#i know they probably will but like. GODDAMN IT let me dream

[confettigraffiti]

I miss talking to my friends genuinely but also I have very much overstayed my welcome everywhere and it's too late (I got VERY annoying near the end + fell out of a major interest which didn't help. my bad yall 😔) I feel like I should remake at this point and just move on but also. move on to what

[pinkie-quinns]

(posting some old twitter threads here for posterity's sake)

Chrissy and Eddie breakup. She's a lesbian, apparently. Has finally come to terms with it. It's half a decade of Eddie's life in the dust. He... he doesn't exactly handle it well.

But Steve's there for him, offers Eddie a shoulder to cry on.

They’re drunk when Eddie says no one’s ever been in love with him. Not really. So Steve kisses him.

But Eddie’s straight.

He always has been.

He freaks the fuck out. Bolts. Lets the calls go to voicemail. He’d lost his partner and one of his best friends in the span of a week and it’s not fair and he’s pissed off beyond belief at Steve for doing it. 

But he’s also confused. And he also can’t stop thinking about it. 

He stews on it for weeks. Avoids mutual friends like the plague. The band lets people know he’s alive, apparently. Between losing Chrissy and Steve, he feels like there are chunks of him missing. So he gets drunk. Hooks up with blondes who kiss him all wrong. 

He’s five whiskeys deep and when he finds himself banging at Steve’s door. Steve answers with his hair mussed and his voice sleep-rough. And Eddie tells him he’s really fucking pissed at him. And Steve apologizes again. And it should be enough but it’s just fucking not. 

So Steve apologizes again and again and again, all blubbery and guilt-ridden. It's only making Eddie more angry. And he doesn’t know why. And he’s too drunk for this shit.

So he shoves Steve against the door and kisses him stupid. 

He wakes up in his own bed the next morning and he's sure he dreamt it. (He’s been dreaming it a lot lately.) But his lips are all stubble-scrapped and his mouth is cotton but he remembers how his friend's tongue tasted and he just.. Wants to cry.

Cause he’s not gay. He’s not. Other people are. Most of his friends are. And he’s fine with that! He’s been a good ally.

Well, maybe not to Chrissy. But only cause it broke his goddamn heart. Only cause he loved her so much. Only cause he'd never felt that way about anyone before or anyone since.

Except well— Fuck. Shit fucking fuck.

So he calls her. He’s kind of hoping it’ll ring through but she picks up straight away, lets out a soft little hey. And it breaks his heart all over again to hear her voice. But he takes a breath and says, “I kissed Steve.”

And she pauses. “You kissed Steve?"

And then he says, “Well, he kissed me first. But yeah. I got drunk. Jeez Chris, I got wasted. And then I— yeah, I kissed him.”

And she's quiet for a long time, just soft breathing and static. Then she says, “Thank you for telling me, Eddie.”

And oh. That’s what it was, wasn’t it?

So they talk about it. All of it. And he really listens to her this time. He couldn’t the last time, couldn’t hear over the sound of his heart fuckin’ shattering. Then he’s the one blubbering apologies cause his girl was going through all this shit totally alone and he is now way too familiar with how bad it sucks.

And then they talk about It. The big It. All the stuff her mama drilled into her brain since she was in diapers. All the names that got spat at him between hall shoves. Shit they couldn’t be 'cause then they’d be wrong, shit they couldn’t be 'cause then they’d be right. 

And when they’re done and the conversation turns into How’s the band? and Is Marcel still driving you crazy? Eddie feels ten pounds lighter, almost whole again. Like he was but better, all glued together in gold. Well, almost altogether.

He really needs to talk to Steve. 

He knocks on his door again that night. This time not at 1 AM, this time sober and remarkably dehydrated.

And Steve answers. This time put together, this time hair done and voice in its day pitch (Eddie kinda misses the sleep rasp). And he looks.. fuck. He looks perfect, doesn’t he?

Eddie’s spent all day mulling this conversation over. But standing here now he’s coming up blank. He mutters, “I- I was an asshole.”

Steve opens his mouth but Eddie just trucks on.

“–you were an asshole too, man. But me, uh, probably more?” 

And he ignores the way his stupid traitor eyes start to water, always do when the moment feels too big. “–Sorry about that. Sorry that I freaked, sorry that I was pissed at you for the shit I was just pissed at myself for. Sorry for, uh. Yelling at you. Sorry, um. Yeah. Sorry for kissing you. That definitely wasn’t cool. It’s been uh... a confusing month. Shit. I’m so sorry Steve.”

Steve just leans against the door. Normally he wore everything on his face. Couldn't win Texas Hold 'Em to save his life. Not now though. Now it feels like Steve could have a sleeve full of aces and Eddie wouldn’t know a thing.

But then he says “Eddie” so quiet it sounds like he hadn't even meant to. Like it just slipped onto his tongue.

Eddie can’t do anything but blink, “Yeah?”

“Let me um-” Steve swallows, “Let me get this straight. Where’d you land?”

God, this shit was humiliating, “Not that. Straight. Not straight.”

“Ok. Cool.”

“Yup.”

“And me–” Steve scratches at the back of his neck, “where did you land on me?”

Eddie feels like he’s gonna explode. But he can’t bolt. Not again. Even though every bone in his body wants to. So he plants his feet, coughs, “Well, I pretty much assaulted you, didn’t I?”

Steve rolls his eyes, snarks a laugh. “Sure. Yeah. I’ve been totally gone on you since, I dunno, forever. You were straight. You were basically married to your high school sweetheart. All it took was one of those things no longer being true for me to totally nosedive. But sure, you threw yourself at me.”

This was. It was a lot. 

“Steve–”

Steve waves a hand, stops him. “‘No one’s ever been in love with you. Not really.’ That’s what you said, dude. Meanwhile, shit, cards on the table here? Every relationship I’ve had in the last five years has been a pointless attempt to get over you. So yeah, it was weird to hear, Eddie.” 

Steve won’t look him in the eye. His neck is craned towards the ceiling.

Eddie whistles through his teeth, “Maybe, uh… maybe give me a bit more time?”

“Oh.” Steve finally glances up. His poker face is all gone. He looks like a kicked puppy. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

“I’ll probably just need a week or two? I mean, fuck man, that’s a whole other, like Phylum of pornography I’ve been missing out on for the last 25 years. I gotta get myself acquainted before I can, you know–” He reaches out, rubs at Steve’s bicep with a wink, “Get myself Acquainted.”

Steve’s whole body is shaking. Eddie can feel the relief flitting out of him. “Jesus Christ, Munson.”

“Then I’ll take you out, Harrington! Show you the town.”

“Dude, will your dick even work at that point?”

“On the first date?” Eddie gasps, “Lord Harrington, how improper!”

Steve just shrugs, “Rules are different for guys.”

“What? Wait seven years and then hope you land a sexuality crisis?” Then Eddie’s leaning in, closing the space between them. Trying to ignore the pounding in his chest, thinks maybe he's never been so terrified. 

Steve smiles into the kiss. “Yeah, Munson. It's something like that.” 

[lesbianrobin]

ok so here is my pitch for my dream buddie catalyst:

eddie and maddie are trapped in some sort of likely-fatal time sensitive situation together (drowning related probably because it's Them) (have they overused it yes is it still thematically appropriate YES) where one person could potentially sacrifice themselves for the other to survive. i want eddie and maddie using their combined experience and ingenuity to survive together and discussing who should be prioritized which means they talk about parenthood and how they both feel they've failed their children by "running," how their lives have been so defined by trauma and they don't want to scar their children any further by leaving them again. of course they're doing everything they can to get out together, but as the situation deteriorates throughout the episode(s) (c'mon something like this could be at LEAST a two-parter) they can't help returning periodically to the world's most morbid debate.

i want buck and chim on the outside both going out of their goddamn minds. they know that eddie and maddie are stuck (wherever), know that they're probably alive, but aren't sure in what condition and if they'll stay that way. rescue operations begin as everybody walks on eggshells around buck and tries to comfort chim, who wants absolutely none of it. time is running out.

eddie says that he couldn't possibly let maddie sacrifice herself for him and look buck and chim in the eye afterwards. maddie says that she couldn't do that either. she says that at least jee-yun would still have her father, and eddie says that christopher would still have buck. maddie says that of course none of them would just abandon christopher if something were to happen to him but—

and eddie cuts her off and says it's in my will. if i die, christopher will have buck. buck will have christopher.

they just look at each other for a weighted moment. maddie makes a decision. she says ...i meant it, you know. that i couldn't let you die down here (wherever here is i don't KNOW okay i'm not here to think up convoluted emergencies i'm here for drama) and look my baby brother in the eye knowing that i could have changed it. eddie says i know, okay, but it's different, you're his sister, and maddie says, yeah, but you're his... and she pauses. and eddie says what? best friend? partner? that doesn't—

and maddie says you're his. eddie, you're his.

and eddie... i want to see something slot into place. i want to watch him understand as maddie spills everything she's been suspecting since the day that buck came out to her and maybe since before she and eddie even met. maddie says you know, when i first came to california, you were all he talked about? you're still all he talks about. you and christopher. you're his. i couldn't... eddie, you're out of your mind if you really don't think that losing you would break him just as much as losing me. he would forgive us both, because he's buck, but i couldn't... i'm no saint, eddie, i want to survive. i don't want my daughter to grow up without me. but i can't do that to him. i don't know if he'd survive it. even if he did, the guilt would eat me alive.

meanwhile. buck is barely holding on to his sanity as rescue efforts are underway and time is running out. chimney is keeping it together as best he can but there isn't much that he and buck can do. he can't let himself fall apart because buck is already a stiff breeze away from clawing his own skin off and somebody has to keep their cool. something goes wrong—suddenly, their short amount of time has gotten shorter, and they may only have enough of a window to get one out before it's too late for the other. buck, who has been ranting and arguing and screaming this whole time... is silent. he is silent, and he stares straight ahead at nothing in particular, and we know that no matter which way the scales tip, his soul will be destroyed all the same.

eddie regards maddie for a moment. grief, heartbreak, anger, all flicker over him, but what settles is determination. he says that neither of them are going to leave again. that they'll survive together, or not at all, or leave it to the universe to decide.

of course they make it out. by the skin of their teeth, they make it out, working together, clawing their way back to life and love and possibility. maddie makes it out first, and eddie sees buck as she falls into chim's waiting arms. he watches as buck sees his sister, and reaches out to take her hand with trembling fingers and white knuckles, but there is no relief, no happiness in his red-rimmed eyes. just a deep, unspeakable grief, until his eyes slide past maddie and meet eddie's.

finally: relief. and then he is in buck's arms, a perfect parallel to chim and maddie, and we see eddie's face over buck's shoulder, and we know. he is in love, and buck is in love, and eddie knows, and he sinks into his partner's embrace with joy and acceptance.

after that, who knows? maybe a grand confession. a moment of quiet understanding. a passionate post-rescue kiss. a chaste, tender kiss in some kitchen or other. maybe eddie panics later, or maybe he's found peace for once. maybe buck has realized something and he makes the first move. maybe it happens immediately. maybe it takes a while, takes discussions about how it'll affect work and christopher and whether it's worth risking all that they have for all that they want.

and maybe they'll ask whether it's even a risk at all.

[huntingingoodwill]

civil. (j.m.)

masterlist

desc: you can’t stand joel miller, and he can’t stand you.

pairing: enemies to lovers! joel miller x gn! reader

a/n: this is my gift for the pedrostories secret santa 2024 event!!! i had so much fun writing this for my giftee, @adora-but-ginger. thanks so much for introducing me to the absolute bop which is never let me down by depeche mode which inspired this lil fic. i really hope you enjoy it babes <3 happy holidays!

“You’re an idiot. A big, hulking idiot.” 

“You think I’m big and hulking?”

You could hear the smirk in Joel’s voice, which made equal parts of anger and embarrassment flare up inside of you. You could admit he was… well-built. Sickeningly, disgustingly so. And right now, you wanted to snap his well-built body in two. 

“I’m going to kill you.”  

“I’d like to see you try, but we’re a little tied up at the moment,” his tone was sardonic, his meaning literal - the two of you were in the bed of some raiders’ truck, tied up and blindfolded, being driven to who-knows-where. It was probably for the best, as the restraints around your wrists were the only things stopping you two from choking each other out. 

“And whose fault is that?” you hissed. 

“I’m glad you asked. Yours.” 

“Mine?!” you exclaimed, the anger pulsing through you growing stronger by the minute. “I told you we should avoid the cabin and you still dragged us right into this mess.” 

Joel had insisted the abandoned cabin would be a safe place to rest. The raiders had the same idea, and were quick to pounce on the both of you after coming across your horses outside. They had ambushed the two of you, deciding to bring you back to their camp to figure out what to do with you later - probably nothing too pleasant. They had left your horses behind, and you had overheard them saying they’d come back for them later. 

“Maybe if you didn’t fall asleep when you were supposed to be on lookout, we wouldn’t be here right now,” Joel muttered. 

You sighed, a dull knot of ache forming behind your eyes. It was true. You had fucked up. But he had fucked up too. If it were anybody else with you, the two of you may have been able to admit that, kiss and make up. But you and Joel never got along. You bickered and fought on every patrol you were forced on together, and this was your last straw. You were livid, and he was too. 

“We wouldn’t have been there in the first place if you didn’t-“ 

“Enough with the goddamn lover’s quarrel!” one of the raiders yelled out from the cab. 

That shut you and Joel up sufficiently, but that word tinged the silence with a shy awkwardness. 

“Lover’s quarrel,” Joel scoffed. 

“Yeah. ‘Lovers’,” you mimic his veneer of nonchalance, poorly veiling the flustered tone in both your voices, “in your dreams.” 

“In yours,” he shot back, immediately rolling his eyes at himself. 

He was too old for this shit. Everytime he was around you, he acted like a petty teenager. You just ignited a flame within him, one that he mistook for the bitter burn of loathing, not knowing it was something else entirely. 

“So, how are we getting out of this one?” you whispered. 

“Why are you asking me? I thought I was an idiot?”

“I wish you could see the look I’m giving you right now, Miller.” 

He lowered his voice to a whisper, unheard by the raiders up front over the rumble of the engine. 

“Admit I’m not an idiot, and I’ll get us out of here.” 

“Oh, come on-“ you started, gritting your teeth with exasperation.

“Or, you can always spend the rest of the day with our new friends here.”

“...You’re not an idiot.” 

“And, who’s in charge?” 

“Oh, fuck y-” 

“I can always let you hitch a ride with these guys and see how you fare on your own,” his voice took on an annoyingly laissez-faire quality. You hated him.

“You’re in charge,” you assented.

“Correct. I hid my knife in my pocket. They missed it when they took away our weapons.” 

Maybe you didn’t hate him.

“Maybe you’re not as big of an idiot as I thought,” you smiled.

“Flattery will get you nowhere. Get it out of my pocket, then cut my ropes. Then I’ll cut yours.” 

You shimmied close to him, trying to ignore how the proximity made the heat rise in your collar. You tried to convince yourself it’s a physical reaction to your hatred for him. Like an allergy. 

You managed to slide the knife out, only almost stabbing him in the ass once on a bumpy stretch of road. 

“Hands!” He had grit through his teeth.

“Please, there’s nothing back there to cut. You’re as flat as a board,” you had whispered, immediately blushing and following your words up with a quick: “Not that I’ve been looking or anything.” (You had looked. A couple times. But you’d die before telling him that.) 

Unable to see, you fumbled around a little, careful not to cut him as you sliced through the ropes binding his wrists together. Once free, he lifted his blindfold with careful, quick movements, sure to not let the men in the cab see him, before cutting off the remaining ropes keeping his legs tied together then doing the same for you. 

With the ropes loosened in heaps around your wrists and ankles, you whispered: “What now?” 

His voice was determined, but grim. “We pray.” 

“I gotta take a leak.” One of the raiders mumbled a mere 5 minutes later, after you both had replaced your blindfolds and were acting like two good kidnapees in the back of the truck, in hopes that the men wouldn’t look too closely at the both of you and discover you had freed yourselves. 

“Let’s hope our prayers have been answered. Do you trust me?” Joel asked.

“No.” 

“You’re gonna have to. 3…2…1.” 

The two of you ripped off your blindfolds. 

The scuffle was over in a few minutes. Joel’s chest heaved from the exertion of the fight as he cleaned the bloody knife off on his shirt. He had subdued one of the men pretty quickly, which gave you enough time to grab your gun from the cab and deal with the other. 

He had done a pretty good job, you had to admit, with hiding his knife and handling the raiders. Without him, you would have been royally fucked. You felt a twinge of gratefulness, and a pang of something else as you watched him, the slope of his nose and hardness of his jaw as he wicked the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He had saved you. 

Then, you looked down at the two dead raiders, and what glimmer of heroism that you saw in Joel’s figure distorted into frustration. 

You aimed your gun at Joel. 

“Jesus Christ! What is wrong with you?!” he yelled, the bullet whizzing past his head. 

“Cool it, Texas,” you huffed, “Now, hold still this time.” You aimed again. 

“I just saved your ass, and you try to shoot me because of it?!” 

“I told you we shouldn’t have gone to the cabin-” 

“Look who’s talking, sleepyhead!” 

You started to walk. 

“Where d’you think you’re going?” he called after you, his voice already receding into the distance. 

“Jackson. Back to the village of which you are the idiot of!” you screamed over your shoulder. 

“A bit of a convoluted way to put it, darlin’.” 

You refused to dignify that with an answer. 

You had only made it a few metres down the road when you heard the roar of the raiders’ truck, and the heat of the thrumming engine as it pulled up beside you. 

You stared straight ahead, feeling Joel’s gaze rove over you from the driver’s window as he cruised alongside you. 

“Get in,” Joel called out to you.  

“No.” 

“D’you know where you’re going? ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t.” 

“I do. I think. I tried to memorise the turns they took while we were tied up.” 

“Well, you aren’t getting back to Jackson anytime soon on foot.” 

You ignored him, marching forward. The next few moments were clouded in silence as you stormed down the road, Joel driving slowly beside you all this while. 

“C’mon, get in. Please?” Joel’s voice was startlingly soft, a flash of vulnerability that you hadn’t expected that stopped you in your tracks. He said his words slowly, like it was difficult for him to articulate. It definitely wasn’t easy for someone as stubborn as him to seek help from you. “I can’t leave you out here alone, and I need your help to navigate.”

You turned to look at him, not expecting to find the sincerity scrawled over his face. It softened you. But you liked to make him suffer. 

“Who’s in charge?” you said. 

“Oh, c’mon…” 

“Miller. Answer me. Who is in charge?” 

“You are. Now get in.” 

You smiled in satisfaction, clambering into the passenger seat. 

“You’re in charge of navigation, I’m in charge of driving,” he mumbled beneath his breath. 

You chuckled at his comment. Suddenly his snarkiness, though annoying, seemed like a harmless dig after the events of the day. That laugh was utter release, a reprieve from the loathing for him that had been boiling your blood all day. 

Peeking over at you, you watched his confused face turn into one that mirrored yours. One of cathartic happiness. He let out a laugh, unable to help it. You had never noticed his laugh, his smile. Like a silver lining. You liked it. 

The rest of the drive passed in relative silence, save for your directions, though the air between you was different. Still electric in its energy, but not because of anger, or frustration. It was strangely warm.

The sun had begun to dip beneath the horizon, and with a satisfying click, he flicked on the headlights, making a turn. The lights illuminated the cabin and your horses. Your heart soared. 

“Well, shit. You did it,” he whispered. 

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, and more laughter bubbled from his lips. Laughing with Joel seemed so foreign after spending every patrol together arguing or in heated silence. It was pleasant.

From here, the two of you would be able to find your way back to Jackson, no question. The two of you mounted your horses and started your way back. He turned to watch you, the delicate turn of your head as you gazed up at the vast sky, drinking it all in. He felt that same pang he always felt around you, what he always thought was annoyance. It hit him with that same ferocity, but it was charged with a different energy. It felt kind of nice. 

You turned to lock eyes with him. 

“I’m sorry,” the both of you said in unison. 

You both dissolved into laughter. 

“Well, I’ll go first,” Joel chuckled, “I’m sorry. I really am. I should have listened to you-”

“No, I’m sorry!” you said. “If it wasn’t for me falling asleep… and I guess trying to shoot you wasn’t very nice.” 

“Wasn’t polite, was it?” he snorted, his smile reflecting your sheepish one. “Still, I fucked up. And the way you helped us find our way back… you saved our asses.” 

“I fucked up too. And if anyone saved us it was you. There was no way we would have gotten out of there without you thinking ahead and hiding the knife.” 

“I guess we make a pretty alright team, huh?” he said, the smile he shot you so hopeful and sweet you felt that hot, molten feeling in your gut again, though it definitely was not hate. 

“Yeah, we do,” you sighed. “I guess if your brother’s gonna keep insisting on putting us on patrol together, we could at least be civil to each other. I think we work together better that way. Deal?” 

“Deal,” he said. “You still drive me a little crazy though.” 

“Ditto,” you smiled at him, and the smile he flashed back made you feel strange and floaty, a similar sort of light-headedness from when you used to get so mad at him on patrols you wanted to scream. You were starting to realise that feeling may have been motivated by a different emotion entirely. He was definitely driving you a little crazy. 

“Where the hell were you guys? You missed the bonfire,” Tommy called out to Joel as the both of you arrived at the centre of Jackson, a dying bonfire crackling behind him. 

“That’s the least of our problems,” Joel huffed, dismounting from his horse as you followed suit, thrusting the reins into his brother’s hands. “You deal with that.” 

Tommy shrugged, leading the horses back to the stable. 

The two of you stood side by side, staring into what little was left of the bonfire, now a flame that licked up to around Joel’s knee-height. The crowd that was surrounding it earlier that night had fully dispersed, leaving just you and Joel alone before the fire. He turned to look at you, the fire glazing your eyes with orange and red hues, setting your gaze alight.

“I have an idea,” you said. Your smile meant trouble. “Let’s jump over it.” 

“What?” Joel asked, eyebrows shooting up incredulously. 

“I read it somewhere. It’s an old tradition, supposed to bring about good luck and new beginnings,” you smile at him, a smile that instantly wins him over. “We need all the luck we can get. C’mon Miller, indulge me. Be civil.” 

His laugh was hesitant, but when you reached for his hand he knew he could do it. 

“Do you trust me?” you grinned. 

“Yes.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to. 3…2…1!” 

There was a moment there, with his hand in yours, at the very top of where the flames swirled, where it felt like the two of you were flying, suspended against the dark sky. 

Then, you hit the ground. 

You were lying beside each other in the dirt, panting in between gasps of laughter, the cuffs of your pants and the soles of your shoes singed. That electric warmth fired through the air, boiling your blood - definitely not anger. Something else. Passion and anger possess that same fiery quality. 

It burned so brightly within the both of you that he couldn’t help it. He leaned over to kiss you. The fire was warm by your side, the sky dark and electric above you as a storm gathered. The two of you were definitely going to be more than civil.

[dreamermonica]

—gender neutral reader x bakugou, just a drabble escalating into a oneshot cause my brain's rotting with mha (mostly katsuki) pls save me from the dump called writing block errr also mild language cuz this is boom boy

“what the hell?”

a very bad word crossed your mind the moment BAKUGOU had entered your dorm room—following shortly is a silence so dense that you swore you heard your stomach drop.

the object that had piqued the attention of your visitor were perched right upon your desk. the very same object that could very well also be the reason you meet your demise.

your dynamight plushies and figurines,

yes. plural.

—were bared in display, to the very man you harbored a big fat crush on.

the silence enveloped your room like a tight veil. a shudder makes its way down your spine when you finally felt a piercing gaze burning onto the back of your head. you are so fucked.

“i—uhm, i can explain!” you break the silence, holding your hands up whilst turning around to meet his crimson eyes—scanning you over whilst you attempt to figure out an excuse.

let's do a quick throwback:

see, you were rather confident in your abilities and quirk—one of the best, you smugly think—but academics were still a great obstacle to overcome, even for an upcoming pro hero. it's a formidable force that's against your dream becoming reality! not really, but you get the point.

damned ectoplasm shouldn't be teaching math! your brain cells were always fizzled out like kaminari's after he used up all his electricity by the time whenever ectoplasm had left the room after a discussion.

a dark cloud looms over your head more often after a particular topic you're struggling to comprehend, the fact that you were called out earlier by ectoplasm and miserably failed to answer didn't hell—and you're sure your god-sent classmates have noticed it.

a few smarties had reached out already—like yaoyorozu and iida, offering their notes with a smile and promising a few tutor lessons if you were to accept. keyword: if.

even though you were tearing up at their kindness and thoughtfulness, you gently declined them before slapping a fist to your chest—

“i shall overcome this by myself! my failure to adapt is a known weakness of mine, and i shall defeat this boss known as calculus with my own strength, no matter what it takes!”

a distant 'how manly!' sounded throughout the room.

it's not manly, you mentally cry out to kirishima. you were just embarrassed to actually get help because you were one of the top students of the class. you need to uphold your image as a capable student, whatever it takes! not so manly now, are we?!

the top one and top two worriedly glance you over, reluctant at your reasoning, but they hadn't pushed it further thankfully, and wished you good luck.

you definitely needed it, you sulk.

your stupid declaration must've spread throughout the entire class, cause now a scowling bakugou katsuki is stomping his way over to you once classes had finished, stopping a few feet away from you whilst you were packing up your stuff.

“oi. i heard your dumb ass earlier—why are you refusing to ask for help?! you plan on getting behind all of us just because of that damn picture perfect image of yours?!” he yells, and you're now sweating, twiddling with your fingers.

you're not surprised that he approached you—he had declared you as one of his rivals (he called you a stepping stone to his victory but same thing!) ages ago and knowing his competitive nature, you surmised he was probably disappointed that you were stumped in such a pathetic way.

“w-what pride do you mean, bakugo? haha...”

“shut the fuck up. you know what i'm talking about,” a finger presses onto your chest as if to emphasize his point, and you just now realize the distance between you.

caramel wafts its way to your nose. heat crawls up your neck as you avert your gaze away from his chiseled face.

he hisses at your dazed look, “i'm beating calculus into your goddamn brain later tonight whether you like it or not, you got that extra?!”

you break out of your stupor when he leans away from you to gauge your reaction. of course he'd say something like that, even if he was just trying to help.

you shrink under his gaze, embarrassed and defeated at his intensity. if even the big bad bakugo thinks you need help, then maybe you really do.

“...okay.” you resign after a few seconds of contemplation, “thank you, bakugo.”

clicking his tongue, he gives you one last look before turning on his heels, walking towards the door.

you look around and realize that you were the only ones left in the classroom. did he offer his help in private so you would keep the image you're upholding? eh, whatever, he was probably the embarrassed one because he never offers help willingly to anyone.

you blink.

wait—he never helps unless someone would beg on their knees for him, so why—

“...you were always the one preaching about lowering my pride or whatever,”

your eyes dart towards the sound of his voice where bakugo paused his steps at the exit, glaring at you over his shoulder.

he huffs as he adds on, “cut that shit out, hypocrite.”

you blink owlishly and he's gone as he turned the corner, his loud footsteps echoing through the hall.

shaking your head, you pack your stuff up and rush out the door shortly after, eager to return to the comfort provided by your bed.

his words ring in your ears as you walked back to the dorms.

—now, baam, we're back to the present.

you're so fucked, if it wasn't mentioned earlier.

bakugou katsuki is now staring at you, silently demanding an explanation on why you have a row of mini dynamights, ranging from the winter version of his costume, to one of him wearing his signature black tank top—he hasn't even debuted yet as a pro-hero, so the amount you have is probably concerning. maybe even borderline creepy.

fuck being creepy—this probably looks horrifying!

“it's—uh...”

you hadn't had the chance to hide them before he so rudely, barged into your room carrying the materials needed for your study session.

“well, you're my idol, because you're so strong and—” inflate his ego! it's not like it wasn't the truth either with how much you compliment him during training, so maybe he'll be distracted enough and let it slide—

“did ponytail make these for you?” he asked quietly, ignoring your praises and walking past your panicked state as he got closer to inspect the tiny versions of him. he slowly took one from the bunch—a plushie of him wearing the suit he specifically used for a mission in otheon. “how the hell are the outfits so accurate?”

“...”

“answer my questions and i'll let this weird obsession of yours a secret, fuckin' creep.” he seems to like the way you took in his words, horrified, a smirk dancing on his lips as he turns away.

this sadist, you swear to all might...

“okay, okay! so uh...” you gulp as he continues inspecting the army of tiny bakugous, “yes, i had yaoyorozu make them. as for the outfits—i borrowed your blueprints, remember? it was to find some inspiration in enhancing my own costume, but i guess it also had some other uses...?”

he grunts in response to your explanation as his eyes move away from the desk and land onto your bed, where a few more plushies of him resided.

your face is definitely burning up by now.

“wasn't aware you were a fan,” you could hear the grin as he spoke, and you're one hundred percent sure he's never going to live this down, “well, i guess it's expected. i am amazing after all.”

“...yeah.” you agree, albeit cautious, trying to sound uneager to avoid inflating his ego anymore than you already have.

he moves to lean over your bed and grabs a plushie of him wearing his school uniform, squeezing it lightly, “but if you want me to be honest—this shit's kinda creepy.”

would he stop you if you just took a swan dive out of your window? should you get him to roast you alive right now? you wish all might would just united-states-smash you at this moment.

your hands shoot up to your face as you crouched down, too humiliated to even look at him even if he wasn't facing you.

“kill me now...”

“i've got plenty of chances to do that in the future, don't worry,” he's oddly calm for someone who's standing in a room practically devoted to him, “this is pretty adorable of you i must admit,”

you freeze. tickle my pickle! no fucking way he just called you adorable!

“you got a crush on me or something?”

ah.

this is it. you hope you've done enough good to end up in heaven atleast.

“well, if you're not gonna kill me, we should probably just study and get it over with—oh, we should also just go down to the commons—

“i told you to answer all my questions, didn't i!?”

“...”

the blonde finally turns, hands free of any plushies, crossing his arms over his chest as you stare up at him through the gaps of your fingers. he raises a challenging brow at your hesitation.

“well?” he urges on, “did you go mute from embarrassment or something?”

you say something underneath your breath and he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

“speak up, you idio—”

“i like you, bakugou katsuki.”

you stand up from your crouched position and situated yourself to your desk, bringing out your textbooks from a drawer as he stared on silently. the silence had grown thicker than the one before.

“let's just get this study session over with so you can go, okay?” you spin around your office chair to look at him with a small smile, as if you didn't just confess, “wanna go down to the commons? my room seems to be uncomfortable for y—

“i was joking about the creep shit, you dumbass.”

you stare at him in surprise when he holds you by the shoulders, gently pushing down to prevent you from getting up from your chair.

“bakugou...?”

“...i'll teach you here. no need to get up.”

“but—”

“shut up. get ponytail to make me a plushie of you so we're even, alright?”

confused, you're about to speak up again and he resolves it by squeezing your cheeks, resulting in only incoherent babbles from your mouth.

“bafhkugou—!”

“ugh, i like you too, if your dumbass hasn't gotten it yet.”

“ohfmayghodf—”

“shut it. no more words from you.” he waits a moment for you to calm down, and lets go of your burning cheeks. a smile grows on his face when you weakly glare up at him, but it quickly turns wicked in the span of a second.

“now...you were so eager to start studying earlier, weren't you?”

he unfortunately wasn't joking about beating the damn subject onto your brain. you could feel a mild headache from all the times he hit your head with a roll of paper.

but nonetheless, you know the hard work and pain paid off when you finally got a question right during ectoplasm's class.

bless bakugou, you'd kiss him right now if you could—

“so,” the boy in question starts as you discreetly hand him a plushie of you in your hero costume, he seems to brighten up at that, taking it nearly immediately, but attempts to appear unbothered as he moves his gaze back to yours.

“are we gonna talk about that body pillow last night or—”

“katsuki—no.”

“pfft,” he snorts, “suit yourself, fangirl.”

imagine your surprise when yaoyorozu snitches and tells you that bakugou practically threated her to make more plushies of you after he received the initial one

[muddyorbsblr]

team loki pt1

See my full list of works here!

inspired by this TikTok POV

Summary: Thor poses a question that puts you in an uncomfortable situation, and causing you to give him a desperate and thinly-veiled half truth

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warning/s: one (1) cuss word (nope, not sorry, Rogers); other than that…none? i think? this is mostly fluff with a side of slight angst?

Things to be aware of: mutual pining, idiots in love, Thor being a himbo

"Lady Y/N, may I ask a rather…personal question?"

You made sure to shut your Kindle before you looked up at Thor, bracing yourself for whatever the god of thunder might throw your way. However, nothing could have prepared you for the next words that came out of his unnecessarily nosy mouth.

"Are you in courtship with my brother?"

The common area filled with the sound of your sputtering bumbling reaction, as well as the borderline derisive laugh from Loki, who sat beside you. In fact the question caught him so off guard that he'd carelessly slammed his book shut.

"Are you out of your mind?!" you blurted out just as the raven haired god said, "Brother, don't be absurd."

Bitch please, only in my dreams, you finished in the safety of your mind. He could do so much better than me and he probably knows it.

What you didn't know is that Loki kept quiet his own sentiment. I should only be so fortunate. Every shake of your head and flippant denial felt like a dagger burrowing deeper into his heart.

"We're friends, Thunder," you answered, again biting back the words of Of course I'd love to be more, but that's neither here nor there. "That's it and that's all."

"I see…" Thor replied, the fond smile growing on his face putting both you and his brother in discomfort. "I'm glad."

"Excuse me?" you managed to croak out despite the lump that suddenly formed in your throat.

"Well if my brother is not what you fancy then that could only mean--"

"Whoa whoa whoa hold on there, buddy," you stopped him before he could even think of finishing the sentence. "I'm not into you like that, can you believe this doofus?" You looked to the god seated beside you, who surprisingly seemed even more tense than you were.

Jaw tense, eyes slightly squinted as he assessed the blond seated across from you. His entire body language suggested he was readying himself for a fight, which had you confused to no end. What stake did he have in this situation?

"Lady Y/N, I am no 'doofus', I promise you that," Thor said haughtily, shifting his posture to puff his chest out. "I will have you know that back in Asgard many a--"

"Well you're not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy," you quipped. "I know you're gonna find it hard to get through that thick skull of yours, but not every woman with a pulse here wants to throw themselves at you pussy first. This isn't Asgard. And some people just like…different things."

You didn't dare even sneak a glance at the god of mischief beside you. But if you had, you would have seen that for a split second, his face lit up at your words. That for even a fleeting moment, he felt a glimmer of hope that perhaps because your fancies didn't lean towards his blond oaf of a brother, then there was even the slightest plausibility that he had a fighting chance to capture your attentions.

"Does that mean that you prefer…urgh what was it that Stark said about these unnecessary pedantic terms?" the blond Asgardian sighed. "Something about teams…?"

Your hand slapped down on the sofa, and you let out a frustrated groan. If he kept on prodding it wouldn't take long before he'd circle back to his brother and both of them would figure it out in record time. "Fine, Thor," you said, exasperated, throwing your hands in the air. "Yes. Not that it's any of your goddamn business, but yes. I am on the other team."

You really were. In a way. Just not in the way that Stark probably meant, considering that the billionaire genius didn't spend all that much time on social media these days.

So there was no way for him, or most of your teammates really, to know that the "teams" you were referring to were actually "Team Thor" or "Team Loki". Yes, the Internet was a messed up place that you wouldn't ever bother to understand at your fully grown age, but sometimes one of its considerably saner corners were mildly entertaining.

And in this case, that corner managed to wiggle you out of a near "egg on your face" situation.

"In that case, I hope you'll accept my sincerest apologies, Lady Y/N. For breaching on your privacy so--"

"Ham-fisted?" Loki spoke up, the slightest sneer still on his face. "As you always are?"

"Yes," he murmured. "Precisely. I hope this does not affect our friendship irreparably."

"Awww Thunder, of course it won't," you said with a click of your tongue, slightly feeling sorry for the goof that currently looked like a human embodiment of "sad wet dog". "Just give it a few weeks for that awkwardness to go away…because buddy you got me real worried there."

You stood up to take your leave from the common area, wanting nothing more than to get a drink and try to put all memories of the exchange behind you. Maybe if you acted fast you could hack your brain into not having to hold on to the trauma of watching how Loki's face curled up in disgust over even the thought of you two being perceived as a couple.

"Ohh! Lady Y/N, I distinctly remember that Lady Olivia in Research is also--"

"Appreciate the offer to wingman, Thor, but I'm all good, thanks!" you said over your shoulder, walking even faster to get out of there and return to your apartment.

Once you were out of earshot, Loki turned to his brother, conjuring a dagger in his hand pointed at the oaf. "What in the Nine was that, Brother?" he nearly hissed the last word. "This will be the last time I ever make the mistake of confiding in you who it is I wish to court. Norns, you cannot even help yourself, can you? Your ego is as fragile as rice paper that you have to prove that somehow everyone I ever set my sights on will prefer you."

"Loki, I--"

"Well in this rather unfortunate and might I say humiliating turn of events, at least I have been granted the fleeting consolation that she prefers neither of us. Perhaps I can derive some form of happiness from that--"

"Brother, I apologize," Thor blurted out. "I did not set out on this foolish endeavor of mine to scorn you and thieve away Lady Y/N's affections for myself. Though now I do understand how my actions may not translate consistently with my intent."

"No, no they really hadn't, you oaf."

"At the risk of my friendship with Lady Y/N, I posed those questions in hopes that perhaps she would have shown some inkling that your desire to have your friendship become something more was…reciprocated," he confessed. There was a somber look on his face as he continued on, "I truly am sorry for not bringing forth a more desirable outcome."

Loki stewed in his seat. He'd never known his brother to express even the most minute trace of allegiance to him in their youth. "All the others," he said accusingly. "When we were in Asgard, you consistently stole them away, why am I to believe that this time was different?"

"Brother, I know you may not believe me now, but please hear me when I tell you this. Those actions were not done out of greed. They were a test of loyalty. Theirs. To you. And each and every one failed," Thor explained somberly.

Just before he could let out a barb that in your case, the only failure was his own, the sounds of junior SHIELD agents' voices floated into the common area. "Look Sierra I get it, okay? We can all have different tastes and like different people, but we can also be wrong about some things. Like honestly after everything we've seen both of them do with our own damn peepers, how can you not be Team Thor?"

"I don't have to explain my choice in men to you, Ellie," the second agent spoke. "Besides you've always known that I like brunettes and I prefer the color gree--Ohh hey, you two!" The area filled with the grating sound of their heeled boots squeaking on the floor as their steps halted upon seeing the Asgardian brothers still seated on the couch.

"Ladies," Thor addressed them with a wide grin and a wave. Both women scampered off in the opposite direction, audibly flustered before they returned to their conversation.

Loki could pay them no mind, however, for their exchange suddenly gave new meaning to your words from earlier. "I am on the other team," he quoted you. When he looked up at his brother, it seemed the blond had come to the same realization, his face lit up with excitement as he stood to take his leave.

"It seems Lady Y/N has passed my ham-fisted test after all," he said triumphantly, clapping a hand down on his brother's shoulder. "Your lady."

Manners and decorum were the furthest thing from the god of mischief's mind as he stood abruptly, shrugging off his brother's hand. "I have somewhere to be," he mumbled, his mind racing with endless scenarios of how he would go about seducing you. Of where and when and how it would commence. If he should shower you with gifts, or perhaps whisk you away to one of Midgard's more picturesque destinations to create a breathtaking backdrop to his confession.

To the consummation of your affections for one another.

But then images of your features when you both brushed off Thor's prodding questions flashed through his mind, particularly the way you winced and squinted your eyes when he'd told his brother to not be absurd. And he knew that the only right scenario would be no tricks, no illusions. To come to you here and now.

He'd waited long enough. You both had.

A/N: Merry Christmas, everybody! This is yet another one of those ideas I had where I kept on shaking my brain hoping for some loose change in the form of ideas on how to get to my next story point, before ultimately realizing that this needed to be a 2-parter. Though who knows when part 2 will be posted because as my Discord status says, I am forever ✨drowning in a sea of WIPs✨ But just know that I'm fully intending for part 2 to be mostly some smuttery between these two 🤭

This might be my last story for 2024, but let's see where the final week of the year takes me. Anyways, I hope y'all have an amazing holiday with your families, I'm going back to working on 'the gallery™️'

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist @alexakeyloveloki @lulubelle814

[burningfairytales]

People look at Bokuto and see a happy-go-lucky, carefree ray of sunshine and think, oh, he is a fool.

I mean I know people love him, but I am so, so upset that that is what he is reduced to.

Because Bokuto may be simple-minded, but a fool he is not.

(Let’s not even talk about the fact that Fukurodani seems to be a renowned private school and Japanese high schools have entrance exams. We know this, because Kageyama failed to get into Shiratorizawa, okay. He failed the exam.

So Bokuto getting into Fukurodani doesn’t exactly scream “idiot” to me. So he struggles with Japanese and Maths. Hell, if everyone was deemed stupid who didn’t excel in literally all of his classes, this would be a world of fools.

He also goes on to college and graduates. So he doesn’t know how taxes work. Hell, Sherlock Holmes didn’t know the earth revolves around the sun. People retain knowledge of stuff that they care about damnit. No one gives a shit about taxes.

I’m not calling him a genius here. He’s probably not exactly a top tier student. But please stop dumbing him down.)

But what I’m really talking about is that Bokuto is people-smart, okay. Like tell me he didn’t know exactly what made Akaashi tick. Tell me he didn’t know exactly what was wrong with him the second Akaashi started faltering.

He knew.

And he called him out on his bullshit in the exact same way Akaashi calls him out on his.

(It’s not just Akaashi btw. He knew exactly what was going through Yachi’s mind during the dumpster battle.)

And listen. During the training camp arc, Fukurodani vs Karasuno, where we first get to see Bokuto’s emo mode? It’s heavily implied by both Takeda and Ukai that Bokuto isn’t aware of how the team dynamics work, and as a reader, we believe this - because Bokuto appears to be so simple-minded. Because there don’t appear to be any hidden depths.

Because we never actually get to see the world through Bokuto’s eyes, but rather always Akaashi’s.

But being simple-minded doesn’t make you an idiot either. It just means that you have a different way of prioritising.

And then later, Bokuto has his moment. His “time for me to just be a regular ace” moment.

And we find out that he did know. He was completely aware that his team (and Akaashi, in all his well-intended manipulation) were coddling him.

(Don’t come for me; I ADORE Akaashi.)

Point is, he knows. And it was fine, because hey, it was easier anyway, and he knew he could count on his team to have his back.

But then Akaashi falters, and his team is struggling, and it’s Bokuto saying “you had my back all this time. Now let me have yours.”

Bokuto is not oblivious and he’s not a fool. His cheerfulness and optimism aren’t a sign of ignorance. They’re carefully cultivated. Because he knows what being lonely is like. He worked so, so hard towards his dream - not just to go pro, but to have fun playing volleyball. To become better at it so that he gets to enjoy it just a little bit more.

His good-heartedness is a goddamn choice, not some cradle-given virtue.

In this essay, i will-

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Beautiful Stranger

You Thought That You Were the Boss Tonight, but I Can Put Up One Good Fight (3)

Mommy!Wanda x Beefy!Fem!Reader

Summary: Your best friend has invited you out to a party and has also told you to try and bring your new girlfriend.

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Alcohol and drug consumption, W eats R out, R uses a strap on W, W is called Mommy, R is called Daddy, Dom/sub dynamics

A/N: Here you go have a party scene

September 13, 2023

“Hey! Y/N!” You hear your best friend, Yelena, call as she catches up to you in the quad. 

“Hey Lena, what’s up?” We were headed to the same class; English.  

“There’s a party this weekend that Stark is throwing. Are you finally going to come or are you babysitting again?” She asks as the two of you walk and you huff, rolling your eyes.

“Not this weekend Lena, the boys are going to their dads and it’s a bit more than babysitting at this point. I told you that.” Lena laughs.

“I’m messing with you. If they won’t be there this weekend you should convince this hot milf you’re banging to join us.” You punch Lena giving her a dead arm as she hisses in pain. “Fuck jeez I can’t even joke with you about it.” 

“Yes because you know I actually like her Lena. It’s not just about banging the hot mom next door.” You remind her and she smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

“I know, so convince her so we can all meet her.” You roll your eyes.

“I doubt she’ll want to Lena. I’m sure her party days are over and done with, besides she can’t even drink.” You mention off handedly.

“Why not?”

“She’s pre-“ You stop yourself realizing you didn’t mention before that Wanda is currently pregnant and you’re banging her. Let's just add that to your list of kinks as Lena’s eyes widen. “Don’t. Lena. Fuck. Stop! Don’t look at me like that!” She has this shit eating smirk on her face. 

“Look at you like what detka? Like you’re totally into older milf’s who are also pregnant and that’s why none of us could ever dream of getting you off? Did I forget anything?” You don’t dare tell Lena that she calls you Daddy when the two of you fuck. 

“That’s it I’m gonna murder you and I’ll make it look like a goddamn accident Lena.” You say through gritted teeth.

“Fine, fine! I give! I won’t mention it, but if she says no at least let me meet her? I do actually care if she’s treating you right and not just using you.”

“She would never Lena...she’s incredibly sweet and kind and caring and loving and....” Lena starts making gagging noises. “Why do I even bother?” You start walking ahead of her. As she scrambles to catch back up and apologize, but, you decide to ignore her.

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

“Hey Wands?” You ask as she makes dinner, the boys occupied in the living room by TV and video games. 

“Yes pretty girl?” She flicks her eyes to you as she prepares vegetables for a roast she’s making.

“I got invited to a party on Friday,” Wanda nods, listening as you speak, but concentrating on the vegetables she’s cutting. “and my best friend Lena said since the boys are going to Vis’s this weekend that we should both go...I know it’s a college party and I’m sure you have no intent in partying with any of us, but my friends want to meet this mysterious woman I always talk about,” You feel your face heat up, “I told Lena you probably wouldn’t want to go, so if you don’t want to that’s fine and we can-“

“Is it important to you?” She cuts me off.

“I mean you meeting my friends is important, but it doesn’t have to be the party Lena said-“

“Then we can go to the party.” She cut you off again, but you're surprised by her answer so much that you can’t even be mad. 

“You want to meet my friends?” You ask, tilting your head, eyebrows knit in confusion as Wanda stops what she’s doing, moving around the island to stand between your legs, resting her arms on your shoulders.

“Of course I do sweet girl. I want to be a part of your life. Every part of it and that includes meeting your friends even if it’s some college party and I haven’t partied since I was your age sweet girl.” She kisses you tenderly and the boys make noises at us. 

“Go back to your show boys. Mommy’s busy.” Wanda gives them a look and the boys giggle. We had told them yesterday morning about us after what had happened the previous night. You laugh with the boys and eventually so does Wanda.

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

Wanda wears a green off the shoulder frilled and layered dress that falls to her mid thigh. You look her over and before she can even say anything as she looks herself over in the mirror You come up behind her, wrapping your arms just under her belly which the dress hides nicely as she decided she didn’t want your friends other than Lena you told her you had accidentally let it slip. Wanda wasn’t mad thankfully. 

“You look amazing beautiful girl.” You kiss her neck, her hair is flowing in waves over her shoulders and her make-up is impeccable. 

“You think so?” 

“I know so. I’m looking at you and it kind of makes me wanna skip the party and just fuck you all night with my cock.” You whisper in her ear. 

“Mmmm don’t threaten me with a good time.” She turns around, kissing you gently, not wanting to smudge her lipstick. You see her look over your outfit, you have decided to wear black skinny jeans, a white crop top and a cropped leather jacket that just barely falls past your tits. Your hair is down and straightened and you've got your knee high lace-up boots that have these little chains hanging off them. 

“Mmmm pretty girl Mommy wants you so bad.” She bites her lip as she looks you over. You pull her chin up to meet your eyes. 

“Behave yourself and you can ride Daddy’s cock until you see stars when we get home.” She simple nods and smiles. “Good girl. Grab your purse and let’s go.”

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

You hold Wanda’s hand as you get inside, music blaring people drinking and doing drugs. You're offered a joint by some girl. You think she’s in your language class or maybe networking either way you smile, taking a long drag as you feel Wanda’s hand squeeze yours, pulling your attention to her. You're reminded that you've never smoked in front of her. It’s something you tend not to do, but when it’s offered you usually take it. 

You hand it back to the girl and give a quick thank you as you find your group of friends in Stark’s basement where there are pool tables that people are playing at including your friends except for Lena. 

“Hey guys!” You speak cheerfully as you see the three of them playing a game of pool. Peter, MJ, and Kate all look at you and smile as you hug each of them asking Kate where Lena is, who is currently grabbing drinks and shots for all of you. You nod and introduce Wanda to them,

“Guys this is Wanda. We’ve been kind of seeing each other all summer. Well not exactly all summer, but we met at the beginning of summer when I moved in.” You start rambling and Wanda stops you by squeezing your hand.

“It’s nice to finally meet you all. I know Y/N here has told me you guys always invited her out, but she’s been turning you down because of me and I feel bad about taking up all her time, but she’s been a big help, She wraps her arms around your arm and You can feel her belly and her tits against you. You wanna melt into a puddle from the feeling as the conversation goes on without you.

“Okay who is ready for some drinks!?” Yelena calls out and Wanda snaps her head at the voice.

“Yel?” Wanda asks and Lena is looking at Wanda wide eyed.

“Oh hey Wands so you’re the one taking up my best friend's time!” Yelena walks over hugging Wanda like they’re old friends. 

“Am I...am I missing something?” You ask, dumbfounded.

“Well if you had ever said her name I would have known you were dating Tasha’s best friend! Wow! This is crazy!” You punch Yelena once again giving her a dead arm. “Ah! Stop doing that! It hurts!” Yelena hissed, shaking her arm trying to get feeling back as quickly as she could. 

“Tasha as in your big sister Nat? Natty? Natty bear?” Kate asks listing off literally every nickname we’ve ever given to her older sister.

“Yes! That Tasha!” You say and huff.

“Pretty girl it’s okay. Everything is fine.” Wanda reassures me as You lean your forehead against her temple,

“I need a drink...” You whimper to Wanda. 

“Go have one it’s okay if you drink. Just because I can’t doesn’t mean you need to stop yourself.” You smile and pull her in for a kiss. You go over to the table that Lena put the drinks down at noticing she still brought over six shots and six beers, well bottoms up. You take one shot after the other of the vodka Lena had brought the clear liquid burning and setting your stomach a blaze then popped the top on the beer bottle, using the table to take off the top as you start drinking it, looking back as Yelena and Wanda talk the others getting involved. 

You smiled though it was a turn of events. You weren't expecting your girlfriend to be getting along with all of your friends just fine and it didn’t matter that she’s ten years older than us, or that she has kids, or that she’s pregnant. She’s just Wanda right now. You move back over, feeling the buzz start from drinking and smoking, wrapping myself around Wanda from behind; kissing her neck. The other four were playing pool, talking with us in between turns and eventually we played a round of cut throat so we could all get involved. 

A few hours later you were floating in the clouds. All giggling from drinking. Wanda says the goodbyes for you two and how nice it was to meet everyone, taking your keys as the two of you approach the car, “I’m driving sweetie, go get in your passenger princess spot.” Wanda teases, making you giggle. 

“Jokes on you beautiful I like being passenger princess.” You tell her. “I hate driving sometimes. This is so much better.” You get comfy in your seat, closing your eyes after you've buckled in. As she starts driving you two home, she puts her hand on your thigh as you connect your phone to Bluetooth, putting on, Dove Cameron’s album Alchemical: Volume 1, skipping to the song Sand.

“I love hearing you sing pretty girl.” Wanda says squeezing your thigh, keeping her eyes on the road. You had your eyes on her the whole time you sang and she knew it.

“I’m not a great singer.”

“But you sing with your heart. So it’s beautiful.” Wanda assures me, making me smile. 

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

By the time the two of you got home you were feeling better. Though you still took the water from Wanda that she grabbed from the fridge. You sat up on the counter while you drank it as Wanda grabbed something small to reheat from earlier in the week. You watched her practically dance around the kitchen, humming a tune from the music you had playing in the car. She was absolutely beautiful.

“Wands?” You call out. When she looks over at you, your arms are outstretched, hands reaching for her. She smiled walking over to you and settling between your legs. Her arms wrapped around your waist and your own wrapped around her shoulders. 

“Is this what you need, sweet girl?” Wanda's voice is muffled against your chest. You give her a small ‘Mmm’ into her hair. “I love you being Daddy, but it's okay when you need to be all soft like this. I still love you like this.” You knew how needy you could be at times, especially when you'd been drinking. You kiss the top of her head and take a moment to just breathe her in and cherish the moment.

“I know. I just prefer it. I can be myself with you Wands and it's all I've ever given you.” She looks up at you with a smile, getting up on her tiptoes to kiss you.

“Good.” You smile into the kiss. You try to lick her lip, to keep going, but she stops you. “Ah. Food first then we can have our fun.” You subconsciously let out a whine in displeasure. Wanda smirks, whispering in your ear, “Behave and do as Mommy says sweet girl.” You felt your eyes roll back as your stomach flipped. 

Wanda had such an effect on you, sober or not. Usually you were able to overpower her; take the situation and flip it, but it was obvious to you that she wanted to win at some point. So you listened to her, even letting her feed you. You knew it made her happy. The smile on her face was as wide as ever. You knew Wanda loved being a mom, loved taking care of those around her.

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

“F-fuck…” You moaned out as Wanda's tongue buried it's way inside of you. She'd already had you cum once, but you were even more needy than either of you had anticipated. You never let others touch you, but Wanda made you feel like you were on fire. Your hand tangled in her hair, hips rocking against her face as you moaned out, “Fuck…cumming…ahhh…” You bit your lip, feeling her tongue lap inside of you as you came down from your high.

Wanda crawled back up, after cleaNing you with her tongue. She leaned down to kiss you, tasting yourself on her lips. A moan slipped past your lips before flipping the two of you over carefully. 

“My turn to make you feel good Mommy.” You leaned back down, kissing her. “I promised you my cock didn't I?” You saw Wanda's eyes light up, she'd been waiting for it. As you got up to put the strap on you looked over her body. Letting your eyes rake over her form, admiring it as you crawled up between her legs. “You are so fucking beautiful. I swear no one could even come close to you.” You told her as you slowly slid inside of her. A quiet moan slipped out as you leaned over her. “Look at Daddy while she fucks you.” Wanda's eyes locked with yours as you started your thrusts. 

Slow and steady at first listening to every little noise she made because of you. Watching her body move beneath you. Everything about it was beautiful, perfect. Nothing to you was better than this. Nothing was better than what you two had built over the summer. Nothing was better than the family you've found.

[qqueenofhades]

Not that anything's a for sure bet but my read on the general situation re: Harris-Walz is that there's going to be a lot less headwind to fight for Harris specifically as opposed to Clinton because the amazing right wing media hasn't had twenty years for poison to seep into the layperson's thoughts about Clinton's "worthiness"

Well, that and the fact that the MAGA crowd are just really, really bad strategic planners (especially since a solid 75% of their strategy is "lol we'll just cheat and win it that way, we don't need anything else.") They howled for 3.5 years about how Biden was too old to serve and should step down, and then when he did, they had zero plan how to run against Kamala and Trump is now practically begging Biden to magically get back into the race and save him. They ran an anti-Shapiro influence campaign by encouraging the antisemitic online left and planning to exploit the issue among Democrats divided on Israel/Gaza, then furiously melted down when Walz was picked and had no plan to deal with him either. Fascism is a helluva drug, kiddos. Don't try it at home.

The reason Harris has been able to rocket so high is simple, which is that she's channeling Obama 08 energy in more ways than one. Obama also came onto the national political scene four years before (with his speech at the 2004 DNC) and four years later, he was the party's nominee. It didn't even matter that he was a skinny brown guy named Barack Hussein Obama, because people were so tired of the chaos and war and incompetence of Bush Jr that they latched onto a simple message of hope and change and the historical nature of his candidacy felt like an optimistic risk worth taking. Why couldn't it be time for the first African American president? Yes, of course, there was incredible vitriol and we are still dealing with that backlash in some ways now, but still.

As I have said before, Trump is technically not the incumbent, but the last 8 years have been dominated by his hatred, chaos, division, rage, and treason in a way even Bush could never quite manage, and when people get to that point, there's a lot of coiled-up energy that has at last come bursting out. We needed Biden's old-moderate-white-man cred to defeat Trump as the sitting president in 2020, when most of his worst scandals hadn't even happened yet, but this is not 2020 (or 2016) and the dynamic is different. We are now on offense and playing to win, people have readily and eagerly embraced the absolute god tier karma that would come from a black female prosecutor finally ending the Orange Menace's reign of terror once and for all, and the Republicans are spitting smoke and spinning gears running frantically through their usual tired old stupid cliche attacks. GAY TRANS EVIL BIRTHERISM SWIFTBOAT FOREIGN FAR LEFT COMMIE LIBERAL HEATHEN!! they scream desperately, trying to find something that sticks. Except this time, no matter how hard the corporate media tries to help them out, nobody is listening. Nobody is buying it. We know exactly what BS they're trying and we're just shrugging and going "Yeah, no. Weird."

It absolutely helps that Kamala is not dragging the ball and chain of 20 years of Republican smear attacks, yes. But there are a lot of reasons why the GOP is imploding before our eyes and it's probably now more statistically likely that there is a blue tsunami than it is that Trump wins. I still cannot, CANNOT, believe it has been barely three fucking weeks. If this is a dream don't want to wake up, etc. Let me goddamn stay in this timeline just a little longer. And if we do the work, we can in fact make it that way, and Yeah. Yeah.

[hyhkai]

k.taehyun — dangerous woman!

[ 📚 ] after accidentally eavesdropping taehyun talking with his friends, you've got a question unanswered, a question which is straight up hilarious because it shouldn't be asked in the first place.

content : plot sprinkles, dom!reader sub!tyun, taehyun goes around calling the reader his wife/girlfriend, 'taehyun likes smart girls' agenda, public (in the empty auditorium), blowjob, degradation (m. rec.), making tyun swallow his own cum hah

a/n ; NEEDS TO BE EDITED! idk why I named it dangerous woman for angie and smiles txt birthday event + technically written off of my this thought but it doesn't appear in the limelight as brightly. though i still abide by it and always will. i have no clue how auditoriums look in your guys' vision but 🙏

"what're you even trying to do? makeout with me?" he asked as you pulled him aside from the piled hallway and led him to the top floor.

"trust me," you looked back at him, agony filled eyes. "kissing you is the last mistake I want to make, and I make a lot of mistakes."

he chuckled, god, he chuckled. he has some guts. "if you've started to make mistakes, then I'm a failure, noona."

he's always been like this. you wondered if he had some borderline obsession with you. which, now that you've found out the shit he's been going around blabbering — he definitely is obsessed with you.

almost throwing the two of you into the auditorium when you spotted a council member; you shut the door behind yourself as you stared at him, pulling his backpack onto his shoulder. "I'm actually starting to think you want to kiss me. it could've been in the cafeteria, no? why hide like we're middle schoolers?"

you shook your head no. "i already told you, I'd never kiss a dumb dog like you."

"then what are we here for?"

"why are you telling your friends I'm your girlfriend?"

silence. for about a minute. or two.

"i didn't." he said, turning back and walking to one of the chairs, sitting on the one at the corner. he's seriously planning to pretend, that he didn't go around saying you both fuck everyday.

"I don't like liars." you mumbled, walking behind him and letting yourself fall onto the chair right beside him, knees buckling. "what kind of a lie is this? we both are stuck in a loop of arguments and flirting. what makes you want to go around saying I'm your girlfriend?"

"I felt like it." he said dryly, eyes cast down at his fingers as they fidgeted.

"felt like it? you—" you closed your eyes in annoyance, nostrils flaring as your neck turned to look at him. "you felt like telling everyone that I'm your girlfriend? me of all people?" you hissed, he's such a bitch. fucking asshole.

it takes the average human being to start dating after 1-3 months of knowing each other, but it took taehyun one month to walk you down the aisle in his puerile dreams.

"well, why not you?" he asked, looking down at your fingers that were sprinkled with ink. you'd never dated any of the guys around here — because they're such bitches. what about the one in front of you? very evident.

"because I'm never going to really date you!" you almost yelled, lowering your noise when you heard your voice hit the walls of the empty auditorium.

"okay whatever, what're you gonna do about it?" he huffed out, his arms escaping the straps of his backpack.

motherfucker.

you looked away, this boy was making you so demented. you wished you were corrosive and could just touch him and destroy his entire existence in the moment.

and that's when it hit you. your touch... could destroy him. hell, it could probably make him dumb, to say the very least. you looked back to see taehyun, sitting there, staring at you with big big eyes, looking like he's going to swallow you whole.

"what?" you tore the silence apart, taehyun fluttering his eyelashes as he eyed you. the boy is still checking you out. "have some goddamn decency."

"I can't." he said, leaning in, leaning in close so close you wanted to flick his forehead and slap him across the face. he's always been like this for you since the day you put him in his place. he's been like a damn dog, like he wanted to be walked around by you since that day.

"then learn how to!"

"teach me, noona."

and so you did. so you did. and he's going to learn. he's going to learn to never annoy you again.

"noona—"

his eyes widened when your hand went straight for his crotch. fuck. you placed your hand on his cock, in the corner of the auditorium, after school hours.

"shut up. this is what you wanted, didn't you? you're filthy." and he, an exuberant kitten had turned into a lethargic dog. a dumb dog. "you're welcome for this. you're welcome."

"you— you-. what are you even thinking?" he asked, eyes wide as he leaned back, growing motionless. well, one thing was definitely in motion.

"shut the fuck up." you rubbed the tent in his pants as it eventually grew — still no consent of his, but his expression and activities history doesn't seem to be convincing you that he'll say no. you grabbed his face, making him look at you after his eyes had set down onto your hand on his dick. "tell me, taehyun. do you think from your dick or something?"

"y-you can't ask a question like— that.. h-hah." he groaned, a pretend exasperated tone when he was clearly enjoying this. he looked... desperate. it was scaring and making you want to fuck him at the same time. "please, noona."

"please what? use your words, bitch." you said, finger twirling the zipper of jeans, or more like a synonym for a cock cage.

"what're you gonna do?" he asked, eyes shooting around the hall as his knees buckled up, trying to squirm your hand away. this felt so emasculating to him — that you just basically palmed his dick from above the denim.

you were everything he wasn't — smart, perfect and untainted. but you were everything he wanted.

"maybe suck your dick," you said and the statement was definitely sent as an electric signal to his dick and his brain. "give you a reason to go around saying absolute bullshit, hm?" and he closed his eyes shut. his head fell back on the back rest as you unzipped his jeans, letting out a sadistic chuckle. "aw, is the delusion wearing off?" placing a hand under his chin and tilting his head to your side. oh lord, he was blushing. his ears were heating up and his cheeks went pink. "n-not bullshit.. not—"

"shut up." you attempted at a slap but only smacked his jaw, making his head turn away. lightly squeezed to his dick through the Calvin Klein and he whimpered. rubbing the tip with your nails.

if someone asked you if your panties were dry you'd have to deny it. his condition only got more tortured and jittery, you were chuckling like watching a stand-up comedy. you got up from the seat, kneeling in front of him. "h-hah, noona. shit— pl-please."

a malevolent expression, you took his dick out, cockhead lathered in precum — manwhore !

"you like this?" you asked, placing your hand in front of his mouth. "spit, whore." and he did, so fast like he was already preparing to, preparing to be sucked and jerked off.

"mmm, noona, i— h-hah." taehyun scrunched his knees together when your hand twisted at the tip, going down on his dick and his eyes shot open. "i l-love- this."

"of course you do, slut." you mumbled, licking the underpart of his tip, looking up at him as his hands reached to the back of your head to push you down on it unprovoked. he has the audacity to try to fuck your mouth. but no, you slapped his hand away. "behind your back."

he arched his back in sole pleasure, hands behind him now, he let out short, rapid pants. you opened your mouth wide, making him assume you'll finally take his dick, only to start pumping his dick rapidly.

"shit— shit, shit. noona no—"

"take it." you cut him off, using both hands, twisting. your lips set on the edge of his tip, rubbing against it. his brain was vacuous; and it got worse when you held the base of his dick and swallowed him whole.

"oh fuck, oh fuck fuck fuck." he whispered as you glide your hand up his hoodie, staying at his abs making him suck his stomach in. shook your head, the friction too much for him to bear. "noona, noona please."

pulling away, strings of saliva connecting you to his dick as his head flung back, closing his eyes shut when your nails slid up and down.

"keep it down, my god. the president might just hear you, would you want to be seen getting your cock sucked by me?"

his nails of each hand were digging into each other, his jaw clenching. "it— it'll make for a good s-sight."

"'m so close, pleasepleaseplease." he groaned as you completely stopped even the slightest of fuckery he was receiving from his imaginative slut. "no!"

you giggled at the sight — brain-dead taehyun, with his hands behind his back that were desperate to come forward and get him to cum, his embarrassing, dumbfounded state. a slap to his dick and he thrust into the air.

he could fuck any object that moves right now.

"you just love having your cock shoved down throats, don't you?"

hollowing your cheeks around him, the pleasure too much for him to bear. his hands escaped from behind and almost reached for your head but stopped mid-way, balling into a fist as his brain began jarring.

"noona please please please I'm gonna—" and before he could even warn you, prevent your annoyance and the malice you might have, he spilled into your mouth. and to his surprise, you kept his tip in your mouth, tasting him.

"noona?"

a pretend swallow that made his brain cloudy, did you just swallow his cum?

you got up, his eyes tracking up as you leaned down and pulled him by the collar of his hoodie, clashing your lips onto his and his mind skipped a function or two. you seeped his cum into his mouth, wiping your hands on his chest and he did not give the reaction you expected, the reaction you wanted him to give you — instead, to your surprise, he kissed back, his hand slipping up to catch yours. he didn't expect this at all but the whore didn't give a fuck. you pulled away, displeased that he wasn't mad you just made him eat his own cum.

"you ain't my boyfriend." you hissed, picking your backpack up.

and he was all gone to hell, no place for him in heaven, staring at the high ceiling, panting, beatific.

are they dating? no. do they both have mutual thoughts of fucking? absolutely.

I wrote this in like one hour forgive me

[messylustt]

requesting for part two of the Yandere dead wife Miguel fic please 🙏

݁   𓂃 ៸៸៸ a little dizzy — miguel o’hara + reader: you wake up somewhere new, with someone who looks exactly like your husband.

contents : yandere. full on manipulation here goddamn. possessive!miguel. like I’m not kidding he’s actually terrible for this (but of course still all soft and sweet to you). wc 1.5k.

pt one pt two

it was dark. at first at least, because your mind felt dizzy, as you moved to sit up. at first you thought maybe something was covering your eyes. but no, the room was just…dark.

you could feel the bed underneath you, as your feet hit the cold floor. the room looked rather bland, but as you continued to gaze around, brows furrowed at your swaying mind, you stop on a picture frame.

it had been purposefully placed down, which most likely meant that you probably shouldn’t put it back up. but your curiosity and want to realise your situation better, made your hand lift to view the picture. your breathing hitches when you see you.

or well…maybe not you. but a version. a version of you smiling, oblivious to the photo in general.

“she’s pretty isn’t she?” a voice makes you quickly place the photo back down as you spin to face whoever it was. you sway a fraction, reaching to grab out for the bed’s end post, but a hand is quickly holding you steady.

“you’ll be a bit dizzy still.” he softly comments, and then you recognise the voice. miguel. but not your miguel. you rush back, chest heaving. “you…you…kidnapped me?” your comment is more so a question at this point, as miguel shakes his head, reaching for you again.

but you stumble back, hand out, as you stare with full fledged anger. “don’t you dare come closer…i—“you take a breath, because it’s true you did still feel dizzy. you shake your head continuously. “you’re not…please tell me I’m dreaming.” you meet his gaze, and see utter adoration, but clear worry at your frantic actions.

“i thought so too at first.” miguel smiles. actually smiles. and you can’t fathom how he can at the current situation.

“but it’s not…”

miguel shakes his head, confirming so. “no. you’re here…” then he further mutters to himself. “…you’re really here…”

“no.” you say pointedly. “take me back.”

“look i know that you probably feel…scared right now—“

“scared?” you hiss out. “of course i feel scared. you pretended to be…oh god…i kissed you.” you mutter, replying yesterdays actions. was it yesterday? you weren’t sure. because time seemed to be irrelevant as of now.

“and it was better than I remembered.” miguel is slowly edging closer to you.

you shake your head, jaw clenching. “no. no, i’m not…i’m not your wife. please tell me you know that.”

“i know.” miguel clenched his jaw. “my wife is dead.”

you stop, meeting his gaze. there’s a flash of something cold before he catches your gaze, softening instantly, as his lips twitch up. “but you aren’t…and i’m not gonna let you die…” he edged closer again. “‘m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

you keep your hand out, but your expression has softened a fraction. he still grieved. and now his desperation kinda made sense to you. but that still gives him no right to just…take you. “i’m…sorry. i am, but i have my own life. a different life. with…miguel…my miguel.”

miguel’s jaw tightens at this, as he steps much much closer. you hadn’t realised that you were backing up until you felt the cold wall at your back. now Miguel had you trapped as his gaze wandered your face with an intimacy that had your breath hitching.

“i’m barely any different from your miguel.” he says, brushing your face and neck, making you shiver.

“he wouldn’t just kidnap someone.” you mutter, making miguel’s darting eyes meet your own. his caresses moved to grab your chin, keeping your head how he wanted.

“i hate to break it to you. but if any of my variants are like me, then anything close to determination, or desperation will lead us to do something like this.” his mouth had moved to drag his lips up the skin of your neck, just breathing you in. “if anything is of high importance to us, we make sure we get it.” he places a kiss to your collarbone.

your entire body is tense, as you try to draw away from his eager lips. but he’s persistent, keeping you still, as he begins to suck on your neck, mumbling spanish words into your skin.

“and you…are probably the upmost important thing to us.” his other hand has slipped around your waist, as his hand by your chin slips to the back of your neck.

“you’re wrong.” you manage, as he litters kisses up your neck and jaw.

“am i?” miguel hums, kitten licking your skin.

“i’m…i’m not important to you. only to one of you…or i’d like to think so.” you say quickly, trying not to let his kisses effect you.

miguel shakes his head against your skin, his head now resting in the crook of your neck as he just keeps you close. “but you are, you…mine...” he mutters your name.

“no—“

“yes.” he interrupts, pulling your waist closer to him. “all mine.” he mutters, his open mouth now over the side of your neck.

“i’m not…please, i’m…” you try, but his weight is crushing. “i’m really sorry about your wife, but…i’m not her, i can’t be her.”

“yes you can. you’re exactly like her.” miguel says, lifting his head, to kiss your lips. your ‘no’ comes out muffled as you manage to slightly draw him away.

“miguel.” you say pointedly. and he finally stops, breathing hard as he stares, seeming to make sure all your details sink into his brain.

“i can’t let you go again.”

“miguel.” you say again. “you never had me.”

his grip around your waist tightened. “i don’t care that you’re from another universe. you’re my wife. my wife now. you can’t really think i’d just give that up so easily can you?”

you shake your head. “i’m already married.”

“to a version of me.” he says, his clawed finger going back to tracing your skin.

“no. you’re a version of him, to me.” you say, truthfully. “you’re the variant who has no right. He’s my husband.”

his jaw clenched, his soft tracing now a tight grip on your cheeks to stop you talking. “don’t say that.”

you still manage to speak. “it’s the truth. even you can’t deny that.”

he breathes, his tongue running down his fang. “fine. you were his wife.” his hand had begun to stroke any part of you, keeping you close and against him. “but where is he? it’s been two days.”

your eyes widen. two days?!

miguel smirks at your shocked expression. “if he really was your husband, and cares about you. he would have found you already. i would have found you.” miguel’s manipulative words are whispered so enticingly.

you shake your head. “no he’s…where even am I?”

miguel didn’t want to say his universe. because then you’d make up some excuse about how your husband physically couldn’t get here. so Miguel instead says. “somewhere quiet. not far from your house actually. he’s just so oblivious.” miguel hides his smirk in your neck, going back to kissing and licking.

“no…” you weren’t going to believe that. He’s looking for you. your miguel is looking for you.

miguels hand slipped under your shirt, just to stroke your waist, hips and stomach. “maybe he’s just…busy. he has such a hard job doesn’t he?”

he’s looking for you—you keep repeating to yourself. he’s looking, he’s looking. but miguels poisonous words have snuck their way into your mind.

“i actually saw your husband, before I went to your house…” lies lies lies. “he was with…someone.”

your jaw clenched. because your mind instantly went to the woman he works with. no. you weren’t gonna be jealous. she was only his co-worker. a friend.

“they were standing rather…close.” miguel’s lips have left marks all over your neck, as he keeps stroking your skin, doing a lot more damage to your mind. a target of his that he can feel is slowly working. because you aren’t as tense anymore, and maybe you’re just thinking. but that would mean miguel’s plan is on its way.

he lifted his head, his face falling again, as he looks concerned, brushing your cheek with his fingers. “she seemed rather…eagerly engaging with him. of course i’m sure it’s nothing though. i’m sure he’s looking for you.”

miguel watches the switch in your expression. my, my you were so easy to manipulate. he held down his grin still displaying a form of sadness and pity.

“i’m sure he didn’t agree to that dinner.”

“what?” you stare at him, and for the first time today you completely and utterly stare at miguel. and he feels ecstatic.

“you didn’t know?” miguel tilts his head in fake surprise. “i thought he would have told you, since you’re well…his wife.”

he’s lying—you think to yourself. all his words are lies. but you can’t help but feel doubt prickle under your skin. because yes, your miguel has been rather busy lately, making small excuses. it’s fine right. he’s looking for you…right?

“ay, mi cariño…you didn’t know? i’m so sorry.” miguel gently kissed your cheek. carefully reading your now relaxed posture, as he moves his lips to capture yours.

and that’s when he knew he had you. his doubtful thoughts were planted now. and as he moved his hand to support the back of your neck, he knew for sure—kissing you harder—that he had you completely under his control.

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[captain039]

Daddy’s Little Girl

Logan x reader

Warnings: Age gap (early twenties reader) , swearing, first times, virgin reader, plus size reader, tension, oral f receiving, smut, daddy kink, dom!logan, Abuse, verbal and mental (Not from Logan), anxiety, depression, mention of self harm scars, reader has muscle issues and body pain

Kinda hitting home with personal:specific details for reader, but alas I need this man, I need this man bad 😂

Wolverine in the mountains as a Lumberjack is a wet dream

Set when Logan was in the mountains but modern day times

You awake to a loud knock and a grumbled hurry up making you sigh. You check your phone finding no overly important messages. You’re expecting a call from your sister this week sometime though. You miss her, she was Lucky enough to get out of this hell hole while she could. You dress quickly knowing your father will get pissed if he doesn’t see you in the truck in five minutes. You get your jeans on and a shirt before grabbing your boots and phone. You go down the stairs slowly, ignoring the way your hips protests. You grab a banana and shove your boots on before heading to the truck. Your dad waits, smoking in the drivers seat making you sigh silently inside as you jump into the passenger seat. Everyday he drags you out to the lumber mill, everyday he doesn’t give a damn if you need to see a doctor or therapist. Doesn’t care that he’s seen scars on your arms or that you cry most nights. You pretty much run this lumber mill even if your dads the boss, you keep track of the finances, locations, next sights, shipments whatever needs done that he can’t be bothered to do, all he does is swing an axe and let his anger out. Only good thing is Logan. Logan the man you crush on since he first started couple years ago. His perfect hair and smile, those jeans and leather jacket, the way he carry’s himself. His kindness towards you, the stupid hair ruffle he gives even though he knows you hate it, the making sure you’ve eaten during the day or asking if you need help. He’s too perfect, a goddamn dream and you’re a nightmare.

You head into the small trailer office and sit down rubbing the sleep from your eyes as your father greets his team. He smiles shakes hands and laughs making you loath him. You want to punch him, show them how pissed he gets and how fucking useless he is. You sag against the chair waiting for Logan to show up in his two seater low truck with that handsome face. You hate yourself, lusting after man twice your age, probably married or has plenty suitors. Ones that aren’t broken like you. You clench your jaw and unlock the computer cursing the slow wifi as you go through emails. It’s the same old and you’re bored of it, hell you don’t even get paid to be here your father says his house and his food are payment enough, not like you’re his kid or anything. You watch your dad and his team leave silently thanking god. Though a little upset you missed Logan. A knock comes at the door and you frown a bit.

“Come in” you call watching the door open. Logan steps in a smile on his face as he closes the door.

“Morning Bub” he says and you smile.

“Morning” you reply as he sighs and sits down on the small couch.

“Why aren’t you with the team?” You ask with a frown.

“We need supplies, your father told me to head into town” he said and you sigh, of course he did, too lazy to go himself.

“Wanna come?” Logan asks and you falter.

“Oh, yeah sure hang on” you quickly finish writing the email before logging off and shutting the computer down. You follow him out the trailer and to his car he smiles playfully as he holds open the door for you which you just laugh at and ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

You try not to glance at him every five seconds as he drives. How someone can be attractive while driving you’ll never know. It’s about an hours drive into town, the silence comfortable. You look out the window letting the wind blow in your face. Your phone buzzes and you frown taking it out seeing a message from your father.

We need more courier trucks this time, don’t forget

You huff softly, how could you forget he’s yelled it to you for the last couple of days.

“Everything alright?” Logan asks jolting you from your mind and you force a smile and nod.

“Just dad” you shrug switching off your phone and putting it back in your pocket. You finally arrive at the store following Logan inside.

“What we need?” You ask as Logan pulls a list from his pocket.

“Rope, saw blade replacers, chain, sharpener stones, beer” Logan smiles at the last part and you try to smile back. Beer always equals your father coming home shit faced and blaming it on you like you’re the one who got him drunk. You grab a trolly each and head down each aisle to get what you need before heading to the register. You scan the items watching the numbers go up and know you’ll probably get blamed for the prices too. Once you’re done Logan grabs his wallet and pulls out the company card before tapping and paying. You enjoy his closeness smell the cologne he’s got on this close too. You wait for the receipt before heading back to the Ute. You make one more stop to the liquor store before heading home.

You’re not even half way home when your phone rings. With your dad’s name flashing, you wince a little and answer.

“Hello” you say.

“Why aren’t you answering the phone at the trailer?” He says annoyed.

“I went with Logan to get the supplies you needed” you answer.

“Jesus Christ I give you one goddamn job and you can’t even do that right! You know not to leave that goddamn trailer during work hours!” His voice is scolding and pissed and you tense and try to ignore your stomach churning.

“We’re heading back now” you muttered not getting an answer back instead your father hangs up and you feel like crying.

“You alright?” Logan asks and you force a smile and nod at him.

Back at the trailer you notice your hips beginning to ache helping carrying things from the ute back to the trailer. You wince and silently curse knowing it’ll probably either be a flare up and another reason for your dad to yell or hopefully just some daily pain that Panadol can fix. It’s always the fucking first one. You sit down behind your desk and ring back anybody who tried to contact the office while Logan works outside. You glance to him every so often seeing him push his sleeves up, wipe sweat off his brow, a whole damn strip tease. You wish you had confidence or were thinner and older maybe then he’d give you a glance. You sag into the chair wincing when your hips decided to twinge in pain.

It’s just after five when the team return, you’ve hopefully done everything today and you’re feeling it. Logan hasn’t left either only to stop on break for lunch or smoke the cigars he has. You tried to tell him they’re bad for him but he just smiled and continued. Your dad looks annoyed and you can feel the home ride scolding already.

“All done?” Logan says suddenly making you jump not realising he was in the trailer. You jolt the wrong way and let out a pain of noise that has the man instantly concerned and walking over.

“Fine, I’m fine sorry I didn’t mean to make that noise” you brush off cursing when you can’t even stand up properly.

“You don’t look fine Bub” he says quietly.

“Ready?” Your dad interrupts and you nod forcing yourself up right. You walk a little funny out the trailer and down the steps.

“Bye Logan” your dad says.

“See ya boss” he says before saying a goodbye to you with a small worried frown. You smile and wave getting into your dad’s truck awkwardly.

“What the hell did I say with leaving without my permission? I had two damn phone calls while I was out!” Your dad scolds hitting the steering wheel in annoyance making you jump. You keep your head down and on your lap making sure not to move.

“Well?!” He snaps.

“Sorry, I figured Logan would need some help with supplies” you say and your father scoffs.

“Logan needs help my ass, you’re just trying to slut yourself out to the man!” He growls and the words sting. You’ve never had a boyfriend, never spoken to another man in that way.

“Like you did with Jason” he adds. Jason was the newest addition to the team a little older than you.

“Sorry father” you mutter.

“God sakes” he grumbles. He doesn’t say anything else and when you get home you know he’ll scold you for dinner before ordering pizza and beer. You head upstairs silently feeling tears prick your eyes before you force them down.

“Can I have a shower dad?” You call.

“Five minutes! Anymore I’m breaking the goddamn water line” he yells and you wince and hurry. You set a timer knowing he won’t be joking. You wash as quickly as you can before stepping out and drying yourself. You sigh not even feeling clean or refreshed. You barely have time to shave when you shower, barely have time to wash your hair too. You dress hearing your dad talking to the pizza man no doubt before he slams the door. You say into your bed, only reason you have your furniture and room nice is because your mother was still alive at one point. You hear your phone vibrate and see Logan’s name on the screen. You had all the team’s numbers in your phone for emergencies or anything company related. Your father shamed you for that too saying you’d send each man nudes or sex texts.

Hey kid, you alright?

Fine, thank you, nothing to worry about

you type back quickly and get dressed into some pyjamas. You’re tired but no sleep won’t come well and you’ll have to eat when your dad’s either passed out or asleep. You wait a while scrolling on your phone. When your mum was alive she got you a bank account open, you had to secretly apply for a government payment grant so you could at least get a phone and credit. If your dad ever found out about the money though he’d probably close the account or take what you had. Your phone buzzes continuously and you frown seeing Logan’s name. You answer a little confused he never calls unless it’s for work.

“Hey? Did you need something?” You ask voice hushed even though the TVs turned up loudly.

“Just checking on you, you sure you’re alright kid?” You a sigh a little, that stupid nickname.

“I’m fine thank you Logan” you say a little curtly without meaning too.

“Did you need something, did I miss something at work?” You add after some silence.

“No, works fine” he sighs a little and you frown. You hear footsteps and begin to panic.

“Sorry Logan I have to go” you hear him about to speak but quickly hang up as your father’s footsteps walk past and into his room and you sigh in relief.

You lay there awake till it’s about 8, hearing loud snores before you creep down stairs to get a sandwich and water before going back up. You sigh eating on the small couch in your room glancing to your phone seeing another text from Logan.

Night kid, sleep well

Your heart jumps a little.

Next part ->

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-week.

Not Enough to Not Know Better

Day #6 - Prompt: Dizzy/Drunken Confessions | Word Count: 1189 | Rating: E | CW: Sex, Language, Alcohol | POV: Eddie | Tags: Friends to Lovers, Drunken Confessions, Steve's Gonna Make This Happen For Them, Clothed Sex

"Is the room spinning, or just my brain?"

Eddie lulls his head to the side, trying to keep his eyes open as he looks at Steve, who is all but passed out on the couch. Sprawled out, comfortable, and for some reason, now missing his shirt. 

Eddie allows his gaze to linger, taking in Steve's stomach, and especially the thick thatch of chest hair creeping all the way up towards his neck. It's gorgeous, and lush, just like the hair on Steve's head. Eddie wants to run his fingers through both. Wants to pull, stroke, lick.  

When it peeks out of his collar, sometimes Eddie fears that he'll do something stupid without thinking it through. 

"I think we're stationary," Eddie says, and Steve giggles like he's said the funniest bit of a stand-up routine. The best punchline, saved for last. But, it wasn't that funny, Steve's just drunk. Eddie knows that. Is absolutely sure of it.

"Stationary. Station. Airy," Steve mumbles, still laughing to himself. 

"You're drunk, Harrington," Eddie says, not totally sure that he isn't right behind Steve on that. 

"A little bit," Steve answers, moving to roll over onto his stomach, and it's the most awkward maneuver Eddie's ever seen anyone, or anything, ever make. 

Steve finally gets settled in, wallering a spot into the couch, and Eddie hopes he doesn't suffocate with his face pressed into the cushion like it is. Finally Steve turns his head, laying his cheek on the upholstery.

His flushed cheek. Probably from the alcohol, or maybe he just got a little sun outside today. Usually Steve's tans right up, though. It's Eddie that has to worry about becoming a lobster.

Eddie looks at him. At Steve's chest, arms, back. It's all golden, and covered in freckles and moles that Eddie would love to count, to map.

Bite.

Eddie just takes in his body, looking down, down, down. Trying not to linger on the place where his jeans have ridden down, just a little. As tight as Steve wears them, that seems impossible, but he's seeing the waistband of Steve's underwear. Briefs, he thinks, not boxers.

His eyes are roaming too hard, and he needs to get himself under control. He starts to move them away, when Steve rolls his hips, keeping his attention. Grinding right against the fabric of the couch, and now Eddie can't look away. No way in hell, not as Steve rolls his hips in a slow, deliberate grind. 

Eddie reaches down to adjust himself in his own jeans, and Steve meets his eyes. Eddie knows he's been caught, but Steve started this first. Eddie's just fighting horny with horny. He can't be blamed. Not for this.

"Sometimes," Steve says, just above a whisper, eyes still locked on Eddie's, "sometimes I do this and think about you."

"Jesus H. Christ, Harrington. How drunk are you?"

"Enough to not care what I'm saying. Not enough to not know better," Steve says, smiling. It's lazy, and beautiful. 

"You've lost your mind," Eddie whispers, maybe just as much to himself as to Steve, but he shifts his hand, covers his own now-hard dick, and grinds against the heel of his hand.

"Maybe," Steve says, hips still moving, still chasing that little bit of death, "but it's still true."

"Goddamn," Eddie whines under his breath, and Steve keeps moving, keeps grinding, keeps looking right into his eyes, except for when he's flicking glances down towards Eddie's hand. Towards his dick.

Eddie wishes Steve was grinding on him that way. Maybe he would. If Eddie could only bring himself to ask.

Steve beats him to the punch.

"Show me. Let me see," Steve says, "I want to. It's all I think about. You. Me. Us."

That's almost enough for it to all be over before it even gets started. There's not an us, not that Eddie is aware of anyway, and only in his wildest fucking dreams, could that ever be true.

And right now. Apparently.

Eddie leans back, sprawling out on the floor, and keeps working his cock through his jeans. Now he can't see Steve, but he can feel his eyes. The heat from them.

"Well, c'mere if you're coming," Eddie says, and he hears the couch move, shift.

Eddie kicks his legs out wider, and Steve crawls on top of him, laying down, slotting himself between Eddie's thighs. Pressing flush against him. Grinding against Eddie, now. Not the couch.

It's better. It's so much better.

Eddie runs his hands up and down Steve's bare back, finally getting to touch all that warm skin he's fantasized about.

"Goddamn, Harrington," Eddie breathes out, pressing upwards against Steve, hard cock against hard cock, and even through his jeans it's the best thing he's ever felt. Steve Harrington can dry hump him any fucking day of the week and twice on Sunday. Eddie doesn't even need to see anything.

He wants to see, obviously, but this would be a god's plenty. He grabs at Steve's jean-clad ass, and pulls their bodies closer and closer together. 

He's gonna come. 

And he hopes Steve will, too.

Steve shifts, and Eddie hopes this isn't over, and it's not. Steve just shoves upwards, hard, catching Eddie's lips with his own. Sliding his tongue right into Eddie's mouth, and he tastes like beer, and pizza, and fucking heaven. Eddie doesn't care. Beer, onion, garlic, whatever. Bring it on.

Steve keeps rolling, and shifting, and grinding and Eddie wishes they were full-on fucking, because he feels like he's getting a pretty fucking awesome preview to what that might look like. He's memorizing Steve's movements, how fluid they are, how fucking hot. 

Top, bottom, Eddie doesn't care. He's versatile, open to anything, so long as they get to do this together, do everything. He wants Steve, and now he thinks he might get to have him.

Steve hitches, his breath, his body, and then lets out a groan that will live in Eddie's bones for the rest of his days, as he comes in his jeans, on top of Eddie.

Eddie follows, clutching at Steve's ass, holding them together, coming. Steve's breathing into Eddie's open mouth in short, desperate bursts as he tries to come back to himself from this.

Eddie gets that. He definitely gets that. 

He feels wrung out.

Then Steve laughs.

Giggles, really, flopping down on Eddie, making the mess worse for the both of them, surely, but Eddie doesn't let go. He wraps his arms around Steve's back, squeezing him, holding him close, for as long as Steve will allow it. 

Eventually, Steve pushes himself upwards, and off Eddie. Standing, and offering Eddie both of his hands, pulling him to his feet.

"I need a shower. You wanna take a shower with me?" Steve asks, yanking Eddie right into his chest, catching him. He no longer looks as drunken and unsteady as he did.

Maybe Steve was drunk on horniness as much, if not more so, than on the actual alcohol. Either way, Eddie just nods. 

Because, yes. Yes, he'd like to do that very much. 

Steve winks, and grabs Eddie's hand, tugging him towards the staircase.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM PRACTICAL MAGIC *  assorted dialogue from the 1998 film, adjust as necessary

sometimes i feel like there's a hole inside of me, an emptiness that at times seems to burn.

be careful what you wish for.

wish you could believe in me.

we have to banish him.

he wants me. just me.

what was that, [name]?

you know what? i wished for you, too.

let him take me.

the nudity is entirely optional.

it wasn't me, it was you.

we'll grow old together.

can love really travel back in time and heal a broken heart?

i think if you lifted my heart to your ear, you could probably hear the ocean.

don't die on me, [name], please.

i bet we even die on the same day.

of course you're going to see me again.

hang on to your husbands, girls.

what wouldn't i do... for the right guy?

i have this dream of being whole, of not going to sleep each night, wanting.

i took an oath to uphold the law.

life is perfect.

don't do that.

i'd like to think so.

i have never asked you for anything.

i feel like i'm never going to see you again.

what are you doing?

i came here to bring in the bad guy because generally that's what i do.

sometimes when the wind is warm or the crickets sing, i dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for.

i just want someone to love me.

i want to be seen.

please do this for me. please?

hold on just a goddamn second. one step at a time.

that's how you came to live with us.

everything is just so blissfully normal.

i wish you could see us.

they like to meddle in people's love lives.

thought you never wanted to fall in love.

you're saying what i'm feeling is just one of your spells?

fall in love whenever you can.

when you find yourself the center of attention... it's not that they hate you. it's that... well. we're different.

you have the worst taste in men.

i was born with them.

since when is being a slut a crime in this family?

you ever put your arms out and spin really, really fast?

maybe i had my happiness.

you promised me that.

so what kind of... uh... craft do you do.

yeah. it's not real.

curses only have power when you believe them. and i don't.

all i want is a normal life.

that's the point.

yeah, well, you know. all relationships have problems.

that's what love is like. it makes your heart race. it turns the world upside down.

when are you going to realize that being normal is not necessarily a virtue?

well... it's what i want.

now that was me.

i don't want them dancing naked under the full moon.

the guy i dreamed of doesn't exist.

is that why they wanted to hang her? because she's a witch?

i don't even mind the beard.

there's a little witch in all of us.

what was that?

i'll tell you all you need to know.

one step at a time.

you think he's dead?

is he cute?

you came for breakfast? we're having pancakes!

what's wrong? cat got your tongue?

someday you'll explain this all to me.

[xoxoladyaz]

It Hits Different This Time, Part 2

Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Rock Star Eddie x Steve Harrington

TW: Mentions of alcohol, drug abuse

QUICK AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm so sorry that the last entry was so angst heavy, I promise this one provides some comfort! Eddie needed to take a big step here and he really, really does. Also, much love to everyone who commented, I've tagged you at the bottom of the post - let me know if anyone else would like to be notified of the next entry!

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five

It was another five days before Steve heard from Eddie. Another five torturous days of radio silence, only this time, there wasn’t anything online. No new articles were popping up saying he’d been spotted somewhere, no new TikToks of him meeting fans on the street. The rest of the band was MIA too; Steve had thought about sending Jeff a text to check-in but ultimately decided to wait another couple days. Robin had been texting with Chrissy, after all, and if something bad had gone down, she would know.

When Eddie did finally call, it wasn’t from a number that Steve recognized.

“I’m getting a call from Malibu.”

“Holy shit!” Robin sat up on the other end of the couch and shot him a look. “Okay, just breathe dingus, okay? It’s going to be okay, I’ll be here the whole time.” She squeezed his ankle comfortingly. “You can do this.”

Steve accepted the call with shaky hands and brought his phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey Steve.”

He shut his eyes and swallowed, trying to stop his voice from cracking. “Eddie.”

He heard Eddie let out a watery laugh across the line. “Do you, uh, have a minute?”

“Mmmm hmmm,” Steve hummed. He physically couldn’t get an actual word out. 

This was it. Eddie was leaving, he’d cheated, it was over – 

“I’m in rehab.”

Steve’s eyes shot open. “You’re what?”

Robin started rocking back and forth. “Turn it up!” She hissed, and Steve obliged, turning up his volume so she could just barely hear what was being said. (Was this a private conversation? Yes. Did Eddie know he’d probably immediately tell Robin everything? Also yes. 

Was this news big enough to warrant having Robin eavesdrop?

Absolutely yes.)

“Yeah, I’m, uh, at the Promises Treatment Center in Malibu,” Eddie continued. “We got back about five days ago and when I saw your note, I – 

“Look, Steve,” Eddie continued, and his voice was choked up, like he himself couldn’t speak, “I fucked up. I’ve fucked everything up. You are – you said in that note that you didn’t want me to give up on my dreams, and you’re right, making it big and getting famous for my music was my dream for literal years. Because I kept thinking “once I get a record out there,” “once I go on tour,” “once I win a Grammy,” “once I get a million dollars,” then I’d finally be happy. 

“But it turns out the only thing being famous has done is make me pretty fucking miserable,” Eddie let out a harsh laugh. “But I was so goddamn convinced that this was it, you know, that I’d accomplished my dreams so I must be happy that I started taking whatever I could get my fucking hands on to make me feel that way. The thing is drugs and the alcohol and the parties never made it fucking last. It just made every other second that I was in the public eye that much worse.

“But I’d still made it, you know? I felt like I didn’t deserve to feel this fucking miserable. And everyone back home was so fucking proud and I didn’t want to let them down - ” Eddie paused for a few moments to clear his throat before continuing. “I didn’t want to let you down. Because Eddie “The Freak” Munson didn’t deserve you, but maybe Eddie “The Rock Star” could.”

Steve can feel his own throat closing up and he can barely see Robin’s face, his eyes are watering that bad. “Baby,” he sobbed. “I wish you’d told me.”

“Me too,” Eddie sniffled across the line. “I didn’t though, I just kept self-medicating and ignoring it, because that’s always worked,” he huffed sarcastically. “But then - ” Eddie cut off again, and Steve can hear that he’s trying so hard to hold back his own sobs, “then I came home last week and realized that I’d missed our goddamn anniversary because I was too fucking high and that you were gone and I just – I called Jeff and I told him to get me on a plane out here because you – you, Steve Harrington, you are the best thing in my goddamn life. And the only dream I want to chase now is the one where we get married and adopt some kids and grow old together.”

“Eddie,” Steve sobbed out again, and he heard Eddie start to cry too, and then suddenly they were crying together, even from hundreds of miles away.

“So I’m gonna be here for the next six weeks,” Eddie finally continued, his voice still full of tears. “I’m, uh, meeting with a therapist for a few hours every day and working through my shit. I wanna be a guy who deserves good things, baby. I wanna be a guy who deserves you.”

“What – what about the band?” Steve sniffled, rubbing at his eyes. A handful of Kleenex appeared in front of him. Robin must have gotten up to grab them at some point. He shot her a thankful nod and patted at his eyes; Robin nodded back and did the same, her face flushed that bright shade of red that accompanied her own tears.

“Murray wrote a provision into our contract where if one of us checks into rehab, then the band is instantly put on a two-year, non-negotiable hiatus.”

“But – what about your momentum, the label kept talking about it?”

“The label can go fuck themselves” Eddie practically growled over the phone. “Who do you think hosted the party where I first got my hands on the hardcore stuff anyways?”

“Babe - ”

“Murray said he was going to look into some sort of contract termination so we can sign somewhere else. And even if we didn’t have that thing written into our contract, we probably would have gone on hiatus anyways, or worse. That – the last leg was rough. Gareth was just as fucked up as I was and Jeff was fucking pissed. He kept having to pull Gareth out of orgies and shit while babysitting Phil and I too.”

“Did,” Steve swallowed harshly, “did - ”

“No, baby, never,” Eddie declared quickly. “Even when I couldn’t fucking see straight, you were the only one I wanted to be with. I honestly don’t even know who we were partying with at the end there, the label sent them for some PR shit, I don’t know. It’s just another reason why we want out.”

“Oh,” Steve murmured, “okay. Good. Or, well, not good. You know.”

“Yeah, baby, I do,” Eddie replied softly. 

They sat in silence for a few moments, just listening to each other breathe. “I, uh,” Eddie started up again quietly, “I’m wearing the ring.”

“Yeah?” Steve found himself smiling despite the fresh tears welling up in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Eddie’s voice was just as choked up as before. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Eddie - ”

“Look, I know, I know I hurt you so, so badly and I’m never going to fucking forgive myself for what I did, but I – you’re everything I want, baby. If I had to give up Corroded Coffin tomorrow for you, I would do it in a heartbeat. And I – I know I can’t expect for you to just, like, forgive me after the shit I pulled, but – will you be there, when I get out? Can I – I want to come home to you,” Eddie finished, and Steve could hear that he was crying again.

Steve looked over at Robin, who was wiping more tears out of her own eyes. They looked at each other for a few moments.

It might be crazy, but I think I want to say yes.

I don't blame you. I mean, this is one hell of an apology, especially from Mr. “I’ll Never Need to Go to Rehab Ever.”

Yeah. And I love him.

And you love him.

“I’ll be there,” Steve murmured reassuringly, and Eddie burst into a new wave of muffled sobs on the other end of the phone. “Just do what you need to do and come home when you’re ready, okay? I’ll be waiting for home.”

“At home?” Eddie’s voice broke on a whimper.

“At home. I’ll even clean the bathrooms and everything,” Steve joked, and Eddie let out a loud laugh despite the quiet sobs Steve could still hear. 

“Really? You’ll be there?”

“Yeah, Eddie. I’ll be there. We can get through this.”

“Together.”

“Together. Because I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone.”

“Fuck, Stevie,” Eddie let out an incredulous laugh again, “I love you so fucking much, baby. I’m going to marry the fuck out of you someday.”

“Save the sweet talk for when you get home, okay?” Steve could feel his heart settling in his chest, and whatever tears he’d had left to cry were all gone now. There was just the twinge of missing Eddie, but that would go away soon enough. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Eds.”

“Thanks, baby.” Eddie’s answer was soft now. “So I, uh, get a couple hours to call people every day from one of the site’s phones. Can I keep calling you?”

“Please,” Steve heard Eddie exhale in relief. “Every day sounds perfect.”

“Good, good. I’ll have to, uh, use some of my time to talk to Wayne, but the rest of it is yours, baby. And Gareth, Jeff threw him into a different center too. His check-in was much less voluntary though.”

“Shit,” Steve winced. “Is there anything Robin or I can do to help?”

“Take Jeff and Chrissy out to a nice dinner and use the Amex,” Eddie snorted, causing Steve to laugh.

“Consider it done.”

“Good." Steve heard the sound of another voice behind Eddie. Eddie replied something Steve couldn't understand, but it was in the affirmative. "Doc says my time is up for today. My, uh, talk with Wayne took up a lot of time,” Eddie returned, and his voice trembled as he spoke. “But I’ll call you tomorrow and I’ll see you in six weeks.”

“Yes you will.” Steve shut his eyes and imagined Eddie was standing right in front of him. Eddie with his riotous curls and holey graphic tees and tight jeans. Eddie with his rings on his fingers, with Steve’s ring on his finger. Eddie, standing across from him and smiling at him with that twinkle in his eye that had first caught Steve’s attention all those years ago. 

“I love you, Eds.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Tags List: @gregre369 @starman-jpg @skoomy-doompy @thequeenrainacorn @sleepyboosstuff @strawberrykore @paintsplatteredandimperfect @amoris-no-smut-allowed @steve-the-hairrington @iknewyouweremuggle @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sunfloweringstories @loverkasp @hyperfixationgoddess @steddie-as-they-go @zerokrox-blog @messrs-weasley @thelittleclare @lovelyscot

[makeyoumine69]

Before You Fade (Memory Reboot x3)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: After moving to Chicago, you thought you had left your former life behind. But when you receive a mysterious invitation one day, you realize you still have unfinished business in New York.

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, mutual pining, obsessive behavior, desperate & sensual foreplay, anal fingering, penetrative & oral sex, biting, spanking, creampie, masturbating, mild praise kink & degradation, body worship, pet names, dirty talk, misogyny, swearing, gaslighting, manhandling, mind manipulation, cheating.

WORDS: 6.8k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent — Before You Fade

A/N: Hello everyone! A new chapter is finally here! This story has me in a chokehold! I highly recommend you to read the first chapter and the second one for a better understanding and as always I hope you like it! If you find any mistakes regarding gn!reader, please let me know!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST].

A new city, a new life, new people and new opportunities—all this was supposed to bring some relief, to ignite a new flame in your chest, to set a new goal, to make you forget everything that happened in New York. It was supposed to, but it never did.

After a few months of living in Chicago and working in a prestigious financial corporation, you began to notice that your life now looked like a vicious circle and the days blurred into one long day that never ended. That was probably the price you paid for running away, for being too cowardly to face the truth that what you shared with Bateman was not just a history—it was a goddamn passion and obsession that most people could only dream of. But you, you were not like them. For you, this obsession was like a plague, a disease, and you were sure that Patrick felt the same way. Still, the words he said that day were like scars on your mind. The poor guy really thought that you would stay with him, that you would miss a chance to reboot your life. Since you couldn't reboot the memory, this was the only way out.

Was that it?

The sleek interior of your office greeted you with the invigorating aroma of fresh coffee waiting for you on your desk made by your lovely assistant—a handsome guy named Vincent—he was quite modest but smart and sometimes you even thought you should have asked him out for something more serious than coffee. But then again, the shitty memories kept ruining all those weak impulses to try something new.

Sighing, you closed the door behind you and took off your coat, placing it on the nearby hanger and glancing at the beautiful bouquet of flowers on the small coffee table next to the big black couch. These flowers…you bought them for yourself just because you wanted them, not because you felt lonely or…

'Fuck, not again,' you shook your head, not giving yourself a chance to spiral again, knowing how quickly that could happen. Today was the worst day for self-digging, because you were going to present a final plan for a future quarter, and you couldn't fail. Not today, not ever. The moment you finally settled into your favorite armchair, you heard a soft knock at the door. You knew who it was even before you let the guest in.

Vincent, smiling as if he saw the brightest star in the midnight sky, opened the door and entered with cat-like grace. "Are you busy?"

Embarrassed by the man's persistent gaze, you folded your hands and leaned down on the table. "No, not really, I just came," you brought the coffee cup closer and wrapped your elegant fingers around its handle. "…and realized I have the best secretary in the world."

A sonorous chuckle rumbled from Vincent's chest. "Oh, you're too kind," the man walked into the office holding a pile of documents. "I brought you some fresh correspondence you might like to see."

"Uh, yes, thank you. Put it here, please."

The brown-haired secretary complied, and soon there was a large white envelope in front of you, next to the documents. There was something odd about having such a large envelope of mail since it was almost the end of the work week, but you just tapped your fingers on the smooth surface of the table in a slightly skeptical manner before turning your attention back to Vincent, who was standing in front of the desk, ready to assist you with anything you might ask.

"Anything else I can do?"

"I think that's about it for now," you answered, staring at the envelope from time to time out of the corners of your ears, sipping the hot drink and letting the warmth flow down your tensed body. "Oh, did you hear that our CEO won't be at the presentation today?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, he…has some unfinished business in LA…with a hot blonde chick."

You both laughed in unison, everything was clear as a bell. "Well, that sounds important." Vincent crossed his arms over his chest, the Oliver Peoples O'Malley glasses sitting perfectly on the bridge of his nose, though you tried not to focus on that little detail that constantly reminded you of Bateman. As if he was the only yuppie to wear such glasses. "Have you…"

As soon as Vincent started to speak, your phone rang—the loud sound even startled you a bit, but you quickly shook yourself and picked up the call, being extremely curious who could be calling you like this. "I'm listening."

"(Y/n)!" Paul Allen's cheerful timbre came from the other end of the line, making you almost jump in your seat.

"P-Paul?" You gave Vincent a worried look, and your nervousness seemed to affect your assistant as well, because he didn't look relaxed anymore. "Did something happen?"

"What? No! Of course not," Allen chuckled, and a female giggle could be heard in the background. "I'm calling to ask when we can see each other in New York…"

A noise grew louder, making it difficult to hear Paul's words, so you had to close one of your ears and furrow your brows in irritation. "Where are you calling from? A brothel? I can't fucking hear a word!"

Such a remark made Vincent laugh a little shyly, but then the man bowed his head and retreated in his professional, polite manner.

"Can you repeat…" You began to speak at the same time as Paul.

"…so when can we meet?"

Grumbling, you rolled your eyes. "Why did you even decide that I would visit New York?"

"Didn't you get the invitation to the wedding?" Paul's question made you feel something heavy in your stomach.

"Wedding? Who's wedding?"

There was a moment of silence that left you so nervous that you didn't even notice a pencil in your hands that was about to break because of how desperately you were squeezing it.

"Halberstram…" another pause, then another female snicker. All of it made you sick. "He's marrying a hardbody named… Cecilia, if I'm not mistaken."

Somehow you felt strangely relieved.

"But it's been several months since I quit, why was I invited?"

"Gee, (y/n)," now it was time for Paul to grumble a bit. "You think a few months are enough to forget you?" He laughed shamelessly into the phone. "Okay, okay, maybe I chose the wrong time to call you. But seriously, I'm looking forward to hanging out with you when you get here."

"Argh, fine," you muttered, finally letting go of the pencil only to grab the annoying envelope. "I'll call you later, today is really a fucked up day for me."

When you heard nothing but women laughing, you just hung up. 'God, it's only ten in the morning and Allen's already having fun. What am I doing wrong with my life?' You vented to yourself, twisting the envelope in your hands as if you were about to open Pandora's box.

With a deft move, you pulled out a postal knife and carefully cut open the envelope to gain access to its contents. Time stood still for you as your hands involuntarily reached for a beautifully decorated card that could definitely be a wedding invitation. After a short exhalation, you opened it and it took you several minutes to process what you had just seen, as you thought you were hallucinating.

The card had the following text:

“The honor of your presence is requested at the marriage of

Evelyn Arwyn Williams And Patrick Pierce Bateman

Saturday, the twentieth of October nineteen hundred and eighty-seven at twelve o'clock in the afternoon

Ziegfeld Ballroom 141 W 54th St New York, NY 10019.”

The card fell from your hands without any resistance. You felt dizzy, even nauseous, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the office and you were literally suffocating.

'How dare…' you cursed to yourself, grabbing the collar of your blouse in a feint attempt to unbutton it from the burning itch on your skin, '…you…fucking bastard!'

Dazed, you stood up faster than you should have, making your head spin and nearly knocking you over if you hadn't leaned on the back of your chair. You need some fresh air or a sip of heavy alcohol or a fucking gram. Something that will take you out of this situation, even if only for a moment.

"Boss?" Vincent's worried voice came out of nowhere. "Are you okay?"

Panting, you shot an angry glance at your table, then at your lovely assistant, whose bright eyes were like two glowing beacons. "Vincent, listen," you stammered, unable to find the right words. "Can you please order me a ticket," you closed your eyes for a second, counted to ten and gripped the back of your chair. "…to New York."

"New York? Something wrong?"

"N-no," you managed to laugh off your tension and stop grazing the leather under your fingernails. "It's just… seems like I have some deals to settle in New York, some old ones I thought were closed."

"Only one ticket or…"

"I need a ticket in both directions, of course," you mumbled nervously before taking a coffee and finishing it in one go, thankfully it became less hot. "I won't be there for long," you said as if you were trying to convince yourself, desperately trying. It was only when you met Vincent's eyes that you noticed his sad look and realized that you might have upset him. "Uh, I really wish I could take you with me… but I want someone to look after things here and…"

The dark-haired man smiled sympathetically, and that helped to calm you a little. "Oh, please, don't apologize; it's my job," he said, visibly relaxed, considering his casual pose with his hands in the pockets of his Armani trousers. "I'm just worried about you, I don't want anything bad to happen."

Slightly embarrassed, you couldn't help but grin sincerely. "Ah, Vincent, you're such a sweetheart," you rumbled with undisguised amusement. "Everything will be fine. I promise, you have nothing to worry about."

"All right, then," Vincent pulled himself up and opened the door. "I'll let you know when I have information about your flights."

After that you were left alone again. The muffled din of the city outside the office could be heard faintly whenever you walked past the windows, restlessly making circles around the room.

'Maybe I should just ignore it? Maybe it's just a bad joke and I should call Tim and ask him about it?' You covered your face with your palms before sighing tiredly. Once again, Bateman was forcing you to make strange decisions and you hated it. You hated him, you hated the wedding that hasn't even happened yet, and you hated yourself for being so easily overwhelmed.

No way in hell did you expect to visit New York too soon after you left the city and everything that happened there behind your back the moment you took your seat in an airplane to Chicago. And who would dare to judge you for that? Right, no one but you.

The wedding was supposed to be tomorrow, so you had some time to prepare for… for what? Yawning, you stretched your legs in the uncomfortable backseat of the taxi, the driver asking you where you were from and if you had ever been to New York. And at some point you felt sad because you really wanted to say no, you haven't. But you did, and only God knew how hard it had been for you to survive the past months of constant self-digging and dead-end conversations with your vicious subconscious.

Thanks to Vincent, you didn't have to worry about where to stay in New York, as he booked you a luxury suit at the Plaza Hotel. Ah, Vincent…that boy was so sweet that sometimes you could even believe in supernatural beings, as if life was trying to make amends for the unpleasant situation with Bateman.

Sitting on the big bed, you tried your best not to have a panic attack or, even worse, go crazy and empty the minibar, drinking as much as you could as if tomorrow would never come. 'Gosh, I'd sell my soul to see Bateman's face if I came to the wedding being completely drunk.’ With a silly smile on your face, you kept dreaming about some nonsense to distract yourself until the night came and you had to get some sleep before the wedding.

The next day started terribly when some random maid came early and mixed up your suit with someone else's. In the end, you couldn't say that you were rested enough, but you didn't have much time and you still had to come up with an idea for your outfit. 'Should I wear something extravagant or perhaps something more modest?' You spun around in front of the large mirror, the clock was ticking and that sound was really getting on your nerves.

"Uh, to hell with it…" you cursed to yourself and finally picked out a blue Gucci suit that fit your figure perfectly. "I don't want to overshadow the groom."

Winking at your own reflection, you added a few accessories before leaving the Plaza, where a beautiful Cadillac was waiting for you. A driver opened the back door for you, smiled politely, and at some point you even began to think that this day wouldn't be as shitty as it promised to be.

By the time you arrived at the Ziegfeld Ballroom, it was already quite crowded, with many luxury cars lining the street, delivering more and more stylishly dressed guests. With a heavy heart, you held an invitation in your hand and fought the urge to tear it apart and tell the driver to drive away. The sudden appearance of Courtney and Luis in your vision pulled you out of your doubts. 'So that bastard even invited Courtney,' you hummed and slowly opened the door to get out of the car.

All the way to the Ziegfeld Ballroom, you tried to be careful not to bump into anyone you didn't really want to interact with, like Timothy, Craig, David, Paul… Even though you were sure it was going to happen one way or another, you still didn't want to face reality too soon.

Inside the huge hall, you stopped near the long banquet table decorated with white and red roses—the whole style of the wedding screamed Evelyn. Nothing special, though, Bateman probably didn't care about such things as wedding decorations.

Taking a glass of champagne, you moved deeper into the hall and watched the guests split into groups. Still, you were lucky because you didn't see any familiar faces, even Luis and Courtney got lost somewhere among the faceless yuppies and their dates. Everything seemed fine, you had a plan to see the couple get married and then… slip away? It was such a stupid plan, but at least you had one.

Puzzled, you told yourself to leave all thoughts to the latter, when you wouldn't be so vulnerable, staying in the middle of the ballroom and watching the several waitresses bringing more and more appetizers. You were even about to try one of them when you accidentally noticed Tim and Craig coming your way. Trembling, you almost dropped the glass, but somehow you managed to put it on the nearby table, startling a waitress with your erratic behavior, but you didn't care.

As fast as you could, you rushed in a different direction from the group of your former friends, desperately searching for any room you could get into. Your pulse pounded in your eardrums, forcing you to open the first door and enter.

Breathing heavily, you pressed your back against the door and closed your eyes for a second, only to open them in a blood-chilling shock as you met a pair of hazel, dark eyes as bewildering as your own.

"You?" Bateman's startled voice bounced off the walls of the small bathroom, his face frozen in a confused grimace as if he couldn't believe his eyes. "What the fuck are you doing in here?"

"Me? You invited me, you fool!" You barked back, pulling away from the door and moving toward the brown-haired man. "Have you forgotten already?"

Patrick looked absolutely stunning in his wedding tuxedo, the black bow tie being the cherry on top of his impeccably styled appearance. For a brief moment, Bateman studied your angry expression, his thick eyelashes batting like bird wings.

"It was Evelyn," he replied curly, standing still. "How delusional you must be to think I would invite you?"

Crossing his arms, Patrick smiled, and at first glance he seemed calm, but his slightly trembling lips betrayed him. With a soft chuckle, you moved closer until you noticed a beautiful bride's bouquet—a combination of roses again.

"So did Evelyn get what she wanted? I can see her in every little detail of this wedding. The Ziegfeld Ballroom was her idea too?"

The man sighed wearily and rubbed the bridge of his nose briefly. "No, my mother insisted."

"Oh," you beamed, carefully taking the bouquet in your noticeably shaking hands. "How sweet."

With a quick movement, Patrick snatched the flowers out of your hands and placed them back on the bathroom counter. "I had to walk around with this bouquet like an idiot, because I didn't even see Evelyn all this time!"

Such an outburst made you pause for a moment. "Relax, Bateman," you pretended to cheer him up. "Soon you'll be a family man."

The words forced him to clench his teeth as if they caused him physical pain. "Why did you come here, (y/n)?"

"Do you have any ideas?"

The distance between the two of you became smaller and smaller, melting like ice under the burning sun. You didn't even notice that every time he spoke, you couldn't take your eyes off his plump lips, his perfectly shaped chin that you wanted to touch, the way his eyebrows curled… God, you shouldn't have come here in the first place…

"I'm not gonna play your games anymore," Patrick suddenly blurted out, pulling you out of your lewd dreams. "If you came here just to get on my nerves, I'll tell security to kick you out."

"Woah, woah," you jerked back as Bateman stepped closer, your foreheads almost bumping into each other. "You seem very tense, marriage is a stressful thing, right?"

You continued to back away until you hit the wall behind you, and in the next second, the man caught you between his arms, placing them on either side of your trembling little form.

"Bateman?" You asked him breathlessly.

Frowning, he leaned down. You thought he was going to kiss you, but he just gasped and turned away. "I hate you," those words hurt you more than you could ever imagine. "Do you see these hands?" He asked, raising his hand and bringing it closer to your face. "I could break your neck so easily and watch your dead body fall to the ground."

A creeping fear rippled through your chest as he spoke. "You're kidding, right?" You tried to make a joke out of it, but as he tightened his grip around your throat like an iron ring, a muffled whimper escaped your tense lungs. "Ahh, w-what…"

Instead of actually hurting you, the dark-haired man brought you closer, so that your lips finally collided and the way you kissed was beyond any normalcy of kissing. Growling like a beast, Patrick literally bit into your trembling lips, almost tearing the soft flesh away, his grasp on your neck never loosening, only tightening when you dared to hug his shoulders, snuggling against him.

"Fuck," you cursed as he pulled away to nip at your neck. "You… scared the shit out of me! You psy…"

His hand abruptly covered your mouth, not letting you finish what you were about to say. "You came here because you couldn't forget me, huh? Because you are so fucking miserable in Chicago and no one gives a fuck about you?"

With your eyes shut tight, you whimpered against his palm at the faint physical contact with his hard groin. It was already too much, but then you heard a soft click of the door lock. 'Am I really going to die?' The thought alone made your knees weak. Meanwhile, Bateman was nuzzling against your cheek, inhaling your scent like an animal in rut, and you couldn't do anything, trapped in the strong arms you'd been dreaming about all these months.

The question he asked hung in the air for some time, even after Patrick removed his hand, waiting for your answer, you couldn't speak because… he was right. But to admit it would mean that you had lost. Lost in your own game.

"Why did you run away from me?" The man asked unexpectedly, his whole mood changing from wild to sad, bordering on despair. "Tell me!"

"I thought it would be better for both of us, okay?" You hated yourself for not finding better words, but it was so damn hard to think in a situation like this. "And I still think so."

With a wry grin, the man distanced himself a bit. "And that's why you're here with me… in some random bathroom… in the middle of my wedding?"

It did look familiar. That fleeting moment you gave in to temptation in the Tunnel that changed your life forever and for which you're still paying the price.

"You don't love her, do you?" You didn't even recognize your own voice.

"It's none of your business," Bateman replied before lowering his palm to your hip and squeezing it. "Now get on your knees, I don't have much time."

The audacity of this man was unbearable. Embarrassed but extremely aroused, you stifled a moan from the way he stroked your ass, encouraging you to obey. Biting your lower lip, you remembered how delicious this man tasted—a memory that haunted you every day—you should have resisted, you should have just stopped everything here and now, because there would be no happy ending.

‘I should have, but I can't,’ these six words flashed through your cloudy mind as you slid down the wall to meet the visible bulge in Patrick's tight pants.

"Good, good," he praised, casually unfastening his jacket and then his belt, just as you saw his white suspenders hugging his shoulders so deliciously that you had to hold your breath. "God, if I knew Evelyn was going to give me a wedding present like that, I'd postpone the wedding."

"You're a sick man," you murmured, but he just chuckled. "I hope you know that?"

"So are you.”

There was a small lounge chair in the other corner of the bathroom, and the moment Bateman saw it, you knew what he would do. Smirking mischievously, the man lifted you up with practiced ease and moved you to the chair, sitting down and spreading his toned legs so you could take your place between them. Patrick used all the self-control he had left to undo his pants without actually tearing them apart, his erection jutting out the moment he lowered the confines of his garments.

This scene made you lick your lips with undisguised hunger. Slowly, you leaned down between his wide-open legs and teasingly took his swollen tip into your mouth, then pulled away. "You're going to marry a woman who can't suck you off better than me, aren't you?"

Instead of taunting you back, the man grabbed the back of your head and made you take him deeper until your nose rubbed against his thick pubic hair, but it was still not enough, his cock was too big.

"Ahhh, what's that? Your mouth is too small to take me in?" Bateman commented cheekily as he watched your eyes get wet as you gagged. "You can only use it to say shit, but when it comes to real business…" the man pushed into your mouth again, fixing your head in one place. "…it doesn't seem to be useful."

"Mhmm," you tried to slip out of his grip, but he held you deadly tight. At one point you even wanted to use your teeth, but fortunately a loud commotion from outside attracted Patrick's attention and he let you go. "You…you are so pathetic…" you coughed several times, understanding that your end was near. "Even in a moment like this…you can't keep quiet! Like a fucking chatterbox…"

You wanted to say something else, but the way Bateman's dick pressed against your cheek, the weight of it, the warmth, it was all too overwhelming for both you and him, considering how tense Patrick's face was when you let his erection slide along your jaw as you descended lower to tease his sensitive balls with your tongue.

"Oh-fuck…" The man gasped, tilting his head back to lean against the wall and mumbling something incoherently.

Ashamed of what you were doing, you paused for a second, wondering what consequences awaited the two of you in the future. But all your attempts to stop yourself from falling into the abyss of consuming depravity were mercilessly crushed by reality— Bateman, all spread out for you, his cheeks blushing slightly as he enjoyed the oral pleasure you were giving him. This reality hit too hard. After all, you were enjoying that dick as well.

"So let it happen," you murmured suddenly before you wrapped your wet lips, covered with your saliva and his pre-cum, around his blushing shaft once more, your hands still rubbing his heavy sac. His skin was so soft there that you literally wanted to scream.

"W-what?" The man asked suddenly, as if he had just woken up from the enticing spell. "What are you talking about… are you so cock drunk that your brain can't function?"

At first, dirty talk like that could be really arousing, but now, hearing it for the hundredth time in a row, it was more amusing than hot. Without saying anything, you raised your eyes to him, your sneaky fingers delving deeper between his legs to stroke the rim of his tight muscles. A throaty moan escaped his suddenly dry lips. 'Cock drunk, huh?' You were proud of yourself, having a man like Patrick in a chokehold with your deliberate ministrations.

"Look at you, Bateman, you're such a naughty boy who loves it when someone plays with his ass?" You teased in between heavy gasps, as sucking such a huge cock was quite a challenge. "Does Evelyn even know about this?

Clenching his teeth, he tried to pull at your hair, but you dodged, pressing your finger persistently against his tight asshole before gently probing it, and you could swear to God, if heaven really existed, you wanted Patrick's moans to be music there.

"Uh, you're such a brat, babe," that nickname made you freeze. "This is going to end you one day…" His eyes rolled back into his head as you pushed your finger deeper into him, using a small amount of liquid on it as a lubricant. "(Y/n), you seem to need to bother your hands with something else…" you gave him a questioning look and he grinned in satisfaction, admiring the way his veiny, leaking dick slipped in and out of your lips. "Touch yourself… I know you want to…"

Fucking bastard. Why did he have to say it now? His words involuntarily triggered the memories of the lonely nights you spent in Chicago, masturbating almost every day when you thought of Patrick, telling yourself that he probably did the same. After all, maybe that was true?

As you pulled his cock out of your wet mouth, you quickly undid your belt and then your pants, pulling them down like an obstacle standing between you and mind-blowing pleasure. Locking your eyes with his walnut ones, you got up and tugged at the lapels of his jacket, forcing him to bend over so you could kiss him. Bateman didn't flinch, kissing you back, tasting himself on your lips and sucking on your tongue as you moaned shamelessly. Afterwards, you slipped a finger into his mouth and he licked it obediently before taking it inside.

"Oh, Patrick," you gasped before sitting down. "Why can't it be like this all the time?"

The brown-haired man smiled, exactly that smile that could make you commit a crime, how charming it was, it made you want to cry here and now.

Silently, Patrick leaned down to take your hand and place it between your legs, then he took your other hand and brought it back to his engorged dick, forcing you to resume your ministrations and from that moment on, you just let yourself go.

Rubbing your most sensitive spot, you whimpered and closed your eyes as you jerked him off, feeling the drops of his warm pre-cum dripping down your palm. Your orgasm was looming somewhere near, but it felt like the pleasure of your own hand was not enough. Bateman, as if he could read your mind, suddenly lifted you up by your shoulders, made you straddle him, and in the next moment you let him impale you on his thick cock, giving you the abundance you thought you had lost forever. A loud shriek echoed off the marble walls of the bathroom, a sound that made Patrick grin even more arrogantly as he knew that no one but him could make you feel complete.

He fucking knew it.

Groaning, the man grabbed your hips and set the pace, and at some point you found yourself riding him with pure abandon, literally bouncing on his beefy cock. "A-ahhh, Patrick, yes! Fuck-fuck me, just like that!" You mewled into his ear as he spanked your ass, squeezed your buttocks and spread them. "Mmhm…holy…shit…"

Another slap made you tremble on his lap. "So fucking needy for me," Bateman purred in a husky voice, his hair a mess, you managed to undo his bow tie and several top buttons to stroke his bulging chest. "Argh, you gonna make me cum, babe."

With that, he began to thrust his hips up, meeting yours with a shameless slapping sound. Dumbfounded, you were also so close, but you wanted him to fall first. Passionately rocking back and forth, you wrapped your hands around his neck, catching him off guard.

"You…you missed me just like I missed you…" That was more a statement than a question but the man didn't say anything, he just nodded with his eyes closed as he was completely lost in the embrace of incoming rapture. "SAY IT!" You nearly beat him into his chest. "Say…it…you bastard!"

Your crying compelled him to open his brown eyes which now were so dark, you could draw in them. "Yeah…" Each word was so hard for him to pronounce as his hips began to shake. "…I…I've missed you…too!" Patrick had to hide his face into the crook of your neck and before you knew it, the man bit into your soft flesh to the point of blood.

"A-AWWW, PATRICK!" You whimpered when you felt him exploding inside of you, shooting his hot load and sinking his teeth even deeper, holding you tightly in his strong arms.

"Shhh," the man strived to shush you, licking the fresh wound on your throat. "Just…take it…"

Still trembling, Bateman squeezed your hips so painfully, that you instinctively tried to pull away but he didn't allow you to. Sobbing, you cursed yourself for forgetting how rough he could be or…maybe you simply didn't know about this side of him? By the time Patrick stopped shaking, you were pumped with his seed till the brink, it was pouring out, staining the furniture beneath you, but no one cared. You sat like that for a moment until you began to move again as you still didn't reach your climax. With every buck of your hips against his, you hoped he would understand what you were asking for, but as soon as you reached out to kiss him, the man indifferently pulled away, tapping on your hip.

"Get up," Patrick commanded you, a bit annoyed.

"W-what?"

Bateman didn't repeat, taking you off from his lap before standing up on his feet and zipping his pants. Lost and confused, you sat on the floor, watching him sliding his hair back, opening the faucet and cleaning his face.

What the fuck was that?

"Bateman?" You stammered, finding yourself in the most humiliating position ever.

"You better clean yourself up, too," he commented briefly without looking at you, his voice drenched in venom. "You don't want the guests to think someone brought a hooker here, do you?"

Furrowing your brows, you ran a hand down your tear streaked cheek. "You're going to stop talking to me like that, or…"

"Or what?"

Anger and despair mixed together in a cocktail of pure madness. You wanted to fucking beat this man until he begged for mercy, but unfortunately, it was you sitting on the cold floor with your bare ass, his cum flowing shamelessly between your thighs.

"Fucking scumbag!" You yelled, picking up your shoe to throw it at him, but he quickly moved aside. "You're going to regret this…pathetic…"

Bateman started to say something but was distracted by several female voices. He checked himself in the mirror for the last time and finally spared you with his pitiful look. "You're going to walk around my WEDDING with my SEED inside you. Maybe you should look in the mirror and think about who's really pathetic in this room?"

And then he left.

Being left like that has set your body on fire, your nervous system was on the verge of bursting, but you managed to pull yourself together, gritting your teeth to suppress a loud scream. You felt nauseous, the bite on your neck was bleeding and aching, you were even afraid to touch it. Knowing that the door was now unlocked, you couldn't sit there any longer, so you gathered all the strength you had left to pull yourself up and get dressed. Then you slowly moved to the place where Patrick had been standing moments ago…but it felt like it had been so long ago, as time had stopped. After you cleaned yourself, you were really lucky to find a first aid kit, so you managed to clean your wound as well.

The ceremony had already begun when you finally decided to leave the bathroom. Dazed, you stumbled around like you were drunk. You couldn't remember how you found your way to the main event, where a large altar awaited the newlyweds.

All the guests were in their seats, and you moved stealthily, trying not to attract unwanted attention. The last row of chairs was almost empty, and when you suddenly recognized Timothy Bryce, lonely sitting there, you didn't hesitate to sit next to him.

"Well, well, well," you mused, a little cheered up. "Hello, Bryce."

The dark-haired man almost jumped in his seat when he saw you. "Jesus Christ, (y/n)? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Mmhm, Evelyn invited me."

Timothy visibly grew sadder. " Right…she probably tried to invite all the people in New York."

This sudden change in his demeanor confused you. "Tim? What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

The music began to play exactly when you opened your mouth to ask some more curious questions. Soon, the priest and several other people appeared in the alley. They walked up to the altar, everyone around was excited to see the main stars of this event. And as if that were not enough, some women in front of you began to cheer so loudly that you had to cover your ears.

"Stupid bitches." Tim grumbled as he sat back.

"Craig and David…where are they?"

Bryce pointed to other seats that were almost next to the altar. "They're with their chicks and they want the best seats."

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, avoiding craning your neck when it wasn't needed because it still hurt. "I see…and I thought they were doing coke without you."

"They did."

"Really? And what about you?"

The man sighed. "No coke is enough to get lost."

Now it was even stranger.

Another loud reaction from the guests signaled that something was starting to happen. You have to stand up a little to see the tall figure moving down the alley—it was Bateman, looking like he was not the one who fucked you in the small bathroom an hour ago. The way he smiled at the guests made you want to puke. Timothy noticed your trepidation and narrowed his eyes curiously.

"Are you okay?" He asked, not paying attention to what was happening near the altar. "You look unhealthy."

"I… I'm fine, it's just… it's very hot in here." You wanted to loosen your collar, but then you remembered the bite, so you had to sit like that.

In a few minutes the music changed and then Evelyn appeared, accompanied by her father who led her to the altar where Patrick was waiting for her. You held your breath and bit the inside of your cheek, but you forced yourself to look at the way Bateman took Evelyn's hands in his, touching them with absolute tenderness. A single drop of sweat trickled down your forehead and you probably intended to chew your cheek until it bled, but you didn't care. Nothing mattered now, nothing could hurt you, you felt like a ghost destined to walk the earth in search of its salvation. Only when the priest said that the newlyweds could kiss now, you turned away and so did Tim.

When the official part of the ceremony was over, Patrick and Evelyn walked out of the room towards an unknown destination, you and Bryce just sat there, not even talking, just sitting, as if you had nowhere to go.

"I'll get us some drinks." Timothy suddenly rumbled and stood up as quickly as the idea had occurred to him.

You didn't even have a chance to answer. You closed your eyes and rubbed your face tiredly when you heard a child's voice next to you. Turning sideways, you opened your eyes to see a little girl with a small bag in her hands. "Oh, hi…could you please repeat what I need to do?"

The girl smiled and opened the bag in an inviting gesture. "Pull your hand in and choose your destiny advice!" Giggling, you did as she said. Soon you were unfolding a small piece of paper. "What does it say?" The girl asked with undisguised curiosity.

After you rolled up the paper completely, you could read the text. "Find the courage to face your destiny." You swallowed nervously, on the verge of tears again.

"You didn't like it?" The little girl asked you, her face turning sad as well.

"No! Of course not, thank you very much!" You tried to smile. "You're so sweet, thank you!"

The girl suddenly hugged you. "Please don't be sad!"

And with that, the little child picked up her bag and ran to another person, doing the same thing she did to you. Nervously holding the piece of paper in your sweaty hands, you reread the text until several wet stains appeared on the paper. 'I am such a fool.' Wiping away tears, you heard several footsteps behind you. 'God, what if it's him?'

Excited, you turned to see Tim holding two cocktails. "They don't have anything strong."

You took the drink and watched Bryce sitting next to you. "Thanks Tim."

"No problem," he took a sip before looking at the piece of paper in your hands. "What is this?"

"Uh, nothing, just a childish game." You mumbled and took a sip of your cocktail.

After a minute of total silence, Timothy suddenly rested his arm on the back of his chair. "You know, maybe some coke is not such a bad idea after all," he looked at you, his dull eyes now glinting with a mischievous spark. "And since you're here… do you have any plans?"

"No," you replied frankly. "I… I have no plans, Bryce."

Nodding to himself, the man sat a little closer. "What about you coming to my place?"

Fidgeting in your chair, you wanted to turn to face him, but instead you hissed in pain, how crazy must the man be to leave such a mark? You crumpled the piece of paper in your fist and felt your nails digging into your skin, but still no pain came.

"Why not?" You finally replied, giving Bryce a smile he couldn't ignore as he smiled back.

'When one door closes, another always opens.' Was that what the taxi driver told you yesterday? A quote that had made you cringe in skepticism now played with different colors. But in the end, life was a good thing, even when you thought it was not.

Right?

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!