again. I'm curious...what do you imagine the dynamic to be between these two? As in, who makes the first move? Who's the most assertive/dominant in the relationship? Who confesses their feelings first? etc etc. And how did you think up this ship? Sorry if it's too many questions, it's just that you've gotten me hooked on these two lol

ooooooo anon, welcome back! I love these questions but I am going to be so honest with you that prior to seeing this ask I had not thought this hard about the ship. I have been going purely based off vibes and the gut feeling that those two ppl need to be kissing posthaste. That being said, I love this ask bc it made me actually sit down and think about the way I view these two as both characters and as a couple so here are my new answers: 1. Whenever I think of the two of them the ship dynamic that comes to mind is "silent and stoic x perpetually confused". At the same time though, I think Dwayne is an instigator who will nudge Paul and Marko with little comments and then sit back and watch the drama unfold. Meanwhile I feel like when it comes to the vamps, Michael doesn't really know what's going on but he keeps managing to get himself wrapped up in their shit. He likes to instigate as much as Dwayne does but he's not smooth enough with it to not be dragged along and also his big brother instincts kick in sometimes and he feels like he should back them up. Only sometimes though. Other times he's perfectly happy to sit back with Dwayne and laugh at the others. 2. I think that Dwayne would flirt with Michael first, but once Michael registers that this man is flirting with him he's 100% committing to it and will flirt harder than Dwayne. Dwayne has been around Santa Carla for a while and is like... Apex Predator Mode so I think he wouldn't be afraid to flirt with someone who catches his eye. Meanwhile Michael is new to town, probably not going to be making any moves on strangers straight off the bat yk. But once Dwayne opens that door Michael is fully tossing himself through it. 3. I have so many different Dwayne/Michael stories swirling around in my mind right now that I can't for sure say who I think would definitively always be the one to confess first, but I have imagined the different ways they would do it. I think Dwayne would do his best to use his actions rather than his words, acts of service/physical touch stuff first. He would give Michael special treatment ie. always buys him food on the boardwalk, give him first dibs on anything he wants, always finds excuses to be close to Michael and have his hands on him in some way whether that's fixing the collar of his jacket or just resting his hand over Michael's shoulder while they're standing around. If he HAS to verbally say it I think it would be quiet. Something short and straight to the point while also being flirty, smting like "You know you drive me crazy" or smthing while being all up in Michael's personal space. Meanwhile, with Michael I think he would also do the whole physical touch thing, but less consciously. He starts gravitating to Dwayne without even noticing - parks his bike next to him, sits with him on the couch, always looks to Dwayne first when one of the other guys makes a crazy suggestion to see what Dwayne thinks. I think that whenever Michael does verbally confess it would be big, and somewhat aggressive. Fists full of Dwayne's jacket while his voice is raised talking about how he felt watching someone else put their hands on him, sloppy kisses, that sort of thing. I like to picture the level of emotion that Michael had in the movie when he confronted David on the boardwalk with the whole "where's Starr?" thing. But because he's Michael I think he wouldn't even realize that he liked Dwayne like that until that big explosion. TBH, I'm not really sure where this ship came from. I feel like with TLB there's only so many ships you can do that involve Michael and the vamps. I've read a bunch of stuff on Ao3 and the most common ships I see are David/Michael, David/Starr, Michael/Starr, and poly vamps+michael. I love rare pairs and Dwayne is my favorite character so one day I was just kinda like... what if.....????? and started writing about the two of them together. Thank you for this ask! I have so many more ideas for Dwayne/Michael stuff now that I have to go write down somewhere

[steddieas-shegoes]

For the requests: Steve has a good relationship with his parents & when they come back from wherever & someone (Nancy/Robin) tells them about the UD & his parents react by calling out every single adult involved. Maybe he got badly hurt, & they were called in & upon finding out they call out Joyce, Hop, Owens & Murray for the way no adult inthese kids lives had any clue about what their kids were going through. Nor were their parents given notice esp bc having underaged kids sign NDAs is not legal nor legally binfing (Maybe all the parents of the party kids are there and get all the info just like the Harrington's)

MY DARLING! LIGHT OF MY LIFE! HONESTLY this one hit different. You know how much I love making Steve suffer and when he has good parents, a lot of his suffering disappears. But it was nice to branch out a bit. Also finally some common sense! KIDS SHOULD NEVER BE SIGNING AN NDA THEMS THE FACTS! Steve's parents are here to fight for everyone so WELCOME TO THE CHAOS OF STEVE'S OVERPROTECTIVE LAWYER PARENTS! - Mickala ❤️

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Steve Harrington had managed to avoid the hospital for years. Not because he shouldn’t have gone, but because he refused to go.

But this time, he was unconscious, which means he didn’t have a choice.

And now, staring at his parents’ shocked and appalled faces next to his bed, he realized he wished he’d just died, actually.

“This happens…often?” Anne Harrington asked Dr. Owens, who looked like he wished he was also dead.

“It does happen more often than we like. But it appears to be fixed now! Steven has been a wonderful asset to us, which is why we want to make sure he is comfortable and all his medical expenses are paid.”

He handled that well, Steve thought.

“And this is the first time anyone has bothered to call us?” Richard Harrington asked much too quietly.

That was his ‘I’m about to lose my shit’ voice and Steve didn’t have the energy to deal with it.

“I do apologize, we had to deal with enough NDAs as it is,” Dr. Owens replied, not realizing that he was speaking to two lawyers who were about to ruin his life.

Steve let his head rest against the pillow of the hospital bed, sighing.

“At what age did Steve sign his first NDA?”

“I believe he was 16.”

“And did he have a lawyer present?” Anne didn’t wait for a response before continuing. “I can tell you he didn’t. We’re his lawyers and we were not even called. Are you the one in charge of this shitshow?”

It wasn’t often Anne Harrington said a curse word. Steve only ever heard it a handful of times, usually after hanging up with a client who would lose their case.

“I am one of the people who is tasked with this, yes. But if you don’t mind, I need to check in with a few people before I can truly devote time to this conversation.”

“Oh, please. Continue on with your day. Don’t mind us sitting next to our son in the hospital.”

Dr. Owens sighed, knowing this fight was barely even starting, and left the room.

Steve’s parents turned to him.

“How many concussions have you had?”

“Why didn’t you call us?”

“Who else knows about this?”

“Will this happen again?”

The questions were too much, and Steve’s head was pounding. He couldn’t do this right now.

“Hopper.”

“Jim Hopper? I thought he died.”

Admittedly, his parents had been out of town for a while. They didn’t know Hopper was back as of a few months ago, and probably didn’t realize he’d taken over as chief again.

“He didn’t. He’s around here somewhere.”

“He knew about all this?”

“Mom, I love you, but my head is splitting down the middle. I need to stop talking.”

Anne slowly brushed her hand through his hair, planting a kiss on his forehead.

“Of course, honey. We’ll be back soon. Do not sign anything without us here, okay?”

“Okay.”

His dad briefly touched his shoulder before they both left the room.

Finally, some peace and quiet.

Until he was woken up by yelling.

Not just any yelling. Richard Harrington yelling.

If he wasn’t chained to the bed by an IV and blood transfusion bag, he would be up and in the hallway.

Apparently, he didn’t need to worry, though.

His mom came into the room, leaving the door open to the hallway so he could hear everything.

“I’m glad you’re awake, honey. We have a lot to talk about.”

“Who is he yelling at?”

“Every adult who didn’t bother to take care of you the way they should. Not just you, but all of these kids,” she said, tone more annoyed by the second.

“I don’t understand.”

“Honey, you’ve been protecting these kids in ways you never should have had to. All these adults who were involved never told any of us what was going on. They let you keep standing in the line of fire, getting hurt, seeing things you shouldn’t have to and never even bothered to call us. You signed NDAs with the government without parents or lawyers present. That alone is illegal, do you understand that?”

“So I’m in trouble?”

“Oh, honey, no. You’re not in trouble. Your dad’s having a few words with the chief and Dr. Owens.”

Steve tuned in to what was being said in the hall.

“I cannot fathom what you’ve done. Expecting these children to save this town, the world, and not even have their own parents know? Who are they supposed to turn to? You? And what have you done to help them? As far as I’m concerned, you should be arrested and imprisoned. If I have anything to say about it, you will!”

“Mom, can you please get him to stop? I know he’s upset, but Hop really protected us a lot, okay? And Dr. Owens was just doing his job.”

“A lot of people have just been doing their jobs instead of considering that maybe children shouldn’t be responsible for defeating actual monsters.”

Well. Yeah, she did have a point there.

“Where is everyone?”

Anne sat on the edge of his bed, holding his hand, running her thumb along the back of it.

“The Munson boy is in the room next door, he’ll be okay. Robin is home with her parents. Most of the kids are now with their parents, but that Sinclair boy is still being watched for concussion symptoms.”

Steve sighed with relief.

No one was lost. Everyone had pretty minor injuries. Maybe he was able to protect everyone.

“That Dustin boy is relentless,” Anne said with a smile. “He really looks up to you.”

“Yeah, he’s like a brother to me.”

“His mom didn’t know about any of this either, did she?”

Steve thought about it.

Honestly, she probably had some idea. Maybe not of the real details, but she had to know Dustin was involved in something he couldn’t talk about. Same with most of the parents.

But Steve’s parents were gone a lot. Their main office was in Boston, and they would often have to travel around the country for their clients. He was used to not seeing them, only getting to talk to them on the phone once or twice a week.

It’s easy to hide shit over the phone, and when they did manage to make it home, the Upside Down monsters were safely tucked away underground.

They had no way of knowing anything was wrong. He did it on purpose, just like all of the kids did.

Even without signing the NDAs, he’s pretty sure they wouldn’t have told their parents.

“I think we just thought we were protecting you guys.”

“Honey, it’s not your job to protect us. It’s our job to protect you.”

She looked so sad.

Steve didn’t want her to be sad.

“Mom, you couldn’t have done anything. And we’re all safe.”

His dad walked in the room, face red. He closed the door behind him and ran his hand over his face.

“Doctor said Steve can go when the nurse comes to disconnect him from everything soon,” he said, coming to sit in the chair by his bed.

“That’s good news. We’ll get you home and settled. We canceled our flight out so we can stick around for a while and make sure you’re okay,” Anne said with a smile.

“You guys don’t have to cancel your trip. Your clients need you.”

“Not as much as you need us, son,” Richard said, giving him a soft smile.

“I’ve handled it before, though.”

“And you shouldn’t have. Trust me, this town, the government, they’ve got a shit storm coming and I’m leading it,” his dad huffed.

A knock interrupted Steve’s response, the door opening slightly before they answered.

Eddie.

“Steve? You okay?”

Steve’s parents looked at the door, then back at Steve, who was doing his best to hide the fond smile on his face.

It wasn���t working though, not when he saw the way Eddie was trying to take inventory of his injuries from across the room.

“You can come in, Eds.”

“Who’s this, honey?” Anne asked.

“This is Eddie.”

“Oh! You poor thing. I heard all about what you’ve been through. Let me just say, if we had caught wind of it earlier and knew you were Steve’s friend, we would’ve been representing you in court,” Anne rushed to say, her hands fluttering over Eddie’s when he got next to the bed.

Eddie’s wide eyes would have been amusing if Steve didn’t worry that he might run for the hills at the care his parents showed.

“Uh. Thank you?”

“Do you need anything right now? Do your parents need anything?” Richard asked, sitting forward in his chair, business face on.

“Um, just me and my uncle, but no. I’m heading home, but wanted to check on Steve before I go.”

“Of course! You guys are close friends?”

It was an innocent question. His parents just liked to know who was in his life, that’s all. But Eddie looked at him with panic written all over his face.

Steve gave him a small smile, then turned to his parents.

“Actually, he’s my boyfriend.”

They were quiet for a moment, which Steve expected. No matter how well he thought they’d take it, he knew it would be a shock.

But his parents didn’t let him down.

“How long have you been together, Steve?”

“Since March. Four months?” He watched as Eddie started to back away, probably expecting the worst.

Anne smacked Steve’s arm, forgetting for a moment that he was in the hospital for a reason.

“Sorry,” she said before crossing her arms. “You’ve had a boyfriend for four months and didn’t tell us? We could have come back and arranged dinner to meet him. I’m so sorry our son is rude, Eddie. He wasn’t raised that way, I assure you.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped.

“Um. What’s happening right now?”

“We’ll be home for a while to make sure Steve is alright. We’d love to have you over for dinner soon. With your uncle if you’d like,” Richard added as Eddie just stared between them.

“What do you like? I just got a new cookbook that has so many European dishes I want to try. Are you a fan of Polish food? You know what, no, what about Greek? We haven’t had good Greek food in so long.”

Steve was laughing, he couldn’t help it.

“Steve, what the hell is going on here?”

“Eddie, that’s my mom, Anne, and my dad, Richard. They’re kind of the best, and apparently they want you and Wayne to come for dinner. Think you can find time in your schedule?”

“Uh.”

“Oh dear. Do you have a concussion? They should monitor you kids better,” Anne worried, moving her hands up to cup his cheeks and look in his eyes. “Should I get a nurse?”

“No, mom, he’s okay. He just expected you two to freak out.”

“About what?”

“The fact he’s a man.”

“Oh! I do suppose that’s a reasonable concern.”

“Eddie, let me ask you this: do you make Steve happy?” Richard asked.

“I think so.”

“And he makes you happy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then it sounds like we have no reason to be upset. Now, dinner? Maybe tomorrow night?”

“Okay.”

Steve laughed loudly.

“Eds, come here,” Steve gestured for him to come closer.

Eddie moved next to the bed, his arm bandaged, and a new cut with stitches in it on his forehead.

“Closer.”

Eddie leaned in.

Steve leaned up and kissed his lips. Just a quick peck, just enough to get the point across that this was really okay and really happening.

“Tomorrow at 6?” Steve asked before he pulled away completely.

Eddie nodded.

“And please bring your uncle, we need to discuss our plan for a lawsuit on behalf of all of you,” Richard spoke up from his chair.

“Oh. Yes, sir.” Eddie pulled away from the bed, nervously playing with his rings.

“Richard is fine, son.”

Eddie was blushing, which Steve was absolutely going to make fun of him for later.

“See you tomorrow, then?” Eddie asked awkwardly.

“Love you, Eds.”

“Oh. Uh. Yep. Love you too, Stevie.”

He raced out of the room, leaving Steve and Anne laughing quietly.

“Poor boy. Didn’t know what to do, did he?”

“No, I think he isn’t used to a positive reaction when people find out about him.”

“His uncle knows about you two, though, right?”

“Yeah, Wayne’s been great.”

“Good. Well, I’m going to find a nurse so we can go home. You should be comfortable in your own bed.”

“And I am going to make a quick call to my buddy in Chicago to see if he can pull some information on this Owens guy. We have a lot of work to do.”

Steve was used to this. For some kids, maybe this wasn’t good parenting. Maybe his parents being gone for a lot of his life had a negative impact.

But Steve never doubted how much they loved him. They still came home for every birthday, every Christmas. They still managed to take a family vacation every year. They gave him everything he needed and most of what he wanted. They supported him through everything, the proof right here in front of him now.