#i had a real hard time getting the eyes right

[missdynamighttt]

kickin my feet and shi thinkin abt husband! katsuki not leaving without his goodbye kiss from his wife, even after an argument.

you stood by the kitchen counter with your arms crossed, still fuming from the argument that had erupted the night before.

katsuki, equally stubborn, was getting ready for work, his movements a little harsher than usual as he shoved his phone into his pocket and grabbed his keys.

neither of you had really spoken since the fight. it was stupid, really—something about schedules and plans.

"gotta go."

you heard the jingle of his keys as he walked toward the door. for a moment, you thought he was just going to leave. good. let him leave. maybe a day apart would cool both of you down.

but then, he just stopped.

you didn’t turn around, but you felt his presence by the door, unmoving. you were about to glance over your shoulder when his voice broke the silence.

“where’s my kiss?”

your heart stuttered. slowly, you turned to face him. "excuse me?"

"you heard me," katsuki grumbled, his ears tinged pink. "you always give me a kiss before i leave. so... where is it?"

your lips parted in disbelief. “we just argued for the whole night and you want a kiss?"

"yeah, and? doesn’t mean you can skip it."

the audacity. the nerve. you opened your mouth to tell him off, but the stubborn, almost childlike look on his face made your resolve crack.

he was dead serious. this man could be furious with you—could spend hours brooding in stony silence—but he still needed his goodbye kiss like it was a non-negotiable part of his day.

"katsuki, i’m still pissed at you."

"and i’m still pissed at you," he shot back, brows furrowing. "but we don’t leave without a goodbye kiss. that’s our thing and i’m not leavin’ without it."

he looked genuinely annoyed—and not just because of the argument.

ever since you’d started dating, no matter how bad the fight, you never let each other leave without a kiss. this was the kind of annoyance he reserved for things that threw him off his routine.

and apparently, your daily goodbye kiss was part of that routine.

still, you stayed put, stubborn as fuck. he shifted, gripping the keys tightly in his hand like it was the only thing stopping him from marching across the room.

you saw the conflict flash in his eyes—pride battling something softer.

"just...” he finally muttered, voice low and rough. “c’mere. please.”

that single, reluctant please just broke you.

with an exasperated sigh, you stomped over to him. he watched you carefully, guarded but hopeful. you stopped just inches away, folding your arms.

“this doesn’t mean i’m not still mad,” you mumbled.

“i know,” he said softly.

you placed your hands on his chest and stood on your tiptoes, giving him a quick, chaste kiss on the lips. or at least, you tried to. as you pulled away, his hand shot out, cupping the back of your neck.

“oi,” he said, voice losing its earlier irritation. “that ain’t a real kiss.”

you glared up at him, ready to argue, but the intensity in his eyes made your heart stutter. his thumb brushed the side of your neck as his grip softened.

"even if we fight," he muttered, voice lower now, "i still love ya. and i still want my kiss."

your chest tightened. damn him for being sweet after pissing you off.

you leaned in again, pressing your lips to his more firmly this time. he responded immediately, mouth warm against yours, his hand cupped the back of your head, deepening the kiss.

it wasn’t soft or tentative—it was desperate, almost punishing. his teeth scraped your bottom lip, and his tongue pushed into your mouth like he was trying to kiss the fight right out of you.

when you pulled away, his expression had softened, the hard lines of frustration melting into something quieter.

"i love you." he kissed your forehead, then straightened. “well?”

you raised an eyebrow. “well, what?”

his gaze darkened. “say it.”

you roll your eyes dramatically. "say what?"

his jaw clenched. "say you love me too. you don’t get to leave me hangin’ after all that kissin’ shit.”

a smirk tugged at your lips. oh, he was really fishing for it now. “i love you too, okay?”

the words barely left your mouth before his hand shot out, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you toward him.

"good," he muttered, before slamming his lips against yours in a another kiss that left you breathless. it wasn’t sweet or gentle—it was hungry, desperate, like he was trying to make up for lost time.

“wait, katsuki, you’re gonna be late—” you gasped against his mouth as his hands roamed down your body.

“fuck work. i’m late anyway," you tried to speak again, but he kissed you so hard it left no room for words.

the argument? forgotten. work? completely irrelevant. all that mattered was the way he was making you feel in that moment, pulling you closer, making your head spin.

his hands tugged at your clothes with an urgency that told you he wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon.

“got better things to do while my girl is pissed at me.”

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ hi everyone!! js wanna put this out as a thank you for the 2k follows, oh my gosh i am beyond happy i made it this far. hope yall stick around for more^^

[sai-int]

fwb!simon, reader catches feelings- NO. FWB!SIMON BUT SIMON CATCHES FEELINGS.

it's quite simple.

simon comes home from a mission, he's restless, twitching, pacing, can't figure out what to do with his hands.

so what does he do? he knocks on your door, waiting anxiously until you open it and he's scooping you up, hauling you across the hall and into his basically empty apartment, and fucking you into the mattress for the night.

and you're just so good at taking it—whatever he gives you and whenever he gives it. you cry, whine, beg and plead for his cock in all the ways you know how—until you go blue in the face—and simon fucking revels in it. he's all harsh words and degrading names, calling you a filthy slut, his cocksleeve, a fucking cumdump—you name it, he's probably said it.

it's perfect, until it's not.

he's spent months fucking you stupid, night after night. he fucks you even when he's not restless. he fucks you when he's bored, when he's lonely. especially when he's lonely.

simon riley's a gridlocked man. hardly anything ever gets past him, but it didn't take many rendezvous between your thighs for him to forget that.

his mask would come fully off—not just above his lips—and you'd still kiss him breathless, still scream his name until your throat went hoarse. you weren't afraid of everything underneath. if anything, you liked it.

It's not like the both of you frequently exchanged actual conversations, but he could tell by the way you dripped and soaked his sheets even more than you ever had.

after that, he even began to gather enough courtesy to let you get some rest after he fucks you, letting you stay wrapped in his sheets for whatever sliver of the night was left.

you never pushed, and that's what he liked most about you. you always went by his terms because you never really cared as long as you got fucked six ways from sunday.

so, you always left when he woke without a problem. that was the arrangement and you were more than fine with getting a good fuck only a few steps away from your own home.

then even you began to notice the shift.

simon could never fuck you badly, per se. but he began to fuck you more softly. tenderly, as if he was suddenly aware that humans shouldn't be bent in half as long he's had you pinned underneath him in the past. he'll rock his hips into you with similar fervor, but he'd caress you, rather than grab at you. hold your forehead to his, rather than choke you with his thick hands.

then came the praise. god, it's like fucking a completely different man. from one week to the next, you're no longer a slut or a hole, you're pretty girl and angel. it makes your head spin. you try to pinpoint the change and why it happened, but you can't. somehow, you cum twice as hard now.

it all came to an ugly head when he spent the better part of 2 hours between your thighs, moaning and groaning as if you were doing him a service.

now, you weren't going to complain, but love just wasn't in the cards for you right now, and the looks simon was giving you from where he lapped at your cunt were filled with adoration, like he was waiting for you to tell him how good he was doing.

hell, you could see a phantom tail wagging each time his eyes met your own. and after a session that felt more like making love than an explosion of pure lust, you could feel his eyes lingering on you as you slipped your panties back on.

"what?" you hum, not wanting to face him in fear you'd see that godforsaken look in his eyes again.

and you were right, because he's staring at you like he's about to drop to one knee. "nothin'."

you toss your shirt back over your head and steel yourself as you turn to face him.

"simon," you start and he's already hanging on your words, "what's going on with you lately? i don't mean to sound rude but—"

this is it, he thinks. it has to be now, or nothing will change. he's not a religious man, but if he's ever prayed to god for anything, it's for this to become something real.

"'m in love with ya."

one blink, then two. two to three, three to four. you stare at him as you try to piece together what he's saying.

"simon, i don't think you understand—"

"—i do. i do understand and i want ya, bad. so bad, i can't even stop thinkin' bout ya, sweetheart. even when y'not 'ere im thinkin' about ya. everything about y'is perfect, and i don't think i can function without y'with me."

this is the most emotion you've ever seen out of simon and it rocks you to your core. if you didn't know better—and if the lighting wasn't so dim—you'd think he was tearing up.

you didn't know how to break it to him.

[zepskies]

Oh yay!! Thank you so much, Wayne!! 🥹 LOLL I'm so glad you vibe with my humor because I had so much fun writing this. 🤣🤣

That already took me out. First two lines. Bravo. You've done it 🤣 I'm guessing this is post Chuck lmao

ahahaha thank you!! It certainly could be. That's also what I like about doing headcanons -- for the most part you can imagine it happening at any point/setting you feel is right.

You know why I picked it 😝 (👏👏👏) And not the flannel and the runny nose, yikes. Loved this exchange (and callback) lol

Oh I knew you'd pick up on that one! loll

Took a brief second from laughing, so I could push tears out of my eyes 😭 But absolutely agree, you'd have to wear Dean down and force him into it lmao

Awww a quick switch up from comedy to feels there. 🥹 I just love some hurt/comfort and fluff with Dean. Oh yeah--you'd definitely have to wear him down! loll

Back to laughing. My God, that was the sneeze of the century 😂😂

Mutually exclusive, obviously 🤷‍♀️

lol right? Germs don't care if you have a full plate at work today. 🙄

Seems like the man flu hasn't swallowed the charm either 🥰

Ha! I feel like Beau would try to still have a good attitude about it, at least at first. 😂

And that's the moment I realized Beau's like my husband when he's sick 😂 (🙄) It's like you were in my house and wrote a transcript of the last man flu epidemic of 2024 😆🤌

Ooooh my God, your man is a Beau!!! 😭😭 That's so hilarious (but also my condolences lmaooo).

(girl you're the BEST at finding gifs 👌🏽)

And oh my God you're so right about those Beau "add-ons." The "very weird right here" specifically took me out. 💀💀

Oh and then, Ben. Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben... I thought for sure he'd be the worst, like this virus is a personal attack on his virility 🤣 But I was pleasantly surprised when you brought in memories of his mother 🥹😭

LOLL that could've certainly been a way to go with him! But I'm so glad you liked that little window of vulnerability there. 💜💜

That immediate fuck got me so hard 🤣🤣

lmfaoo that's how you know it's serious work. 🤣 That fuck came straight from the center of his phlegmy chest.

Ah, yes, gramps 😂🫶 (And he honestly shares that with a lot of old man in hospitals and nursing homes who have to be repeatedly told to stay in bed lol)

Oh my God lol such a good point. 😂😂 Maybe we should get him a life alert. 🚨

He is a brat for real, making himself feel better by doing some online shopping now that he knows how to operate the Internet lmao.

Oh God, all their bickering was amazing! It's honestly always one of the most fun things when writing SB – the sheer frustration of the reader 😭😂🙈

ahaha pulling straight from BMD world on that one. 🤣 That's literally the best thing about writing SB -- all the snappy bickering and the frustration and his cockiness. 🫠

And I loved the addition of Priestly!! 😍💚💙🤘 (I've been thinking of finally writing that one-shot for him lol)

OMG please do!! I would love to see what you'd come up with for Priestly. 😭 He's suck an adorkable, loveable dude. He deserves great writers like you making stories for him. 💓

I could also totally see him turning into a Monica there 😂

Oh, oh, thank God! The relief I felt 😂 I mean, it's so, so sweet, but also you're very sick, dude, and germy... like, it's a lot 😆 (And I also sincerly hope there will be a proposal follow-up one-shot/drabble... maybe? 👀)

Right?! lol very sweet sentiment, but not the right time. 😂

Ooooh you intrigue me, hun. 🥰🤔 I might have to sketch an idea for that follow-up!

Thank you so much for your thoughts on these HCs, Wayne! You made my day. 🥰💜💜

HEADCANON: Man Flu

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader || Beau Arlen x Reader || Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader || Boaz Priestly x Reader

HC: When Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Boaz Priestly get sick, how would they act when you (try to) take care of them?

AN: After reading I Got You by @bettystonewell (Dean x Reader) and The Best Kind of Medicine by @lamentationsofalonelypotato (Soldier Boy x Reader), I realized that I've never actually written a sick-fic before. Here it is in headcanon form, since you guys seem to like these! lol 💜

Also adding Priestly to this lineup for the first time because some of you have been requesting more of him recently. 😉

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, hurt/comfort, sick-fic, some needy affection-starved men who don't want to admit they're needy, lots of fluff.~

Dean Winchester

He's not sick. Because he doesn't get sick.

Dean claims he has the constitution of a horse, but you still take the beer out of his hand before he can take a sip at 10:00 a.m.

He's too busy interrupting himself, namely by coughing half a lung, wheezing, blinking teary eyes -- the whole phlegmy nine yards.

Sam shakes his head, casting you a look that frankly says, Good luck.

He knows his brother is stubborn as hell, and one of the things Dean dislikes most is being fussed over for "no reason." Being seen as weak. Not being able to just shrug his shoulders and shake it off.

To be fair, Dean tries. Except this time it's accompanied by a body shiver and a reluctant sniffle. His pallid face is drawn, and his usually strong and solid frame looks unsteady as he leans a hand on the War Room table.

"Okay, come on, Rambo. Let's get you back into bed," you say, guiding your boyfriend back to the room you share with him.

"I'm find," he insists, even as he begrudgingly accepts the gentle pressure of your hand on his back and shoulder, pushing him down to the bed.

"Sure you are, baby," you say with a smirk. "You're in the primb of libe."

Dean shoots you a narrowed look. Damn you for forcing him to binge-watch all those episodes of Friends late at night when you both can't sleep.

Right now he's Monica, trying to convince you he's in tip-top shape, while you're Chandler, just trying to get him to use tissues instead of his flannel sleeve to wipe his runny nose.

After taking his boots off, you get him to change out of his jeans and back into his sweatpants. Then you manage to get him to lay down under the covers with the promise of coming back with medicine and soup.

"I don't want soup, damn it," he grumbles. You just roll your eyes and rub his arm.

"Just rest. I'll be back with the Vicks."

As you might expect, Dean is not an easy patient.

He refuses to drink tea, but he does down the pills you bring for him, with a measured toss of his head that still makes his head swim. He groans.

He swallows a couple of cautious spoonfuls of the soup, pausing when he realizes that its warmth actually feels good down his sore and scratchy throat. It tastes pretty good too, especially with the warm, buttered slices of bread on the side.

"You made this?" he asks.

"Mhmm," you nod, smiling. If nothing else, good food will pacify this man. "Chicken and wild rice, made especially for you."

"Hmm. S' good," he nods in reply. He manages to finish the bowl.

He has to admit, if just to himself, that he does feel like shit.

He won't admit that the way you're rubbing his back, the gentle pressure of your nails between his shoulders and down his spine relaxes him, makes him feel better.

He knows that you care about him. That you love him. But this is one of those moments where it hits him, just how much.

It's a little overwhelming. A heavy swell of pressure fills his chest, so he tries not to let himself think about it for very long.

(He fails.)

After he's done eating, you take the plates away and help him back into bed. You linger there, slipping your fingers through his soft brown hair and pressing a kiss to his clammy forehead.

"I really need you to rest, okay," you say quietly. "If you need anything, just text me or Sam. Don't get out of bed."

Dean grasps your hand before you can move away from him. Since you're probably going to wash your hands anyway, he lays a kiss on the back of your hand.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

Beau Arlen

Sheriff Beau Arlen is the type to run himself into the ground because he's so damn into his work.

He wants to do well in his station of responsibility, and he feels like he has to make up for his performance during the summer madness of Buck Barnes and Avery...and everything in between.

You just have to make Beau realize that he needs to slow down, before he well and truly burns himself out.

You put your foot down one morning.

He tries to get out of bed but has to pause, his head swimming. He takes a couple of steadying breaths while sitting on the edge of the bed.

You notice with a frown. "Hey, you okay?"

"Fine. Just fine," he answers a little too breathlessly. He raises a hand to his head. His throat is sticky and coarse. He wrinkles his nose when he also feels a sneeze coming on.

"Just need a...a...mugh-ah-ha-hugh."

His coughing sneeze makes you grimace. You didn't even know someone could sneeze and cough at the same time.

"Aw, babe. You're sick," you say as you move over to him, resting a hand on his back. He shakes his head and groans.

"Nah, can't be sick. Gotta lot of work to do today," he says. His voice is like gravel blended with broken glass. It would actually be sexy, if for the distinctly un-sexy way he tries to clear the great wad of phlegm from his throat.

He tries to rock himself onto his feet, but there he sways on the landing. You hurry out of bed to grab his arm and steady him.

"Oh no, you don't. Back into bed," you say.

"Aw, sweetheart. I'll be fine--"

"No. Lay down. You're not going in today," you say more firmly, all while you tuck the man back into bed with the blankets covering him.

"All right, all right. No need to be so pushy," he can't help but tease.

It earns a small smirk on your face. It seems like his man flu hasn't yet deprived him of his sense of humor.

"I thought you liked that though," you reply. You sit on the edge of the bed and rub his chest. He groans in defeat.

"Can't believe this," he grumbles. "Today of all days--"

"There's always going to be another case. This is your body telling you that you need to slow down," you tell him. "So how about this. I'm gonna call in one of my sick days, and we'll bunker in together."

You stroke his bearded cheek. He quirks a smile, grabbing your hand and squeezing warmly.

"How long until I'm allowed out, warden?" he asks.

"Until you can stand without keeling over," you dryly reply. A smile tugs at your lips. "Remind me to stop by CVS to grab you a Life Alert."

"All right, har har haugh--" His sarcasm ends on a very real, wheezing cough. Your amused smile drops. You relent from your teasing and stroke his chest once more.

"Okay, just rest. Let me get you some actual medicine and I'll be right back."

He stops you by grabbing your wrist. "Hey, uh...can I have some chicken noodle soup later?"

"Of course, baby. I'll swing by the store now and get some stuff for you."

"And some saltines?"

"Saltine crackers on the side. Got it."

You're about to head to the bathroom to brush your teeth before you start getting ready to go to the store, but once again, Beau's needy hand stops you.

"Before you go, some tea with honey and lemon would be good. Just something for my throat," he croaks.

You smile and nod. "Yeah, for sure. That'll be better for you than coffee."

"Oh, and can you gimme that quilt over there?" he asks, pointing to your favorite knitted blanket at the edge of the bed. You graciously lay it over his form and drop a kiss onto his forehead.

"And some cough drops. Thank you, darlin'," Beau adds.

Your lips begin to press together, but you nod and continue getting dressed.

You can already tell this man is going to settle into you taking care of him just fine.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Neither of you thought it was possible, considering his super genes that allowed him to eat and booze and drug harder than Andre the Giant and Keith Richards put together.

But one day, your over six-foot super soldier goes down hard. The warning signs came the night before, when you could hardly sleep with the way he was snoring like a grizzly bear.

In the morning, he wakes bleary-eyed with a runny nose and a coughing fit hard enough to shake the bed.

"Fuck," he groans, dragging a hand over his face before he turns onto his back. "This's gotta be some kind of bullshit hangover."

You move over to him in bed and feel the intense warmth of his clammy forehead. Your brows draw together in concern.

"No, I think you're sick."

"Not possible," he grumbles. "I haven't been sick since..."

Well, since he was a kid, probably. He won't admit it, but he's surprised he still has that memory lodged in the back of his mind.

It comes to the forefront now: your hand on his cheek unknowingly mimics his mother's gentle touch, her soft, kind voice.

"Aw, my sweet boy. Let's get you feeling better."

He can almost recall the floral scent of her perfume, echoes of it in the shampoo you use.

Ben claims he's fine, that he doesn't need your help or want the medicine and tea you bring for him. (He tries the tea, grimaces, and spits it out when you're not looking.)

He's a sourpatch grumbly patient who only begrudgingly stays put in bed when you ask him to. He doesn't mind lying around and watching movies all day, not to mention episode after episode of Below Deck. It reminds him that he wants to get back into boating.

"Hey, sweetheart," he calls to you from the bedroom, his voice croaking all the while. "I'm getting you a yacht for Valentine's Day. You want it all white, or throw in a bit of gold? Actually, check out this one with the navy trim."

You roll your eyes to yourself when you step back into the room. You're carrying a tray with a large bowl of soup and a fifth of whiskey. He claims the latter will help soothe his throat, and you don't have the heart to argue with him when he's clearly feeling so shitty.

"You mean you're getting you a yacht," you reply wryly. "We live in the city. Where the hell would we put a boat?"

"In a yacht club, where it belongs," Ben retorts. He hooks an arm around your waist and peruses what you've brought him on the tray. He doesn't look all that interested.

"Look, I know you're not exactly a soupy kinda guy, but this'll make you feel better," you say.

"Why can't you put some fucking steak in it or something?" he grouses. He tries and fails to hide another wet cough.

"Why can't you just eat what I lovingly made, just for you," you snipped back.

He rolls his eyes at your attitude, but he pipes down. In that silence, he's conceding that you have a point. There was a time were all he had to do was glance in someone's direction, and there'd be some fucking moron to fulfill his every whim.

Now, you're probably the only one in the world that would actually do what you're doing...

Cooking for him, putting your heart into it, for the simple reason that you do care.

Ben takes the bowl of soup from your hands. Raising a brow, you offer him the spoon as well.

He eats without further complaint.

You smile and reward him with a sweet kiss on his forehead, brushing his hair back as you do so.

"See? That's not so hard, huh?" you can't help but needle him. "It's okay, baby. I'll take care of you."

He eyes you dryly, but he won't admit that there's a different kind of warmth coiling in his chest.

Boaz Priestly

"Uuuughhh, babe," he groans. "I feel like death on toast."

You're standing beside the bed with a smile playing on your lips. You brush back his for once un-gelled hair back from his face. It's weird to see it all limp and lifeless, slightly damp with sweat.

"Unironically, I should make you some toast," you reply. "What kind of medicine do we have?"

Priestly unearths his head from under his pillow to look up at you with miserable red-rimmed eyes and a sniffling, stuffy nose. "Can we count the tequila in the mini bar?"

"Maybe later," you laugh. "How are we on groceries?"

Priestly struggles to think. He takes your hand and rubs it back and forth across his chest. Maybe your sweet, loving touch has the power to clear away his congestion without him needing Vicks. Too minty.

"We have that pastrami I brought back from the shop," he says.

"That's six days old already," you shake your head.

"Aw, that's still good," he argues. "But uh, other than that, I think I have half a cheeseburger left from last night."

Last night's date at TGI Friday's, he means.

You heave a sigh. "Okay, clearly I'm going to the store. You just stay in bed and rest. Drink your tea."

He grimaces like a child. "I don't like tea."

"I know you don't like tea, but you need to drink it. It's good for your throat and your immune system."

He groans and flops back over onto his stomach. You bite your lip against a smile. He's such a whiny baby when he's sick.

Talk about Man Flu.

"Come on, be a good boy for me," you say, smacking him lightly on the ass. "Soon enough you'll feel better."

A smile creeps across his face where it's pressed against his pillow.

"Know what would really make me feel better?" he hedges. He tries to guide you down to him by tugging on your hand, but you resist him.

"Oh, no. You're not gonna get your germs all over me," you say.

"Hey, what happened to in sickness and in health?" he croaks. Even while under the weather, he's still plenty strong enough to grapple with you. He manages to yank you down. Laughing, you stumble into a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Huh, I don't remember exchanging any vows. You see a ring on this finger?" you tease, flashing your bare hand in his face to try and distract him and weasle out of his grip. "I can jump this ship anytime I want."

Priestly pouts. His arm hooks tighter around your waist. "Huh, guess you got me there..."

He turns his head and coughs roughly into his arm. Your amusement fades into concern and sympathy. You lay a hand over his chest while he struggles.

Once again, he clasps his free hand over yours. He glances up a bit hesitantly into your eyes.

"Well, maybe it's time there should be something on this finger," he murmurs.

You blink your eyes wider. Your head tilts, wondering if you just heard him right. Is this delirium fever talking, or is he serious?

"O-Oh yeah?" you ask.

Priestly tries to gauge your reaction. Seeing your face break out into a cute, shy smile raises the corners of his lips. Hope blooms in his chest, right beneath your hand.

"Yeah," he says, trying to clear his cracking throat. "I mean, if you're okay with that. If it's not too soon--"

You slip your fingers over his plush, chapped lips, and your smile brightens.

"When you're feeling better, you can ask me that question properly."

AN: 😆 I hope you liked the first ever addition of Priestly!! It was so fun to try and write him again (it's been a while lol). Feel free to imagine this vignette in the same storyverse as The Miracle Man and Code Red.

But I also hope you enjoyed the "Big 3," as I call them, even though Russell is starting to give Beau a run for his money on one of those slots. 😂 Let me know which guy you had the most fun reading on this one! 💜

And if you want even more fluff before Valentine's Day, check out my friend @waynes-multiverse who just posted her set of V-Day headcanons with Dean, Soldier Boy, Beau, and Russell: Headcanon: Valentine's Day 💕

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@siampie @rubyvhs @winchestergirl2

[jeongin-lvr]

cw. very mean! seung, pussy slapping + fingering, talk of punishments, reader is a brat.

sweet loving boyfriend Heeseung who’s had enough of your attitude and finally decides to put you in your place. he doesn’t want to— “it hurts me more than it hurts you, baby,” is what he said when he shoved you over his lap. his eyes glaring as he lifts your already impossibly short skin over your ass, exposing your pantie-less pussy, already leaking and puffy. he almost cusses before you start to try to wiggle free, too used to getting what you want around him. not today. he’s put up with your exasperating attitude with grace before, but he was tested too much, too far.

he raised a hand and laid a hard wack against your right ass cheek, earning a loud yelp and then a whine from you. you wiggled more, fighting his iron clad grip. but he was too strong, there wasn’t any use in trying. “no, baby, I don’t think you understand. you’re getting punished. stay the fuck still.” you whined again at his words, peeking over your shoulder at your mean boyfriend; attempting your best watery, puppy-eyed stare. though he’s already made up his mind, there’s no use trying to escape your fate.

“this is what happens when you don’t fucking listen to me,” Heeseung raised his hand again, slapping your other cheek, already displaying deep red coloration on your skin, “do you get it now?”

you pouted, clutching his jeans hard while he took your silence as an answer. “no?”

another smack to your ass, “first you go and sit on Jake’s lap… next I find out you’re not wearing any panties… and now you’re not taking your punishment. I’ve been patient with you haven’t I?” you could tell he was really pissed off. the way his eyes widened and his nostrils slightly flared with every slap he brought down in your ass. one cheek after the other, making you yelp from the sensitive pain from the stinging handprints. Heeseung gritted his teeth, “actin’ like a slut… I’ll treat you like one then, hm?”

“n-no—“ you attempted a rebuttal but nothing came, instead you squeaked as his hand slapped hard against your clit. a change from your ass, now slaps landed on your clit and leaky pussy. making the moment all the more erotic.

“don’t argue with me, brat. you’ll only worsen your punishment,” Heeseung has never called you brat before. the sound of his rolling off his tongue in such harsh syllables shouldn’t have made you as wet as it did, “how many slaps do you think you deserve on this slutty lil’ cunt, hm? 20? 30?”

you shook your head with a somber whimper, “Heeseung—“

“nope,” Heeseung laid a particularly hard slap against your throbbing bundle of nerves, aching and red from all the hits he’d given, “45 should be good, right? maybe that’ll knock some sense into that slutty little brain of yours.”

you cried, a real sob escaping your throat as he laid the first slap, “count.”

you proceeded to count, the reality sinking in that your usually sweet, dedicated boyfriend was being serious. you’d fucked up.

“one… ah, two, three— f-fuck, four,” You felt breathless with every word, tilting your head forward and resting your cheek against the couch cushion. Heeseung laid slap after slap until he reached his goal number, your nimble and weak voice arousing him much more than he ever thought he would be. “…45… Seungie, please…”

Heeseung didn’t respond but you could hear shuffling, he was moving something. you peered around and stared at him, meeting his glare, making your heart sink.

“m’ sorry,” you breathed.

“m’ sorry too, love, but you brought this upon yourself,” Heeseung quipped, gliding his hand over your disgustingly wet entrance, up and down your slit with the same cadence he bore when he usually fingered you. though this time the throbbing ache of your clit from all the hits was making your brain fuzzy.

“cum and I’m not fucking you for a week,” he spoke as a warning before slamming his fingers into your slick hole, his palm ramming into your pelvis harshly, “got it?”

you nodded weakly, regretting your prior decisions.

[zeskyzed]

A Dragon's Heart

A/N: Just a little sylus fic, it's a bit rushed towards the end sorry! Hurt/comfort but mostly comfort and fluff!

The soft sound of the spinning vinyl brings the dark atmosphere to life as you lay on his chest, basking in the warmth of his bed and him. The gentle hum of a tune played in his bedroom, the same one that you've grown accustomed to over the time you've spent together.

Tufts of white hair stick out from all different directions on his head, and it seemed Sylus could make even bedhead look good. His breathing is soft as you lay next to him, curled up on his chest while his strong arms hold you tight.

Whenever you're both at peace like this, he holds you as if you'd somehow let go. As if you'd leave him.

He knows you wouldn't, but the firm hold he has on your body tells a different story.

With the way you both are in this moment it seemed as if nothing could ever change, except for the thing you tried so hard to push back in your mind. Something that lingers, a thought with no regard to your well-being.

Just one word was enough to plague your mind for hours.

Stayrus.

You'd had a dream the previous night, one that held the most romantic of stories- seemingly conjured up from multiple fictitious fairytales, as it seemed too outlandish to be real. You remembered it all. Your long white hair and the beautiful crimson dress you wore as you tiptoed around a dragons' den. You remembered the tall, mysterious white haired figure resembling the man whose arms you were currently in. His horns, his tail, his clothes. His demeanor, the way he touched you, and the way he held you.

You remembered his name. Stayrus. His given name was Stayrus, however in the dream you'd deemed it "too hard to pronounce" given the name was in a language you couldn't understand- let alone speak. Therefore, you gave him the nickname, Stayrus.

When you were alone you tried so hard to recreate the pronunciation of the name, so much that your tongue memorized it.

And flowers. You remembered the flowers.

The way he never loved his horns, or his appearance in general as a half-dragon. The way you found beauty in what he'd deemed ugly. You remembered the look in his eyes and the love that you harbored for him.

However, every fictitious fairytale involving a dragon never ends well- and Sylus was no prince. Your dragon was cursed to kill you, but instead you wound up killing him.

Your dragon was gone.

The pain was too unbearable for you that you'd awoken with a start from your dream that night. When it happened, you were alone in your apartment at Linkon, with nothing but the moon and the stars to comfort you as you had tried to piece together what happened.

Now, as you lay in his arms you couldn't get the name or the story out of your mind. It seemed too elaborate, too complex, too real, to be fake. You shifted in his hold, contemplating on whether or not to tell him about this dream as you heard the soft rhythmic pattern of his breathing attempt to lull you back to sleep. You tried to piece together the words, or just think of anything to say, but you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Stayrus,"

You whispered, feeling the white-haired man tense immediately within your embrace.

"Does that... name... mean something to you Sylus?" You asked him, struggling to get the words out.

"Sweetie. Where did you hear that from?" He questions, staring at you in shock.

"Well, um... I had a dream last night. You were a dragon? And um... flowers! We were together, like this, in a bed of flowers."

Your words came out messy and jumbled as you tried to convey your dream to him. His tense reaction worried you as you recalled everything that happened to him.

"And you, well I-"

You cut yourself off before you could finish your sentence.

I killed him.

Tears well in your eyes as his right eye glows redder. He doesn't want to force the words out of you but he's desperate to know what you want to say. Once he reads your desires his breath hitches as tears start pouring down your cheeks.

"I-I'm sorry... I didn't mean- I think it was real...? I didn't-"

He holds you tightly, pulling you into a hug as his large hand caresses your back.

"Sweetie... It's alright. I'm here, I'm with you."

"But- But I hurt you? Sylus. Please- don't tell me it was real. You- you tensed up. I have a f-feeling it's real. Did I....did I really...?"

"Did I really kill you Stayrus?"

He tenses again upon hearing that name and sighs. His grip on you tightens ever so slightly as he moves you even closer to him. Sylus' thick fingers move so gently across your face, delicately wiping off the tears before planting kisses on your eyelids.

"You know kitten, you always seem to surprise me, but this- this I never expected. Here I thought I'd be the only one to remember the life we once shared. Clearly I was wrong."

He smiles at you and your heart aches. You can't even believe he'd smile so sweetly at someone who caused his demise.

"Sweetie. I just want you to know that I don't blame you for what happened. In every lifetime I'd choose your life over mine. As selfish as it is, I couldn't bare to live without you."

"What about me? You can't leave me alone like that! I don't want us to be in a situation where we ever have to choose which one of us dies!" You shout, not aiming your anger at him but rather towards the predicament you shared.

"Well, I can't guarantee that. However, in this lifetime I'll do everything to protect you."

"Me too, in fact I'll even become your bodyguard! I have experience as a hunter after all."

He chuckles at you, smiling at you fondly as his eyes stare at you as if you were the most beautiful thing ever. In his eyes, you definitely were and always will be.

"Sweetie there's no need for any of that. All is need is you." He says softly, cradling your face in his large palms.

"My heart beats solely for you."

[sxosug]

comfort

K.Bakugo x F!Reader

synopsis: he fails to rescue someone during a mission and you’re always there to comfort and support him whenever he needs.

simply put it’s angst with comfort!

The door to your shared room was slammed opened loudly causing you to abruptly stop brushing your hair by your vanity and turn towards the culprit.

Your boyfriend trudged into the room his shoulders sagged and his face scrunched up in a scowl.

Your shock subsisted as Katsuki collapsed onto your bed prompting you to get up and sit beside him, running your hands through his messy blonde tresses.

“Hi baby,” you didn’t receive any verbal response but you did hear him grunt softly as a way of greeting which made you tilt your head with a soft smile.

“You wanna change?” you trailed your hand down to his back, tracing his hero costume which was slightly covered in dirt.

‘Gonna have to change the sheets’ you thought pouting your lips slightly lost in your own world until you were snapped out of it by the sound of sniffling.

Your eyes widened. “Kats?”

The sniffles grew louder and louder, and soon sobs were heard coming from your boyfriend who kept his head buried in the sheets.

“Baby look at me,”

You gently cupped the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair as you tried to coax him into facing you.

But he refused, gripping the sheets tightly in his fists. His whole body trembled and with each shaky breath he let out your heart broke.

“Katsuki,” you whispered, leaning down so your lips were close to his ear. “Talk to me, baby.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, you thought he might push you away. But then he turned just enough for you to see the red-rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks he was trying so hard to hide.

“I–” His voice cracked, and he clenched his jaw, frustration evident even in his pain. “I lost someone today.”

Your stomach dropped.

His breathing was uneven as he kept his gaze on the sheets, as if saying it out loud made it all too real. “It was a rescue mission,” he muttered. “I—I thought I had ‘em. I thought I got them out in time.” His hands balled into fists, his nails digging into his palms. “But I didn’t.”

“Oh, Katsuki…” Your chest ached for him.

You didn’t say it wasn’t his fault. You knew he wouldn’t believe you, not right now. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him against you, letting him bury his face in your neck as his body shook with silent sobs.

You held him tighter, running your fingers through his hair again, pressing soft kisses to the crown of his head. “I’m here,” you murmured, over and over. “I’ve got you.”

And you stayed like that for as long as he needed, holding him through the weight of his grief.

His sobs eventually quieted, but his grip on you never loosened. He held onto you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded, his breathing still uneven as he tried to calm himself down. You ran your fingers through his hair, pressing another gentle kiss to his temple.

After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice hoarse. “I should’ve been faster.”

You closed your eyes, pressing your cheek against the top of his head. “You did everything you could, Katsuki.”

He let out a bitter scoff, his body still tense. “Doesn’t matter. They’re still gone.” His voice wavered, heavy with guilt.

You pulled back just enough to cup his face, forcing him to look at you. His red eyes were glassy, full of pain and frustration. You gently wiped away the stray tears on his cheeks, your touch soft and gentle.

“You’re human, baby. You can’t save everyone,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I know that doesn’t make it hurt any less, but it’s the truth. And no matter what, I know you gave it everything you had.”

His brows furrowed, his jaw clenching like he wanted to argue, but the fight left his eyes as quickly as it appeared. He sighed heavily, leaning into your touch, his hands coming up to rest on your waist.

“I just—” He inhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It’s not fair.”

“I know.” You rested your forehead against his, closing your eyes. “I know, baby.”

For a while, neither of you spoke. You just held each other, the weight of the day settling between you. Eventually, you felt his breathing even out, his body relaxing slightly against yours.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” you murmured, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “You’ll feel a little better after a shower.”

He exhaled deeply, nodding against you. “Only if you come with me.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, even in the heaviness of the moment. “Of course.”

And with that, you helped him up, guiding him to the bathroom, never letting go of his hand.

Sigh idk why i do this to myself 💔

[dinkerr]

Velvet & Chrome.

summary: rockstar vi meets playboy model reader at a club.

warnings: rockstar vi and model reader, public sex, oral sex, fingering, mentions of alcohol, the smut in this is really lazy, this is heavily inspired on pamela anderson and tommy lee, that's literally it i think??

1994 los angeles. famous rockstar guitarist violet lane had found herself two shots in the middle of a club with blaring lights and techno music filling her senses. she was unrecognisable in the most distinguished way- no one would ever get past her without seeing her satiny reddish pink hair, tattoos and an immense amount of silver jewellery and piercings. she was pure eye candy, with her fanbase the opposite.

her eyes are trained on you dancing with a few of your friends and it's leaving her mind lost in a blurry haze. you haven't even fucking properly looked at her yet and you're driving her into oblivion, a state of mind she hasn't had the unfortunate of experiencing since she was a teenager. she swears she's seen you before, because your euphoria is too distinctive in a way she can't put her finger on.

she shouldn’t be doing this, sitting at the bar and staring at you like you're the first pretty girl her eyes have been blessed with. she could be doing anything right now, ordering another shot, hooking up with any and every girl that wants her, or just leaving this club to find a new one and start over all her progress.

she feels like a creep, but the voice in the back of her head is telling herself that she's just curious about you. and how you carry yourself. and the outfit you're wearing. and your tits. and you're fucking approaching in her direction. she panics the way she does when powders spending too much time on her eyeshadow before a show, tearing her eyes away from you and to behind the bar to gather her composure.

"can i get-" she started to one of the many bartenders in close proximity to her, though cuts herself off at the sound of another voice also ordering a drink. she turns her head to give them a "what the fuck" look on her face, though her furrowed eyebrows shoot up ever so slightly with her heart shaped lips parted the same when she realises it's you, her words caught in her throat when you gesture with your hand for her to go first.

"a. beer. thanks." fuck. a beer? you sit on the creaky stool next to hers, the cushioning a darker shade of red than hers. you both watch as said bartender walks off to retrieve the beer she ordered, though her head turns to look at you again before yours does the same.

she recognises you now.

"you're that model chick. right?" she asked, her eyes roaming over your figure, attempting a quick and subtle nod to greet you as she looks you over with as much casualness as she can fake. which, unfortunately, isn't that much. it's okay. she's never had any problem getting a bitch on her lap.

"i am." you respond, propping your elbow on the bar counter and resting the side of your face on the palm of your hand. your voice sounds like honey, there's no fucking way you're a real person. you look like you're sex appeal on legs, a little bit of tease, a whole lot of trouble. she wants to know the taste of you on her tounge, and if this were a porno, she'd already have you against the counter.

there's silence between the two of you- a considerable difference to every sound in the club around you. "i can give you an autograph or-" "no." she cuts you off this time, neither of you tearing your gaze away from eachother, even when the beer she ordered two minutes ago is placed in front of her with a small thud against the hard oak. "do you wanna share a cigarette?" is what came past her lips next, and she's mentally cursing at herself for suggesting a cigarette like a young teen with their best friend trying smoking for the first time.

you furrow your eyebrows at the ask. request. demand. you couldn't tell. you glance back over to your friends dancing, then back to her, knowint that they'd be more than well on their own without you for a little bit. she notices it, taking it as a sign to attempt to gain her composure (but failing at it, like before) by sliding off her stool to stand up, her hand reaching to grab yours and she's practically pulled you off to follow her toward the bathroom.

you follow her with no hesitation whatsoever, your eyes flicking between her hair, her leather jacket and eventually the furthest stall door in the bathroom, following her in and watching as she closes the door and locks it. she's turning back to you, your hands pulling her closer by the waistband of her jeans and she's leaning in to kiss you, her hands on you like a wild animal, grabbing your hips to pull your body flush against yours. she feels herself getting wet in her boxers at your nails scraping at her lower abdomen, lazily fiddling with her studded belt.

"you're pretty." you murmur against her lips, beginning to unbuckle said belt. "can i eat you out?" she immediately asks after you've finished your words, pulling away ever so slightly to look into your eyes. you're so pretty in ways she's never seen in another person, and she knows that she'll never be able to forget snd erase your face from her mind.

your lips curl up into a small smile at her ask, softly kissing the corner of her mouth and trailing them down toward her jaw. "i don't even know your name."

you don't even know her name. you don't even know who she is. "it's vi." she murmurs, her hands moving from your hips to hold both sides of your face so she can tilt it to kiss you again, feeling the contrast of her cold rings against your red cheeks, the next few words coming from her are almost a low whisper, "can i eat you out now?"

you're nodding one moment and the next she's on her knees with her fingers hooking under the waistband of your underwear, her eyes trained on your dripping pussy like a puppy with a bone. she started to softly kiss your inner thighs, her running to the back of one of your thighs to put it over her shoulder.

her eyes look up at you when she kisses your clit, enjoying the way your eyebrows furrow at the action before she's licking up your pussy, trying to taste every bit of your arousal on her tongue. you bring your hand down to run through her pretty hair and tug at it in attempt to bring her closer, moaning at the way she's lapping at your cunt like a dog.

you breathe out into the air, remembering where you are and biting down on your bottom lip so it's not obvious to everyone that there's a girl you don't even know who has her face buried into your pussy, though it's hard with the way she switches to wrap her lips around your clit to suck on it, the tip of her nose and chin covered in your arousal. "fuck. vi." you mumble under your breath, your pussy clenching around nothing like it's just begging to have something fill it up, and she absolutely loses it at the sound of you calling her name.

she listens, bringing her fingers to drag up and down your pussy before she finger fucks you, nibbling at your clit and pumping them in and out in sync with how your chest is rising up at down. you're trying your hardest not to scream and you're almost embarrassed that you're being like this, in a bathroom stall with a girl you hardly know, but that doesn't stop the way you're mouth is open, your back is arching off the wall and you're cumming against her fingers and tongue like clockwork. she fingers you through it, fingers pulling out of your pussy so she can lap up your cum. she pulls away, her lower face covered in your cum while she's looking up at you. "can i get your house number, pretty girl?"

you hear your phone ringing early in the morning a few days later, quickly walking through your house to answer.

"hi." she says over the phone, her voice sounding sadder than you ever thought you'd hear from her. "you haven't been answering my calls."

"i know, i'm sorry i ditched you. going to cancun for work." you explained.

"without me?"

"you can't come. it's for my work."

"i'll see you there. my and my buddies will find you." she spoke, and you realise who she is now. you're stuck with her.

[raghhhhhyperfixations]

Not a hallucination

Jason todd Post

So we all know that Bruce and Dick had hallucinations of Jason after he died right? It being canon or fanon either way, well i present to you the short time Jason was dead, he was a little ghost spirit and cue: they weren’t actually hallucinations, it was just his ghost spirit being a menace.

And haunting them:

-

Dick is upset with Bruce, they were arguing and since Jason’s death he’s had nothing shouting matches with his father, he didn’t even think a new robin was a good idea and watch him be right (he had come to love Jason as a little brother anyway)

He’s not sure about continuing nightwing.

Staring at the mirror with dark eye circles he hides and a chewed lip.

“God that mullet still looks awful.”

He hears from behind him and he swivels around to find a very transparent dead Jason Todd staring at him, he does nothing but take a shaky inhale because what?

“Jason.” Dick mutters weak.

“You heard me.” Jason huffs out, sat on the bathtub, arms crossed. “Aren’chu gonna cut it?”

Dick looks back to the mirror and then a pair of scissors he keeps nearby and maybe it’s not a good idea to listen to a hallucination which is telling him to grab something sharp.

But he does and he ends up cutting his hair as short as possible and it ends up curling again around his face like it did when he was robin and when he looks back the mini-Jason is gone, his breath is even shakier but-

(A part of him feels like he’s let something go.)

-

“Dad.”

“Dad.”

“Daaaaad.”

“Daaaaaaaaaaaad.”

And Bruce is trying to ignore what he’s sure is this ghostly slight of Jason in full armoured robin suit right before he died, his smile adorning his face as he pokes at the suit, his eyebrows furrow under the cowl staring at the newest case, pin- pointing all the dots together and-

“Dad!”

And.

“Dad!”

And…

“Dad why won’t you listen to me?!”

Bruce’s shoulders tense together, his head snaps to where the ghost is and his jaw tenses but when he looks nothing is there, when he looks back at the case, the monitor screen is turned off and he’s reminded his cup of coffee (his third cup?) has gone cold and perhaps it’s time to go to bed.

He stands up and pushes the chair back, ignoring the feeling of eyes on him (they were in fact very real.)

-

“Hmm now where did i…”

And when Alfred turns around he can suddenly find the missing pasta batter for tonights dinner, yes there is a large percent it will go untouched but it’s nice.

He gives a silent smile in understanding.

and a silent.

“Thank you master Jason.”

-

Sometimes at night Bruce swears to himself he can feel a silent weight pressing against his side, a young child.

This is a better hallucination, it’s a better one then Jason screaming at him, blood dripping down the side of his face, his head beat in, his teeth crooked and his eye halfway closed with burn marks creeping down his side, screaming he did nothing to save him.

That he was useless.

It’s a better option.

He presses his hand around the weight and snuggles in, it gets him to sleep easy and maybe he can hear silent snickering like Jason has just snuck in and hidden something in his room, a rubber duck? A small bat? Or maybe the cuddle, the idea of Bruce cuddling back is funny.

He loves his sons.

He just doesn’t know how to communicate that.

-

When Dick is lonely and crying hard, so hard his throat is sore and he’s bitten into his tongue hard enough to draw blood he might see his little brother, whose hands reach out for him.

He reaches back and sobs into the robin suit begging for forgiveness, he begs until he has no tears left and until he feels absolutely numb and dry and his hands are shaking so hard they could hurt him.

But he doesn’t deserve forgiveness.

Dick knows this, his little brother was dead because of him and he knew this.

-

When Tim becomes robin the ghost disappears but that doesn’t mean the hallucinations stop, they push themselves to believe the wavy haired boy is tim, it’s unhealthy and perhaps Jason’s Ghost is frowning upon them. (He does, he is one last time before his resurrection.)

-

“Jason, jason i’m so sorry.” Dick sobs, remorse.

Timothy, new to robin but not new to their grief just lets himself be held by dick for a few moments, his hands are awkward not wanting to hold Dick back because he’s not actually his brother.

Tears seep into his hair.

-

“Jason- i mean, tim, careful.” Bruce’s voice comes out on the com.

Tim bites on his cheek.

-

“Going to bed already ja-tim?”

Tim just lets out a little hum in return for Bruce.

-

“Jaso…tim, wanna go batburger?”

“sure.” His response was.

-

“Jason.”

Tim waits for Bruce to correct himself, he doesn’t this time.

-

A repeated cycle that didn’t exactly end until red hood or Jason’s return, even then Bruce was still remorseful.

(Eventually Tim found his place in the family but there are some days where two souls find themselves regretting.)

A ghost and a person who became a Ghost of themself.

(Guys i promise i actually do know how tim became robin STOOOP)

[tan1shere]

Valentines

Sabrina Carpenter x female reader

A/n: first sabrina fic ! I hope you all like it 🤭

Summary: you wanted to put on a show for her for Valentines day.

Warnings: smut duhr, soft dom & stem sabrina !! (But I can also see her being a teasing dom) use of mommy, and I think that's it.

Tags: none yet ! Comment to be on the sab one

Masterlist

I wanna watch you like a movie.

February 14th. The night of love. Tonight's love, was a little more intense than some would think of. Sure couples have sex. But you and Sabrina were going to make it intricate. When she suggested this little ordeal you were hesitant and a bit iffy. But you thought harder. It was only for the two of you to see. So why not.

You haven't seen eachother all day. You had work, and so did she. Doing music related things. You thankfully got home first. Wanting to shower, put something nice on for her. And by that time, she was home. Opening the door. "Babyyyy." Her bubbly voice called. You sprint down the stairs running into her arms. The one thing she thanked was that you weren't tall so she could easily do such things. Hugging you tight and picking your feet off the floor. Kissing you sweetly. "I missed youuu." She says. "I missed you, I'm excited for tonight" She smirks. "You are now huh?"

"I wasn't not, excited." She sets you down. "You were a bit unsure of it at first." You bite your lip. "Yeah well now I want you to film my naked body." You whisper. Her eyes move to your lips. "Let's go then." You grab her hand and lead her to your shared room. Getting her to sit on the bed. You placed the small camera in her hands. And she instantly clicks it on, wasting no time.

Flashing red light.

"Baby you're a star." She encourages, noticing your hesitation to the focus being on you as you slowly take off your robe. Leaving you in some pink and red lingerie. She looks at your body, taking it in. "Cute, it'll match what I'm going to fuck you with later." Your breath halts at her words. Needing her so bad, but you promised a show. So that's what she'd get. Your hands move up your body, feeling the need take over and completely forget the camera. Living in the moment. Your hand moves to one bra strap.

Moving it off your shoulder just slightly. She zooms the camera in, getting closer to your main parts that she's fixated on. You move it further down your arm. Eventually going to reach behind your back, undoing the buckle. It falls to the floor as your breasts relax out. Your nipples hard and pink. She bites her lip. "Don't be shy. Touch them for me." This time you do not, hesitate. Moving your hands to the plump mounds on your chest. Cupping it full, pinching those hard nipples. Feeling them go softer but instantly hardening again when you move to the band of your underwear.

Your finger dips, grabbing the small elastic and snapping it back. She was in a trance watching this in real life and through the screen. Just knowing she could rewatch whenever she likes. Your slow movements persist. Slowly pulling one side down. "More." She breathes. Making you bite your lip. Pulling it down further. "Like this?" Your voice was soft and sultry. She hums. "Yes.." Too deep in thought to process. "Need you." You moan. And she's nearly on the floor in a puddle. But she remains calm. "Take them off." You do as told letting them pool at your ankles. She now moans. "Cup it." You slowly do so, whimpering.

It needed to be her hand. "Sabbie please." You plea. And she just gave right in. Getting up and grabbing you. Pushing you on the bed. You lean back as she gets ontop of you. Keeping the cam incredibly steady, careful not to miss anything. She removes her pants, letting the pink dildo come into view. "Told you beautiful." You gawk at it, drooling. "In, need it in." You grab it, or try to. But she's speedy in grabbing your wrist. "Don't make me tie you." You pout. "But." Her brow raises. "Maybe you'd like that." She gets up grabbing a scarf, setting the camera down for a moment and tying your wrists above your head tight. "There, no touching."

You wriggle wanting to touch so so bad. She looks down at your pulsing, red, neglected pussy on display. "All mine to play with." Her finger swipes against the sticky skin. Bringing it up to her lips. She moves, causing the strap to budge near your entrance. "Fuck me all night." You say breathlessly as the tip is itching to go closer. Or maybe your itching for it to go closer. "I plan to." You gasp as you then feel it. So near. And without any warning at all its half way in. You moan, loud. You had been so dizzy on the feeling you didn't even see her picking up the camera again. Focusing it on your pussy for now. Letting it swallow the pink dildo nearly fully. You suck her in hard. "Mmm." She licks her lips, watching it get wet with how wet you were.

"I wanna hear you talking dirty. I wanna see it on your face." She says, moving the camera to your features as she thrusts deeper. Watching your nose scrunch and your mouth hang. "F-fuck mommy!" You then say as she bottoms out. Her eyes lock onto yours when you do, the fires something deep within her. Her thrusts pick up, now she was needy. Needy to hear that name again, to hear those sounds. Thank goodness it was all.on video huh?

I wanna watch you entertain.

As her pace picks up, it makes your eyes roll. You bite your lip again, making more noise than you had done previously. Her thrusts were powerful. Making your tits move tremendously. The camera moves down to that, watching them bounce. Then she moves it back down to your nearly wearing hole, capturing the wetness at a closer angle. "Look at that." She says softly, more so to herself. Highly impressed this was all her doing. "G-gunna, cu-" You moan yet again. Feeling it hit that yummy spot. "What's my name baby?" She needed to hear it again. Hear you scream it.

"M-mommy." You whimper. "Louder." Her hips snap. "Mommy!" You gasp, screech. And with one last thrust you're gushing all over the pretty strap, moaning exactly. Like a pornstar. She smirks down at you. "I'll be using that for future." You furrow your brows confused as you catch your breath. "Huh?"

"Wanna be a secret backing vocal in a song?" Your eyes go wide. "Oh that actually wasn't really a question baby."

"It's happening."

[kunareads]

heavy angst not a lot of comfort!! + wc: 0.7k

masterlist

choso hasn’t breathed right in months.

he tries sometimes. draws in a deep breath, holds it, waits for his ribs to expand the way they used to when you were curled up beside him, murmuring something soft in your sleep.

but every inhale is shallow, every exhale unfinished. he can’t get enough air in his lungs without you.

he thinks about the phone call often. shoko’s trembling voice on the other end. the way his blood turned to ice when she said they found a body.

they never let him see it. too much damage, they said. better to remember you as you were. so he had nothing to hold, nothing to bury. just a handful of ashes and the suffocating knowledge that you were gone.

he never got rid of your things. your shoes are still by the door. your toothbrush still sits next to his. your clothes still take up too much space in the closet. your blanket—your favorite, the one you used to throw over him when you thought he looked cold—still rests on the couch, untouched. he picked it up once, buried his face in it to see if it still smelled like you. it didn’t. it just smelled like dust.

and now—

now you’re standing in front of him.

but it can’t be you.

his body locks up, frozen in place, because this can’t be real. it’s another cruel trick of his exhausted mind, another dream that will end the moment he dares to reach for you.

he should know. he’s had so many of those dreams, where you’re warm in his arms again, where he gets to say all the things he never did. sometimes, you forget your keys at home and come back for them. sometimes, you whisper his name from the other side of the bed, voice so soft he almost believes it. sometimes, you just look at him, silent and hollow-eyed, before fading into nothing. he wakes up gasping every time, drenched in sweat, grief choking him like a curse he can’t break.

this is just another dream. another hallucination.

but you take a step forward, and he sees the way you move—slow, hesitant, your hands shaking. there’s an old cut on your cheek, bruises along your jaw, faint lines on your wrists like you were bound. your clothes are torn, dirt and dried blood staining the fabric. your lips are cracked, your eyes hollowed by exhaustion.

you look like you fought your way back to him.

“…choso.” your voice is hoarse. he barely hears you, but it devastates him.

he doesn’t realize he’s moving until his legs give out beneath him. his knees hit the floor hard, but he barely feels it. his breath stutters out in a sharp, broken sound, and it’s only then that he realizes he’s crying.

you walk forward, kneeling in front of him, hands ghosting over his shoulders, his face, his hair. “i’m here,” you whisper. “i—i tried—“ your voice cracks, and something snaps.

“where the fuck were you?”

it rips out of him, raw and jagged. his hands clutch at your arms, desperate, terrified, fingers digging in like he’s afraid you’ll slip through them again.

“do you have any idea—“ his voice breaks, and his grip moves to cup your face like he needs proof. “i scattered your ashes. i mourned you. i—i—“ his breath falters, his forehead pressing against yours, a sob rattling through his chest. “i thought i lost you.”

your hands slide up to cradle his face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “i know,” you whisper. “i know, i—“

a short inhale, your fingers curling against his skin. “i thought i was gonna die there.”

choso swallows hard, his throat thick with grief and relief and something darker, something furious. his fingers hover, barely grazing your bruises, as he presses his palm to your ribs to physically confirm you’re real.

who did this to you?

the question burns in his mind, but he can’t bring himself to ask you that yet. not when you’re here, not when he’s barely holding himself together.

he pulls you in, arms locking so tightly around you that you gasp. but you don’t pull away. you clutch at his back, holding him just as desperately, needing this just as much.

his breaths are uneven, shaky, but for the first time in months, he actually breathes.

[hardly-an-escape]

just a little something for Tommy Kinard Appreciation Day and @peppermintquartz <3

A few weeks after they get back together, Tommy comes over to the loft for dinner. It's nothing fancy, no special occasion – Evan's got a new roasted chicken recipe and they both have the night off, so Tommy shows up around 6:00 with a bottle of wine and a slightly nicer-than-average shirt.

He's rummaging around in a kitchen drawer, looking for some matches or something to light the candles on the dining table, when he finds the notebook. It's one of those composition books with the classic black and white cover, the miniature version, a little beat up. He probably shouldn't read it – scratch that, he definitely shouldn't read it – but.

It's labeled with his name.

Tommy, right on the cover, in Evan's handwriting.

He glances over his shoulder. Evan has his back turned, fussing with the salad dressing and not particularly paying attention, so Tommy palms the little notebook and wanders over to the living room to open it.

The first page has a single sentence: Things I Miss about him. After that it turns into a list.

His eyes

the way his face scrunches up when he smiles for real

his hands

His ass! And his dick!!!

I feel like I shouldnt write that but it's true!!

Tommy swallows hard. Evan's handwriting is kind of uneven and hard to read, and his spelling and punctuation aren't the best – but it's undoubtedly a list, all lined up with neat little bullet points, of the things he'd missed about Tommy while they'd been apart.

His hugs

especialy the way he used to press our cheeks together and hang on just a little longer then I was expecting him too

He's such a good firefighter and so expereinced, I always felt like I couldve learned alot from him

the competency in general... hes so good at so many things!

he could be so bitchy/sarcastic but he's actually so kind. Like his jokes were never mean

Really good with kids

he would be an amazing dad someday

The last item is barely legible, thoroughly scratched out, as though Evan had thought twice about it the moment he'd written it down. Tommy feels tears prick behind his eyes. Evan would make a fantastic father, he thinks. They haven't really talked about it – marriage, kids, the whole nine yards. Before, it had been too early, and now that they're together again... it still feels too new, too raw, to bring it up. But Evan's the first person who's ever made Tommy want to have that conversation. He flips to the next page.

I don't want it to sound like I was only with him for sex but god I miss his body so much

Tommy snorts. He's so absorbed he doesn't hear Evan call out from the kitchen.

"What was that, babe?"

He took such good care of me. like when I hurt my shoulder but also just in general. He checked in with me alot and always made sure I was ok

really good listener

Did I take care of him enough? did I listen to him enough?

I think maybe I didn't

"Hey, Tommy, did you – oh," Evan says, poking his head around the stairs. "Uh. You found that."

"I'm sorry," Tommy says immediately. "I shouldn't have looked at it, I just – it had my name on it," he finishes lamely.

"It's okay," Evan says, coming to sit next to him on the couch. "It's just a little embarrassing. I didn't really know what to do with myself, I had a lot to say and, uh, people got kind of sick of me talking about you after a while. So I started writing it down. I kind of forgot it was still floating around."

The thing is, over the past couple of weeks they've talked about those last two items on the list. Tommy's been honest about the fact that he'd felt, at times, that he was being more careful with Evan than Evan was being with him. About the fact that he'd been okay with that, until he wasn't; that he'd been okay in the role of fun, sexy first boyfriend, until he realized that not only were he and Evan not on the same page, they weren't even reading the same book.

It's different to see the words written out so plainly. But they're on the same page now. They're walking into the same future, hand in hand.

Tommy sets the little notebook aside and laces his fingers together with Evan's.

"I love you a lot, you know," he says. It's not the first time he's said it, but it still feels so special it's a little unreal.

"I love you, too," Evan says instantly, beaming, eyes twinkling.

[httpsdana]

I saw that ur doing a fake-dating trope for pau but i think it would work so well for alejandro too 😭😭 maybe him and the read r both in la masia and he wants to get his family to stop pestering him about his partying habits so he convinces the reader to go along with it

Too Real~Alejandro Balde

・❥・prompt list

・❥・ masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who i write for

・❥・a/n: this will be my last post till the middle of march when i finish my finals 🫶🏻

“Fake date? Really?” y/n almost rolled her eyes at Alejandro’s words.

“Please. I just need my parents to get off my back for a while. They think all I do is go to parties and hang out with random girls,” he said.

y/n gave him a pointed look. “But that’s what you’re doing,”

He let out a sigh, his hands flopping by his sides. Then he looked down at her, his eyes pleading.

“Just one dinner. I promise it wouldn’t be bad. I really need you to do this to me,” he said, not breaking eye contact. The intensity of his gaze made her look away.

“And what do I get from all this?” she raised her eyebrows, making his face light up with hope.

“Anything you want,” he said with a smile.

“Can we get ice cream after that dinner,” she said, making him chuckle with an amused smile.

“I just gave you the chance to ask for whatever you want and you want ice cream?” he didn’t hide his amusement, his eyes looking softly at her.

Her cheeks flushed from the look of his eyes, trying to bite back a smile.

“Well yes, what did you expect?” she said

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but not this”

“Well I’m a simple girl who loves ice cream” she responded

“Which is why I chose you for this . My parents will love you,” he replied, reminding her about their main topic here.

“right…” she murmured, kind of regretting her decision but there was no turning back now.

“Don’t worry, preciosa. If you feel uncomfortable, we can leave as soon as we get there,” he suggested, making her nod.

Maybe this fake date can make him notice the crush she has had on him for so long now.

y/n let out a sigh as she glanced at herself in the mirror one last time. She made sure to look as good as possible, without making it seem that she’s trying too hard. A mid-length black dress that showed just enough skin, with thin straps and matching heels. Fixing her lipstick one last time, she took a deep breath as her phone rang on the nightstand.

Alejandro’s name appeared, making her heart skip a beat as she hit accept quickly.

“Hello?” she said nervously, her voice shaky.

“Hola preciosa, I’m almost at your house. Are you done, or do you need more time?” he asked.

“uh…No I'm finished,” she mumbled, not trusting her voice much.

“Don't be nervous. I’ll be by your side all evening,” His voice broke the silence. She didn’t know why but the softness in his words made her nerves ease a bit.

They hung up as Alejandro arrived, while she sprayed her perfume and got her purse, rushing down to open the door.

Alejandro stood there, wearing a full black suit with a bouquet of red roses. His eyes raked her body, taking in every detail of her before looking at her face.

She never felt more thankful that her makeup wouldn't show how flushed her face felt

“Hola hermosa,” he said, his voice charming like always.

“hey,” she murmured, suddenly finding more interest in the heels she was wearing

“These are for you,” he handed her the roses, watching how her face twisted in confusion.

“that's the least I could do for you,” he shrugged. “and my mom would kill me if she found out i picked up my ‘girlfriend’ without bringing her her favorite flowers”

She had so many questions. So many that the only one she managed to ask was, “how did you know I love roses?”

Alejandro grinned proudly, his smile wide.

“oh i remember you mentioned it before at one of the team dinners back in the day,” he said so casually.

Her heart leaped in her chest at his little confession. He remembered that?

“Come on gorgeous, we can't keep them waiting for too long,” he snapped her out of her thoughts.

She quickly placed the roses in some water and followed Alejandro to his car.

The drive to the restaurant was silent. She was too anxious to say a thing, to the point where Alejandro thought he had done something to upset her.

As they reached their destination, Alejandro got out of his seat and to her side of the door, opening it for her and helping her out of the car.

“You look breathtaking,” he whispered in her ear, before reaching down and intertwining their fingers. Her face burned from the compliment and all she could do was give him a small smile.

“take a deep breath. you'll be fine,” he mumbled, pressing a small kiss on her hair and starting to make their way inside, his hand never leaving hers.

The waiter led them to their table, where his parents and brother were sitting.

Alejandro watched her hesitation as she looked at his family. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before speaking

“This is y/n. My girlfriend,” he introduced. She gave them a soft smile reaching over to shake his mom’s hand at first, giving her the two traditional cheek kisses.

“When Ale told me you were beautiful I didn’t imagine you this gorgeous,” his mom said. And before she had the chance to look at Alejandro he cleared his throat.

“Let’s sit down shall we?” He moved a chair for her, helping her sit down before settling next to her.

“So tell us y/n, how did you and Alejandro meet?” his dad asked before sipping out of his glass of wine.

“Oh we were at La Masia together,” she answered politely

“You’re a football player too? How interesting,” his brother looked impressed, making her blush slightly.

“Yeah I’m still at Barca, not a starter like this one here though,” she nudged Alejandro with her shoulder, making him chuckle.

“You’ll get your chance, preciosa,” he murmured, making her smile softly at his words.

Dinner was surprisingly easy. Alejandro’s family was warm and welcoming, and y/n found herself enjoying their company more than she expected.

His mother was kind, always asking about her family. His father was a bit more reserved, but his questions were thoughtful.

And his brother? His brother was just like him; making jokes that had her laughing despite her nerves.

But what made the evening feel different, special, was Alejandro himself.

From the moment they sat down, he was all over her in ways that were subtle yet impossible to ignore.

His hand rested on the back of her chair as he played with some strands of her hair, his fingers brushing against her neck.

Then his fingers brushed over hers when she reached for the menu. And as the dinner continued, he grew bolder.

His hand casually found her thigh under the table, his thumb stroking lazy circles against her skin.

And the kisses.

They were brief, soft. Just enough to make her heart race.

A quick peck on her temple when his mom complimented how beautiful she was. A soft kiss to her shoulder as he whispered something low in her ear, his lips barely brushing her skin.

And the one that almost made her melt was the gentle kiss on her knuckles when his father asked about her football career, his dark eyes locking with hers in a way that felt far too real.

y/n knew they were supposed to be ‘pretending’, but Alejandro was making it so difficult.

“So, y/n,” his mother spoke up, pulling her out of her train of thoughts, “Ale told me you like to draw too. That must be exciting.”

y/n nodded, suddenly aware of Alejandro’s fingers still tracing patterns on her thigh. “Yeah, I draw in my free time. Haven’t had him model for me yet ” she nudged him playfully.

Alejandro smirked, tilting his head. “Maybe soon princesa.”

The way he said it so gently made her heart flutter.

His mom grinned at them. “I just love how supportive you are of each other. It’s beautiful.”

Alejandro’s grip on her hand tightened, and without hesitation, he lifted it to his lips, pressing a slow kiss to her fingers. “She’s easy to support,” he murmured. “She’s amazing.”

She swore she stopped breathing at his tone.

The rest of dinner was a blur. Between Alejandro’s lingering touches, his soft kisses, the way he constantly leaned in just to whisper in her ear, it felt like the most intimate date she had ever been on.

And the worst part?

She didn’t want it to end.

After dinner, Alejandro kept his promise. Ice cream. Just the two of them.

The little shop was quiet, the neon sign lighting over them as they leaned against his car, their cones in hand.

She was about to take a bite when Alejandro’s thumb brushed the corner of her lips.

“You had some right here,” he murmured, his touch lingering a second too long. He raised his thumb between his lips, licking the ice cream of his fingers.

Her breath hitched in her throat and she froze for a moment.

God, this didn’t feel fake at all.

Alejandro exhaled deeply, setting his ice cream down on the hood of his car. “y/n,” he started, his voice softer now, more serious.

She turned to look at him, heart pounding. “Yeah?”

He ran a hand over his hair, his eyes flickering between her lips and her eyes. “I need to tell you something.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, suddenly terrified of what he was about to say.

“I know I asked you to do this because of my parents,” he admitted, his voice low. “But I chose you for a reason.”

Her brows furrowed at his confession. “What do you mean?”

He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her cheek. “I could’ve asked anyone, preciosa. But I didn’t want anyone else. I wanted you.”

Her heart stopped for a second.

“Alejandro…” he started, but he interrupted her by tracing her jawline with his thumb, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.

“I’ve liked you for a long time. I just…I didn’t know how to say it. And when I saw you tonight, when we were with my family… it didn’t feel fake. Not for a second.”

She forgot how to breathe at the intimacy of his voice.

And before she could process what was happening, Alejandro leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips. It wasn’t forced. It was gentle, full of everything he hadn’t been able to say before.

And when he pulled away, he couldn’t help but grin.

“I want this to be real.”

She smiled softly, her hands sliding up to his shoulders. “Then let’s make it real.”

Alejandro beamed at her, capturing her lips again in a kiss that tasted like vanilla ice cream and something else; something sweeter.

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @joaosnovia @ilovebarcaaaa @f1lover55 @jajajhaahaha (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[theodorenmyth]

If your requests are open could I possibly request a Theodore Nott x ex!male reader where after many months after breaking up with Theo reader finally starts dating someone else and Theo would do anything to get reader back. Like something inspired by the song Kill Bill by SZA?

Kill for You

Pairings: Theodore Nott x Male!Reader

Summary: It’s been months since you broke up with Theodore Nott. You’re moving on—or at least, you’re trying to. But Theo doesn’t want to move on. He wants you. And if getting you back means destroying the person standing in his way, then so be it.

A/N ; it was so fun writing this, enjoy :3

Warnings ; Possesiveness, obsession, slight smut, mentions of murder

Word count ; 1.5k+

THEO NEVER HANDLED LOSS WELL.

Especially when it came to you.

Losing you? Unacceptable.

And yet, there you were—sitting at the Three Broomsticks, smiling at some Ravenclaw nobody like he mattered.

Like Theodore Nott hadn’t spent years memorizing your every movement, every sigh, every little thing that made you his.

His fingers curled around his glass, his jaw tightening as he watched from across the room. His usual table was full—Mattheo Riddle, Blaise Zabini, Lorenzo Berkshire, Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy, and Astoria Greengrass were all seated with him, drinks in hand. But he wasn’t paying attention to them. No, his eyes were glued to you.

"You should see your face right now," Mattheo mused, smirking as he swirled his Firewhiskey. "It’s actually terrifying."

Pansy raised an eyebrow. "Y/N finally moved on, huh?"

Theo’s jaw ticked. "No. He’s just pretending."

Draco scoffed. "Doesn’t look like pretending."

Lorenzo hummed, tapping his fingers on the table. "I mean, they do look kinda… happy."

Theo’s glare snapped to him. "Shut the fuck up, Berkshire."

Astoria exhaled, crossing her arms. "You broke up with him, Theo. You don’t get to be angry that he’s trying to be happy again."

Theo turned his gaze back to you, his fingers twitching. Happy. What a fucking joke.

He knew you.

Knew you better than anyone else.

And he knew that this wasn’t real.

He could see it in the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. The way you laughed, but it was slightly off—not as soft, not as genuine. The way your shoulders tensed every time your little boyfriend leaned in too close.

You weren’t happy.

"You should just go talk to him," Blaise suggested, sipping his drink.

Theo smirked darkly. "Oh, I plan to."

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Your evening was going fine.

Daniel—your boyfriend—was nice. Smart. A bit of a goofball. He made you laugh, and he treated you well.

So why did it feel like someone was watching you?

You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. You could feel him.

The moment you glanced up, Theo was already there, sliding into the empty seat across from you like he belonged there.

You stiffened immediately.

Daniel blinked in surprise. "Oh, hey! You’re Theodore Nott, right?"

Theo’s lips twitched into a smirk. "And you are?"

Daniel smiled. "Daniel. Y/N’s boyfriend."

Boyfriend.

Theo’s grip on his wand tightened beneath the table. Boyfriend. The word made him sick.

"Boyfriend?" he echoed, his eyes flickering to you. "That’s cute. Since when?"

You glared. "None of your business, Theo."

Theo leaned forward, smirking. "I think it’s a little bit my business."

Daniel chuckled, oblivious. "Look, man. I get it. You and Y/N had history, but we’re happy now. I don’t want any bad blood."

Theo’s expression darkened. "Oh, no bad blood." He glanced at you, voice dropping to something dangerously soft. "But you’re not happy, are you, love?"

Your breath hitched.

Daniel frowned. "Of course he’s happy."

Theo tilted his head. "No, he’s not." His gaze didn’t waver from you. "Because he still dreams about me."

You inhaled sharply.

Theo saw the way your fingers twitched. The way you swallowed hard. The way you clenched your jaw, trying to stay indifferent.

You could pretend all you wanted, but he knew you.

"You don’t own him," Daniel said, his voice gaining an edge.

Theo smirked, tilting his head. "Oh, but I do." He looked back at you, voice dripping with satisfaction. "Tell him, love."

Silence.

Your fingers curled into fists. You looked furious—but you didn’t deny it.

Daniel exhaled, shaking his head. "Come on, Y/N. Let’s go."

You stood, ready to leave—

But before you could, Theo grabbed your wrist. His grip was firm, possessive.

"You’re mine," he murmured, his lips ghosting against your ear. "You always will be."

Your breath caught.

For the slightest second, you hesitated.

And Theo saw it.

He won.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

The next few weeks were hell.

Daniel started losing things. His notes. His books. His quills. Everything.

He started getting hurt—his chair collapsed beneath him in Charms. His broom was hexed before practice. His cauldron exploded in Potions.

And you found notes in your bag, written in Theo’s elegant script.

'Did you think I’d let you go that easily?

He’ll never love you like I do.

You were mine first. You’ll be mine last.'

You knew.

You knew it was Theo.

But you could never prove it.

One night, you’d had enough. You found Theo in the dungeons, waiting for you like he knew you were coming.

"End it," you hissed, shoving him against the wall.

Theo only smirked. "End what, love?"

"You know what!" Your breath was ragged. "This obsession. The notes, the hexes, the fucking stalking—you need to stop."

Theo exhaled, his fingers brushing against your jaw. "You think I can just stop loving you?"

Your stomach twisted.

"You think I can watch you be with someone else and just let it happen?" His voice was calm, but his grip on your wrist was iron. "I don’t work that way, darling."

"You have to let me go," you whispered.

Theo leaned in, lips just grazing your jaw. "But I don’t want to."

You shivered.

"I want you," he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. "I want you like I want air. Like I want magic." His voice darkened. "And I don’t like sharing what’s mine."

You pushed him back, breath shaky. "I’m not yours anymore, Theo."

His eyes flashed. "That’s a lie."

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

The next day, Daniel disappeared.

People whispered theories—some said he’d gone home. Others said he’d been hexed so badly he had to be taken to St. Mungo’s.

You knew.

You stormed into the dungeons, finding Theo lounging on the couch, twirling his wand.

"You bastard," you snarled. "What did you do?"

Theo looked up, eyes shining with amusement. "Hello to you too, love."

"Where is he?"

Theo sighed. "He’s fine. Just… unavailable for the foreseeable future."

Your stomach twisted. "You ruined his life."

Theo’s gaze darkened. "He was in my way."

"You can’t just—"

"I can," he interrupted, stepping closer. "I did." His fingers traced along your jaw, his touch dangerously soft. "Because you belong to me."

You swallowed hard. "This isn’t love, Theo."

He smirked. "Then what is it?"

Before you could answer, he kissed you—possessive, desperate, claiming. His fingers tangled in your hair, his body pressing you against the cold wall.

And the worst part?

You kissed him back.

You could lie to yourself, pretend that your lips weren’t tingling from the way he kissed you, pretend that you weren’t breathless, backed against the cold stone wall of the Slytherin dungeon, Theo’s body pressing flush against yours like he never wanted to let go.

But Theo wasn’t fooled.

His hands gripped your waist, firm and possessive, his nails digging in just enough to make you shiver. His breath was hot against your lips, his gaze hungry, dark, dangerous.

"You can fight me all you want," he murmured, his voice low, almost teasing, but dripping with something dangerous. "But we both know how this ends."

Your heart slammed against your ribs. "Theo—"

His fingers tightened around your hips, pulling you even closer, so there wasn’t a sliver of space between you. "No more excuses," he whispered, lips ghosting over your jaw. "No more pretending."

You let out a sharp breath as his lips trailed down your neck, slow and deliberate, pressing against the spots he knew made you weak. His tongue flicked out, barely grazing your skin, and a tremor ran through you.

"You taste the same," he murmured against your throat. "You feel the same." His voice darkened, his fingers sliding beneath the hem of your shirt, brushing against your skin. "And you’re still mine."

Your breathing was uneven, your resolve crumbling with every second.

But you had to fight it.

"This isn’t—" You sucked in a breath as his teeth nipped at your collarbone, his other hand trailing lower, dangerously close to the waistband of your trousers.

He chuckled darkly. "This isn’t what?" His voice was velvet, smooth and taunting. "This isn’t love?"

You swallowed hard. "It’s obsession."

Theo smirked. "So what if it is?"

His fingers slid lower, grazing the sensitive skin just above your waistband. "I don’t need to be good for you, love," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "I just need to make sure no one else gets to have you."

Your knees nearly buckled when he bit your ear, just enough to make you shudder.

"You belong to me," he murmured, his tone shifting—darker, more desperate. His grip was bruising, his lips moving hungrily over your skin, as if he wanted to mark you, as if he wanted to make sure everyone saw. "I don’t care what I have to do. I’ll ruin anyone who touches you, Y/N."

Your breath hitched.

"Say it," he demanded, his fingers slipping beneath your waistband, teasing, taunting. "Say you're mine."

You bit your lip, your pulse hammering. "Theo—"

He growled, pressing his thigh between your legs, making you gasp. His smirk was wicked, knowing.

"Say. It."

Your head was spinning, heat pooling in your stomach, your body betraying you, giving in to the way he touched you, the way he devoured you with every kiss, every lingering brush of his fingers.

You exhaled shakily. "I’m yours."

His lips crashed against yours again, hungry, desperate, claiming, his grip ironclad, as if letting go would kill him.

"You always were," he murmured against your lips. "And you always will be."

[buckysgrace]

Impression

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Part two to Chemistry, but you don't technically have to read it to follow along :)

CW: Pseudocest/stepcest, unprotected sex, slight degradation, mentions of sex pollen

Steve deals with the aftermath of what he did, as well as realizes that he can't just let you go.

He was pacing.

Back and forth in front of his bed, his steps messy and rough as he tried to erase the previous night from his mind. It had nothing to do with the monsters or the beat down that he had faced, no, nothing like that.

It had everything to do with you. What he had done was wrong, sinister even. He didn't know why he had done it, only that he was sure that he would die if he hadn't touched you. He had never wanted someone so badly before. Not even Nancy.

And you were worse than any drug he had ever encountered. So needy and willingly underneath him, just as desperate and lustful. It was hard to feel like it was wrong in the moment, not when it felt so right.

But now he was left with a sickening feeling in his gut, his guilt eating away at him. He didn't even like you, he shouldn't really care. But it bothered him for some reason, but maybe it was because he hadn't really felt like he had been in control. Like part of his body had been acting without his consent, but then sometimes it didn't feel like that either.

His dad was going to kill him if he found out.

"It can't happen again." He told you the next morning, after he had forced himself away from you that night and scrubbed himself down in the shower until his skin was raw.

He didn't really like to look at you, not because you were ugly or unattractive. But because he was constantly reminded of what he couldn't have. He thought every piece of you was stunning, beautiful. And sometimes it was easier to push you away than to try and pretend to be nice.

"What?" You grumbled, still looking like you were half asleep as you held a glass of juice in between your hands. He huffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You know what." He responded as he waited for you to say something, to bring up what happened last night or to worry about the marks on his face. For a moment he couldn't decide what he would rather have you do.

But you were silent as you downed the rest of your juice, liquid falling from the corner of your lips before you wiped it away. You sighed as you set it down, not looking at all bothered. Or at least wearing a convincing mask.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You replied as you shrugged your shoulders, eyebrows furrowing together as you walked away from him. He froze for a moment, briefly feeling lost. Leaving him with just enough time to wonder if he had imagined part of this.

No, it had been real. He was sure of it. He didn't want you to blab about it, but he wasn't sure he was happy with you ignoring it completely either. He wasn't sure what he wanted.

But you continued on like that, acting like nothing had happened. And it infuriated him. You had always been a brat, but you were even worse now. And he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

It was wrong. Really wrong. He kept trying to remind himself that, but he had a hard time believing it. Not when his eyes searched for you, when his fingertips burned to feel your skin against his again. He could feel the desperation leaking from him, needy to feel you again.

So he'd try again.

"What are you playing at?" He asked as he forced himself into your room the next night, shuttingt he door swiftly behind him. You looked up, eyebrows raised for a moment before you turned away again.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You repeated dryly, legs crossed as you placed your bookmark neatly between the pages you were on. He breathed in deeply, trying to do his best to keep from staring at your exposed skin.

"Why won't you talk about what happened?" He muttered at last, feeling more desperate than anything else. He had a sudden urge to fall to his knees, to feel your fingers tangled within his hair as he did whatever you wanted.

"Do you want me to?" You questioned as you tilted your head, eyes looking right through him. He shifted from foot to foot, trying to figure out the answer to your question. The truth was that he didn't know. He had no idea at all.

He huffed as he slowly sat down on your floorboards, wishing there was a way to explain what had happened. Or maybe he was wanting to apologize. He wasn't sure. All of it had happened so fast.

"What are you thinking about?" You questioned as you crept closer to him, making his pulse raise against the side of his neck. You were in an oversized shirt, one that just barely covered you. He had a hard time looking away.

"I feel like I'm crazy," he replied, skin burning as you slowly crawled over to him. This didn't feel like before. It was different, but nice. Real, "do you feel that way?" he asked, eyes lingering against your bare thighs.

"No," you said at last, tilting your head as you straddled him fully. He bit back a groan, trying not to buck his hips up against your warm flesh, "you made me feel alive." You added softly, making him feel like he might melt into the floorboards.

You slowly rocked your hips across him, leaving him gripping the floor for support. He felt greedily, desperaetly needing to touch you as he reached down to open the buttons to his jeans. Then his zipper.

He stared at the way you slowly sat up, how you delicately let your panites down down the length of your legs. He watched in fascination, sure that he had never felt this way before. He reached forward, pressing a few kisses against your knee before you settled over him again.

"Are you going to be nice to me, Stevie?" You asked as you fluttered your eyelashes at him, your fingers brushing across his hardened dick. He whined at the feeling, grinding his hips up into until you pushed him back down. You shook your head, giving him a warning.

"Mhm." He hummed in agreement, eyelids feeling heavy as he hungrily watched your movements. He felt greedy suddenly, desperately needing to feel you.

"You're going to be a good boy?" You cooed as you tilted your head, a small smirk pulling on your lips. He felt faint at the feeling of your palm pressing down rougher against his bulge, his dick aching from the feeling. It was more intense than the other night. Real.

"I promise," he whined as he wiggled underneath you, lips still covered with your slick, "please." He pleaded as he pulled himself onto his elbows, watching the slow way that you tugged his briefs down his hairy thighs.

He sighed in relief at the feeling of his cock popping free, bouncing against his skin as a gleeful giggle left your lips. His pulse raced against the crook of his neck, his mind spinning as he drifted his eyes back towards you.

Your fingers wrapped around his thick girth delicately, your teeth shining brightly from the wide smile you sent him as he crooned in response. He was pulsing against your touch, cock throbbing as you gave him a little squeeze.

"I'll take care of you," you promised as you drifted your free hand across his slender torso, eyes slowly dancing across each mole that decorated his skin. He was covered in the little marks, and sometimes found himself hating them. But not right now, not with the way you were looking at him, "just relax."

He did as you demanded, his fingertips relaxing against your hips as you slowly lifted yourself up over him. His cock ached against his skin as the feeling of you hovering over him spread warmth through his body.

The feeling of his tip against your slick walls made his head spin, his heart hammering roughly inside his chest as he watched the way his cock slid inside of your soaked cunt. Your moans were whiny and rough, making his ears sing from the heavenly sound.

"You're such a slut for your little sister," you coeed as you stalled your movements for a second, adjusting to the feeling of his dick pulsing inside of you, "but you like that, don't you?" You teased, making him quickly nod his head in agreement. He'd do whatever you said, whatever you asked.

A low whimper left his lips as you fully lowered yourself along the curve of his cock, your eyes fluttering shut as he resisted the urge to fuck up into your smooth cunt. His fingers twitched against your flesh, trying to keep himself patient so he could savor the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his thick girth.

"God," he whined as he clawed at your hips, lungs stalling from the rough breaths he was taking, "you feel so good around me, honey." He complimented, mind feeling hazy as you slowly began to rock your hips up and down the length of his cock.

Pleasure raced up his spine, the muscles in his stomach twisting in pleasure as he savored the feeling of your walls clamping around his cock. The feeling of your slick coating his skin left him gasping, his lungs swelling in awe each time your cunt squelched around him.

"Fuck," you breathed out, eyebrows furrowing together as pleasure spread across your features. You whined, a heavenly sound that filled his ears as he buried his fingertips into your flesh again. He groaned as he began to thrust upwards, his balls hitting against your skin, "right there, Stevie. Feels incredible."

He sighed in bliss, staring at the way your cunt stretched around him as you continued to drag yourself along the curve of his cock. He reached down to play with your clit, making you squirm atop of him as he savored the image of your pussy stuffed full of his cock. Something inside of him snapped, like you were made to be wrapped around him.

Your hands were warm against his skin, pressing into him as loud moans began to fall from your tongue. The sounds made his toes curl, bliss spreading deep inside of him. He didn't want you to ever stop. No, he wanted to feel himself buried inside of you for a very long time.

"Jesus," he groaned as he began to thrust up into you deeply, his cock brushing against the deepest parts of you as your nails began to dig into his shirt. Your thighs squeezed around his body, tugging him closer, "feels good. feels so good, honey. Fuck, fuck." The words rolled off of his tongue easily as a blush crept onto his skin, hot and sticky from the sweat that had formed against the base of his neck.

It was hard to think, hard to feel anything but the intense pleasure with the way you turned your gaze down towards him. He was sure that he had never seen someone so beautiful before, so stunning as the pleasure etched deeply across your features.

It was hard to feel shame when everything felt this good, but even now, he hated how desperately he wanted to kiss you. How badly he wanted to drift his hands across your curves and feel your warm skin against his own. He thought of how badly he wanted to explore every inch of you, to drag his lips across your skin and to never forget the sweet sounds that fell from your lips.

"Oh God," he whined wantonly as he began to drag his hips up roughly into your soaked cunt, the sound of your bodies meeting bouncing off of the walls, "M'sorry, fuck, fuck!" He cursed as he pressed himself up against you, balls slick against your skin as his cock pulsed against your walls.

A loud moan left his lips as he came deep inside of you, his cum painting your walls white. He moved his hand down between your legs, roughly rubbing at your swollen clit as your body twitched in pleasure.

"Oh God, Steve!" He sat up further, mind foggy in awe at the way your cunt clamped down tightly around his cock. He breathed in deeply, listening to the way you moaned and crooned as you came around his cock. You rocked down against him slowly, licking your bottom lip.

He couldn't hear anything but your moans, his heart hammering roughly inside his chest as he continued to press down against your sensitive bud. He couldn't feel anything but you, his pleasure pulsing deep inside his veins as he stared up at you in disbelief. In awe.

You looked down at him, features twisted into a mixture of satisfaction and smugness. He couldn't care though, not one bit as you traced your fingers across your chest softly.

"What's wrong, Stevie?" you giggled as you pressed down along his hips, eyes twinkling in mischief, "cat got your tongue?" He exhaled roughly as he nodded numbly, feel his cock twitching inside of you once again.

Yeah, you could say that.

[annoyinglilbro]

Angel who is so dainty and oh so genderless, "I don't do labels" until the demon forcemascs the shit out of him is that anything

They also beat the shit out of each other with flaming swords and twisted daggers because why not

The demon has been watching them for awhile. Everytime he thinks he knows, he doesn’t. The curves are soft, hair short, eyes round and doey. His lips are pouted and chest is flat. Their voice doesn’t give anything away either, and really all the demon wants to know is what’s under that stupid Lacey gown. Ofcourse he isn’t ever expecting the angel to let him see, they’re constantly at each others throats.

“Hey pretty bird, gonna sing a song for me today?” He asks when the angel walks by, only scoffing and rolling their eyes.

“Why would I ever sing for you? You’re not worthy. You’re damned already, there’s nothing I could sing for you.”

Demon Hums but continues his stride by their side. This is routine. He’ll hang around, push some buttons, just enough to watch that face turn red and words turn truely spiteful.

“Give me a chance and I’ll make you sing real pretty for me, doll. Just gotta get you out of those clothes. What’s an angel look like under those wraps anyway?”

The angel pulls their clothes tighter to their body, cheeks heating up a light pink and lips turning to a frown.

“Come on, I’m sure you’re a real pretty girl under there.” The angel glares, making the demon put his hands up in surrender. “Or boy. You’re a real pretty boy, aren’t you?” That gets a different reaction. A spark of something in the angel eyes.

“I’m not a girl or a boy. Angels are genderless, regardless of what’s under our uniforms. We don’t do labels, there’s no need. Sex is a sin.”

“Oh I think you’re wrong there, sweet boy. I think you know you’re a boy but you’re just too scared to say it. Come on, no one else is here. You can say it. You a pretty boy?”

It happens fast. The fist that makes contact with his face, drawing blood from his nose and lip. He’s stood in shock, watching the way the angels lip trembles and their chest heaves.

“Didn’t think you had it in you, pretty boy.” The demon quips, wiping away the stray stream of red with his thumb.

“Stop it. You’ll get me introuble. We’re not supposed to…want those things. Okay? Please for once will you just drop it?”

Ofcourse he doesn’t. He grabs the dainty boy by his arm and drags him into an empty alley. Slams him into a wall and points a silver dagger just under his chin. The Angel looks at him, wide eyed and shivering under his touch.

“Everything’s a sin with you angels, isn’t it? Always denying yourself the simple pleasures. You lot wouldn’t be so stuck up if you just learned to enjoy the little things. Like having your cock played with.” His hand is slipping through the robes, feeling between the angels legs and into his cunt. His fingers dance over his little dick, perked and hidden under the hood. The way the Angel gasps and tries to throw his head back further against the brick wall makes the demon throb in his pants. “There it is. Your pretty little cock, probably so neglected. Tell me do you ever touch it? Ever give it any attention? What do you when you feel that ache between your legs?” His fingers continue working at him the entire time.

“I…I don’t do anything I..I’m not su-supposed to hmmm…”

“Don’t lie to me, Angel. What do you do, really, when your little cock gets hard and your cunt gets all wet.”

The angel bites his lip, looking to the side.

“I…sometimes I’ll rub against m-my pillow…I don’t mean to though! My clit just gets so- ah!!” He’s cut off by a pinch to the sensitive bundle.

“That’s not your clit, baby boy. That’s your cock. You’ll address it as such, cause you’re a pretty boy right? And that’s what boys have, cocks.”

“We’re..we’re not supposed to lean towards either gender- fuck! Please please please!!” Another harsh pinch, fingers that tug. It brings tears to the angels eyes.

“Stop denying yourself. Let it feel good. Let yourself be who you really are. What are you?”

The angel whines, body shaking against the wall and face bright red. His hips have started moving against the hand between his legs.

“I’m..I’m a boy! I’m a boy, I know it. I know I’m a boy, okay? I know I am. But I can’t, you wouldn’t understand! I can’t just be that, okay! I could lose my wings, my halo, I could fall.”

The demon leans in, pointed teeth now against the angels neck.

“I think you’ll find there’s worse things in life than falling. But I get it. That’s fine. How about when it’s just us, you’re a boy? Does that sound good, baby?” He sinks his teeth into the pale skin between his neck and shoulder, marking his claim on the boy.

The angel lets out a choked sob, legs shaking when he cums against the demons fingers. He’s slumped into his body, energy drained and fight gone.

“What could you possibly understand about what I’m going through?” He mumbles, head against the demons shoulder now. The blade is still pressed against his skin but he doesn’t care much for it now. It’s an after thought, an empty threat.

The demon doesn’t say anything, just grabs the angels hand and slides it down his pants. The angel gasps when he feels the familiar slit and button like dick. He leans back to meet his eyes, and the demon just smiles.

“Not all sinners are born this way. Some of us were song birds once too.”

[ladykailitha]

Yellow Daisies Part 2

Yay! I finished another part of this story!!

This time we have apologies and graduation. Graduation is a little different because I couldn't think of a person he would want to give a person flowers for their graduation that would be his year or before as he wasn't friends with the old crowd by the time they all graduated.

But it still fits.

Part 1

~

3- Apologies: Red Roses- True Love and Purple Hyacinth- Please Forgive Me

After school when Steve hadn’t seen Nancy at lunch, he knew that he had fucked up and proper. So with a heavy sigh, he made his way to the florist.

“Hi!” he greeted Lottie Shepherd, who ran the place. “How you’ve been?”

Lottie snorted. “Between you and your father, I’m able to keep myself in business, but real good.” She winked at him.

“Aww...” Steve said with a big grin. “At least my purchases aren’t for sleeping with the wrong woman again. Flowers to lady to buy her silence and flowers to my mom so he stays out of trouble. Sadly, today I also have to buy apology flowers.”

Lottie clicked her tongue at him. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

Steve didn’t want to tell her about Nancy getting drunk off her ass and being absolutely dreadful so he said instead, “Me and Nance fought last night and because I was still mad, I didn’t pick her from school this morning because I wasn’t ready to talk to her yet. So she was late.” He grimaced.

“Ah,” she said a little more understanding. “Well, I’ll fix you right up.” She picked up a half of a dozen red roses and wrapped them in white tissue paper.

“Only half a dozen?” he asked as he paid her for them.

“You don’t need a lot to say I’m sorry,” Lottie said gently. “If she’s still upset after receiving those,” she nodded to the roses in his hand, “then come back and see me. But I don’t think you’ll need to.”

Steve trusted her so he nodded and drove over to the Wheelers’ house. He practiced his speech all the way there. He wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for. It wasn’t his fault she drank so much she didn’t remember their fight. In fact, he tried to stop it.

Then she doubled down this morning and then she hadn’t showed up at lunch...suddenly, he was apologizing.

Not that it mattered. Nancy would never get the flowers because the Upside Down reared its head in the form of monster which ate Dustin’s cat. Days later Lottie would prove right. Steve hadn’t needed more flowers for Nancy, because she chose Jonathan over him.

~

Steve pinched the bridge of nose. His friendship with Eddie was still new. They were going to be times where they butted heads, especially if the kids were involved. Steve just had blind spot when it came to their safety. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust anyone else, he just needed to be sure they got there safely.

Especially after hearing about the trials the Cali crew went through to get to Hawkins.

Eddie had just wanted to take the boys to Bloomington for a sci-fi and fantasy convention. Eddie would be driving, paying for their tickets and hotel, and being their chaperon. Which everyone was on board with.

Everyone but Steve.

Steve was absolutely against it. No. Nope. No way in hell.

So Eddie and Steve fought about it.

Hard.

The fight ended when Eddie screamed that Steve didn’t trust him and stormed off.

He looked over at Robin had been forced to bear witness to the biggest fight since Vecna. “I’m going to have to apologize, aren’t I?”

She nodded with wide eyes. “Oh yeah.”

“Fuck.”

~

Eddie glared at the front door. He knew full well who was on the other side and he wasn’t sure he was ready to talk to him yet.

He knocked again.

Eddie closed his eyes and hauled himself to his feet. He pulled open the door so fast, Steve jumped.

“You here to yell at me again?”

Steve stared at him in wide-eye shock. He held up the flowers in his hands. “No, I–I’m here to apologize.”

Eddie’s eyes snapped down to the pretty purple flowers in his hands and then back up to Steve, who was looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.

He sighed and motioned for him to come in. Steve came in just far enough to allow Eddie to close the door behind him.

Eddie couldn’t remember a time Steve looked this nervous. Not when asking a girl out, not when playing a basketball game or swimming at a meet. So Eddie liked watching the king all wet. Whether it was sweat or water, the dude was hot.

He cocked his head expectantly.

Steve shoved the flowers into his hands. “They’re purple hyacinths. They mean please forgive me.”

Eddie looked down at the flowers again. “Thanks.”

“I’m going to grovel, I promise,” Steve said, his voice quivering. “But can you hear me out first?”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment. This was such out of his wheelhouse that he didn’t even know what to do.

Not only had he never gotten flowers before, but he also had never had someone so earnestly apologize for something they did. Like sure Wayne and his friends over the years would say sorry, but this? This was whole different beast.

“Um...” he muttered. “Yeah I guess. Just, uh... let me find something to put these in first.”

Steve nodded.

Eddie figured that his best bet was a plastic pitcher they would sometimes make Kool-aid in. He located it quickly and filled it with water, placing the flowers in it.

He flopped down on the sofa. “All right big boy, explain.”

Steve’s eyes fluttered shut and when he opened them again, Eddie was surprised to see them glimmer with unshed tears.

Holy shit.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Steve began, pained. “It’s the Upside Down I don’t trust.”

Well. That absolutely was not the direction he thought this conversation was going to go. Like at all.

“They said it’s closed,” Eddie said slowly. “It’s not something you should still be thinking about.”

“Do you know how many times they’ve told us that?” Steve snapped.

Eddie’s eyes went wide and Steve’s hand flew up to his mouth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Steve begged. “I shouldn’t have snapped. But every time they tell us it’s over, eight to twelve months later something new crops up.”

Okay. That was something Eddie vaguely knew, considering the rest of them had been fighting monsters since ‘83 and it being ‘87, yeah he could see why Steve thought that way.

“And you’re worried they’re going to get hurt if they’re out of your sight?”

Steve shook his head so violently Eddie thought it was going to fly right off.

“I’m worried they’re going to come back after something has happened,” Steve murmured, “and feel so guilty about leaving.”

Holy fucking shit.

“That’s baggage you shouldn’t have to carry, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured gently.

“Look me in the eyes and tell Mike doesn’t feel that every day,” Steve pleaded. “Or El. Or hell, even Jonathan.”

Oh God. Yeah. Okay, this was starting to make too much sense now.

“You know I can’t.”

“When Joyce left and Hopper was presumed dead,” Steve continued, a tear finally slipping out over to fall down his cheek, “I was the oldest. It was my job to keep people safe. And I fucking failed.”

Suddenly Eddie was on his feet and striding over to him. Steve was still by the door as if he getting ready to turn tail and run. Like Eddie was going to hurt him.

Eddie pulled him into a hug. “You didn’t fail, Stevie. Max and I are still here. Yeah, we got hurt, but thanks to you we made it. Especially me.” He pulled back just far enough to look Steve in the eyes. “I’m alive thanks to you.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath and then another, and suddenly tears were streaming down his face. He gripped the back of Eddie’s shirt and held on as his sobbed. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Eddie just held him close. Then when the tears slackened and Steve was ready to let go, he stepped back.

“Come on, let’s get you some water.”

Steve followed him to the kitchen sink. “I’m just not used to having someone my age in this shit. Nancy, Robin, Jonathan, the kids they’re all younger than me and I just–I just can’t...”

“You can’t see them as equals because the last time shit went down,” Eddie said handing him a glass of water, “they were still all under eighteen and you the only adult. But I am older than you. Maybe not as experienced fighting demon monsters from literal hell, but I’m here for you, okay?”

Steve nodded and took a sip of his water. “Okay.”

“So we’re going to solve this two ways, sweetheart,” Eddie said leaning against the counter. “You’re going to come with us. I was going to get a room to myself, but I’m willing to bunk with you. That’s the first way. The second way is making sure that there is someone in town with one of Dustin’s super Walkie-Talkies and have them check twice a day with you so you can make sure everything is safe as houses.”

Steve looked up at Eddie in awe. “You’d do that for me?”

“Hell yeah,” Eddie said softly. “Because, sweetheart, I thought you didn’t trust me to take care of your kids. But now I see that you just really need to be included in someway for your own piece of mind, and I can do that.”

Steve blinked at him for a moment and then gave him huge hug. “Thank you.”

4. Graduation: Pansy and Laurel- Thoughtfulness and Glory and Honor

With so many of his friends graduating, Steve made Lottie’s day with the sheer amount of bouquets he bought from her. All with pansies and laurels. Different colors of pansies for different people of course, but they were all beautifully wrapped as always.

Pink for Nancy, orange for Jonathan, yellow and red for Robin, and of course red ones for Eddie.

When Dustin saw how many he had, he raised an eyebrow.

“Dude!” he cried, trotting over to him. “I didn’t think you knew that many people in this graduating class.”

Steve frowned. “Nancy, Robin, Jonathan, and Eddie. That’s four.”

“You’re giving the guys flowers too?” Lucas asked, coming from behind Dustin. He had been close enough to overhear them.

“Yep!” Steve said, popping the P and licking his lips. “Guys deserve flowers when they achieve things too. It shouldn’t just be girls who get flowers.”

“That’s sweet,” El said, cocking her head to the side. She had come up with Max when they saw the huge amount of flowers Steve had.

Soon Steve was surrounded by all the kids peppering him with questions about the flowers and why he was giving them to Eddie and Jonathan too.

He just repeated himself on the last but brightened on the first. “There is like this whole language of flowers. And it’s not just good stuff like love and shit. But like you can absolutely send hate mail via flowers. Like a red rose means true love, but a black one means death and despair. But you have to be super careful because yellow rose might mean friendship and joy, but in a different bouquet they might mean extreme betrayal and jealousy.”

“Holy shit,” Max said with wide-eyed amazement. A slow smile spread out over her face. “So if I wanted to tell someone to fuck off, what would I send?”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “I’d go with yellow carnations for disdain, thistle for warning, and orange lilies for hatred.”

“That’s amazing!” Dustin cried. “Who knew flowers could be so cool?”

Steve cocked an eyebrow at him. “Uh... me?”

Dustin rolled his eyes but before he could say anything Nancy and Robin came running up to Steve.

“It’s horrible!” Robin cried.

“They’re refusing last minute to let Eddie walk to get his diploma!” Nancy said in anguish. “I tried to talking to Principal Higgins, but he refuses to budge.”

“He called him all sorts of nasty names, too!” Robin said in distress. “Like really horrible ones I don’t want to even repeat.”

Steve felt his stomach sink like lead. “Are they even going to let him sit with his peers?”

Nancy shook her head. “He got handed his diploma and won’t even be allowed in the senior picture!”

Steve snorted on that one. “He always sneaks in at the back. He’s been in every senior photo since his own. Plus, they’re taken at the beginning of the year. Higgins can go fuck himself, because no else is ever gonna wanna.”

Robin snorted, a half smile sneaking up on her face.

“Is he okay?” Will asked. “That must have been so horrible after he worked his ass off to be able to even walk up to get his diploma, much less all the work he did to earn it.”

“Wayne is taking him out to Lake Jordan,” Robin said. “They’ll be back in time for the party on Saturday, but they’re going to get Eddie’s mind off the whole thing.”

Steve looked at the now extra bouquet in his hands with a pang of regret. He was really looking forward to giving Eddie his first flowers.

“You guys better get to your seats,” he said. “It looks like they’re about to start.”

The girls hurried off and everyone else dispersed to find their families and sit with them. Steve went to go sit with the Buckleys to cheer Robin on.

It wasn’t quite the same without Eddie walking, too, but he was happy nonetheless.

Afterwards when he handed everyone their flowers, Steve handed the extra to Robin.

“Give them to Vickie,” he murmured. “Tell her I was holding onto them for you. The pansies mean thoughtfulness and laurels are for victory and mean glory and honor.”

“Steve...” she said, pained. “You can still give them to him.”

He shook his head, hold them to her chest. “They’ll be all wilted and shit. I’ll give him flowers at another time.”

Robin nodded sadly and went off to do just that.

Jonathan looked at the flowers in his hands and smiled up at him. “You really are a good dude, Steve Harrington.”

Steve blushed.

~

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