#i cried whenever i listen to 'slipping through my fingers'

[kheyys-worms]

A bunch of Trein doodles <3 we respect a man of history in this household ✨✨

[minhosimthings]

A Nonsense Christmas || NSFW

Synopsis: Due to a terrible snowstorm, you were forced to skip out on your yearly family gathering. However, your Christmas gets better when a certain blonde slips through your chimney to give you, your naughty presents.

Pairings: Felix × fem!reader, includes rest of Skz, Julie of Kiof, Ni-ki of Enhypen

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, p in v sex, use of vibrator, fingering, hair pulling, brief squirting, missionary, loss of virginity, virgin!reader, unprotected sex (not for you), praise, degradation, overstimulation, swearing, dirty talk, mention of alcohol

A/N: FELIX NAVIDAD FELIX NAVIDAD YEAHHHH. Fun fact, this is my second Felix fic. And also my entry to @stayblrofficial's Holiday Writing Event! Anyway, a late Merry Christmas to everyone and I hope next year is as splendid as this one was. As always, enjoy!

Word count: 6.8k

Song Rec: Juno by Sabrina Carpenter (preferably her live stages)

Stockings on the wall, peppermint tea, a giant tree with baubles, snowmen, hot chocolate, presents and Santa Claus.

And maybe Mariah Carey too.

Those were the things that made your Christmas, a true Christmas.

Ever since you were old enough to remember, you knew your family was crazy about Christmas. Each year, without fail you’d be dragged off to buy new stockings, a ginormous tree, hot chocolate bombs, gifts for relatives and numerous Christmas events organised by some or the other watchkeeping society. You distinctly remember the smell of warm milk and your mother’s home baked cookies wafting into your room on Christmas Eve. You also remember the feeling of a slap on the hand when you and your brother tried to steal some cookies, only to be chided and locked in your rooms until the morning, lest you sneak out and ‘find’ Santa Claus. 

But of course, being the amazing child you were, you learnt from an early age that the fat man who rode a sleigh pulled by reindeers and carried a sack full of presents was nothing but an old wives tale. Laughter still erupted from within you whenever you’d recall the time you told your younger brother, Riki about it, making him sob for an hour–though he immediately shut up when you bribed him with a stolen cookie. 

Christmas with your family was always the happiest day of the year, no matter what complicated adult shit was going on in your life. Pending taxes and doctor’s appointments that you’d missed? Screw that, you were going home to waste an hour a day for three days playing League with your brother on your parents’ 16 inch flat screen TV. 

 Even the idea of boarding the plane to your hometown always made you kick your feet up in the air. All the planning, the buying of gifts (along with the hours of waiting in line at the stores), the baking—practically everything Christmas related filled your soul with joy and hope.

But this year was different.

This year brought along with it, a snowstorm—which wouldn't die out until the January of next year. 

That is how the meticulously planned flights and schedules that you had arranged in your calendar all went into the trash bin, as you had to listen to your parents wail about how they’d miss their most beloved child so much at the Christmas party they were having. All as your brother watched on with betrayal in his eyes from the background. 

Though you tried to soothe their nerves by saying how you’d have just as much fun this year as you did every year, deep inside, you were sobbing non-stop. Everytime you remembered the fact that you wont get to sleep in your childhood bedroom this year, you cried into your pillow, eventually drifting off to sleep from the exhaustion. 

In a lousy attempt to cheer yourself up, you accompanied your colleague Julie to a Christmas tree hunt for her house. You had even taken your brown trench coat and deerstalker hat out—a Christmas gift from your parents. While Julie was off bargaining with her crocodile tears, you snooped around the tinier trees—meant for those people who either wanted to spend their Christmas alone, or just didn't want a massive and expensive tree. 

And when your eyes landed on one that was sitting all alone, just waiting for the right person to take it home, you knew in your heart that you just had to be that right person.

Some more crocodile tears and a few transactions later, you were suddenly standing in front of your fireplace with a tiny tree decorated with even tinier baubles. The tree reached up to your waist, and though it wasn't as big as the one your parents had, it still warmed your heart enough to get out of your momentary depression and get onto the road to Christmas cheer. So what if you couldn't be with your family? You were big enough to enjoy festivals on your own now.

And so began your quest to celebrate Christmas exactly as you did each year—albeit without your family. You’d have to omit some of the family games and (unfortunately) the tradition of smacking Riki's head into a pie, but apart from that, you were determined to prepare a Christmas Eve feast fit for one and do everything that you'd do if you were home.

Who knows? 

Maybe you’d even stay up for Santa.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The living room was warm, cozy and overall looked straight out of a Christmas movie. After some hard hours of snooping out your basement, you stumbled upon some Christmas-sy decorations, which in reality were from last year's Halloween. 

But hey, decor is decor, and your house finally looked like something which was not the Grinch's house. With mistletoe hanging from every corner, along with your tiny tree and a cracking fire, you plopped down on your couch, and let out a sigh. The dinner you made was devoured within fifteen minutes, and you were surprised by how great your plum-pudding turned out. Maybe Christmas would be great this year as well. 

Alas though.

All that mistletoe and no one to kiss it under. 

All wrapped up in work ever since you graduated, you never really thought about relationships and all that jazz. Under the weight of your parents’ protests for grandchildren, you’d gone on a few dates here and there. But gradually, you started to lose interest and so did your parents. Their interest turned to your brother, whose misery you enjoyed in a sadistic sibling way. 

And anyways, who needs boyfriends and mistresses when you’ve got something better?

Fanfiction! 

Sitting on the couch, you lazily scrolled across your Tumblr home-page. A gleam tore through your eyes as the sight of all the Christmas fics. Your fingers soon started aching from all the tiny hearts that appeared at the end of every other fic that popped up, with their customised banners and flamboyant titles. Most of them were your general Christmas morning fun stories, but the ones that particularly caught your egregiously horny eyes were the ones where the ‘warnings’ paragraphs stood the tallest. 

Unsurprisingly most of them were named after Sabrina Carpenter and Chappell Roan songs. But then again, who’d skip the opportunity to name a fic about filthy positions and a short part about bondage, ‘After Midnight’? 

After meticulously crafting a well curated library of fics (ranging from sugary sweet to the one about the 69), you glanced up at your clock.

10:03

You had recently been enjoying going to bed as soon as the hands of the clock hit nine pm. Yes, it was a ridiculously early bedtime for someone whose teenage years were filled with promises of staying up till 2 in the morning when you grow up, but if adulthood had taught you anything, it's that 'early to bed, early to rise' was actually a pretty good proverb to live by. Were you getting old? Perhaps. 

Still not old enough to stay up for Santa though, you thought, laying your phone down on the coffee table and settling comfortably onto the couch. You curled up like a cat, and faced the warm fire, crackling in front of you.

Your eyes wandered up to the Christmas list that you had created on a whim, when you got drunk with Julie earlier that day. There were only two things on the list.

A glittery blue vibrator, and for someone to fuck you into the next year. 

A bit much to wish for some old man in a red suit to bring all of those things to you in a sack, but hey it never hurts to hope. And plus, you were horny and all those cunningulus fics were not helping.

With a stomach threatening to burst if you eat one more cookie, and a body that was just plain exhausted, you snapped your eyes shut and drifted off to a much deserved sleep. 

It will be a happy Christmas tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And what about that big bunch of fertilizer for that farmer from Norway?” Seungmin anxiously tapped his foot as he scanned his eyes again and again over a list attached to his clipboard. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, and his friends Jeongin, Hyunjin and Changbin were staring at him with concern in their eyes.

“Seung, you should think about taking a nap for a while.” Chan strode into the room with a huge box  stuffed with toys in his arms, “Everything will be fine.” He added on seeing Seungmin’s horrified expression. 

“It's okay Seungmin, I can just knock you out.” Minho sauntered into the room, wearing a red leather jacket and a huge smile—which turned into a frown when Chan glared at him.

“I just don’t understand how we’re supposed to do all of this without Santa.” Seungmin sighed, collapsing into a chair, “I knew we should have started everything months ago.”

“People wouldn't have even started to make their Christmas wishes by then.” Hyunjin said in a soothing voice, in an attempt to calm his friend’s nerves. Seungmin only sank further into the chair, with a disappointed expression on his face.

“I would.” A cheerful voice said from the corner, which turned out to be Jisung, who was dressed from head to toe in red and gold, looking like a Christmas prince in all his majesty. Jeongin rolled his eyes and looked at the empty armchair next to him. He looked up at Chan.

“Where’s Lix?” He asked, alarmed by the fact that the person who had practically been glued to him all morning was now nowhere to be seen. Chan shrugged, but then Changbin responded.

“I think I saw him checking out stuff in the pink section earlier.” Changbin’s ears turned faintly red when he said this. And it wasn't due to the freezing cold.

The ‘pink section’ was a notorious part of Santa’s workshop. In short, it contained the more ‘adult’ wishes—which were made by single, lonely people or by people who hadn't tasted genitalia in years. Santa was said to have established that section at the demand of his wife, but even Jeongin—the history buff—didn't know the exact reason why. Either way, it was a section, whose contents none of the boys liked handling. Each year they would draw their lots to decide what section each would handle. This year Chan was in charge of the toys and Seumgin was in charge of gardening material. 

And the pink section? It went to none other than—

“Lix!” Jisung exclaimed, at the sight of the blonde haired man standing at the door, “Close the door will you? The heater’s on.”

“I noticed.” Felix said in his rich and captivating voice, that could charm almost anyone. Felix flung his arms up and stretched like a cat, the sound of his stiff bones cracking could be heard, as he sat on the empty armchair next to Jeongin with the widest smile on his face.

“Why so joyous, Lix?” Minho asked, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Felix turned to him.

“It's my first time doing the pink section.” He said rather proudly. A few strands of hair settled in front of his face, framing it beautifully and surrounding him with a magnificent, peacock-like aura.

“You need any pointers?” Chan said, to which Minho laughed raucously.

“Christopher Banhg, our resident playboy.” He said in between fits of laughter. Changbin joined in the teasing, whilst Chan’s entire face slowly started to turn red.

“How many times have you chosen the pink section again?” Changbin asked, “Oh right, seven times.” He answered his own question before Chan could even open his mouth, “I bet you know everything there is to know about it.”

“Oh shut up.” Chan said, his eyes still stuck to the floor, before he turned them to Felix, ‘As I was saying, do you want tips, Felix?”

Before Jisung could say ‘that’s what she said’ Felix spoke, “Nope, I am well prepared for tonight!” His eyes formed crescent moons as he smiled brightly, “I’m particularly excited for this one request though.”

“Oooohhh.” Hyunjin grinned mischievously, “I bet it's a pretty one.” Felix nodded, to which the entire room burst out into laughter.

“Watch out, Chan, he’s coming for your playboy title.” Jisung chuckled, “What’s the wish then?”

“Well, she wants the usual—” Felix took out a post-it note from his pocket and began reading, “A glittery blue vibrator, and the interesting part—” He smirked deviously, whilst raising a brow, “for someone to fuck her into the next year.”

A collective 'oooh' rang around the room as the boys glanced at each other with teasing eyes, and then at Felix. Those kind of requests were usually rare, and at most, all of the boys (excluding the oldest playboy) had fucked about three people, in all of their career. 

“I’m weirdly excited.” Felix affirmed, putting the list back in his pocket, and looking past Jeongin’s shoulder at the giant window. Outside, on the beautiful canvas of the starry night, snowflakes fell without any cease in their seemingly perpetual motion. As Minho and Hyunjin had been complaining for a week, this year’s winter was harsher than any before. And they meant it quite literally, as they lived at The North Pole. 

“Best of luck Lix.” Changbin gave him a bright smile before standing up, alarming Jeongin, who had his legs resting over Changbin’s thighs.

“Not that you’ll need it though.” Minho said through a barely stifled yawn, “Oh well, I’m off to groom my reindeers. Come along, Innie.” Jeongin grudgingly got up and followed Minho and Changbin out of the room. Hyunjin and Jisung soon followed, after stealing pieces of plum cake from Chan and after Seungmin left—with Chan following carefully behind him—Felix sighed and slumped deeper into the chair.

Reaching into his inner jacket pocket—the secret one he had painstakingly stitched—he pulled out a picture that looked like it was taken on a Polaroid camera. 

It was a picture of a woman, dressed in a brown trench coat and a ridiculous deerstalker hat. She was pretty damn hot, Felix had to admit, with a posture so straight that he wondered if she was a princess. 

“Fucked into the next year, huh?” He chuckled to himself, putting the picture back into his pocket and running a hand through his hair.

He couldn't wait to get to your house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As a child, you had always imagined Santa to be a bit slimmer than the pictures in which he was depicted, reasoning that he wouldn't be able to fit through chimneys if he was that big. Though your parents were quick to laugh at your opinion, they also didn't want to tell their mere child of a daughter that Santa wasn't real. So they encouraged your extremely controversial opinion. 

And you held that opinion quite proudly. None of the other kids in your class had ever thought about that, and regarded you as the class’ genius. Because of this, to this day you still expected Santa (if he did exist) to be the kind of dude you saw on advertisements for gyms.

What you did not expect Santa to be was a 5’8-ish, ridiculously gorgeous blonde guy, dressed in a red suit that fit him beautifully, holding a sack tied with a red ribbon. He stared at you. You stared back.

This was not how you were expecting your Christmas to go like.

Not with a robbery.

“Who the fuck are you.” You said, cautiously picking up a pillow. You tried to run your mind back to all those childhood self-defence classes. Although—judging by this guy’s muscles—they weren't going to be of much use.

“Relax, Miss Y/N.” The man said in a voice as beautiful as his face, “I’m not gonna hurt you.” By the faint light of the crackling fire behind him, you could spot tiny freckles painted across his cheekbones, “I’m here to deliver your Christmas presents.”

What. The. Actual. Fuck. 

“You do realise you sound crazy right now?” You said, gripping the pillow a bit tighter, “Listen dude, if you’re here to rob me, I have nothing in my—”

“As I said,” The man kept speaking in the same eloquent manner, “I’m here to deliver your presents.” He preemptively flung his sack to the ground, and bent down on one knee, unravelling the ribbon and opening it up. He reached inside and pulled out a box, setting it on the table in front of him and closing his sack again. Then he looked up at you.

“I’m sorry, but could you please turn the lights on?” He said, “I can’t see that well in the dark.”

This younger Aussie version of Santa can't see well in the dark? You thought as you turned a lamp on. As much as this was the most unbelievable scenario ever, something in the back of your brain told you everything that was happening was real and you were certainly not high right now.

“Um…excuse me?” You began lamely, the blonde looked up at you, “What’s your name?”

“Oh pardon me. I forgot to introduce myself.” He laughed and got up, extending a hand, “I’m Felix. And I'm here to deliver your presents from the North Pole!” He motioned towards the meticulously wrapped present lying next to your tiny tree. Your eyes wandered from the ground up to the note stuck on top of the fireplace.

A glittery blue vibrator, and for someone to fuck you into the next year. 

“Uh…” You said, unsure of what else to say. You took another look at the man—Felix. He certainly was handsome, you thought—perhaps not exactly your type but definitely good-looking enough. His long hair fell over his wide shoulders, and you could see the way his suit was tightly fit over his biceps. Your stomach flipped over.

This guy was extremely hot.

And you were extremely horny.

“When you say presents—” You began, slowly sitting down on the couch, “—do you mean that there’s an actual vibrator in there?”

Felix nodded and sat down next to you, running a sharp tongue over his lips. His soft, pink lips. Was it just you or was the fire way too warm right now?

Your life was nothing short of interesting. As a child, you had gotten into multiple ...activities that always seemed to have a surprise at every turn. But this?

This was on top of the list of weird things that have ever happened to you. 

“Would you like to open the presents?” Felix snapped you out of your thoughts and you raised your head abruptly to look at him. Your eyes locked onto his and you audibly gasped. 

He had eyes as black as coal, stunningly beautiful, with the comfort of a warm fire glowing behind them. They made you want to dive into them and swim around for a while.

“You’re so pretty.” You whispered, not comprehending what you said until a second later, “I mean–” You internally slapped yourself, “—I’m sorry that’s not I meant I just—”

“It’s alright doll.” Felix cut you off, “I think you’re pretty too.” His voice again; it felt like a glass of whiskey after a long day. Doll, he called you. 

“Oh..” You trailed off, feeling warmth creep up to your cheeks, “Thank you.” You mumbled, looking down at the presents once more, “Should I open them now? Or wait till tomorrow? I don't wanna be ‘a naughty girl’ or anything.”

“Don't worry about that.” Felix leaned forward to rest his hands on his thighs, “You’re already on the naughty list, sweetheart.”

You gulped down the saliva accumulating in your mouth, and rushed to pick the box up. Your hands shook as you pulled the satin ribbon. The walls of the box collapsed to reveal a long, blue machine, covered from head to toe in glitter. You looked up at Felix. 

“You really are the weirdly younger version of Santa huh?” You said in a shaky voice. Felix smiled—he seemed to shine when he did so.

“I’m an assistant.” He said, shifting closer to you, his eyes wavered down to your lips, “There are eight of us in total, and we go around the world each year to give out presents to children and adults alike.” He looked at the vibrator and smirked, “No matter how naughty they’ve been.”

The queasy feeling rose in your stomach once more. As hard as you tried to avert it, your gaze went to his lips again and again.

“But, I’ve caught you haven't I?” You said in a soft voice, “W-Won't you be punished or something?” Felix smiled again and shifted dangerously close this time.

“That was the plan, sweetheart.” His voice was as deep as the rumbling of the earth, “You see, I only delivered one of your precious presents.” He smirked again and his hand came up to caress your cheek, you didn't pry it off, “You still have another wish don't you?” He leaned forward and whispered, “To be fucked into next year?” 

His warm breath against your neck made you shiver, you could feel his knee pushing to open your legs. Normally, this would be an abnormal situation. But it was Felix and you wanted him to do to you what the characters in your fics did to each other. 

"Felix…" You sighed, tensing up as he nudged his nose into the crook of your neck. His lips soon followed, attaching to your skin and leaving warm, wet kisses. They really were as soft as they looked. 

"Shush now." He mumbled, absorbed into pressing kisses down your neck, "How about I take care of you tonight, hm?" 

You stayed silent. How could you tell him that you've never actually…done it?

“Felix I-” You took in a shaky breath, “I’ve never…done this before.” Felix looked up at you with widened eyes and blinked. Then he smiled gently.

“That’s alright, doll.” Doll, again, “I’ll be gentle, if you want me to.” He slipped his hand off your thigh and extended it to you, glancing at the stairs to your bedroom, “Shall we?”

Taking his hand was the best decision you had made all year.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Felix’s lips are almost unfairly soft against your own as his hands rush to undress you, pushing your t-shirt up your waist and pulling down your shorts to the middle of your thighs. Pressing his forehead against yours, Felix pulls away ever so slightly, “Tell me if you want me to stop, alright?”

Nodding, you can’t help but be curious about his plan. You find yourself questioning every fic you’ve read in the past. Or maybe they’ve never had Felix’s tongue shoved into their throats. 

Felix lazily drags your panties down your legs, flinging them across the room before slipping a hand below your legs and picking you up, placing you gently onto the bed. Romantic, you thought. 

He placed a kiss to your forehead before he started to strip himself, your gaze raked over his body as you waited on the bed, biting your lip in anticipation. Once he was matching you in nakedness, he crawled up to your position on the mattress, starting to lavish attention to your body once again.

“Hey there, pretty.” Your cunt clenches around nothing at his words, earning a chuckle from Felix. Admittedly, you’d never felt so dizzy at the prospect of having a man go down on you—he just looks so pretty, with his freckles and his hair and his everything.

Dropping his head between your knees, he groaned at the sight, and bit his lip to contain himself. You wanted to cover yourself but when your legs moved even a tiny bit to hide, he spread them wider and the cool breezes from around the room slapped across your feverish cunt. 

The feeling was already so pleasurable, and you didn’t know if it was the afternoon glass of rum making you feel this way or just Felix, either way you knew you were incredibly turned on.

“Have you ever touched yourself down here?” The way he said it, as if you were all innocent, he narrowed his eyes when you nodded yes, “Hold on.” Felix reached across and grabbed the box you had set on the bedside table. Your present.

"Used a vibrator before, sweetheart?" He asked gently, smiling when you shook your head, "That's alright, I can show you how." His voice deepened as he said the last words and you widened your eyes. 

Adorable, Felix thought, as he handed you the vibrator. Albeit being momentarily confused, you nudged it onto your labia—like how the fics described.

There you were, bathed in soft moonlight, laying on your mattress naked, legs spread, and steadying the vibrator on your clit. Felix smirked to himself as he studied the way your thighs quivered when he placed his hand on top of yours 

"May I, pretty?" Felix cooed, reaching for your pink vibrator. You handed it to him, laying back obediently and waiting for his ethereal touch. His freckles seemed to glow like stars in the moonlight—his face a magnificent galaxy.

And when he rested the vibrator onto your clit, you let out a relieved sigh in response, breathing out softly, lifting your hips up and grinding up against the vibrator in his grip.

"Good girl. Just lay back and relax for me," he softly directed you, his bare words were enough to send you to the edge of Heaven.

 "Oh, Felix," You glanced down at his smirk and how his eyes were fixed on the way you were clenching around nothing. He loved the way your slick folds glistened in the soft lighting, and the way your breasts started to subtly bounce as you started to violently shake. 

"How about we turn up the speed hm?" He mumbled, eyes lighting up when you nodded yes, unable to speak due to your current predicament. He was making you feel good—better than your fingers ever could. And better—you assumed—than any other man could.

The vibrations of the toy increased, making your legs shake as you tried to ground yourself from the intense pleasure that you wondered if you could take any more of. 

That was when Felix held you by your waist and started to target a specific spot, somewhere you could never reach with your own fingers. The feeling of him hitting your g-spot with such precision and the vibrator doing its job on your throbbing clit, made you squirm, trying to get away from the intensity of it all, but his firm hand on your shaking thigh kept you in place. 

With a loud muffled moan you squirted, unable to warn him—you were too unfamiliar with the feeling of such intense pleasure that it got you overwhelmed, too overwhelmed to even speak. The blonde let out a breathy chuckle when he saw the mess you were making, but didn’t stop nevertheless.

Your lips were fixed in an o shape, your cheeks were pink, and your brows were pinched together. You shut your eyes and threw your head back as Felix's name slipped through your slew of whimpers.

“Felix! Oh fuckk—” Your moan came straight from within your chest—a noise you didn’t even know you could make, “Felix I-” But you couldn’t finish your sentence, thanks to the almost painful feeling growing at the base of your belly. 

“Shh sweetheart, it’s alright.” Felix’s voice was soothing and warm, “It’s alright, I’m here darling.”  You gulped softly when Felix gripped your hip with one hand and led the buzzing vibrator deeper into your sensitive pussy. The tip of the glittery blue machine slid up and down your slit, making you whine and push back against his hand.

 “Oh goddd—fuck fuck fuck!” You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changes—you get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm. 

You never really understood the full feeling of an orgasm, settling on it being the feeling you got when your fingers got tired of rubbing your folds. But the feeling of Felix’s face being inches from you, his eyes beautifully darkened and his hand working against your sex, you realised this was what all the fics described. A feeling like an earthquake erupting from within you.

You were right on the verge of greatness again, slowly nearing a climactic ending, when your eyes fluttered open, and you saw Felix sitting up on his knees, holding the vibrator far from your throbbing pussy. He was staring down hungrily at your thighs, a look lingered behind his eyes—a dangerous one.

Without warning, he took his middle finger and started teasing your folds with it, the vibrator now disposed on the side. Your eyes widened as he sunk his finger into your drooling cunt. For a moment, you thought about the probability of this being a glorious dream. But when his long, veiny finger pushed all the way in, a long, satisfied sigh escaped from your parted lips and you did not want this dream to end.

Your folds glistened in the dim moonlight, the obvious need evident in your tone when Felix plunged another finger inside your tight heat. "Fu—ck," you moaned softly, your breathing a lot more ragged now that he was moving his digit in and out of you, slipping his fingers in knuckle-deep and smirking at how you seemed to suck in his fingers. God how pretty you looked, with your shaking body covered in sweat—you glistened like diamonds in the light.

"Someone’s eager," Felix chuckled. The pads of his fingers started to circle your sensitive bundle of nerves, eliciting slightly louder moans from you.

“You want me to stop, baby?” Felix’s brows furrowed worriedly at the sight of your ragged breathing. You shook your head at him and placed your hand at the back of his head, gripping his hair. Felix moaned loudly.

 "Fuck sweetheart," he grinned at you as he added his ring finger, and you could feel the cold metal of his ring on the warm flesh of your thighs as he pumped them back and forth into your heat, “Fuck—keep-keep doing that…that’s right..” His voice was a bit deeper, betraying his arousal. Who knew Santa’s assistant had such a filthy kink?

Felix’s hair was feather-soft against your shaking hand, as you brought your right hand up as well to feel it. Your grip on his hair only motivated him more, as the sounds of your pussy squelching as it sucked up his fingers, filled the room. His middle finger worked immaculately against your cunt, a place you could have never reached with your fingers alone. 

Felix looked magnificent as he admired your body—the crook of your neck, the soft skin of your thighs, the way your eyes rolled back—he was relishing every single thing about you. Wild, primal thoughts flanked each neuron of his mind. Felix could feel your cold breath hit his lips gently, like a cool wind moving a river. 

“Shit—can I kiss you, sweetheart?” He asked cautiously, his fingers tensing inside of you when you nodded. You felt his lips press against yours, the sweet feeling of pressing candy to your mouth came to you. You could taste slight notes of rum and cranberry on his tongue—an intoxicating flavour.

He pulled away briefly, his face was still close, and he pressed his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. Your hand pulled his hair once more and he groaned deeply, his cock twitching between his legs. 

Fuck, you were so gorgeous. A faux memory played out in Felix’s mind, he wanted you all to himself—in sickness and in health, till death do you part. The way your lips parted and the melodic way you said his name, he never knew his name was such an elysian thing, till he heard it from your lips.

His hot lips moved away from yours and down to your neck, kissing and gently biting the delicate skin. You let out a gasp and arched your neck, it felt so divine that you didn’t even notice that his fingers were out of your pussy and placed on your hip. 

Your breasts moved into Felix’s face as you arched your back at his teeth digging into your skin like a savage animal and Felix audibly whined. His hand came up to play with your boobs, his fingers fiddling with delicate skin. His painfully hard cock grew even harder, as he wanted nothing more but to fuck the sanity out of you.

“Baby,” he breathed, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but it’s the best he could manage when he was this overstimulated, “Sweetheart, don’t you want my cock?,” he whispered again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you.

“Lix…” You whine, you could see his rock-hard length between his legs, “Lix—need your cock–please please pleeasee…” Felix was undone by you—the way you writhed underneath him, the way your voice shook, the way you’re so totally and completely overwhelmed—he could feel it and he loved it.

 “Alright… alright, doll.” He chuckled, gripping your hips in order to align himself with you. He was big–huge even–it made you a bit nervous. You knew from your non-virgin friends that–at most, it was only 4 or 5 inches, without all that ego. You didn’t have a ruler but you knew that Felix was much more than 5 inches.

What a way to lose your virginity.

“Ah-ahhh fuck!” You nearly screamed as he entered you, Felix didn’t like teasing–and by God were you thankful for that.

“You like that baby?” Felix grunted, his voice was oh so deep–as was his length, “Yeah, you like being stretched out huh?” His right hand was underneath you now, squeezing your buttcheek like his own personal stress toy, “Naughty, naughty girl—ah godddd” Felix was a moaning, whimpering mess, the sound of you making him feel lightheaded as he pounded into you, “Should have known you were a dirty girl when I saw that list–oh fuck, keep squeezing me like that—that’s a good girl…” Your slick walls were clenching around him like a vice, and he knew he was done for.

You could only moan in response, reeling in the way his cock stretched out your walls, the sting being nothing compared to the bliss you felt as he relentlessly fucked you.

"so fucking pretty, taking me like this, so so pretty" Felix continued, rambling.

"mphm, Felix, you're so big!" You moaned, thinking nothing of it as you spoke, his size being the only thing in your mind at that moment. His thumb strokes against yours, trying to distract you from the pressure, pressing your forehead with kisses, singing you soft praises.

"You're so tight," he whispered, relishing in the way you clenched around him while it started to adjust itself. The pain was killing you, but at the same time–you wanted more. 

No, wanted wasn't the right word. 

You needed more.

“You’re almost all the way in ,darling” Felix whispers, almost as if he heard your thoughts. His breathing is growing heavier by the second, and he’s forcing himself to hold back from just thrusting the remainder of his cock in. He knew it was your first time—those adorable eyes, that filthy mouth of yours begging him for more—but he resisted, lest he hurt you.

“Oh Felix fuckkkk..” Your eyes opened to look at him. He was beautiful, an angel in his own right, moon-like eyes and a face full of constellations. No wonder, you couldn't stop yourself from falling into him.

Your mind is gradually turning more hazy with Felix’s cock taking up the majority of your thoughts, on top of his scent that’s been creeping into your olfactory senses. The more Felix inched his cock into you, the more he pressed onto your g-spot, and the more it started to make you see stars whenever you blinked. You grew so sensitive that you felt every throb Felix’s cock is giving you.

“It’s too much,” you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. “Please Lix...” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he can’t offer you. Maybe more. 

"Good girl. You're taking me so well." he praised you softly while he delivered a few harder thrusts, "Can't believe this is your first dick," Soon, there was no pain at all, only pleasure. 

Your eyes rolled back briefly as Felix hit that spot deep within you, the one that made sparks dance behind your eyes, the one that made you moan from your chest.

You felt your pussy expanding around him as he started rocking his hips back and forth, hitting that same spot again. You held your breath for a moment, still adjusting to the size difference, and when you exhaled, a few stifled sounds came through. It hurt so good. 

He grabbed you by your waist, steadying himself while he started to speed up, getting caught up in how good your virgin hole felt wrapped around him. Felix watched as he pumped back and forth, fixating on the way you coated his length in your arousal.

You couldn't help but groan at the change in tempo, head craning back into the pillow, your mouth slung wide open.

“Felix oh god!!” You whined, your walls were so sensitive, “Fuck, you’re so hot..” You had no idea what words were coming out from your mouth, “Ahh—ahhh fucking hell—I love you!” You wouldn't even remember saying those words until the next day. Felix’s eyes visibly softened at you.

"Say it again for me, darling?" He slowed his pace, but increased his temperament, his hips slapping against yours with a sting as he thrust in and out of you, slow and hard. 

“I–ah shit!” You gasped, his scent was your oxygen, “I love you..”

“I love you too, baby.” Felix leaned forward to kiss you. Your lips danced passionately, even as your bodies stayed connected to each other. His lips felt like first snow and soft ice cream, you wanted to devour and be devoured by him.

“Look at you, you sweet little thing...” He teased as he grinded his cockhead into your sweet spot, slowly sliding in and out just to feel your wetness coat his dick. It’s pure nirvana for him, warm and wet and perfect, a place he could bury himself inside.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of anticipation and frustration building within you. You clenched your fists, digging your nails into the mattress, as Felix continued to move at a pace that was maddeningly fast.

“Going dumb on my dick aren't you baby?” he groans as his hips slap into yours, bruising your walls and using you, his cock is throbbing inside you, balls twitching and voice falling more breathy and desperate—so close to filling your pretty little pussy up.

"Cum with me, baby, cum all over my cock like a good girl." Felix said through gritted teeth, his tone somehow still soft and caring despite his pace. 

“Oh god…Felix!” You moaned, “fuck fuck fuck need your c-cum please—oh my god.” Every muscle felt like fire. You’re caught up in how everything feels, too distracted to care about the noises spilling out of your mouth. All you know is this feels good – it feels passionate.

As if on command, his last, hard thrust sent you over the edge, and with a cry of his name, you released sticky juices all over his length, the squelching sound of him fucking you through your toe curling orgasm making him reel. 

With another cry of release, you shattered again and again it seemed, your body arching as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Felix held you tightly, his fingers digging into your side as you trembled in his arms.

He was seconds behind, filling you up with his cum, fucking it into you as he stuttered above you, pressing his weight further down as he gripped and tugged at any skin of yours he could reach.

“That’s it, that’s it baby.” He worked you through your toe-curling orgasm, "That's it my love, you’re doing so good for me.”

Your breathless moans filled the room as he stilled inside you, letting his cum soak into your walls and his length, unable to bring himself to pull out. His hand came to your hair as he rested his head against yours, trying to catch his breath with fluttery eyes. You leaned into his touch, humming at his soft caress.

“Good girl,” Felix murmurs, being careful in the way he pulls out slowly from your well-used hole. You shudder, and Felix feels the way your entire body tenses, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. Relax, darling.”

Your chests heaved with exertion. In spite of his softening cock, Felix couldn’t help the feral, almost animalistic, feeling when he saw the sight of your mixed release trickling out of your pussy.

“Ahh shit.” He mumbles, rolling over to collapse next to you. Felix feels something touching the sole of his foot, and when he looks down, he chuckles, making you look at him.

“What happened?” You ask drowsily, your eyes on the verge of falling asleep. 

“It’s nothing, sweetheart.” Felix assures you, pushing the cum-soaked vibrator at the bottom of the bed onto the floor, “Are you alright, baby?”

“That–” You breathe in deeply and smile with your eyes still closed, “—was the best Christmas present I’ve ever received.”

“I’m glad, sweetheart.” Felix smiles, pulling you safely into his arms, as you drifted off to sleep.

Felix sighed and melted into your warmth. He had to leave in a few hours to deliver all the other gifts, but a few more minutes wouldn't hurt and so he stayed.

After all, he’d be coming back on New Years as well.

With a much better present. 

Thank you for reading, dear reader! Hope you have a great day ❤❤

[gilverrwrites]

Imagine desperate Jason crawling through your window late at night. You've been crushing on each other for a while now, but he is blind by his insecurities to see your obvious heart eyes. His self control has finally snapped- maybe you've been putting your hand on his thigh or leaning against him, dropping hints that only push him over the edge. He very quietly, very carefully slips into your bed. "Just once..." he thinks, slipping your panties off your sleeping form "one time and I'll be okay..."

Jason Todd/Reader I can't lie, there's little more I enjoy than writing Jason being being a little bit depraved and/or pathetic. Sorry to my fellow ugly sleepers with thunderous snores, we're babes too. Warnings: Dub-con, somno

Just this once he'd told himself the very first time he’d jimmied your rusty old window lock open with his switchblade. Your texts had stopped abruptly, all he wanted to do was poke his head in and check that you were safe and sound, tucked up in bed.

Just this once he'd said again, the next time as your creaky hardwood floors cried out beneath the weight of his steel-toed boots. You were bedridden with flu. He was being a good friend, checking your temperature and refilling your water.

Just this once he'd promised the time he settled onto the edge of your bed, taking respite from a rough night by watching you; so serene, so peaceful. He listened to the sound of your shallow breathing until his eyes grew heavy.

Just this once he’ll allow himself to really relax, just this once he’ll kick off his shoes, take off his hood and lie beside you. He just needs to be close to you, to feel your warmth beside him, to feel your breath on his skin.

Just this once he’d sworn every time, but now he knows exactly what angle to tap your lock at, which floorboards make the least noise, how slowly to lower his weight onto your bed to prevent it dipping under his weight too quickly and making you stir.

But just this once he needs more from you than he would normally take.

You've been so hard to be around lately, his self-control is in pieces. You stomp on it every time you run your fingers through his hair. It sets his skin ablaze when you hold his hand. He can feel his heartbeat in his throat when you whisper in his ear. You’ve picked up this maddening habit of resting your fingers on his thigh whenever you sit beside him, and it makes his cock ache for your touch. How can you not see what you’re doing to him? How badly he wants you? It’s torture. Pretty soon he’ll have ground his teeth down to dust from gritting them to keep from kissing you every time you bat your lashes and twirl your hair.

Just this once he’ll pull the covers all the way back. He’ll take his gloves off so he can feel your bare skin against his cracked fingers. He’ll savour the sweet sounds of your sleepy musings, how you murmur and moan for him when he brushes his thumbs across your nipples, how your back arches as he traces the curve of your stomach and dips his fingers below the elastic of your underwear; he’ll commit it all to memory.

He barely even has to do anything, you spread your legs so eagerly once he gets your panties off. Your slit is so hot and wet, his fingers glide between your lips. He should slow down, should make sure he’s not disturbing you, but your body responds so well to him, your pussy swallowing up his digits with no resistance. You’re just begging for him.  

He shakes as he works his belt open. Soft whimpers of his own escape his lips, delicate sounds he’d loathe for you to hear as he palms his length, rubbing it with your slick before lining it up with your needy entrance.  

Just this once, to get you out of his system.

[hotluncheddie]

high masking autistic steve snippet - a follow on from this and this

wc: 2.5k | rated: T | cw: none | tags: autistic steve harrington (and eddie but again this is about steve), hurt/comfort, established relationship, stimming

ao3

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Steve is spending the evening doing one of his new things. Where he takes time to just be. It’s recovering, or Stevie time, or whatever Eddie and Robin have decided it should be called. 

He’s alone basically, and it’s nice, because he’s letting it be nice. Letting it be restful. 

It’s for when he’s had a meltdown. Or can feel one coming on, because now he’s starting to recognise what overstimulation feels like on his skin. How it prickles at the back of his neck if his breaks cut short, makes his vision vignette if something too unexpected happens. 

Learned that after something like that he’ll need to rest. Needs time. 

And it’s not lazy. It’s not. (Sometimes it still feels like it is.) (Weak…that word always plays in the deep, scathing tone of his father’s voice…and selfish.)  

He’s on the couch, it’s dark, he actually feels really comfortable, and he’s watching The Breakfast Club. Watching it again. It’s his favourite, it feels like his. But he doesn’t like watching it with other people because they might notice how much he likes it and he doesn’t want that. Can’t be seen like that.. Embarrassing. 

So he watches it alone, when he gets home from work. He pauses whenever he wants, rewinds, pauses. Takes a deep breath, rewinds, pauses, stares into space. 

He also pauses to eat the snack he brought in. Actually tasting the food bc it’s the only thing he has to focus on. No lights, no sounds. He forgot how much he likes oranges when they’re ripe. Harder to taste if he has to listen at the same time. So, on a day like today, he lets himself do stuff one step at a time. 

It’ll probably take him double the normal run time to get all the way to the end. But who cares? It’s his time. 

The weird girl’s parents driving off; that feels like him. The jock’s Dad letting him off easy; that doesn’t feel like him. ‘No schools gonna give a scholarship to a discipline case.’ Maybe that does feel like him. Before through. A long time ago now. 

He claps sometimes. Keening high in his throat, a little happy hum that he only lets himself do when he’s alone like this. He does it after he whistles the same tune they do. And during the scene of them running around the corridors. It’s exiting. Makes his lips stretch wide and his feet flap around. He claps. Once. Twice. It feels good. 

He laughs at the characters. How they merge together with bits of his friends. He feels that swell of happy sad emotion looking at the jock when he first comes in, acting above the others, only seeing Molly Ringwald. He lives through a couple flashbacks of himself. Resigns to actually watch them, sit in them, begins to process who he was. Who he’s becoming now. Something like forgiveness tasting sweet on his tongue. He cries a little; that swelling and shifting as buried emotion finally passes. It overcomes him sometimes when he lets his mind relax.. He rewinds, and he laughs. 

���Stevie?”

Steve starts, fingers tangle in the blanket in his lap. Brain slow to process the change, the information. Eddie slipping through the door and coming over to him. Eddie dipping to look at Steve’s face, trying to catch Steve’s eye. Eddie smelling like cigarettes and crisp autumn air, it’s nice, but, it’s a lot. Panic sits bubbling somewhere in him. He wasn’t expecting this. 

“…Eddie?”

“Hey sweetheart. I know you had a shitty day, but Wayne’s at home with a headache and he needs to sleep it off. Wouldn’t’ve been able to stay quiet enough for him.”

Steve breaths in and out a little quickly. Eyes wide. 

Maybe it’s okay. Eddie knows he had a bad day. Maybe it’s okay.

“I’ll sit in the kitchen, work on my campaign, just forget I’m here.” Eddie speaks quietly, almost a whisper. 

He stares at his hand in his lap. “..You won’t, listen?” Steve feels small. Knows he’s not, his frame broad and strong. But, he needs small. Wants his world small tonight, slow. Wants to stay hidden. Him and the couch and the film and nothing else. 

Eddie just shakes his walkman and smiles (in that pointy way that makes Steve’s toes curl). 

“Kay” Steve whispers, still wary, off kilter. But accepts the kiss Eddie drops on his head, tangling their fingers together for a breath. Steve leans forward for a kiss on the lips. It’s deep, and lovely. Steve can smell Eddie’s cologne. Feels where the chill bit at Eddie’s nose. He shivers.

“No cooking.” Steve mumbles while their lips are still close. Small smile pulling at his face, eyes sharp, waiting for Eddie to get it. 

Eddie groans quietly in embarrassment but his eyes are soft and molten and Steve’s toes curl up again. “Course not baby, not again. Once you’re hungry just come through, yeah? Make us something nice.”

And the light of the kitchen doesn’t reach the couch. And Eddie listens to his walkman loud. And Steve’s safe. It’s Eddie. He’s not listening. Steve’s safe. 

His favourite scene; Bender and Claire in the stock cupboard. The way he looks so shocked, the way she bites her lip. ‘Why’d you do that?’ ‘Because I knew you wouldn’t.’ Steve whispers as they do. Claps. It’s such a good scene. He’s exited. He claps again. Rewinds to just watch her face. Rewinds to just watch his. Rewinds and watches the whole scene again. Wraps his arms around his middle and squeezes. Pauses on the kiss. He rubs his fingers agains his mouth. Giddy excitement bubbles in his belly. He hums high and happy again. He loves this movie. 

The weird girl gets a makeover, the jock really likes it. He feels like the weird girl sometimes, maybe Eddie can be his jock. Maybe he should get a makeover. Maybe keep growing out his hair. Maybe Eddie would like that. 

The credits roll. Bender’s fist in the air. Steve drifts on the couch, eyes closed. He breaths deep, his stomach growls. 

He pads through to Eddie. Squinting. Too bright. “D’you mind?” He motions to the lights, his eyes too adjusted to the dark and he doesn’t even wanna try and adjust them back. 

‘‘Cause. What we making?” 

Steve hums, goes into the pantry to see what’s easy. Eddie slips in behind him, hand on his waist. “Pasta?” Steve asks but Eddie doesn’t reply, just turns him gently. Nudging him to step back into the corner. 

Eddie looks at him, dips forward to place a slow kiss on his neck. “Why’d you do tha..’ Steve’s words dry up in his throat. 

“Because I knew you wouldn’t” and Eddie’s eyes are sparking with glee.

Eddie heard him.

He listened.

Steve’s feels himself flush hot, embarrassed and ashamed. “Ah, I, uh.” He can’t explain it, why he had to watch it so many times, why it makes him so exited. He crosses his arms over his chest. Turns back to the shelves of food and picks a can at random. Shoving out of the room. 

“Steve?”

Eddie said he wouldn’t. He listened in on him. He said he wouldn’t. He’s making fun of him. Steve knew he should’ve told Eddie to go home. 

“Stevie? What’s wrong?” But Steve doesn’t want to talk to him. He’s so angry, So ashamed, of himself. What if Eddie heard him clap too, heard him make that high noise, like a fucking baby, like some freak. 

He puts the can on the counter with way too much force, corn, not what he fucking wanted. His hands are shaking. He stares at them, wills his tears to stay behind his lash line. He got too comfortable, he can’t do that. Why is it so hard to pretend now, when it used to be so easy. 

“Steve, tell me what I did, please.” 

“‘M fine” Steve’s insides feel too big, pushing against his skin, itchy all over. He squeezes himself around his middle again, digging his fingers in hard. 

“Don’t do that, you know I hate when you bullshit like that.” Half lovely, half scathing.

The word stinks, a stab to the gut. But Steve gets it, he does, they talked about it. He bites his lip, hard. 

Its old habits or whatever. Because Steve, he loved fine. Liked sinking his teeth into it; toxic waste green coating his mouth and lungs. Thick and delicious. Because fine gets you out of it. Fine gives you translucency. Controlled balance. Everything appearing a none issue, the perfect in-between. Steve was perfect at coming off as something to not worry about, someone to be ignored. It used to work in all situations; can’t get told off if you’re fine, cant do anything wrong, teachers didn’t look twice, his parents wouldn't shout. By staying half alive, never letting anyone too close, never filling your lungs up all the way. That was the fine Steve adored. 

“You were literally just watching a movie. I dunno what the big deal is.” and there’s frustration, confusion, in Eddie, Steve thinks. He feels himself tense up, glance over.

Eddie must see something on his face. See that scared little animal prowling around within him. Because Eddie softens, his voice gentle. “Steve.. it’s nothing I hadn’t heard before.’ And Steve’s teeth clamp together with a click. He’s done that, his clap and his high hum, in front of Eddie before? Steve tries to swallow, he can’t, a lump too big and sticky in his throat.

He can’t look him in the face, angry tears still threatening to spill “You said you wouldn’t listen.” He’s mumbling. He sounds even more like a kid. Stupid. Grow up.

“I heard a little but I was just flipping the tape over, I wasn’t trying to snoop on you Stevie… You just, you sounded happy.” 

Steve huffs. Glances at Eddie. That soft underbelly of his whining, because with Eddie, Steve yearns. Yearns for close. Yearns to be seen, and understood.

“You didn’t mean to?” 

“No, it was just when I was turning the tape.” 

Steve forces a deep breath. 

“You think I’m weird. You hate me.” He whispers it like it’s true. A big part of him believes it, his tears welling up. Feels rejected. Knows that feeling too well. Hates it. 

“Always like you Steve. Always.”

Steve grunts, a tear slips out, rolls down his cheek.

“‘M embarrassed” comes out like an ugly sob. Steve scrubs his palms on his cheeks, feeling how red hot they are. Glaring at the countertop. “I’m embarrassed!” But it’s just Eddie. It was just Eddie.

Eddie comes over, slowly draping himself over Steve’s back. “Nothin' to be embarrassed about, love.” And Eddie leaves soft kisses on Steve’s neck, squeezes his waist. “You looked cute on the couch like that. Like it when you’re happy.” Steve tries taking another deep breath but it shudders. 

Embarrassed, angry, sad. Embarrassed, confused, angry. Frustrated, embarrassed. Tired. 

Emotions wash over him. He’s learning to try and just feel them, name them, pick them apart. Some bubble back up to the surface, some only needed to be seen once. 

Steve turns to bury his face in Eddie’s neck. He sighs, rubs his face into Eddie’s warm skin. shaking his head, likes how his lips feel moving against edie’s soft parts. 

Tired, hungry, embarrassed, hungry. 

“’M tired. I dunno what to eat.” He whispers, and then because he said it it’s like there’s space in his brain. “Want pasta.” 

“Pasta it is then. And then we can sleep, yeah?” Eddie rocks them gently side to side, kisses the side of his head and slips away. Goes to get the box from the pantry, puts the corn back. Steve gets a pot out of the cupboard. 

Staring into the water, the tips of his fingers prickle. Steve fizzes with energy and emotion. All pent up and annoying him. Needs it out. He clicks the flame on.  

He starts pacing around the kitchen island. In big striding, stomping steps. “Ugh! You think I’m weird. Some weird guy who acts weird and does weird shit.” Steve grumbles. Annoyed. He smacks his palm quick and hard against the counter top. Keeps stomping. 

Eddie comes back and starts following. Stomping and prancing like some court jester. “I like that you’re weird! You know, I have one episode of the Twilight Zone taped. It’s my third one. I watched the other two so much the tapes broke.’ Steve lets a little shout slip from him “Ha!” bubbly and forceful. Dislodging something within him. Like when a tooth finally falls out. 

Feels good. 

“I only like one brand of spaghetti hoops. Wayne once bought me a multipack for Christmas. Best fucking gift I ever got.” and Steve’s laughing now. Giggling and manic and still stomping around the island.

“I like how it feels to brush my teeth. I’ve never had a filling. I fucking love brushing my teeth, Eddie.” and that makes Eddie laugh now too. Two freaks stomping around the kitchen. A king and his jester, lit up by moonlight. 

Steve turns the corner and stops short, still giggling. Eddies bent at one knee, presenting the box of pasta to him. “My liege.” 

Steve claps, hums, high and keening. The waters boiling. 

-

“How’d you feel now?’ Eddie asks around a mouthful of cheesy pasta. 

Steve curls up tighter into the corner of couch, wraps both hands around the warm bowl. Glances at Eddie across from him. “Still kinda embarrassed.”

Eddie looks so soft, so kind, across from him. “I’m embarrassed too, to be honest. You love that movie, I thought you’d like me doing that. Kinda like when we, when we kissed upside-down, like I was Spider-man” Eddies sentence get quieter towards the end, mumbly, spoked into his bowl, cheeks dusted pink.

Steve strains to hear him. Smiles once he puts the words together. 

He shovels pasta in his mouth. Eyes closed. “You are so annoying Eddie Munson. Why’d you even come here tonight, you coulda gone anywhere.” Steve sinks further into the couch, it’s really good pasta.

“Missed you.” Eddie says it like it’s simple, easy, and warmth drips over Steve’s skin. 

Eddie clears his throat, Steve feels him fidget. “Wanna maybe.. You think we could live together one day? Want you to be able to do whatever you want with me around Steve. Breakfast Club on all the time at our place, kay?” And Steve’s throat constricts, that’s a big change, living with someone, moving out. But maybe with Eddie it could be okay, if they did it together, slow. 

“Yeah, kay. One day.” Softly, bit by bit. Little bits. Steve can get there. Let Eddie in, let Eddie see. “But no to Breakfast Club on all the time.” Because some times, some days, some things, are just for him. Steve needs it that way. And that’s okay. 

He stretches out further on the couch, feeling syrupy and nice, easy smile playing at his lips. “I like it when you kiss my neck though, you can do that again.” And that makes Eddie grin all pointy, put their bowls to the side and crawl over him. 

Steve’s toes curl and he hums, high and happy. 

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tagging those who asked mwah! @2jug2head @lil-gremlin-things

but also people who i think might be interested (sorry if ur not lmk and i won't again) @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @steventhusiast @sugarcookiesteve @spectrum-spectre @irethsune

[kybercrystals94]

As Luck Would Have It

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 17 - Prompt: "We had a good run."

Rated: G | Words: 784

“Hey! Who threw my lucky blacks in the trash bin!” 

Echo sighs. He thought he had buried those things deep enough Wrecker wouldn’t notice. “Why are you digging through the bin?” 

Wrecker holds the undersuit close to his chest like they are his most precious possession. “You threw them away? Why?” 

“It’s a scientific wonder those things haven’t simply disintegrated,” Tech says, not looking up from his latest project taking up the barrack’s table. “Let them go, Wrecker.”

 “No, they’re fine!” Wrecker shakes out the garment before lovingly wadding them up in a ball. 

“Are you kriffing serious?” Echo asks, appalled. He begins counting on his fingers, using his scomp to point at each digit for emphasis. “They’re threadbare. They’re covered in holes. They smell like something crawled into them, died, and decomposed.” That last point counted for three. 

Tech chuckles. “That is an apt description.” 

“If I washed them, it would wash the luck off,” Wrecker says as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. 

“You haven’t washed them?” Echo cries. “Wrecker! That has to be a healthcode violation!” 

 Wrecker shoves the wad of cloth in his crate, and kicks the box under his bed. “What does it matter to you?” he asks. “They aren’t hurting anyone.” 

“The smell brings literal tears to my eyes!” Echo argues.

Wrecker smiles. “Not my fault you’re so sensitive.” 

Echo rolls his eyes. Obviously, this is an argument he is not going to win. 

**

Crosshair puts a hand over his nose. “Ugh, what is that vile smell?” 

 “Aw, shut up, Cross, they’re not that bad,” Wrecker says, pulling his offensive blacks from his pack. 

“They smell worse than they’ve ever smelled! What did you do to them?” 

Wrecker scowls. “Echo tried throwing them away, so I had to hide them. They never got a chance to air out.” 

“Kriff, you had one job, Echo,” Crosshair gripes. 

“He literally dug them out of the trash,” Echo grumbles, putting his helmet on and making sure the filter is on. 

“I don’t go around throwing away your guys’ stuff,” Wrecker grumbles. 

“Tell you what,” Crosshair says. “If I ever become insane enough to have something that disgusting, you have permission to burn it.”

Wrecker mutters something rude in Huttese, and begins to try untangling the limbs of the undersuit from their wadded mass. As he works at a particularly difficult knot, there is a loud ripping sound. Wrecker gasps. “Oh, no!” 

“You can’t honestly be surprised,” Crosshair deadpans. “Those threads were held together by filth alone.” 

“No, no, you don’t understand. I need these!” Wrecker cries, and Echo is stunned to realize that the giant is actually crying. 

If the startled look on Crosshair’s face is anything to go by, the sniper is just as surprised. 

Wrecker drops down into one of the crash seats, cradling the torn blacks in his hands. “I was wearing these the day that detonation went wrong,” he says, voice thick. He reaches up and touches the scars on the side of his head. “Could’ve killed me, but it didn’t. Ever–” his voice breaks, and he starts again. “Ever since, whenever I feel nervous about a mission, I’d wear these blacks, and nothing bad would happen, or if it did, it would turn out okay, ya know?” 

The tearful confession leaves Echo feeling lousy for trying to throw the blacks away to begin with.

“Listen, Wrecker,” Crosshair says. “Those blacks can’t do kark.” 

Echo scowls at the sniper. He isn’t helping. At all. 

But the man isn’t finished. “But if they could,” he continues, “you wouldn’t have to wear the whole thing for them to work. Here, give them to me.” 

Wrecker hesitates, sniffs, but hands the ruined article over. 

Crosshair pulls out a short blade, finds the cuff off one sleeve, and cuts it off. He holds up the circle of fabric. “Wear this. It’ll work the same.” 

“How do you know?” Wrecker asks, taking the cuff and slipping it over his wrist. 

“Because I said so,” Crosshair says. “If you can decide that a pair of blacks is good luck, I can decide that one cuff is just as lucky. Besides, now you can wear it all the time without worrying about it falling off your body.” 

Wrecker gives Crosshair a wobbly smile. “Thanks, Cross.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Crosshair grunts. He holds out the remainder of the fabric. “Now get rid of these before the noxious fumes kill one of us.”

Wrecker takes them, stroking the mutilated threads. “We had a good run,” he tells them. 

Crosshair rolls his eyes, but there is no heat in the action.   

Echo grins under his helmet. He knew the man was soft. 

END

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[hearts4golbach]

Just Give Me a Reason. (Pt. 2.)

pairing:

Johnnie Guilbert x Pregnant!Fem!Reader.

a/n:

I've gotten many requests for a part 2 to this!

warnings:

none

hormones were kicking your ass today. you sat at the edge of your bed sobbing. you were so unsure of everything revolving around having a baby. although you knew Johnnie would be an amazing father, you feared you'd be a shitty mother. your face was red, and your eyes were puffy. you rubbed your eyes as you were sniffling and trying to calm yourself down.

you heard the front door unlock and open, and moments later, there were 2 knocks on your bedroom door. "Hi, love." Johnnie came in with a smile on his face. his expression dropped, turning into worry whenever he saw you crying. "y/n, what's wrong?"

he sat next to you on the bed. "What if i'm a terrible mother?" You looked down at your growing baby bump, rubbing it gently with one hand. "Our baby needs to have a good mom." You sniffled and looked at Johnnie.

"Listen to me. you're going to be the best fucking mother in the world, okay? i know this baby will never think any different." he rubbed your back. his eyebrows were furrowed with worry and his eyes glistened.

"are you sure?" you wiped your eyes. Johnnie always knew how to calm you down.

he took your hand. "I'm more than sure. are you gonna sit here and cry or are we going to go shopping so our baby has the best room ever?"

a small smile grew on your face. "really? you wanna go shopping with me? i wasn't sure if you'd be down for that."

he rolled his eyes. "oh my god, y/n. im way more than down for that."

you wiped the tears from your eyes. you jumped out of bed and slipped your shoes on. you practically ran out to the car. Well, not so much ran, but I'm sure you can picture that. Johnnie followed not far behind you.

since you told him you were pregnant, Johnnie worked on getting his license and finally got it. he hopped into the drivers seat and started the car. "have you been thinking of baby names, mama?"

"no, I was actually going to talk about it with you. honestly, I have no idea. whether it's a boy or girl, my mind is straight TV static." you admitted as you buckled your seat belt.

"talk about it later? I have no clue, either. I was kind of hoping you would."

you held his hand. "yeah, later. Tara has basically been spamming me with baby names."

To no surprise, your pregnancy was a surprise to Jake and Tara. especially whenever they found out Johnnie was the father. nonetheless, they were excited. Tara wanted to help plan a baby shower, but you wanted to keep the babies gender within family and the 4 of you. 5, including carrington. she complied, even though she was slightly disappointed in your decision.  Jake was especially over the moon for Johnnie, who had expressed he wanted a family before you two even met.

Johnnie squeezed your hand. "maybe we can look through those, I guess." he laughed.

the upcoming month would be your next doctors appointment, in which you'd find out the baby's gender. Johnnie tagged along to all of your appointments, but couldn't contain his excitement over this one.

Johnnie parked as close to Target as he could. he opened the passenger door for you. with one hand on your stomach and the other one interlocked with his, you walked into Target.

"im going to get one of those cringe shirts that says 'father of the year' and wear it everywhere. to parties, too." he laughed.

"Oh my god, you wouldn't do that. especially to parties." You rolled your eyes at his dumb comment.

"Watch me." he squeezed your hand again.

a black crib with speckled blue, red, and yellow paint caught your eye. you nearly cried. It was the cutest thing you had ever seen. you pointed at it. "that's cute as fuck! do you think the baby would like it?" You eyed the price, which wasn't half bad, before facing Johnnie.

his face lit up whenever he saw it. "I think they would love it." he ran his fingers along the fake wood of the crib.

"I'll just order it whenever we get home. I do not feel like helping you carry that shit inside, no offense." You groaned, looking at all of the adorable baby clothing options. "I can't wait until we can shop for their clothes." You rubbed your belly with your hand gently. you were showing before, but it was starting to become prominent.

he agreed before pointing out a dark blue rug. "That's cute. it'd match the crib."

"it is! we should get it."

Johnnie agreed with you before grabbing the small rug and tossing it in the basket. you planned to lay it in front of the crib, purely for the aesthetic.

"I don't think we need all that fancy shit, like a changing table, don't you think?" you asked Johnnie as you wandered the aisles.

he shook his head, "Nah. I never had a changing table. I mean, I don't think."

"Yeah, me either. I didn't know what one was until I took that one class in high school. you know, the one where you carry around fake babies for a week?"

"Yeah. thank God I never took that class." he joked.

you stumbled across a black, mini rocking chair. it was cheap, for what it was, and easy to carry. "Awe." You cooed as you pointed it out. "I mean, unnecessary but cute decor."

"I was thinking the same thing."

"Yeah, let's get a chair they can't use for a while but not a changing table." you said sarcastically as you put it in the cart.

he giggled. "who gives a fuck? it's our baby."

you nodded your head. "True." johnnie kissed your forehead before returning to pushing the cart.

only a few days prior, you and Johnnie had called his mom to break the news. she freaked out in a good way, of course. although she thought he was a little young, she was happy that both of you were. she congratulated you and asked how you were doing, and the two of you talked through Johnnies phone about him for 30 minutes. Johnnie listened, clearly embarrassed as she told you embarrassing stories of him when he was a child. those stories made you all the more excited to have your mini Johnnie running around.

no other items peaked your interest nor Johnnies. you happily made your way to the checkout without a care in the world.

with only two items, check out was quick, and you made it back to the car. "y/n," Johnnie spoke up as he shut the driver door. "You're going to be an amazing mother."

[barkrry]

you remember when...? - masterlist // walk through fire for you It wasn’t unusual for YN to turn up at the Styles house out of the blue, it was basically her second home. Whether Harry was there or not, she was let in to hang out with the rest of his family.

This time wasn’t any different, though she did turn up looking a bit upset. Anne didn’t question it too much, allowing her in and calling Harry from his room.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Anne asked, gently stroking her cheek after she had removed her shoes and jacket. She didn’t know what had upset the young teen, but she was always happy to listen whenever possible. Even if she was just complaining about her son.

“Y-yeah,” YN breathed out, her eyes falling on Harry on the stairs behind her. “Hi,” she whispered to him, as fresh tears were leaking out of her eyes. And he was quickly rushing down the last of the steps to hug her against his body.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Baby,” he whispered in her ear, rubbing her back as he tried to be as supportive as possible. He may not know what had his girlfriend in tears, but he would do anything to bring back her smile.

“Can we- can we talk in- your room?” She managed to get out, lifting her head from his shoulder. Her face wet as she sucked on her bottom lip, and he was quickly nodding his head without a second thought. His hand slipping into hers and gently taking her upstairs to his room. She had been in here many times before, if they weren’t here, then they were at her own place. But Anne gave them more privacy than her own mother, so it was common they ended up here. Harry was pulling back his duvet, crawling into the bed and opening his arms for her. And she had zero hesitation as she was crawling into his bed and cuddled up to him.

“What’s wrong, flower?” He whispered to her, his fingers gently stroking through her hair as he leaned against his headboard.

“You remember- remember when my parents were away for that night, and- and you lied to your mum about sleeping over- at- at Jake’s?”

“And I was actually at yours,” he added, frowning a little as he looked down at her. “I couldn’t forget that night, you know that.”

Of course he couldn’t forget, it was the first time they had sex. They had lost their virginities to each other, and he would never ever forget that night for that reason. There had been so much love in the room, and it had been more magical than he could have ever predicted.

“Harry, I’m pregnant,” she announced to him, her voice flat. Her fingers curled into the hoodie he wore, but she didn’t dare tilt her head to catch his reaction. She didn’t want to see it.

They were 16, freshly turned. Their GCSE’s were soon, and this was the last thing they ever dreamed about having to worry about. They were definitely not ready to be parents, they were still kids themselves.

“Y-you’re- how sure?” Harry stuttered, though his hand hadn’t stopped caressing through her hair. YN raised her eyes slightly to meet his, though her vision was blurred from the amount of tears being held there. “Oh— fuck— baby,” he breathed out, cradling her head and holding her against his body, his own face screwing up slightly. Hearing her scared sobs against his neck had his heart breaking, and he had no idea on how to fix this.

The couple laid there for a while, as YN let out all of her tears and Harry held his own back. It’s not that he didn’t cry, or he didn’t want to. He just wanted to focus on his flower for now, and deal with his own emotions once things were sorted

An hour later, YN had cried herself to sleep, and Harry was carefully laying her down against his pillow. It wasn’t the first time they had ended up asleep in his bed, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. Anne didn’t seem to mind, she knew they would be safe. And as much as he wanted to join her, he knew she would be extremely dehydrated when she woke up.

Making the trek down to the kitchen, his hoodie still damp with the tears of his girlfriend as he was opening the fridge door. Movement behind him followed by footsteps on the staircase suggested to him that Gemma was leaving him and his mum alone. To talk.

“Is YN alright? Fight with her family?” Anne asked, leaning against the sink with her arms folded against her chest, concern clear as day on her expression.

It wasn’t that YN had a poor relationship with her family, but it was known that she would butt heads with her mum more often than not. Usually when it came to that time of the month, where all their cycles were synced and it was just hormones going out of control. Anne was more than aware of these, being a shoulder to cry on for the young girl many times.

“N—no, not her family,” Harry said, sounding dismissive as he was taking out his water bottle. Hanging on the door as he searched for a suitable snack for when his girlfriend woke up.

“H, she was— I’ve never heard her cry like that, is she okay?” And honestly, that alone had Harry’s heart doing flips. He loved that his mother cared for his girlfriend so much, that she had been accepted into the family though they were only young and in love, as YN’s own parents would say.

“She’s—“ Harry shut the fridge door, biting down on his lip as he glanced at his mother. He wasn’t sure if he should say anything, he knew his mother would never be outwardly mad at him or YN. Not to their faces. “We had sex.”

The way Harry had delivered the line, it was perfectly deadpan. And it had left Anne a little stunned, as she was definitely not expecting that response from her youngest at all. Of course, she knew they had been experimenting a little, and that’s why she gave them the space they needed. If they didn’t do it in the comfort of one of their houses, they’d be doing it somewhere they could end up arrested. And she had spoken to Harry about using condoms, and even supplied him with some the same day.

“Okay, and— does she regret it, or, feel like she didn’t… perform?” Anne asked him, trying to understand why her sons girlfriend would be crying because of sex.

“No— well— okay, she probably does regret it, but not for—“ he huffed, his fingers curling in his brown curls, tilting his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. “She’s pregnant, mum.”

And you could hear a penny drop. Harry’s head tilted slightly to see his mothers stunned reaction, as she tried her best to collect her thoughts.

“Did you—“

“We used a condom, I guess— maybe— it broke? Or?” He shrugged, leaning against the kitchen cupboards as he sighed. “Mum… I don’t know how to help her,” he breathed out defeatedly, shaking his head as he set the water bottle on the side. 

And then Harry crumbled, letting down the wall he was using to hold YN up. His mum quick to catch him, allowing him to sob into her arms this time.

When YN woke up, alone in her boyfriends bed, she was changing out of her hoodie and slipping on one of his. Loving the fact that his scent engulfed her the second she did, before she was making her way downstairs to find her lover.

In the kitchen, sat next to his mother at the breakfast table. Cup of tea in hand, mid sentence when the sound of the fridge opening caught their attention.

“Oh— fuck— I was supposed to bring up some water for you,” Harry confessed, looking guilty as he watched her pull out a fresh, cold water bottle and open it. Downing half of it instantly before she was shuffling her way over to him and his mum. “Feel better?” He mumbled, his arm wrapping around her shoulders as she pulled her seat close to his and snuggled up into his side.

Her head shook slightly, laying her head against his shoulder as she played with her water bottle. Sucking on her bottom lip, enjoying the feeling of his lips pressing against her hair.

“YN… Harry told me what’s going on,” Anne confessed, which had YN’s eyes snapping to meet hers in a panic. “No— don’t worry, okay? He had a bit of a cry, only telling me cause he didn’t know how to help you. And I’m not mad,” she explained, an encouraging smile on her face as she looked at the teen girl.

“You’re not?” She whispered, biting at her bottom lip as her fingers found their way into Harry’s hoodie pocket.

“Not at all. H explained what he thinks might have happened that night, and it’s probable the condom was faulty,” she said, nodding as her hands readjusted their grip on her mug. “The only thing that needs to be worked out is… what do you want to do?”

And YN kind of felt like a deer in headlights as both Anne and Harry were looking at her. And she definitely didn’t have an answer. Yet.

[astroyongie]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Half Of My Heart ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Read with this song: https://open.spotify.com/intl-pt/track/3KJFFP1U9SdJrYLk1f1jRa?si=24544cad174b44de

Warnings: Angst

Droplets of snow fell like ash from the night sky. December nights were always dark in Japan, the dim light from the street lamps proving just enough not to get lost. Tonight, it felt particularly cold and the coat around your shoulders wasn’t providing any warmth. You felt your fingers bruised from the cold breeze, but you couldn’t bulge from your spot, feet glued on the ground. A strange feeling of dryness recoiled inside your mouth as you felt your eyes becoming irritated from both the cold and the tears that threatened to leave. 

“You what?” you asked again, glaring at Niki who had not yet looked at you. 

The tip of his nose was reddish, his cheeks puffed from the scarf he wore around his neck. Snow collected itself on his blonde hair, but he didn’t brush it away. 

You and Niki have been dating for quite a while now. You had supported him all this time, even when his desires were to go to Korea and become an idol. As a good girlfriend, you had moved out to that foreigner country, supported him through thick and thin, cried with him whenever training was too hard, attended to his sore muscles after a hard day of practice.

So why? Why now?

You had pushed your dreams aside, giving up university to be able to support him since you knew that the idol industry was too fierce. Yes, you might have complained once or twice that you were often bored in Korea and that dating Niki was becoming hard as Enhypen was becoming more and more recognized. but you were also proud of him, and you wanted to walk down that path with him. That world was too dark, you couldn't let go of him when he needed you the most.

So why? Why now?

“We need to break up” He repeated this time, his voice louder. Niki’s eyes finally met yours, and you felt your heart shattering. What was he talking about? this didn't make sense. You had just come back to Japan with him to spend Christmas with your family, so why was he talking about breaking it off with you?

The same guy that had spent the entire day with you, making you feel special, buying you that cinema ticket from the movie you had been talking about for months.

“I don’t understand,” You said, feeling your voice shivering. “Is it something I have done?”

“No you haven’t done anything bad, y/n”

“Then why?” you asked the first tear rolling down your cheek “Why are you taking this decision if everything is okay?-- no, listen we can fix it and talk it out Niki. Whatever it is, let’s find a way, we can’t just–”

“I cannot stay being egoist.”

You looked at him, confusion overwhelming your senses. You shook your head, sniffing away the sadness as you walked toward him. He was growing distant, you wouldn’t allow him to slip from your fingers. Grabbing into his arms, his eyes were void as if he was trying to avoid you at all cost.

“What are you talking about?”

“Just let it go, y/n” Niki said, his voice growing annoyed as he pushed you away from the grasp you held. 

You fell silent. Looking at him, his skin was becoming redder and you couldn't tell if it was because he was angry or cold. You felt your lower lip trembling, the feeling of powerlessness crawling up your spine. 

“I don’t care that you are being egoistic if you keep me by your side,” the anger boiling in your stomach just couldn't stop. The thought of losing Niki was making you nauseous “I love you, I have sacrificed everything for you and now you are breaking up? in Christmas Eve? Fuck Niki, what the hell of a timing!” you yelled, painfully aware of how empty the streets looked and how the dim light did not allow you to see all the emotions running free on Niki’s face. 

“You don't understand.. you never have.”

“Is it the company?” You asked, too engrossed in your emotions to process his words “I am going to kick them in the face-”

“Stop y/n!” Niki said, his voice pleading this time. “We can't continue. You have said it yourself, you have sacrificed everything for me, how much do you have to sacrifice to realize that I am not giving you anything in return?”

“Niki–”

“Stop for a second and listen to me. The more you are with me, the more time you are wasting. Start doing something for yourself. Forget about me.”

Silence. 

You felt the realization hit you like a whip. Niki breaking up with you because he felt that you were giving him too much and not taking anything in return? It was absurd. It pissed you off. It made you angry. Everything you have done for him. For nothing.

“Fuck you Niki! Fuck you!

“Good” he said, a sad smile plastered on his face and you felt the tears running down out of rage, You couldn’t hate him even if you tried. He was repaying you, sacrificing what he loved in order for you to reach your dream. It was too cruel. “Half of my heart will always be with you. But I can't keep doing this. I am sorry”

You fell silent again, looking at him in disbelief. You wanted to kick him, to slap him, to tell him to give it a thought, but you knew Niki better than yourself. He wouldn't change his mind, not when his eyes shone this bright when he was looking at you. He was serious.

“I hate you, Niki. I really do right now”

You felt his arms surrounding your body. The warmth that you have been craving, overhauling your body as you felt shivers. A loud sob left your mouth, as you buried your face into his chest, clinging into his scent, into his body, into him.

“I will keep half of your heart” you said through sobs “I will wait, until you are ready to accept that half back.”

“thank you, y/n”

[oniikabuto]

general hcs ☆ south park

-- sfw --

characters: the main 4

a/n: it's literally midnight. i need to be up at 5am tomorrow. i'm writing about south park on tumblr.

synopsis: just headcanons of sp kids! their little quirks and habits and stuff

oh also aged up

...

— ⛧ e. cartman

has all of the really good snacks in his pantry

had a phase where he really wanted to be a garbage truck driver as a kid

listens to ariana grande and lady gaga

sings his heart out in the shower

refuses to admit it if you ever overheard him

weirdly sharp canines it makes him look like an evil little rodent

allergic to picking up after himself. there's literally a trail of shoes all the way up to his bedroom

never takes stuff out of his pockets before his mom washes his clothes but then gets pissed when his earbuds and stuff go through the wash

smells like baby soap

bites his pencils and they look horrendous

one time kenny asked to borrow a pencil and he threw it back almost immediately after feeling the bumpy chewed-up wood

thinks that menstrual products shouldn't be free because "can't they just hold it in??"

kyle will fight him about it

loves chocolate milk to death

— ⛧ k. mccormick

gappy teeth

but it looks cute on him

likes cds even though he doesn't have a cd player

always packs his lunch in the morning and karen's

there's little holes on the insides of his pockets and he has a habit of sticking his fingers through them and wiggling them without realizing

which make the holes bigger

keeps a porn magazine in his school backpack and leafs through it on the bus or in the library as if he's casually reading the news

sex jokes just SLIP out. he doesn't even think before he makes a sex joke.

his backpack is a mess and he uses the little pockets to store trash and edible wrappers and crumbs

has a disposable somewhere that he hits in the middle of class

kyle gives him a disapproving look when he stumbles into class high as balls

street smart but doesn't know how to do long division

favorite food is chicken nuggets with ranch

loves ranch (i fucking love ranch fight me)

will let you paint his nails

probably listens to tiktok music like mitski and radiohead and shit

also the smiths

— ⛧ k. broflovski

4.0 gpa all the way until that one A- in pe. junior year that dropped it to a 3.9

cried about it and sulked for weeks

stan almost left him because he got so sick of it (rockin that 2.9)

"dude it's not that big of a deal"

"MY LIFE IS OVER STAN YOU DONT GET IT"

keeps really organized notes- not just for him, but for the sake of his friends who take shitty notes

he has freckles idc if they said he's a daywalker HE HAS FRECKLES.

has a 10-step hair care routine every night

spends longer in the bathroom doing his hair care thing than his mother

spends 30 minutes every day watching tv with ike no matter what

gets violently competetive over kahoot

listens to the cure and elliot smith

keeps a different notebook for each class

— ⛧ s. marsh

always has at least one earbud in

sometimes when there's a lot on his mind, he gets very easily distracted

will step in the shower with his socks still on by accident

has a little crush on kyle (sorry style brainrot....)

used to read a lot as a kid, not really much anymore

unconciously messes with little papers or napkins in his pcokets and tears them to bits

gets like no sleep ever because he can't ever get off his phone or whatever he's doing long enough to try and get some sleep

still gets nauseous whenever he's near someone he has a crush on

terrible at articulating himself through text

if you want to show him a video or post, you would have to show him irl because he won't see the tag.

smoked weed once and decided it was overrated, but will sometimes get high if kenny asks or something.

loves vanilla flavored things even though it's basic

constantly has random change and wads of cash in his backpack because he's too lazy to stuff his things back into his wallet

[fallenasleepyetagain]

In My Care - Nightmare/Blue fic

Media: Undertale AUs/UTMV

Genres: Romance, hurt/comfort, betrayal, whump (technically?), human AU

Characters: King Nightmare, Blue, Dream, Cross, Horror, Ink (mentioned)

Pairing: Nightmare/Blue

CW/TW: Betrayal, broken bones, bones in general, violence mention

Word Count: 2616

"H..huh wha...I don't- What…What’s going on?" Blue slurred, his vision blurry as he looked up at Dream's face. He must've been in pain, but he couldn't feel it. Not yet.

The ground was cold, a striking contrast to Dream's warm hands that were placed on his face. Dream was stroking his head and saying something, but the ringing in his ears made it impossible to focus.

Whenever he tried to speak, Dream would put a finger to his mouth. Shushing him.

"Drea-Dream I don't- Please-"

"Shhh." Blue heard him, finally. His eyes lit up slightly, and his brain got less foggy. "God, shit, ok, good, you're with me now. Hey, hey..."

Dream kept his head up as he regained his energy, the guardian's hands running through his curly hair.

"It's going to be ok. You're going to be ok, I got you."

"What happened...?” His head was thrumming and pain began to creep up from his bottom half.

"We were fighting Nightmare plus his gang and some debris fell on you. It got you good, and knocked you out, but you're ok now."

Blue attempted to pull himself forward but he stopped just as quickly as he started. Pain shot through him, and he cried out, holding onto Dream as he was cradled.

"No no! Don't move. Your legs appear to be fine but the debris above you seems to be keeping your waist pinned down."

"Can-Can you help me?" Blue took a deep breath, his eyes slammed shut due to the hammering in his chest and the return of the ringing in his ears.

Dream stopped touching him to stand up. Averting his eyes.

"Dream? Can you...are you...?"

"Don't worry ok? I'll come for you, just be patient. Don't give up hope. This is all part of the plan."

"P-Plan? What plan? Please I…I don't understand."

Dream just shook his head. His eyes glanced up and he sighed, kneeling down and stroking Blue's cheek one more time.

"Nightmare is coming. He will take you with him."

"WHAT?!"

"SHHH!" Dream slammed his hand over Blue's mouth, "I know, I know ok?! I know that this seems terrible, but listen. It's...a necessary evil. Ink and I will come get you, ok? I promise. He won't even have the chance to hurt you."

The warmth of Dream's hands abandoned him as Blue's head was dropped. He lay on the cold ground, mind and heart whirling. Had Dream just...left him? To become Nightmare's captive?

He could barely believe it. He couldn't believe it at all! There had to be some rational explanation, some sort of reasoning behind Dream leaving him!

Something heavy pushed against the debris above him and he cried out before slamming his hands over his mouth.

Nightmare was right above him. Crushing him from above. He prayed to whatever god was up there that Nightmare would just leave him alone and Dream would come back, and everything could be normal and make sense.

"Well well well, what do we have here?" Nightmare's voice spoke from above him, cruelty dripping from every word. "A prize waiting to be claimed."

Shit!

A groan of pain rang out as Nightmare stepped down from the debris. The shifting of weight caused whatever was on top of Blue to be pushed into the ground, into his legs, even further.

Tears were forced from his eyes as he blinked. Pain shot through him like a barrage of bullets. Blue grit his teeth and avoided looking at Nightmare, eyes squeezed shut.

This proved to be worthless however, since Nightmare bent down and gently slipped his hand under Blue's chin. Nightmare was colder than Dream, and his hands were more forceful. Grabbing at his skin to make sure he didn't break free. Though, Blue preferred it to the cold ground.

"Aren't you just adorable?" Nightmare cooed, squeezing his cheeks. He whimpered as Nightmare did so, his body beginning to ache again. "I can't believe Dream just left you here. That was quite stupid of him.”

Nightmare leaned down closer, his lips nearly touching Blue's ear. "How does that make you feel, hm? Being abandoned by your only friend."

Blue hung his head down, and Nightmare clicked his tongue disapprovingly. He stood up and snapped his fingers, almost like he was calling a dog, "CROSS! HORROR! Here, now!"

It only took a few seconds for the biggest men in Nightmare's gang to get there. Horror and Cross looked down at him, concern and pity forming on their faces.

"Oh shit?! What happened to-" Cross tried to say.

"Lift the debris." Nightmare commanded, interrupting Cross's words.

The two got to work immediately. Blue inhaled deeply as the large debris was lifted. It was as if a mountain was lifted off of him, and he staggered to his feet.

Despite his own weight being significantly less than the large piece of cement on him, his legs began to scream. To burn. It shot up through his body, through his bones. Even his artificial ribs felt the stinging pain.

A cry left him as he collapsed to the hard ground once more, trembling.

Nightmare nudged his cheek with his shiny, black shoe. "Hm."

Cross attempted to go over, to help, to do something, anything! But Nightmare held up a hand. Slowly, he bent down and shifted Blue so he was on his back. With oddly precise movements, Nightmare poked and prodded at his legs, making careful notes on Blue's reactions.

"Careful," Nightmare spoke as Blue gripped onto his sleeve. "This suit is worth more than whatever hovel you, Dream, and Ink live in. If you ruin it, I assure you that you will be in debt for the rest of your mortal life."

The city was quiet at that point, with Horror wrangling up the other two members of Nightmare's gang. Blue's ragged breaths echoed along the street, as well as his his grunts of pain whenever Nightmare touched something that was especially tender.

"Cross, come." Cross stepped forward, being only a foot away from Blue.

"Shift to your left." Cross did as he was told. "Good. Don't move."

It took Cross a second to realize that Nightmare was using him as a shield from the sun. He scowled, but didn't move. At least he was being helpful.

"I fear you've got a break in your left ankle, my dear." Nightmare spoke softly, effortlessly lifting Blue up into his arms. Blue didn't struggle, going limp as Nightmare carried him off.

The adrenaline coursing through him had begun to wane, and the pain in his ankle, his legs, only got worse. He wanted out of Nightmare's arms, away from Nightmare entirely, and back to the safety of Dream's warm embrace, but he couldn't bring himself to fight. Not when he was in such agony.

Tears slipped from his eyes as he squeezed them shut, blocking out the sun and getting some dust out of his eyes. Nightmare's hand gently shifted to Blue's face, and with the flick of his finger, a tear was promptly removed from his face.

"Brace yourself." Nightmare spoke. Blue flinched as the squelching sound of Nightmare's tentacles being summoned entered his dining eardrums. He held his breath and tensed his body, preparing for the sudden change in environment.

How Dream, Error, Ink, or anyone else for that matter, hopped from universe to universe without issue was beyond him. It really wasn't fair. Universe jumping always shook his body, and he needed a minute or so to adjust.

The humidity was the first thing he noticed. It was staggering, how dry the city was compared to the outside of Nightmare's castle. He felt his clothes stick to his skin, and he grimaced at the feeling.

Mercy was shown to him though, as Nightmare entered the castle. Despite it being visibly old and weathered, it had decent cooling. Apparently the heating in the winter wasn't too great, according to Cross, but that was irrelevant considering it was the springtime.

Blue braced himself for the freezing dungeon and harsh conditions that he was often put in when he was kidnapped. Nightmare smirked at his astonishment when he was taken in the exact opposite direction of said dungeon.

Nightmare went up a large set of spiraled stairs with ease, taking caution to not let Blue's head or broken ankle hit the walls. The hallway was like every other: gothic and dark.

It was jarring to see what the medical area in the castle looked like. The big, wooden, medieval-style door opened up into a pristine and modern medical room. It looked like a studio apartment, but with medical supplies instead of furniture.

When they entered the room, Nightmare gently set Blue down on the bed. It was surprisingly comfortable for a hospital bed, and the coolness of it felt nice against his throbbing legs. Blue had been to his fair share of hospitals in his lifetime, and he had to begrudgingly admit that this was the most comfortable.

As he laid down on top of the white sheets, he kept his eyes on Nightmare as he walked a few paces away at the counter. The room was silent as Nightmare opened up the upper cabinets with his hands, his tentacles opening the ones closer to the ground.

"What are you doing?"

The two tentacles protruding from his back hovered by his shoulders, holding what seemed to be gauze and a pill bottle of some kind. Blue couldn't see what was in his hands from his current angle.

"I can't put a cast on your leg immediately, especially without a proper x-Ray scan. However, I do know the general idea of where your break is, so I can stop the swelling."

"...What?"

"Hm?" Nightmare turned around, small pillows in his arms. Blue looked at Nightmare in confusion as he came over, lifting up Blue's leg and placing it on the pillows to keep it elevated.

As Nightmare began to wrap his ankle and foot up tight with the gauze, Blue spoke, a bit baffled. "Why aren't you using magic?"

Nightmare looked just as confused as he finished up wrapping Blue's leg. "You and I both know that messing with bones and magic is dangerous. Healing muscle, fat, or skin is easy."

"I know that! It's just…um.”

"He heals your bones with magic, doesn't he?" Nightmare asked, standing next to Blue with his arms folded behind his back. Theo he was taking about was obvious. "That doesn't surprise me. Healing bones with magic never works properly, we both know it leaves your bones...malleable.

"Dream, on the other hand, has never really understood how...fragile you mortals can be."

Blue grit his teeth, "I'm not fragile, thank you very much."

"Aw." Nightmare purred, clicking his tongue as he ran a finger down his face. "It’s adorable that you think that."

Before Blue could protest further, Nightmare put a finger to his lips.

"Shh. We could do this all day, and as much as I'd like to do that, we need to move on." Nightmare smiled, oddly sweet, as he shifted his hand away from Blue's face and back behind him. Blue nodded, keeping quiet.

"Good. Now, you will be in my care until you can walk without pain. And, since I know you, how your magic works, I suspect you'll be here for a month or so."

"A month?!" Blue sputtered, sitting up while keeping his leg elevated. "Are you out of your mind?! Y-You can't just- Dream will come for me!"

"Why are you treating this like a kidnapping? I do believe that Dream won't be coming for you, considering the circumstances that got you here."

Rubbing salt in the wound is what Nightmare excelled at.

Using his thumb, Nightmare wiped the tear that fell down Blue's cheek. Much to his surprise, Blue didn't pull away or push him away.

It was subtle, but Blue leaned into his touch, just a little.

"You're tense." Nightmare said, taking his hand away and tucking it back behind his back. "You have no need to be. You are in my care. Harming you would be counteractive to my goal."

"Which is?"

Nightmare clicked his tongue, amused. "Cleaning up Dream's mess, of course."

This, as Nightmare intended, got a small snort out of Blue.

Before another word was said, Blue yawned. Nightmare wasn't surprised, considering the amount of adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins during the battle, as well as his body trying to put itself back together.

It was around eight-thirty in the evening, which, for mortals, wasn't an unreasonable time to fall asleep. A bit early, perhaps, but since he'd be healing, the more sleep the better.

"Hold on."

Carefully, Nightmare lifted Blue with his tentacles. He made sure to support Blue's head and back, as well as keeping the broken leg elevated. He pulled down the sheet, and then set Blue back down, allowing him to get comfortable underneath it.

"There."

"Can I have a blanket?"

Straight to the point. Nightmare found that admirable about him.

"Of course."

There were warm blankets in the storage area of the medical wing, and it took only a moment for him to drape one over Blue's body. Blue nuzzled into it, pulling it up as he stayed on his back.

"Comfortable?"

"Mhm."

"Good." Nightmare stroked Blue's hair, fingers combing through his brown curls. He pulled away from Blue, sauntering over to the door. "I'll leave you to rest then, I'll be-"

"Wait."

"Hm?"

"Don't leave." It was a soft, gentle plea. Blue's hand dropped from the bed, reaching for him. "Please."

There was work to be done, there always was. Nightmare hesitated at the door, hand hovering by the knob. But Blue looked so sad, so pathetic...he couldn't just leave him alone.

"Just this once."

"Thank you."

Using a tentacle and portals, he grabbed the book that he was currently reading from his bedside table. He sat down on the armchair next to the bed, crossing one leg over the other as he opened the book.

"...Can I ask you for something silly?"

Nightmare's lips curled into an amused smile, "Of course."

"Can you read it to me?"

"What, my book?"

"Yeah...sorry."

"Don't apologize. I wouldn't mind that at all, as long as you don't mind starting in the middle."

"Nope..." Blue sunk into the bed, his face buried into his scarf as he closed his eyes.

It took Nightmare a second before he began to read aloud. He would have to reread this section later, as he was not paying attention. His mind was stuck on his kidnappee next to him.

If Dream didn't come to get him, Nightmare might just keep him himself. Dream wouldn't know what he was missing until it was gone.

Nightmare liked the idea of that. He'd get sweet revenge against Dream as well as a sweet man in the palm of his hand.

It didn't take long for exhaustion to catch up with him, and he was passed out within minutes. He shut the light off with a tentacle, the only source now being the setting sun shining in through the windows. Blue looked stunning in the light, the way the sun danced against his brown curls and face was something he hasn't noticed before.

No wonder Dream liked to keep him by his side.

A smile, one more sinister than the ones he had given Blue, creeped upon his face. He believed that Blue would look just as, if not better, at his side than Dream’s.

With a final touch of his cheek, Nightmare left the room.

[qvrcll]

𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐒 ༊·˚ — drabble.

cw: blood, gore + allusions to $uicide.

the second night in the barn was hard; the monster had nearly found home with ellie. the hour was late and tight and she had been tossing herself around the thick sheets since forever — there was no wind to soothe her. no tune. and the space once absorbed in both body and mind right next to her remained cold and dry. the sheets creased under her own weight. the crude, cold tears were encased behind flaxen eyes—the monster listened.

how many days till sunrise? how many days till peace?

her fingers feel irregular — the sheer force of abby’s bite had sent them clean off and the adrenaline had washed in aches of relief. but when she stumbled through the creaking door, the pain had flooded her tantamount. it barrelled any operative nerve. severed any pine of relief and the amputation had swollen with spasm and ache for a running week. she was lucky for her teeth and her blood — yet neither froze cold nor killed her. she watched the wind creep in that night, acrid taste of the monster on her tongue, execrating her survival—you should be dead.

how many words till they come true? how many faces till i see you?

there were recurring nightmares. she had carried them with ease — her hunt in seattle was accompanied by stalking shadows and noiseless silhouettes just beyond reach. they trod on her heels. kept her whole with jarring relief that no, i’m not dead. just going fucking crazy. and when she sat in the pool of her cohering blood and salt, threading through her clothes, she had let the ugly monster claw through and out her throat in an ugly, dry sob.

how many drops for my thirst? how many cloths for my wounds?

some days, ellie likes to sit on just that perfect ledge of wood that won’t splinter her ass. she’ll jitter and fiddle with her fingers — she’ll find fault in the scars littering her body. she’ll admonish the bruises, the blood and the missing parts. she won’t think of burying them for once, these misfortunes, because she, once, carried them with her. they were hers. a mark of her survival. of her failure. of her mercy. of the black loom of paint above her head whenever she cries into her arm. the etch and draw of her pocket knife when she thinks of death—of blood and a threadbare throat. when she quickly slips the object away to pocket the urge to go, go, go. because then, she’ll never stop until she goes.

“maybe you can teach me tomorrow?”

she remembers that perfect memory. the guitar scratches conformably against her fingers in the memory—joel smiles at the wooden object. his face is old, marked with white stray hairs in his beard and his hair is swept up. awkward. and yet, the memory is so, so beautiful. she’s smiling back, in the memory and it gives her hope. faith in the fact that she loved that man like she loved a father. her eyes are sullen with unshed, hot tears, twisting the memory around till she’s cold with grief and the monster threatens to latch to her throat again. her eyes glaze over.

how much more till you have all of me? how many more till i’ve lost all i see?

the day is darkening outside. the ledge creaks as she harks of it with a whimper—this piece of shit did give me a splinter.

how much more till it is the very last? of me? of us? of you?

the night howls.

the sky grows cold.

the monster stares. the monster jitters. the monster does not come.

© 2023 qvrcll ! do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[kirnet]

Don’t Wake the Ancients - Chapter 9

read on ao3 | previous chapter | next chapter

-

Tiny flecks of snow swooped and fluttered outside of Dorotea’s window, kissing the car for just a moment before getting whipped up and flung back in the air. She’d let Nate have the front seat even when he offered it to her, smiling through the wince as he imagined his beanpole legs crunched to fit in the back. So now Dorotea was the one crunched behind Adam, albeit less than Nate would have, and in between Farah and the door. Farah babbled through the whole drive, explaining every type of supernatural that popped into her head while Nate interjected with more concrete facts, his hands waving excitedly whenever he could pull up a piece of knowledge from some long forgotten lore.

And so Dorotea learned that no, vampires don’t sparkle, and yes, they needed blood (though it seemed any ethical dilemma had been solved by the Agency), and no, garlic wouldn’t burn them, but they probably wouldn’t eat Dorotea’s cooking anyway. “Because we don’t require solid food like you,” Nate hastily clarified when Dorotea raised a brow. Morgan just rolled her eyes and continued to fog up her window.

“You are taking this remarkably well,” Nate said, turning as best he could to speak to her directly. She could feel Adam’s eyes flit up to the rear view window under his sunglasses, but he made no other indication that he was listening. “Many of the humans who discover the supernatural are much more… delicate.”

Farah punched Dorotea lightly in the shoulder, missing all of her yellowing bruises. “And I thank you for it. Me and some of the other agents had a bet on when your big mental break would be. You’ve earned me a lot of cash.”

“Which agents?” Adam asked, dropping his uncaring facade immediately.

“Morgan’s in on it, too,” Farah cried without hesitation, shoving her finger into the other vampire’s face.

And she quickly retracted it when Morgan snapped her teeth where the finger had been. “Snitch.”

“I just don’t have time for a breakdown,” Dorotea sighed, leaning as far away as she could from the superpowered slapping match occurring mere inches from her battered body. “But I suppose it makes sense. Science is ever changing, so my acceptance of things that are proven to me has to be ever changing, too.”

Nate considered the words. “That’s easier said than done.”

“Oh, I’m aware. But it actually explains a lot more than you might think. Wayhaven is… odd. Not just small town odd. Things that go missing are found. People who go missing are discovered.” She watched the dark tangle of forest zip by. “Miracles and evil things all happen here, and I’m not foolhardy enough to claim that I can comprehend such an ancient place.” She shook her head. “This might even be exciting once I don’t have to worry about everyone I love getting brutally murdered.”

“Which is what we’re about to solve,” Adam said. “We’ll head straight to the hospital. Clearing Lance of any charges will be easier with the actual murderer in custody, assuming that he hasn’t already fled.”

Dorotea’s mouth fell open. “I- really? I’m coming with?”

Adam’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, and she wondered if he had ever snapped any into pieces while driving before. “We are heading to a lab. It was brought to my attention that you might have some use searching through any evidence we might find there.” Nate beamed. “But you are not to leave my side or my sight, understand?”

“Sure. Of course.” Dorotea breathed in, her heart swirling in circles in time with the snow outside. She ran her smarting fingers over the cold metal on her hip. “Let’s get this bastard.”

-

They parked a ways down the road, well out of sight from anyone who might be keeping watch from the hospital windows. Farah slipped out first, hardly leaving any indents in the snow as she crept towards the building. The rest waited for agonized minutes after she snuck inside, Morgan stamping her feet in a vain effort to stay warm.

“That gun won’t do anything,” Adam murmured, snowflakes creating a halo in his hair. Dorotea moved her hand up to loop it in her belt buckle. “Nor will your bear spray. He won’t be nearly as tolerant as I was.”

“What if Farah finds him in there? How do you even arrest someone like that?” Dorotea brushed snow from her shoulder. Sitting here was a torture, her stomach twisting into serpentine knots. She glanced over to Nate. “Sedatives? Enchanted handcuffs?”

“Nothing so interesting, I’m afraid,” Nate answered, his eyes never leaving the sliver of the hospital they could see through the trees. Adam swept his pea coat back and removed something from his belt. It looked suspiciously like Dorotea’s taser, though instead of two prongs it had three, the middle much thinner than the others. An emblem of a crescent moon, so thin it was hardly visible, was etched onto the front.

Adam held the device out. “It’s a stun gun. The electrical capabilities work just like yours, but this-“ he pointed to the needle in the middle- “will inject someone with a small amount of Dead Man’s Blood.”

“Dead Man’s Blood?” 

Morgan hissed and rubbed her hands together. “It’s right in the name. I thought you were the smart one.”

“It’s harmful to vampires. The amount in that is enough only to weaken, not incapacitate. But often that’s enough to gain an advantage,” Nate explained. “It’s strictly regulated because of the harm it can cause us, though. We don’t want it to fall into any unknowing human’s hands.”

Describing Adam’s change of facial expression as a metamorphosis seemed too much, but it was entirely accurate. He blinked, lips puckering, and then they drew apart into a sneer, all before collapsing with his brows to the center of his face, his nose wrinkled. “You should have one,” he managed to wheeze out before he could stop himself. He grabbed Dorotea’s wrist, and with a surprising amount of gentleness, slapped the stun gun into her palm. And then he immediately sneered again and plied her fingers off of it to adjust her grip. “No, hold it like this. This larger button activates it, and the smaller one will inject the DBM.”

“So now you’re trusting me to be able to handle myself?” she asked when Adam was satisfied that she could use it properly, an edge creeping into her voice.

“It has nothing to do with trust or with your capability.” Adam leaned forward, and this close Dorotea could see the tiny flecks of auburn dusted around the outside of his pupil. “This weapon is not your salvation. It is but a tiny increase in your chance of survival should we be separated.”

A fog of breath escaped from Nate’s mouth. “That’s more than enough, Adam.”

“He’s right,” Morgan added flatly.

“He is.” Dorotea carefully added the stun gun to her belt, mentally repeating Adam’s brief instruction. Her hand probably should have trembled at the very possible reality of her own demise being laid out clearly for her, but it didn’t. This man had taken Garret from Kate on nothing but a passing whim. She was not about to let any amount of human fear cloud her focus. “And if capturing him isn’t a possibility?”

Now Nate stared at her. “We’re not killing him. The Agency doesn’t kill.”

She bit back “They just torture.” Leaning against a tree, she said aloud, “I’m not arrogant enough to think that I could take him down. But I’m getting thrust into this situation with only a fraction of your knowledge and experience. I deserve to know how to defend myself.”

Only the gentle sway of the leaves above broke the silence. Nate and Adam refused to look at her, both locked in some sort of nonverbal conversation with the other. “I wouldn’t use it on y’all,” Dorotea added. “As much as I might want to sometimes.”

“There will be no need for that,” Adam finally announced, Nate nodding solemnly beside him. “Not if-“ He paused and snatched his phone from his pocket the moment it vibrated. “Farah?”

“No sign of him,” Farah crackled through the speaker. “That mean cow at the front said he hadn’t been in for a few days. He was definitely here all right, but the smell is faint.”

The vampires collectively relaxed. “Secure the lab. Morgan can try to trail the scent. Good work.” He hung up with little fanfare before turning to Dorotea. “Come on.”

So he was gone, then. Only for the moment. That was worse, somehow. If she could charge in before her nerves could take hold of her then she could function, even if she was only a liability. But the waiting was when the fear crept in, when every snap of a branch had her falling over herself to look over her shoulder. What trap would he lay for her?

Who would he hurt in the meantime?

“Stake to the heart and beheading.”

Dorotea snapped back into herself. Adam and Nate had been swallowed by the trees ahead of them, though she had no doubt that they were hearing this exchange. Morgan flicked her lighter one final time before shoving her hands deep into her pockets. “What?”

“That’s the only way you can kill us.” Her gray eyes took in the color of snow when she looked at Dorotea, glowing an almost moon-pale white. “You’re damn lucky this guy wants you alive. That’s the only advantage you have to exploit.”

“Why tell me at all?” Dorotea hurried after Morgan when she started to walk forward, her long legs closing the gap easily.

“Because the Agency isn’t as tough as it thinks it is. And you do deserve to know.” Morgan shrugged. “Follow Adam’s orders and stay on your toes.”

“I-“

Morgan silenced her with a half-lidded look. “And don’t read into this.”

-

Martha tried to ask a million questions when they entered, but Dorotea just flashed her badge and walked past. Morgan and Nate split off on Adam’s order . “You’re going to let us take a look around,” she heard Morgan whisper to Martha before she disappeared behind the heavy lab door. 

“I don’t want you guys doing that pheromone anymore,” she hissed to Adam. “It ain’t right. Especially when you go behind my back to do it.”

“Told you she would notice,” Farah chirped.

Adam set his jaw. “Did you mind when I used it on Kate?” He swallowed at the seething glare Dorotea gave him. “I’ll discuss it with everyone.”

She had remembered the lab as being disorganized, but now it was in chaos. Papers and post-its and smaller equipment were scattered over every available surface. Whole shelves that would have held supplies were cleared, leaving only a few smashed beakers on the floor. “Jesus,” Dorotea mumbled to herself as a piece of glass cracked under her boot. “When’s the last time someone was in here?”

“He’s probably setting up another place for his experiments,” Farah said, flicking through some of the papers. “Which is, as we say in the business, not fucking good.”

“We need to narrow down his next location,” Adam grumbled.

Dorotea pointed to a blank section of wall. “Some of the hematology equipment is missing.” At least, that’s where Verda would have kept it in a lab this size. She circled around the counters, her scab on her palm itching more with every step, until she came to some computers. She powered them on, and Farah skipped over to watch over her shoulder as it asked for a password. Dorotea’s lips curled down for a moment, but she tapped something in.

“How did you know the password?” Farah asked when the desktop appeared on the screen. 

“This hospital barely sees any use. There’s not much reason to change anything around here.” She clicked through some of the internal files. “Dr. Turner went to Marshall University. Their baseball team’s last win was in ‘81.” She knew this because Dr. Turner loudly lamented that fact every season when he would come to watch games at the bar. If thunderingherd81 hadn’t been the password, she would have just added an exclamation mark. 

Farah blinked. “Humans are dumb.”

“A little. I’d imagine there are thousands of places he could hide out, Agent du Mortain. Even narrowing down the fact that he’d need the space and power to use all this equipment.” Derelict warehouses, abandoned cabins, crumbling coal plants, too many places swallowed by the mountains to count. They couldn’t even narrow it down to places with vehicle access given his range of mobility. A knot formed between her brow. She tabbed through a folder. “Dear God.”

“Detective?” She hadn’t heard Adam approach, but she could feel the ghost of his breath on the back of her neck. “What have you found?”

“His notes.” She opened one of the slides. Dorotea always discovered a new breathtaking artistry whenever she brought her eye to a microscope, every spot of red and purple revealing its own little cosmos. Now all she felt was dread as she moved through image after image, the blood cells on display growing fewer and fewer with each passing one. Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five. The number label in the corner of each one grew by the second. “Cabo. Anchorage. Barcelona.” Adam pressed his lips into a thin line. “Wayhaven.”

Seventy-six.

Janet Greenland had been seventy-six. Seventy-six victims, at least of the ones Murphy had been cataloging in this way. The faint outlines of her blood stained the screen as Dorotea grit her teeth, too lost in the pathetic sparseness of the slide to click to the last image.

Adam did it for her. He reached around her, careful to never touch, and tabbed to the last image. 

Seventy-seven. Wayhaven.

Knowledge could be an odd thing. In mere millions of years humans had evolved from upright apes to farmers, artisans, dancers and priests and mystics. Nothing was safe, not the deepest depths of the ocean or the farthest reaches of space. It had to be some sort of collective insanity to stop and wonder why the world worked, what made life tick, when instinct demanded you focus on your next meal or a warm place to shelter for the night. Dorotea was composed of countless little cells and more countless little atoms, and thanks to all the brilliantly stupid and arrogant people who thought to wonder about such things, she knew it.

Farah was right. Humans were dumb, and Dorotea’s ape brain should have never opened the Pandora’s Box that was literacy. It would have spared her the numbing shock of staring at her own blood, her cells and all their organelles and every other bit that worked tirelessly to ensure that she kept living, on a too-bright computer screen. It would have spared her the roiling disgust that was quickly spreading from her stomach to her throat.

Murphy had defiled every human who had come before her. He’d somehow stolen a piece of the very fabric of her person without her blessing.

Seventy-seven.

“It’s mine.” Dorotea’s voice sounded very far away to her own ears. “We’re all just numbers to him. Like cattle.”

We. It was “we,” now. Dorotea had inherited this twisted legacy.

She would have memorized the names of the others if she could. At least she had Janet’s.

Farah pressed against Dorotea’s side, her undead presence seeming to suck any warmth from the air. “What do we do now?”

Adam reached into his coat and put on his sunglasses, but not fast enough to hide the pitying look in his eye. “We brace.”

-

Dorotea almost burst into tears when she caught sight of the station.

Unit Bravo waited by their black sedan outside, content to watch whatever theatrics occurred from a distance. Nate chuckled somewhere from behind her as she ripped the door almost off its hinges and entered. A wave of warm air caressed her face, no doubt the work of a chilly Tina messing with the AC while Captain Sung was out. She could see her curly mess of hair bobbing in the back as she worked at her desk.

She expected her view of the front desk to be similar. Douglas always had his head down, eyes glued to his phone or something else entirely unrelated to his work. She started when his head whipped up the moment the door opened. “What can I- Detective!”

“Hey Doug- OOF!”

The air was knocked from her lungs after Douglas leapt around the desk, tripped forward, and brought her into a bone crushing hug. “We were so worried!” he rambled into her shoulder. “I mean, they told us you were at the hospital and that you were doing good, but before that we didn’t know for a while. Shit, I thought Kenny had really done something to you. I-“

“Alright, move kid. You’re blocking her airway.” Tina pried Douglas’s vice grip off of Dorotea and pushed him back, only to rush forward and squeeze her arms around Dorotea’s midriff before she could finish sucking in a precious breath. “We thought you were in a coma! No call, no text, no nothing!”

“I’m fine! I’m fine!” Dorotea managed to wheeze out when Tina loosened her arms a fraction. She clapped her on the back and reached out to clap Douglas on the shoulder. His face lit up at the contact. “You okay? No injuries?’

Douglas’s already impossibly wide smile grew at the question. “None, thanks to you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You stopped Kenny and his ilk from getting to our station’s infant. I wouldn’t call that nothing.” Douglas batted Tina’s hand away when she tried to pinch his cheek. They both sobered when Kenny’s name sunk in. “We don’t have him in holding,” Tina added softly, her gaze sweeping across every mottled bit of skin on Dorotea’s face. “Your agency pals said that you didn’t want to press charges, but just say the word and we’ll rain down on their asses.”

Dorotea flicked her. “No. Absolutely not. I just got a little roughed up, that’s all.” She turned to Douglas. “Did you tell your father that you were there?”

“He would have killed me if he found me out after curfew,” he shook his head, a sort of kicked puppy expression on his face. “I’m sorry, I should have been honest.”

“No, this is good. He’d be on a warpath otherwise.” That was one less thing she might potentially have to not worry about. She returned her focus to the couple thousand things that she did. “Where’s Lance?”

“We had to send him home. Judge extended the time we could keep him for a few days, but since you were gone-“ she shook her head. “He hasn’t left town.”

“You animals.” Dorotea couldn’t contain her smile as Verda all but glided to her from the break room, a cup of coffee in hand. He set it on the welcome desk before gently taking her in his arms, barely even making contact with her. “Barely three steps in and you’re already talking about work. Sit, drink something.”

Dorotea gladly took the mug. “Sure, after we get a few things out of the way.” She crooked her finger for them to follow as she shuffled to her office, Douglas hovering at her arm like she might wither and die at any moment.

The office was largely untouched, though it was recently dusted. The missing chunk of Dorotea’s desk was pitifully reattached with some duct tape, and all the haphazard stacks of files and papers had been moved from her desk to the various chairs that had become fixtures of the room. What immediately caught Dorotea’s eye, though, was the whiteboard. 

“You kept investigating?” she asked as she neared it, eyes narrowed. The white space was packed much more densely than when she had left it, her notes about blood and enzymes and mutations covered with mugshots old and new. It seemed someone had gone out to try to reestablish a timeline for Lance, canvassing neighbors on when he might have left his house on foot the night of Janet’s murder. Ample information about Kenny, Peter, and just about everyone else Dorotea had come into contact with overlapped each other. Even Miss Benedict, observant Miss Benedict, had a couple of bullet points attributed to her.

Tina stepped up on her toes and almost managed to ruffle Douglas’s hair. “All this one. I don’t know what clone killed and replaced him, but he’s been working nonstop.”

A rose tint crept up from under the collar of Douglas’s shirt to his cheeks. “It’s nothing,” he stuttered, suddenly very preoccupied with dislodging a piece of chipped linoleum with the toe of his boot.

“I’m impressed.” Dorotea gave him a nod. “Excellent. What’s this?”

“You seemed suspicious of the hospital,” Verda answered instead when Dorotea picked up an unfamiliar file, Douglas too overcome with flush to speak. “We called to inquire about Dr. Murphy and pulled some information from the medical board. Just in case you might need it.”

Ah, so that’s why he was gone. The picture that greeted her when she opened the file was charming, its gray slanted eyes harboring the same mischievous tint of its crooked smile. Waves of dark hair that refused to be contained by any product fell in seemingly preplanned tousles over his forehead. 

Roguish. And clearly not the same Dr. Murphy she had met. Another victim added to the list.

“I… can’t talk about this too much. Not without jeopardizing Agency secrets that I swore to keep.” It was like speaking with cotton in her mouth. The full truth never itched like this. She knew why Rebecca had made her swear to uphold the Agency’s secrecy, and even through all her anger, she understood that decision. Just because she handled it didn’t mean that the rest of her town could. Hell, they couldn’t even handle Lance, and he had been born here. But seeing her team, her friends, watch her with wide enthusiastic eyes twisted her gut. This was their investigation as much as hers. She took a long glug of coffee but the itch remained in her gums. “Lance isn’t our man. In fact, we know who is, but we just can’t make a move yet. Please stay as uninvolved as you can until the Agency gives us the all clear.”

Tina let out one of those pitched uneven giggles that she had whenever she watched a horror movie. “That’s crazy. What, do we have some X-Files shit going on here? Mothman?” 

“I’m not discussing this any further.” Dorotea’s lips parted to sigh. “Please trust me on this.”

Tina sobered instantly.

Maybe she wanted one of them to disagree and snap her back to her senses. International, no, interdimensional agencies had to be a load of shit. And what danger might they be in in their ignorance? More or less than if they crashed about town, painting a target on their back? But Douglas just rolled on the balls of his feet as Verda took Dorotea’s hands in his. “We always do, Tea.”

-

“I don’t have the room for all of y’all,” Dorotea warned as they climbed the steps to her apartment, the late evening breeze ruffling her hair. “Well, I might if you can hang from the ceiling like bats, but I’m worried you’ll rip my attic loose.”

This temporary living situation was not ideal to say the least. The vampires could barely fit on her staircase, let alone inside her cozy apartment. 

But Farah didn’t seem to mind at all. She dashed in the moment Dorotea could get the door open (push in, then up, then turn the key), flitting about like a starved hummingbird to any bauble that caught her attention. And there were plenty of them, enough that Adam’s lip curled more with every one that Farah inspected.

“You’re a hoarder,” Adam grumbled.

Dorotea scowled.

Whatever too-off white the walls had been painted was all but lost under the clutter of frames, photos, and whatever else Dorotea could shove in there. Plenty of images of Tina and Verda, Verda’s husband and kids, Lance, Hayley and Mitch and every other soul she had known almost since birth smiled back at her, welcoming her home as she pushed past Adam into the room proper. Rosa’s eyes followed her the closest, and though she never turned to meet them, Dorotea could feel regret settle in the air.

No other surface was safe. A number of handmade quilts and embroidered pillows were piled on her couch and chair, a few more waiting in a basket beside them. The shelves and coffee table were covered in books, and the spare inches that weren’t were home to mugs, knitted animals, wood carvings and pretty rocks. Dorotea opened her curtain to see the soft snow outside, careful not to maim the dried flowers she hung from the rod.

“I think it’s quite charming,” Nate said, already preoccupied with her bookshelf. 

Dorotea smiled. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Morgan shoved her cigarette back into her pocket only after Adam gave her a look.

“It’s harder to defend,” Adam said as Farah ended her sweep at the back of the couch. She picked up her guitar and ran her fingers across the strings. Morgan hissed and brought her palms to her hands as a discordant twang ripped through the sound barrier of her apartment. 

Farah’s eyes widened. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly, carefully setting the guitar down to its exact former position.

“I’ve never needed to defend it. It’s a home, not a military base.” Dorotea sat to kick off her shoes. “How’s this gonna work? My bed can fit two, and there’s the couch, maybe someone can curl up in the chair. Someone’s gonna be on the floor.”

“We don’t require sleep,” Nate answered before Morgan could open her mouth and make a comment about the bed fitting two. “We’ll be comfortable standing out here to keep watch.”

Dorotea nodded, the hairs on her neck standing up at the thought of a bunch of near-strangers watching over her while she slept. She shucked off her jacket and padded over to the narrow kitchen to open the fridge. “I know you won’t eat, but there’s food in the-“ She slammed the door shut. “There’s a biohazard in there. Stick to the pantry until I can clean this out.”

She excused herself for a shower. A blissful torrent of scalding water beat at her skin as she sat in her tub. Hot was bad for bruises, but at this point she would have walked into the sun if it meant some warmth. She scrubbed her body and scrubbed again, any desire to try and stand washed away with the water. 

If the vampires didn’t have heightened senses she was sure they would have come to check if she was still breathing. When the water started to run cold and the pipes started to groan, she finally mustered up the courage to step out. She dried herself, grateful for the condensation covering the mirror. 

“What’s the game plan for tomorrow?” she asked when she reemerged dressed in some ratty pajamas. Morgan and Nate had decided to sit, the latter in the chair and the former sprawled out over her couch, her boots dangling off the edge. There was a crash from the kitchen, and Farah stuck her head out of the freezer, a waffle cone lodged firmly in her mouth. Adam, as always, paced. 

“We’ll try to narrow down our target’s location.” Adam stopped moving, his ramrod straight back making him appear even taller than he actually was. “The thralls won’t have any conscious memory of their vassalage, but they might have lingering images in their mind. Morgan’s pheromones will be useful for that.” He turned to the mentioned vampire. “Do you think that will work?”

“I’m supposed to babysit?” Morgan scoffed, her shaggy hair falling into her face.

Dorotea rolled her eyes. “I’ve outgrown my oral fixation. I’m babysitting you, if anything.”

It took a few long seconds, but eventually Morgan’s lips twisted. She flashed her teeth in an easy smile and tucked her arms behind her head. “I won’t be able to get too deep, but it’s worth a shot.” She shrugged vaguely towards Dorotea. “You got a problem with that?”

Yes, she did, but she swallowed her discomfort. “You stop when I say.”

Morgan cocked her head, a wisp of hair catching at the corner of her upturned lips. “Sure, sweetheart.”

“We can discuss this more tomorrow.” Nate stood and planted his hand firmly against the flat of Dorotea’s back. “You should try to get some rest.”

Dorotea didn’t have the energy to argue. She let him herd her to her room. 

She grabbed her belt the moment her door clicked shut. 

In truth, Dorotea hated her firearm. Its heft was more awkward than comforting, always tilting her hips into an uneven lilt. She could use it with what could be charitably called accuracy on the rare occasion she brushed up on her marksmanship, but so could everyone else in Wayhaven. Really, it was the object’s whole purpose that left a foul taste in her mouth. A gun was only meant to threaten, maim, or kill.

The cool metal bit into her skin as she pulled it from the holster. Her palm curled around the top, she pulled the slide back just enough to see the copper edge of a bullet. Right where she had left it.

Adam was right: the gun was not her salvation. It didn’t ease her discomfort to set it on her nightstand just within arms reach. But she did it anyway, same with the stun gun Adam had given her.

The bed sunk delightfully under her weight, much softer than the ones at the Agency bunker. Even as the air turned heavy and pushed her down into the blankets her eyes refused to close. She tossed and turned, ears pricked for any word she could catch from the whispered conversation outside her door. The padding of snow outside dampened all other sound.

The whispers ceased. Someone knocked lightly on her door.

“Yeah?” she mumbled into her pillow.

To her complete surprise, Adam entered. She straightened and blinked, just to make sure that she was actually seeing him. Of all the people who she thought might want to talk to her right now, Nate seemed like the best candidate, not this blond beast who was currently trying to find the best corner of her room to stand menacingly in. He settled by the window, the cut of his cheek reflected in the glass. “Do you have a moment?”

“Sure.”

Despite being the one who asked, Adam didn’t seem happy with her answer. His hands flexed at his sides. “Did Nate send you in here?” Dorotea ventured when he didn’t speak. 

“No. Yes.” He ran a hand down his face, finally turning to her. His gaze flicked to her firearm before settling back on her. “In a sense. I want you to know that I… understand. Both the weight of the responsibility you carry and the sting of failing those in your care.”

Dorotea drew her knees up to her chest. “How long have you been doing this job?”

The air that escaped through Adam’s nose was stale and filled with dust, like an ancient tomb being cracked open for the first time. “Eons.”

“Does it get easier?”

“The job? Or the loss?” He stepped away from the window when Dorotea could only offer a slight tilt of her head. “Perhaps ‘easy’ is not the best way to describe it. Routine, maybe.”

“I don’t want it to ever get like that. To be numb to whatever happens.” Dorotea unfolded and allowed her long legs to hang over the side of the bed. A draft tickled the bottom of her feet.

“This isn’t an apology,” Adam rumbled after a length of silence, his voice a river tumbling over smooth stones. “I won’t apologize for following my orders, just as I don’t want you to ever regret following your creed. We both have our duties.” Then he looked at her, truly looked at her, no hint of scrutiny or dismissal in his gaze. “Protecting your people will be more complicated now that you know about us. But I know you will rise to the challenge. I just ask that you continue to show the same care to every single one of your charges, no matter who they might be.”

Something like a smile stung Dorotea’s cheeks. “Even though I’m just a human?”

Adam sucked on his teeth as she chuckled. “All too human, Detective.” The words lacked any bite.

“Oh course. It would take a hell of a lot more than magic for me to leave anyone in Wayhaven behind.” Dorotea’s smile lingered even through the faint sound of glass tinkling to the floor somewhere in the living room. Whatever Farah has dropped could be cleaned up.

And then her apartment exploded.

[pineappleciders]

(This is pretty embarrassing to ask but I’m a sad guy with sad feelings so) main omori characters(plus mari if you don’t count her)where they run in on reader trying to very quietly cry so nobody notices? You don’t have to add this but maybe reader cries harder when the character walks in - 🐗/evil twin

A/N: sorry it took so long evil twin i am a procrastinator . also sorey if sunny and basils parts suck i project my inability to comfort onto them. also projected my mommy issues during maris part ...

RW OMOGANG walking in on reader crying and trying to hide it

includes: SUNNY, AUBREY, KEL, HERO, BASIL, and MARI

SUNNY

when he first peeks in and sees the tears on your face, he definitely panicked

he's a little awkward so he might think about just quietly leaving, but he cares about you and can't just leave you like that

once you look up and notice him, his heart drops when you break out in a sob

he walks over to you and slowly sits down, hesitating to put his hand on your back. he's still kinda stiff and awkward though

he doesn't ask you to talk about it, he just sits there and waits for you to do your own thing. it doesn't matter if you just need a pat on the back or if you need to rant about something, he'll stay there for as long as you need

sunny has a hard time showing care, so the best he can do is listening and nodding his head. he is trying his best, and seeing as his love language is quality time, if you'd like you two go out for ice cream afterwards!!!

AUBREY

her immediate reaction is concern, and she thinks about slowly closing the door so you won't see her, but she'd feel far too guilty

she takes a few cautious steps in, gently calling your name and she kinda freaks out if you start to cry harder and hide your face

she's at your side, slowly sitting down on your bed and hovering her hand over yours before deciding against it and patting you on the back.

"hey, Y/N... what's wrong?"

her heart twinges with guilt when she sees you crying, despite not doing anything wrong. she tends to assume things are her fault!

she'll listen to you talk until you tire. aubrey really doesn't mind. she knows it all too well; the frustration of not being able to just rant and talk about yourself for once. she listens silently and slowly rubs your back as you speak through sobs

she's kinda scared to, but she ends up pulling you into a hug, burying her face in your neck.

"you don't have to hide it, y'know.. i'm here."

KEL

he waltzes into your room and stops in his tracks once he sees you crying.

"..Y/N?"

kel never likes seeing people cry. he's always been one to try and stay positive, but whenever someone else is upset or angry it always dampens his mood. he's such an empath

he'll step over to you, eyeing you carefully and playing with his fingers.

when you notice him and flinch a little, he flinches right back and waits for you to say something. but when all he's met with are sobs, he sits down next to you and immediately hugs you tightly.

it might've been more to comfort himself than you, as physical touch is sometimes a grounding method. i think seeing people emotional can get kel kind of..,,. disassociated??

he pulls away and looks at you in the eyes, asking what's wrong. he listens to you talk quietly, afraid that if he interrupts you might shut down and stop talking completely

he might try to crack more jokes the rest of the day, and definitely takes you out to gino's to get your favorite pizza and chat. he doesn't like seeinf anyone sad, especially not you!!!

HERO

hero lightly knocked on your door before letting himself in. usually, he was quite good at knocking, but every now and then he'd let the dad side of him slip and just lets himself into your room

it was mainly out of concern as to if you were okay, again another dad trait

you're in your bed, sniffling and breathing heavily, it goes almost unnoticed from outside the door.

"Y/N? what happened?" hero anxiously rushes to your bedside, and his heart shatters when you let out a loud sob when you see him

his first instinct is to engulf you in a hug, but he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, so he settles for standing there awkwardly and not knowing what to do with his hands

he ends up sitting down on your bed, putting his feet up and scooting closer to you, putting an arm around your shoulder. "hey, hey, it's alright. i'm here."

if you want to talk to him about your feelings, he gladly listens, nodding and validating whatever you say with little 'yeah' and 'yup's

he makes u your favorite home-cooked meal afterwards to cheer you up, and lets you know you can always come to him for help. he also ruffles ur hair

BASIL

basil has a hard time with feelings. he feels so much of them, but they're so hard to get out and deal with.

he cracks the door open and pops his head in. "Y/N? you okay?"

he sees you curled up in your sheets in bed, and immediately grows concerned, opening the door wider.

"..Y/N?" he stands awkwardly at the door, fidgeting and trying to see your expression.

you look up and see him, and you quickly bury your face into your covers and cry harder. he grows panicked, and speed walks to your side, hesitating to sit down on the bed.

"oh, Y/N.. what.. what's wrong?" he inches closer, slowly taking your hand in his shaky one, rubbing it with his thumb.

basil is a great listener, and he hears you out intently on everything you have to say. he tries to speak comforting words, but they come out as somewhat robotic. he's trying. he truly means the words though!

basil gives you a quick, warm hug and pulls back, smiling softly. "do you want to see the others? they're outside." his friends always cheer him up, so he assumes it's the same for you

MARI

mari wants nothing more than to put a smile on everyones face. so when see walks in on you crying quietly, her sisterly instincts kick in

she rushes to your side and immediately sits on the bed, placing her hand over yours and speaking soothing words.

"hey, it's alright, Y/N. i'm right here." she rubs your hand with her thumb. "let's talk about it, yeah?"

she keeps her hand in yours when you speak, and shooshes you and coos if you start to sob or have a hard time speaking.

she reassures you, and gives you a little pep talk

"you're the strongest kid i know, Y/N. look at you, standing straight and tall after everything. be happy about how far you've come!"

she's incredibly understanding and does anything you want to do afterwards. bake cookies, have a picnic, hang out with your friends. she's very attentive, so she'll pay extra attention to make sure you're doing alright!

[silverdelirium]

FORBIDDEN FRUIT | R.W

SUMMARY ➠ your childhood best friend’s dad, ron weasley, moved in next door. he can’t help but let temptation get the best of him

WARNINGS ➠ age gap sex (reader is 19), sir and daddy kink, size kink, oral sex (m receiving), mutual masturbation (?), degrading, praising, nicknames (petal, sweetheart, doll, etc.)

WORD COUNT ➠ 1.2k

A/N ➠ i really tried to give this one a plot but my brain is a bit of a mess rn so its pure smut im sorry :(

———

you were a forbidden fruit in ron’s eyes.

so sweet-looking and harmless. but also so fucking wrong.

he knows this is not okay, he is aware that if his daughter were to find out what was going on, she might’ve slapped the living shit out of him.

he doesn’t blame her… but fuck, he doesn’t regret it.

the euphoria traveling through his veins were like no other— he did not expect such good head from a nineteen-year-old.

“oh god, petal” he would groan, hand tugging at your disheveled hair while your tongue ran down the vein that decorated his girth.

your pleading eyes showing how bad you needed him.

and who was ron to deny you that?

“please, sir” you babbled, mindlessly slurping around his cock while he gave labored breaths, flexing his muscles as he tried his hardest not to cum on the spot when your tongue teased at his slit.

“go on, sweetheart- put it in your mouth, like the good girl you told me you were.” he grunted, scrunching his eyebrows as you slowly took him in, knees shuffling on the wooden floor of his foyer.

praises dropped from the tip of his tongue like caramel, and you eagerly drank it all up as you deep-throated him, your drool slobbering down your chin as you tried to hold back a gag.

his voice was low and raspy when he spoke, “you’re such a pretty thing, so obedient and so fucking good at sucking cock- as if you’re a little whore off the street” his words dispatched a spark to your engorged clit.

you sent vibrations through his cock as you whimpered around him

your cheeks hollowed as you bobbed your head, eyes trained on the way ron’s abs clenched continuously, probably trying to not fuck your throat raw— not like you would mind.

“sir” you pulled away from him, gasping slightly as you looked up at him, “need you inside me.”

ron chuckled lightly, chest heaving up and down as he lent down to stamp a kiss on your forehead, “listen up, petal, you are nothing but my little fuckdoll, just a little hole for me to use, got that?” he squeezed the sides of your jaw, feeling your neck grow hot as you nodded in submission.

“yes- i’m sorry, sir, just wanna make you feel good” you cried, tears rimming in your eyes as he mocked your pout.

“poor little slut’s just too needy, hm? want my cock buried deep inside you so bad, is that it?” he teased, cock twitching as you moaned lightly, rocking your clit against the heel of your foot.

a whine slipped from your lips, your hips rocking faster now as he wrapped his large palm around his weeping cock, matching your pace as your eyes unfocused.

“need to- cum, please”

he scoffed, “already? is that how fucking desperate you are? cumming from just a little tease on your princess parts, that’s pathetic” his words triggered a set of tears to fall down from your face, yet your stomach fluttered at the degrading.

you gasped, feeling your thighs quiver as you held eye contact with ron, his own release catching up to him as you reached the seventh heaven.

“cumming! i’m cumming!” you warned, squeezing your eyes shut as your arousal drenched your knickers while ron urged you further, drawing out your orgasm from mere words.

“there we go” he said “cumming on your pretty panties like a naughty little girl.”

all you could muster were weak mewls, pawing at his arms as he continued to jerk off, aiming the tip of his cock to your bare thighs, the soft flesh covered in ropes of sticky white substance not even a minute later.

you felt dirty and almost ruined, but god did it feel fucking amazing.

puckering your lips up hazily, ron complied and delivered a messy kiss to your swollen lips.

“we’re not done, sweetheart” he murmured against your mouth, lightly pushing you back until you lay flat on the floor, breasts that spilled out of your tank top from earlier bounced lightly, making ron’s softening member perk up. “i’m gonna fuck your pretty cunt so hard you can barely even sit on it” he threatened.

the thought of being full of him had you spasming, aching to have him inside you.

“daddy” you sobbed.

the nickname had ron’s head thrown back, as well as his dick getting as hard, if not more, as before.

“please, daddy, fuck me hard” you pleaded, spreading your legs and bunching up your skirt at the waist as you revealed the drenched lace that you called underwear.

he groaned, “you bet i will.”

the tip of his rigid cock kissed your slit, drenching itself in your arousal. “you ready, bubba?” he asked, laying a sweet peck on your exposed neck.

“yes”

“yes what?” he slid the head in, making your breath pause.

“yes, daddy”

the stretch was painful as he lulled his hips in further into yours. “atta girl” he sighed.

your thighs shook at the mere burn of his cock prodding your insides. you were nothing but a mush of a brain and meek intakes of breath, whilst ron soothed the urgency your mound begged him with the pad of his thumb.

“faster!” you gasped, wiggling your hips in a weak attempt to intensify the delirium you were falling in.

ron tutted at you, “be patient, sweetheart, i ought to teach you some manners after this, hm?”

he obeyed anyway, pining your hips with one hand as he accelerated his, making the both of you cry out in bliss.

“you like that? like the way i pound into your little pussy?” he taunted, running a finger down the pushed-out skin on your stomach, a little bulge that represented his cock that lay there.

“yes, fuck!” you wailed, giving him a strangled moan as he grazed your sweet spot, your vision dotting with dark stars.

squelching and clapping hit your ears from where you two connected, ron’s eyes darkening as he looked down at the base of his cock covered in a ring of your slick.

“you look so pretty right now” he cooed “creaming all over my cock like a brainless little doll.”

the stand-alone sentence had your ears heating up while your mouth stayed agape, cunt pulsing around him as you reached the peak, ready to fall into cloud nine.

“daddy” you pleaded “i’m gonna cum! i’m gonna cum so hard- please” your walls contracted around him as your muscles gave mini spasms, toes curling and mouth watering as you came with a silent scream.

“that’s a good girl” praised ron “cumming all over daddy’s cock so fucking good”

he was right behind you, dumping streams of cum all over your insides. your name left his lips like a chant as your cunt greedily milked him dry.

it took a few moments for the both of you to calm down, his cum poured out of you once he pulled out; a puddle had formed on the floor from both of your juices.

“aw baby” he started “your cunt’s all messy and puffy already- it’s best if i lick it clean for you, no?”

——

[follow my library blog and turn on notifications to know whenever i post a fic!]

@ameliora-j

[maybankxw]

𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: mature content ahead! [ phone sex; ] minors dni!!!

summary: rafe helps her come

a/n: should i write a video call next time? enjoy!

links: masterlist / taglist / ask box

any feedback (comments, reblogs, anon asks) would be appreciated! (gif is mine)

“I miss you.” 

I typed and hit a send button, hoping he wasn’t asleep. We were facing a second week without seeing each other, touching, kissing, fucking. I was going insane.

Spending a holiday with girls was so much fun, but I got so used to having Rafe by my side, it became unbearable staying without him for so long.

The ringtone split the air and a smile tugged on my lips. It was him. I picked on a second ring.

“Miss me you say?” fuck, his gravely voice made my stomach tug, “How much?”

“Damn you, Rafe,“ I hissed, shifting on my bed, feeling the slickness coating my underwear.

“How much?”

“Just a little.”

He chuckled and his low rumble warmed up my chest. He was playing too.

“You know what I’m wearing?”

“Mmm?”

“Those silky pink panties you gave me for my birthday,” I teased, fiddling with the waistband, ready to get rid of them.

He growled, his breaths grew heavier in an instant, he loved those panties on me, I knew he could vividly picture it right now. My fingers slipped underneath the cloth and I let out a whimper.

“Fuck, I’m so wet, Rafe.”

I wasn’t lying, I was so aroused and wound up, desperate for release, for his dirty talk to bring me there. I wished he was here.

“Put me on speaker, take them off,” he commanded and I obeyed. Placing my phone next to me I hooked my fingers into the hem of my panties and dragged the down, spreading my legs wide and feeling the cool whiff of air tickling my skin.

“Now touch yourself and come for me, like a good girl you are.”

Fuck yes. My fingers darted between my legs and a moan burst out of me when I pressed my clit, feeling a jolt of pleasure searing through me.

“Think of my fingers dipping into that tight little cunt of yours,” he rasped, “And fucking you slow, stretching you out and pulling away again and again.”

God, I pushed my fingers inside, closing my eyes and picturing him on top of me, fingering me and studying my face as he did, but my soft touch couldn’t compare to his — rough, thick and deliberate.

“Rafe, oh my god,” I flipped to the side, swinging my leg higher, slipping my fingers deeper, delirious, feeling him behind me, sprawling and watching, his palm caressing my shoulder, “More, please.”

“Listen to yourself, you’re a needy mess, desperate for my cock.” I sobbed, my other hand found my clit and I rubbed it relentlessly, feeling the pressure building in the pit of my stomach.

“When you’re back, I’m gonna make you finger yourself in front of me, just like you’re doing now.”

I gasped, rolling back to my spine, curling my toes against the sheets. A sudden intake of air from him made me realise he was getting himself off too.

“Do you remember how you made yourself come in front of me? You looked so hot, with your fingers buried deep inside your warm little cunt,” he pushed, his breaths ragged and his voice, so seducing, spurring me to come, “I’m thinking about you soaking my cock in your cum, your nails scratching a path down my arms, because you can’t take it anymore, a needy crying mess. Because that’s what you are, whenever I put my hands on your body.”

“Rafe—“

“When you come back, I’m not gonna let you out of my room, out of my fucking bed, I’ll fuck you senseless, punishing you for leaving me alone for this long. I’ll tie you up and tease you, with my fingers, with my cock, I’ll watch you struggle, cry and beg for me to fuck you.”

“Please,” I cried out, arching into my hand, flicking and flicking, ”Oh, fuck,” I felt myself clenching on my fingers and rubbed faster, breathing hard, feeling hot and sweaty.

“I’m gonna take you in every way possible,” he hissed, I knew he was hard, he was close as he kept fisted his cock, ”Until you can’t take it anymore.”

I gasped and bit my lip to prevent from screaming, easing my knees together, so sensitive.

“Now me,” I breathed out, still feeling the throbbing, “The fist thing I’ll do when I come back,” I began, trying to keep my voice low and seductive, just like his “I’ll suck you off, I’ll let you paint my face with your cum, my hair, my tits, my stomach, whatever you want,” my fingers rubbed soothing circles on my clit as I listened to his soft grunts and the faint sound of his cock in his hand, “I’ll let you fuck me on the counter, in our bathroom, on the window and on the sofa by the fireplace.”

He groaned, louder this time, I knew he was coming, squeezing his tip as he stroked the base of his cock. The sound of his deep voice invaded my room, “Fuck, yes,” he murmured and the cum rushed out to his stomach.

“I wish I could taste you right now,” I whispered, smiling to myself, listening to him giving a few more strokes and letting go, panting hard.

“A few more days.”

“A few more days.”

tags: @icedcold​ @maybankforlife​ @mackenzielovee​ @novxturient​ @alwaysclassyeagle​ @rottenstyx​ @sansasdove​ @rafecameronswhore​ @loveyru​ @nope-thanks​ @blue-4-55-readinglist @tomhollandlol​ @hiitslee @ishipit1420@dk123-4-5-6-7-8-9 @vintageirene​ @kaelibaby​ @ameliaalvarez06​ @luversgirl​ @liamthedunbar​ @my-baexht-ls​ @dudenhaaa27​ @ofherscarlettwitchways​ @dxhliz @jessmaybank​ @harryspunchingbag​ @kayleiggh​

[shorkbrian]

Street Cat hybrid shoto seems to like you so much, even more than he likes his owner Momo

When you come to see momo, he is 24/7 by your side, following you around all day long, touching you and your things, licking your neck just like he always did since he was a lil baby cat *W* and even worst, he still cries when you have tô tô home!

Why aren’t you his owner? It was you who saved him, but you couldn’t have a hybrid at your apartment, so you left him with your best friend.

It was you who made him more human. Without you, shoto would be still living in the street. But how could he feel at home when his home is you?

One day, Momo sends a message asking you to take care of him while she works for a few days in another country. She says he only wants you, and gets pissy and teary when someone else comes

You are happy to help— i mean, things are being so stressful at your new work! It has been a week since you saw Shoto.

It just happen that you carry so many new smells

Shoto doesn’t like that >:(

(This is a prompt/request. Feel free to change things or deny this shit. I just want some beastial sex with yandere shoto who cries while humping your pussy bc he finally feels at peace)

hoooooo my gosh 

(What to expect - NSFW, noncon, scenting, thoughts of watersports)

Hybrid Shouto who’s long and lean, milky skin scarred and marred in places from the various fights he’s had while living on the street.

He’s got enough muscles to crush you when he hugs you, to put significant weight on you when he tries to cuddle up in your lap as you talk to Momo. 

You’re close with Momo, having fun “girls night” when you and Jirou go over and drink wine, do each others nails, and talk about whatever been’s going on that week.

Shouto never interrupts, is always quiet as long as he’s by your side, purring when you scratch behind his ear, stretching out so he’s sprawled across your legs where you’re sitting on the floor.

Jirou and Momo think it’s cute how attached the hybrid is to you, coo at him whenever the hybrid jumps to follow you around Momo’s house, touching everything you touch, rubbing his cheek against your shoulder, hovering one step behind you like a clingy shadow.

It’s hard to say goodbye, especially with Shouto clinging to you, jaw set, unshed tears shining in his eyes as he begs you to stay, just a little longer.

So “girls night” turns into a fun sleepover, no big deal.

It’s adorable when you wake up to find the hybrid curled up at your feet, tail tucked around his body as he snores softly, ears twitching. When you go to make coffee, you bump into Momo, and barely begin telling her about the cute occurrence, before Shouto is padding into the kitchen, frown on his face, immediately jumping towards you.

Crushes you in a hug, pushes you against the counter as he comforts himself by stroking your shoulder, licking at your neck. “Thought you left...” The hybrid whines.

It’s easy to see how much he cares for his savior.

When Momo asks you to watch him, of course you say yes. He’s easy to please, with an even temperament and hardly any bad habits. You’d say his worst habit is his clinginess, how you can’t even go to the bathroom without the hybrid lurking outside of the door, waiting for you to get out so he can be close to you again.

But it seems he’s developed some unsavory traits living on the streets, as he pushes you to the floor as soon as you cross into Momo’s home.

“You smell different.” And it’s not a question. The hybrid’s cold nose is tickling your skin, first at your hands, then your throat, ghosting over your face before he drops down, pushes up your shirt a little so he can nose at your stomach.

“Hey! Shouto wha-”

“You smell awful.” He hisses, tail puffing up, ears flat against his head. 

“I’m-I’m so sorry, I didn’t even realize.... I’ll go shower and change right now, okay? I’m sorry Sho’, I forgot you have such a sensitive nose.”

That calms him down a little bit, until you’re locking the bathroom door, Shouto stuck on the outside while you turn on the shower.

“Please let me in, I won’t look, just want to be close to you.” Comes his soft voice, and he sounds so sad, so plaintive, and you find yourself biting your lip.

“No, Shouto, I would like some privacy please while I shower. Afterwards we can cuddle or something, alright?”

There’s silence from the other side of the door, which is a tad worrying, but the quicker you can shower and change, the quicker you can go comfort the sensitive hybrid.

You find him curled up in his bed, buried underneath his blankets, frown on his face. It’s easy to slip in behind the hybrid, snuggling up against his furnace-like body heat.

No words are spoken, but the hybrid turns, buries his face into your neck, huffing and chuffing against your skin while you try not to squirm from the sensation. His little kitten licks tickle, especially when he starts grooming you, rough, textured tongue pulling rhythmically at your skin.

He dips too close to your chest, licking over your collarbone, but it’s innocent, harmless. Cats do this to each other when they feel safe, when they have a bond. You know Shouto is probably just trying to self-soothe after being left home all day. You know he’s a needy hybrid.

Shouto moves to lick at your arms, and that tickles even more, and you can’t stop from squirming and giggling a little when he licks at the crease of your elbow. Next thing you know, he has both of his slender, pale hands wrapped around one of your own hands, stuffing a few of your fingers into his mouth so he can suck on them.

You’re gasping in shock, surprised as you feel his fangs scrape over your flesh, the sensation strange and unexpected. “Shouto-!”

But the hybrid has his eyes closed, nose wiggling a bit as he falls into a rhythm, muscles relaxing as he settles down.

Another self-soothing gesture, you figure.

Today was a long day, and it doesn’t take too long before you get used to the unusual sensation of the hybrid’s tongue working over your fingers; it’s easy to fall asleep.

But when you wake up from your nap? Chaos.

Your shirt was askew, half your chest exposed, nipple pebbling in the cold as a neatly manicured hand rested over the meat of your breast.

The shorts you had slipped into out of the shower were still in place, but you were able to clearly feel the meat of Shouto’s erection as it rubbed against your mound, the hybrid’s hips stuttering forward as he panted above you, resting on an elbow.

He was gasping into your neck, quiet little breaths and held-back moans, trying not to wake you up.

But as soon as you got your bearings, began pushing at the hybrid, not even sure what to feel in this situation; Shouto lifted his head, blinking slowly.

“Want you to smell like me.” Is all the explanation that he offers, completely unmoving even as you get your hands underneath his chest and push.

“No-no, stop it, stop it right now Sho’.” Your voice is filled with panic, scratchy from sleep, weak.

Shouto shakes his head, buries it back into your neck as he starts licking at your skin, trying to comfort you, soothe you, calm you down. “I can’t...” But you knew what he was really saying, what was really running through his mind. I won’t.

The hybrid doesn’t settle until you’re drenched in sweat, wet and sticky from his cum as he’d pulled his cock out of his sleep shorts, came on your stomach, and thighs, and all over your shorts.

It doesn’t matter how much you squirm, how much you tell him that it’s wrong, how obviously unwanting you are of this treatment, Shouto doesn’t care.

Cum gets smeared on your face, into your hair, rubbed messily into your skin as Shouto nuzzles against you, purring as you tire from fighting him, grow limp underneath him, eyes staring blankly ahead as he violates you.

A small part of himself wants to go even further, to spread his seed into your mouth, down your throat, into your stomach. Shoot it deep into your womb, make you sticky and wet on not only the outside, but the inside too. An even worse, disgusting part of himself, a voice that Shouto refuses to listen to, gives him an urge to mark his territory in a primal, animalistic way.

Piss all over you, your belongings, until no one will come near you without smelling him.

Shouto wants you to smell like him, to smell claimed. By the time he’s done with you, it won’t matter how many showers you take - you won’t be able to rid yourself of his scent.