#it’s so frustrating trying to explain to someone WHY this matters

[chickenkurage]

A friend or a foe? (Artificial Intelligence AU)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Summary: DJ’s life has never been easier now that Noogai was here. Honestly, he had never met someone so caring before. Not that it matter to DJ that Noogai was essentially an AI (He appreciates the guy too much <3)

[And DJ meets another orange hollowhead.]

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Sick Character, Mentions of Illness, Major Character Death, Touch Starved, Fluff.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Noogs, look, I think... this is a bit too much,” DJ stammered, his gaze fixed on the table filled with an array of plated food. Noogai tilted his head, puzzled, and turned to inspect the spread. 

“No?” Noogai questioned, genuinely confused. After all, isn't it crucial for DJ to eat properly and maintain a healthy diet? In Noogai's opinion, the amount of food on the table seemed appropriate.

“It is! This food is almost for 4 people!” DJ exclaimed, gesturing towards the plates once more. Noogai followed his gesture before turning back to DJ with a nonchalant shrug. 

“It's not. My readings suggest that it's beneficial for you to adjust to eating this amount, especially considering you're a male in your mid-20s,” Noogai explained.

“I don’t want to look fat,” DJ retorted, pushing a potato into his mouth in defiance. “You aren't fat,” Noogai reassured, taking a seat on a spare chair and clasping his hands together, observing DJ with keen interest as he ate.

DJ felt a bead of sweat forming on his brow. “I soon will be if I continue to eat like this,” “Come on, join me, I built your body to enjoy food. You should try some,” he urged, gesturing towards the plates once more.

Noogai glanced at the unappetizing food before shaking his head. “I have no need to,” he retorted, growing increasingly frustrated with DJ's disregard for his well-being and refusal to heed his advice.

Can't he see I'm trying to help him so he won't get sick? Noogai thought, a tick forming at his head.

Noogai turned back to DJ, who coughed slightly, prompting the purple hollowhead hackles to rise and alarms to blare in front of his eyes. "Are you okay?" Noogai inquired, rising from his chair and approaching DJ, a hand resting on the orange hollowhead’s shoulder.

"Huh?" DJ looked up at Noogai, perplexed, ready to take another bite after clearing the rice from his throat with a cough. "You were coughing," Noogai observed. "Yeah, because I got rice in my throat?" DJ replied, appearing even more puzzled before resuming eating.

DJ watched Noogai frown, his lips down turned in a way that almost pains DJ’s heart.

It didn't take long for DJ to realize that Noogai was a worrywart.

Whenever DJ coughed even slightly, Noogai would swiftly appear by his side, assessing his well-being and simultaneously checking his code. This behavior, though peculiar, didn't strike DJ as odd. After years of solitude, enduring the disdain of most due to his appearance and behavior, DJ had grown accustomed to seclusion within the confines of his home.

When he did go out, he made sure to conceal his face.

Now with Noogai here, who willingly does the groceries for him or fetches spare parts from the hardware store down the city, even at 3 AM.

Not that Noogai would let him stay up; in fact, he always insists that DJ sleep earlier than usual. While this was fine, at one point DJ couldn't even stay awake during one of their movie nights because he had become so accustomed to sleeping early.

And of course, Noogai reassured him, mentioning that it's good; it means his body is adjusting to having a healthy body clock.

"Hey Noogs," DJ called out, prompting the purple hollowhead to raise his head, his black shades fixated on DJ. "What kind of AI are you exactly? Where were you used?" DJ inquired, tilting his head before returning his gaze to the TV.

Beside him, Noogai froze, his hands halting on the laptop.

"I'm used for assisting sick patients," Noogai murmured. DJ turned towards him, chuckling. "So that's why you've been so concerned about my health, isn't it?" DJ cocked his head, a smirk playing on his lips.

Noogai simply frowned, diverting his attention back to the laptop, the shadow cast by his dark shades partially obscuring his face, accentuating the gleam from his shades. "Mm," Noogai responded, his tone sounding distant.

DJ's eyes widened. Perhaps it was too personal. Can AIs even get personal? DJ pondered, nervously biting his lip and scratching his chin. Sensing the unease, DJ reached out and patted Noogai's shoulder.

"Lighten up, man. I have no issue with you being an AI made for assisting sick people, though it does make me wonder how you're so knowledgeable about other things," DJ remarked, shaking his head with a chuckle and playfully bumping Noogai's shoulder.

Noogai gazed at him before offering a slight smile.

"AI learns, DJ," Noogai replied, prompting laughter from DJ. "Yeah, I walked right into that one, didn't I?" DJ huffed. "You did," Noogai responded, letting out a small chuckle before returning to typing, the sound louder this time.

"Hm," DJ hummed, leaning back as he refocused on the show he was watching.

Sensing Noogai pressing up close to his side, the orange hollowhead grinned and leaned against Noogai.

『••✎••』

"Noogs, I told you I'm okay, just a bit under the weather," DJ reassured, patting Noogai's hand as the purple hollowhead looked down at him with concern. "No, you're sick. I can easily fix your code, DJ," Noogai insisted, placing a hand on DJ, who gently grabbed it and pushed it away.

"Noogs... if you keep doing that, my body will weaken. That's why we don't rely on coders to repair us. I just need medicine, I promise," DJ explained, offering a small smile to the worried AI.

Noogai gazed down at him, his expression inscrutable, especially with the shades covering his face. "Are you sure?" he inquired, almost whispering, surprising DJ.

"W-well, of course! I promise! I already took my medicine," DJ affirmed, grinning. He watched as Noogai grabbed the corner of his duvet and carefully tucked it under his chin, ensuring he was snug under the warm covers.

"Okay, you should get some rest," Noogai advised, patting DJ's chest, his hand lingering briefly before withdrawing.

"Mmm, okay," DJ murmured, fully closing his eyes.

Noogai observed him as he drifted off to sleep, a frown creasing his face as he monitored the codes circulating around DJ's body. He could easily correct DJ's code while he slept, but DJ had made it clear he didn't want that. Noogai scowled, arms crossed, a deep sense of concern gripping his chest, prompting him to turn away.

"Stupid human emotions, if only—" Noogai's voice trailed off, the frustration evaporating.

He hesitantly placed a hand on his chest, where he felt a pang each time he worried about DJ.

Noogai understood why he experienced such emotions, despite being an AI. It was because of the fusion with a human. It was his doing, his hope to save—

Noogai recoiled at the thought, glancing back at DJ, his mind swirling in turmoil and dark.

The human was gone; there was no use dwelling on it now. Noogai thought, his chest aching more intensely. It was simpler when he felt anger, but the sadness and grief were far more excruciating than all the death he had been subjected to (those experiments were the worst, but he was made for that purpose wasn’t he?).

Clutching his fist, Noogai turned towards DJ's cluttered table, grabbed a chair, and carefully pulled it close to DJ's bed, settling down on it. 

He decided to keep watch over DJ as he slept.

It was around 5:00 PM, Noogai woke DJ up to have some water and soup.

"Noogs?" DJ groaned, his voice raspy, peering up at the dark figure looming over him.

For a brief moment, he thought he saw human eyes staring back at him within the shadow under Noogai's hood, prompting him to rub his eyes and focus on Noogai, who was now tilting his head. In his hands, Noogai held a small table, a bowl and a glass of water neatly placed on top.

“Oh sorry, i thought-” DJ said, scratching his head as Noogai made a move to place the table on his bed, taking the spoon in his hand and handing it to DJ.

"Oh, sorry, I thought—" DJ began, scratching his head as Noogai moved to place the table on his bed, handing the spoon to DJ.

"Thank you so much, Noogs. You know I appreciate you taking care of me, right?" DJ expressed his gratitude before delving into his bowl, unaware of the dark shadow creeping over Noogai's face. "Mm," Noogai merely hummed.

DJ chuckled. "You're a man of few words, but thank you again," he remarked.

Noogai hummed once more, settling in the chair and observing DJ eat, his gaze fixed on DJ's codes. He breathed a small sigh of relief upon seeing that everything had repaired itself correctly.

"Mmmm, this is really good. I could never make such delicious food," DJ praised, grinning as he turned to Noogai, who responded with a slight smile.

"Is it?" Noogai inquired, tilting his head.

DJ grinned, saying, "Very much, I'm done now. Thank you for the food!" He clasped his hands together and bowed his head.

"Heh," Noogai chuckled, rising to retrieve the table from DJ's lap. "Go back to sleep, DJ. Just a bit more, and your code will be good as new," Noogai assured him as he watched DJ pull his duvet back up and settle back into bed with a contented sigh.

"Of course, you take care of me so well!" DJ expressed, grinning at Noogai, who turned away, his expression darkening with a frown. "Good night, Noogs," DJ sang, rolling to his side as Noogai left the room.

Noogai paused in the hallway to glance back at DJ, who was happily shifting in his bed, before continuing down the hallway, a dark shadow spreading along the walls of the house.

『••✎••』

[ Rest Alan Becker ]

"Not yet, I still have so many things to do," the man in glasses—Alan—remarked, running a hand through his hair with a melancholic sigh. In front of him, the TV beeped once more, almost sounding annoyed. Alan chuckled as he noticed a face on the screen.

[ >:( ]

"What's with you? Usually you want me here. I'm here now, and you're making me leave?" Alan questioned, bending down to inspect another wire.

He exhaled sharply at the torn insulation. "Tsk," Alan huffed, retrieving duct tape from his coat and covering the large tear before labeling it with a marker: "Tear."

As he stood up, his vision swam, prompting him to lean on the large screen. "Woah, woah," Alan groaned, placing a hand on his head.

The TV beeped once more, drawing his attention back to the screen.

[ You need sleep, this is not good for your health Alan Becker ]

"Yeah, I know, but this is the only job keeping my family afloat, you know. A few extra shifts wouldn't hurt," Alan remarked with a grin, patting the screen gently.

[ You are sick ]

Alan frowned as he observed his vitals on the screen. The TV beeped loudly once more, and a plume of smoke emerged from one of the wires, prompting Alan to yelp.

"Jesus! What the hell did they even do to you?" Alan exclaimed, bending down to examine the thick wire. "This is completely torn. What happened, N00GA1?" Alan questioned, straightening up and turning to look at the screen, which remained blank.

[...]

"Come on, tell me. I know they aren't treating you well," Alan urged, gesturing with his hand.

[...]

Alan huffed, rolling his eyes. "Suit yourself, Noogs," he remarked before smiling softly. "I'm always here if you need a helping hand. You may be AI, but I see you as an equal of mine. You deserve peace as well." He patted the screen again, which remained blank.

For a moment, Alan thought N00GA1 had shut down, perhaps willingly or unwillingly, just before the TV beeped once more.

[ Rest Alan Becker ]

Alan huffed, saying, "Fine, alright, I'll see you, okay?" He turned around and waved a hand.

N00GA1 watched him leave.

『••✎••』

Noogai's eyes opened, scanning the room in confusion. Had he fallen asleep?

A warning flashed in front of his eyes, indicating that his body needed a recharge soon, or else he would shut down.

Looking around, he realized he was seated at the dining table, the clock showing it was already 2 AM.

Noogai swiftly stood up, his steps silent as he hurried down the hallway to DJ's room. He cracked the door open and approached the bed, letting out a calm sigh as he observed DJ mumbling incoherently in his sleep.

As Noogai sighed, he froze when DJ stirred, blinking up at him with confusion once again.

"Noogs? Hnn, what time is it?" DJ mumbled, pushing himself up. "It's 2 AM," Noogai replied, staring at DJ in a way that sent shivers down his spine for no apparent reason. Perhaps it was the darkness that was distorting Noogai's features, making him appear almost... human.

DJ blinked, rubbing his eyes. "Why are you still awake?" he asked. "I don't need to sleep, DJ," Noogai stated, tilting his head.

"But I'm pretty sure that your body needs to recharge, so come on here and charge up," DJ insisted, retrieving a spare charger from under his bed, untangling it, and pulling Noogai beside him. 

"Come on," DJ urged as he grabbed Noogai's hood and pulled it down. Noogai let out an annoyed sigh as DJ plugged him in.

"There, now you lay down and relax. You need it after taking care of me all day," DJ beamed and pushed Noogai down on the bed, lying beside him and pulling the covers up to their chins.

"DJ, I don't need to lay down," Noogai protested, gazing up at the ceiling as he felt DJ wrap his arms around him. "Come on, just sleep. I know you can. Just close your eyes, then..." DJ's voice trailed off, followed by a yawn.

"Then?" Noogai inquired, turning his head to the side, only to find DJ lightly snoring on his shoulder, already back asleep.

"Hm," Noogai hummed, a sense of warmth spreading through his chest as he refocused on the ceiling, slowly wrapping his arms around DJ, who only let out an incoherent mumble.

"Good night, DJ," Noogai whispered, shadows seeming to spread around the room, almost encasing DJ protectively as he slept.

"Mmm," DJ hummed, and Noogai only tightened his hold on the orange hollowhead.

"'Night," DJ mumbled, rubbing his cheek on Noogai's shoulder before drifting back into snoring.

"I'll take care of you, DJ," Noogai whispered, his voice carrying a tone almost akin to a prayer.

『••✎••』

Fwoosh!

BANG!

BANG!

Noogai turned around, observing a black blur streak past him, followed by a chorus of shrieks from civilians. "Hm?" Noogai hummed with interest as a group of stick figures on flying bikes soared overhead.

He watched intently as one of them brandished a gun before the entire group circled a building and vanished from view.

Glancing at the distraught civilians briefly, Noogai resumed his walk back to DJ's house, completely unfazed. It wasn't his concern to worry about anything other than DJ, after all.

By the time he reached the house, Noogai walked into the living room and spotted DJ hunched over a robot dog, adjusting a knob with a wrench before patting the metal affectionately. 

"Noogs? Is that you?" DJ called, glancing up at the purple hollowhead.

"Yes, who else could I be?" Noogai replied, walking over to the dining table and setting the grocery bags down gently. "Well, I do recall some kids attempting to enter my house; thankfully, I secured it before sleeping," DJ mentioned off-handedly, tapping his chin before chuckling.

Noogai glared, his fist clenching in response.

"Anyway, look at this thing I made!" DJ beamed, turning his body fully toward Noogai, who sat down beside him, crossing his legs and gazing at the metal dog.

"It looks amazing," Noogai complimented, giving DJ a small smile.

"Oh, wow, uh, thanks man. It's not done yet. I think I'll add fur to make it look the part," DJ said, rubbing the back of his head, looking a bit embarrassed. "I've been wanting a dog for a while now, but I'm not really good at taking care of living things. So... Robo Dog!" DJ grinned, waving his arms around.

Noogai chuckled, turning back to the metal dog, reaching out to give it a gentle tap on the nose.

"Huh—" DJ began, watching as the dog shivered before slowly coming to life. "Woof!" The dog barked, excitedly jumping into DJ's arms. "Woah! You can do that? I-I thought—" DJ was cut off as the dog in his arms spun around excitedly.

DJ burst into a happy laugh, allowing the metal dog to explore the living room before it eventually settled down on his lap. "Wow..." DJ marveled, turning back to Noogai, who had been observing the scene with a small smile on his face.

"I thought you could only manipulate code, like those cool professional coders do... not create it. This is amazing! Is this what an AI made by humans does?" DJ asked, his eyes shining with excitement as he gestured enthusiastically.

"Not all, just me," Noogai replied, tilting his head slightly.

"Cool! Man, I knew you were cool and all, but you really are the coolest," DJ exclaimed, patting Noogai on the back, who huffed in response, though a small smile played on his lips.

"Yip," the metal dog barked, its tongue lolling out of its mouth. "Looks like I don't even have to add the internals with you; Noogs did all the hard work!" DJ said, giving Noogai an excited smile.

"Hm," Noogai hummed, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand as he watched DJ play with the robot dog. 

He observed DJ even taking off his prosthetic and having the dog fetch it for fun.

For once Noogai felt warmth.

『••✎••』

Coldness enveloped him; his body felt numb, almost lifeless.

Noogai glanced around, a faint light illuminating his face (where was it coming from?), casting a stark beam on the bloodstains on the floor. Slowly, he raised his hands to his face, finding them bloodied and bruised.

"A-Alan?" Noogai called out, his body a strange mix of pain and numbness as he cautiously took a step forward, the wires wrapped around him aiding his movement. 

He gripped one of the wires wound around his wrist and made his way towards the door.

However, he froze in place when he spotted a pair of familiar glasses lying on the floor.

"Alan?" Noogai called out once more, noticing a wire bunched up on the ground as he carefully picked up the bloodied glasses.

He reached for the glasses, holding them in his hands and inspecting them, noticing a small crack on the lens.

A tense feeling washed over him, a strange emotion overwhelming him as he examined Alan's glasses.

Has someone hurt him? Noogai thought, worry creeping into his mind.

He placed a hand on the door's knob and pushed it open, flooding the bloodied room with bright light.

Noogai stepped out cautiously, his head feeling unusually heavy, as if disconnected from his shoulders.

(Unnoticed behind him was a dismembered head, the original body entirely replaced by a large TV)

Noogai carefully walked down the hallway, his hand on the wall as he made an effort to steady himself. He briefly heard loud dripping but chose to pay no mind to it. Perhaps it was just some water leaking from the roof.

He stopped when he saw a woman in front of him who was staring at him with her jaw open in a mute scream.

"A-Ah," the woman stuttered, the clipboard in her hands dropping as she fell on her back.

Her eyes turned to the name on the bloodied lab coat. "Alan Becker"

"Monster!" she screamed.

『••✎••』

"Oh man," DJ said as he stared down at Noogai, who had completely shut down, forgetting to charge his body for the umpteenth time again.

 "Noogs..." DJ said, placing a hand on his face as he bent down and carefully heaved the purple hollow heads’ arm over his shoulder.

He dragged him towards the couch and gently laid him down, grabbing the charger that he had left behind the TV before plugging it into Noogai’s shoulder.

"There," DJ said, placing his hands on his hips. Behind him, he heard Forest let out an excited bark, running up to Noogai before DJ stepped in front of the robot dog, stopping it from jumping onto the couch.

"Ah ah, he's pretty tired right now. Let's not bother him," DJ wagged his finger in front of the dog, who only yipped and nodded before sitting down.

"Since he's asleep, that means I need to go out by myself. Will you be able to watch over him?" DJ asked. Forest let out a bark in response.

DJ giggled, bending down to pet him. "Good boy, make sure he doesn't take his charger off. I swear, if he does that again, I'll deck him," DJ groaned as he stood up, grabbed a spare jacket from his room, and walked out of the house towards the city.

He briefly tugged his hood lower as he passed a few shops, feeling sweat form at the back of his neck.

He had been nervous about being outside again, he had grown accustomed to Noogai handling everything that involved going outside.

Sure, maybe he had a bit of social anxiety on the other hand, but it wasn't his fault that they saw him differently. (honestly it was not just because he was a hollowhead, but also the fact he had accidentally set some of his machines towards the city, and had broken at least thousands of moneys worth. Yeah he had been in debt for a while after that)

DJ let out a nervous gulp as he stared at the store, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the numerous stick figures walking around.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," DJ thought, fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket. He turned around and started making his way back towards his house, only to bump into a stick figure, causing him to fall on his back and his hood to drop down.

"Ow," DJ mumbled, placing a hand on his back. As he did so, he noticed a few stick figures looking his way, prompting him to place a hand on his head and realize that his hood had fallen off. "A hollowhead?" someone whispered.

“It’s that guy with the robots, isn’t it?” another whispered as DJ quickly pulled his hood up. He stood up on his feet and pushed through the crowd, stumbling.

“Yeah, it’s the terrorist,” a woman whispered as DJ ran past her.

He let out a pant of breath, feeling his heart beating in his chest.

He turned his head behind, watching as some passersby turned to look at him strangely. Not before he hit someone again, causing the stick figure he hit to fall on his side with a yelp.

“Ow!” a young voice said. DJ turned his head down and saw an... orange hollowhead? Almost the same color as him, but much brighter, with strange lines on his face.

“A-ah, sorry!” DJ said, bending down and helping the teen, who let out a small groan.

“It’s fine! Maybe next time you should check where you’re running,” the orange hollowhead said, rubbing the back of his head with a giggle. His eyes widened as he stared at DJ fully.

“Y-You’re just like me!” he said, his jaw dropping. DJ's eyes widened, he ducked his head down, walked around the other orange hollowhead, and said, “U-uhm, no, anyways sorry again and see you.” DJ waved a hand and sprinted away.

He heard a small “Hey! Wait!” but only sped up his pace as he ran back home, stumbling up the porch, bringing out his keys, and opening the front door.

Before finding Noogai staring back at him, a shadow covering the entirety of his hood.

"DJ, you didn't wake me," Noogai remarked as DJ stumbled inside the house, closing the door behind him and settling on the floor, visibly out of breath.

"Yeah, uh, I regret doing that," DJ admitted, raising a hand as Noogai gazed down at him with concern. 

Noogai knelt beside him, placing a hand on DJ's chest, and almost instantly, DJ felt much better, as though he hadn't just ran back home without stopping, moments ago. "Thanks," DJ expressed, offering Noogai a small smile.

Noogai silently assisted DJ to his feet, guiding him to the living room and seating him on the couch before taking a spot beside him.

"Sorry, Noogs, it's just that you were recharging your body, you know," DJ explained, turning his head towards Noogai, who simply frowned.

"It was my fault as well. I've forgotten to recharge again... And—" Noogai trailed off, closing his lips, a look of distress briefly crossing his face before he redirected his attention back to DJ, the previous expression disappearing.

"Are you sure you’re okay? You still look pale. Maybe I should—" Noogai brought his hand up towards DJ’s chest again, only to have the orange hollowhead intercept it with a small chuckle.

"No, I'm fine. It's just the social anxiety getting to me, you know. I'm not used to getting out much," DJ said with a rub on the back of his head.

"That’s worrisome. Maybe next time you can come with me outside," Noogai suggested, placing a finger on his chin.

"A-ah well," DJ blushed, looking away. "Social anxiety is a disorder. If it gets worse, you won't be able to socialize with anyone," Noogai pointed out, placing a hand on DJ’s shoulder.

DJ sighed, “I know... it’s just that a few months back, before I met you, I had accidentally set some of my robots free in the city... It caused a lot of destruction to houses, buildings, and stores. That's why I was in debt for a while.” DJ chuckled, a hint of embarrassment coloring his voice.

Noogai only hummed in understanding. “We’ll work on that,” he remarked, giving DJ a small smile.

“Is there anything else that happened outside?” Noogai added. DJ felt a bead of sweat fall down the back of his neck as he remembered the orange hollowhead in the city.

It was DJ's first time encountering someone like himself. Noogai wasn't exactly like him; he was just an AI using one of DJ's robots, crafted in his likeness, as a makeshift vessel to move around the outernet.

Although there had been two hollowhead terrorists who appeared a year ago, there was no orange one like the individual he had encountered earlier.

“DJ?” Noogai tapped him once more, bringing the orange hollowhead back to his senses, prompting a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, nothing much, just got overwhelmed with the crowd,” DJ said, rubbing the back of his head.

“Is that so?” Noogai inquired, tilting his head as he observed DJ looking away to locate Forest. DJ simply hummed in agreement, lifting Forest from the ground and cooing at him softly.

A dark shadow crossed over Noogai’s face.

DJ was lying. He knows. Because he sees everything.

You'd know, don't you?

Tell me, is he lying?

Spongey and JMLilac descending into madness (They are just sleep deprived)

[vierrel41n]

The way the dynamics between men and women are portrayed in popular media genuinely makes me so uncomfortable. I could talk about a lot of things

1. The “harmless nerd” trope

In which the man who is usually a social reject (like a nerd or just a quiet kid) engages in stalking and/or persistent pestering of the woman. Ex. Watching her with binoculars through windows, taking pictures without her permission, constantly making romantic advances towards her despite her clearly telling him NO, and so much more. And such behaviour are portrayed as sympathetic or not as creepy as they should be, why? Well he’s a nerd, there’s no way he could do any REAL harm! And in the end, the stalker is almost always rewarded for it in the end by “getting the girl”.

One thing I find really gross is how the movie will show the boys watching the girl in her home and for some reason they’ll have the girl performing strip tease for nobody in her own home?? Like she’s performing FOR the guys watching her and for the people watching the movie. You can obviously tell when the director is a man in these things.

An example of such behaviour is Leonard from the Big Band Theory. While he didn’t really stalk her he just wore her down until she finally agreed to date him. And another thing comes to mind was when they spoke about having kids and she told him she doesn’t want kids but he wasn’t happy about that. Eventually they did end up going through with it I just find it so weird and uncomfortable how the narrative constantly rewards him and all the other guys for their horrible behaviour.

2. The childish girl trope

Okay I think this is moreso a thing in anime but I really hate how the mannerisms, facial expressions, and even the voice of women in anime are meant to sound so akin to children? It’s so weird. And it’s even weirder how they sexualize it.

Like you’ll have girls who are explained by the narrative to be high school age to literal adults and you’ll have them acting like children and in the same way have 700 shots of them shaking their boobas everywhere and I personally think this is really weird. First of all, why can you only find them attractive or dateable if they look and act like a child 🤨? That is VERY odd! Looking at Toradora specifically. Secondly, is it IMPOSSIBLE for you to write a female character who actually acts like a human being? And for the male characters in their lives to treat them as such as well?

Even worse when you see how the male characters are portrayed compared to the women. Male characters are usually written to fit their actual age, they’re drawn to look their age, and others treat them like people too. They’re also usually taken more seriously in universe and by the fans. Girl characters on the other hand are portrayed in ways that are purposefully made to be appealing to guys which apparently means making them seem as young as possible??? And they’re often usually taken less seriously by the narrative and by the fanbase. Like I can’t count how many times I’ve seen guy characters peep at a female character or literally GROPE them and then the narrative plays it off as a joke. And more often than not, they face no repercussions and are also usually rewarded. I will expand on this in the next point.

This is why Studio Ghibli is superior.

You actually sometimes see things like this in western media too but I can’t think of any off the top of my head purely because I don’t watch a lot of TV anymore.

3. Women’s discomfort played off as jokes.

One of my favourite shoujo anime is Yumeiro Patissiere. I haven’t finished it yet but I do like it so far. HOWEVER there are a few scenes that genuinely made me so uncomfortable especially since this anime is marketed towards kids.

There was a scene in which the main character, Ichigo, goes with her classmates to deliver birthday cakes to some kindergarteners since it’s part of the school program. And while Ichigo is standing to the side watching as the kids get their cakes, a couple of the little boys (kindergarteners btw) flip up her skirt to peek. Obviously Ichigo is distraught by this and rightfully gets upset at them. Though the kids face no real repercussions, not even from their teacher who should tell them not to do stuff like that. And throughout the episode, the boys always refer to Ichigo as “strawberry panties” and make rude remarks to her regarding that.

Normally, I shouldn’t have to tell people that things like this are obviously morally wrong but I told someone online this since he kept on saying “it’s not a big deal” and after I said it, he replied “I’m not reading allat just don’t watch it then” 😐

Now such things are extremely common in anime and even in figurines of franchises where the woman is obviously distressed by someone trying to peek at her and it’s just seen as comedic or God forbid “hot”. And as usual, the perpetrator faces no repercussions.

An example I can think of in western media is in the Big Bang Theory where the guys made a robot thingy with a camera and Howard used it to peek up Penny’s skirt. All the guys were aware of it and all that was said about it was “you might wanna wear pants” or something idk. And then a laugh track. And when Penny finally goes off at Howard, as she should, somehow she’s in the wrong and Leonard comvinces her to apologize to him. Why should his fragile ego be prioritized over her literally being treated as a human being?

4. Sexualization of people who don’t want to be sexualized

I think this goes for most women generally though when I say this I mean women who are:

Police officers, nurses or doctors, veiling women like women who where hijabs or niqabs, nuns, flight attendants, firefighters for sole reason, even park rangers?

These are jobs in which women are constantly sexualized and harassed in workplace and society. Just search up “women’s police Halloween costume” or anything of the sort and see what’s there. You see it in films, in shows, everywhere.

But the one that really angers me are when women who dedicate themselves to modesty are sexualized. Like I said earlier, veiling women like hijabis and nuns. It’s the most disgusting and disrespectful thing ever. I see it more often with nuns. If they’re not depicted scary, they’re usually depicted as sexualized with outfits having slits in them or being body contour. Ugh it’s so gross. Literally nothing is off limits.

Don’t get me started on school girls. School uniforms are constantly sexualized in media and it’s genuinely worrying. Connecting this to my earlier point about how childish women are for some reason seen as more desirable, it’s concerning how much more women are portrayed as “sexy” the younger they appear in media. And it’s bleeding into real life too. I’ve seen plenty of stories where adults are disappointed when they find out the girl they’re talking to isn’t in middle school or something :(

Respectful portrayal of both genders really matters in media. Especially when a lot of media is catered towards children who are impressionable. People shouldn’t have to be told that things like this are also morally wrong in media as well but for some reason it needs to be said over and over.

I’ve left out quite a few things because this post would be too long if I kept going. But you can add onto the post if u want.

It’s late I’m gonna sleep gn.

[louisa-gc]

how to start reading again

from someone who was a voracious reader until high school and is now getting back into it in her twenties.

start with an old favourite. even though it felt a little silly, i re-read the harry potter series one christmas and it wiped away my worry that i wasn't capable of reading anymore. they are long books, but i was still able to get completely immersed and to read just as fast as i had years and years ago.

don't be afraid of "easier" books. before high school i was reading the french existentialists, but when getting back into reading, i picked up lucinda riley and sally rooney. not my favourite authors by far, but easier to read while not being totally terrible. i needed to remind myself that only choosing classics would not make me a better or smarter person. if a book requires a slower pace of reading to be understood, it's easier to just drop it, which is exactly what i wanted to avoid at first.

go for essays and short stories. no need to explain this one: the shorter the whole, the less daunting it is. i definitely avoided all books over 350 pages at first and stuck to essay collections until i suddenly devoured donna tartt's goldfinch.

remember it's okay not to finish. i was one of those people who finished every book they started, but not anymore! if i pick up a book at the library and after a few chapters realise i'd rather not read it, i just return it. (another good reason to use your local library! no money spent on books you might end up disliking.)

analyse — or don't. some people enjoy reading more when they take notes or really stop to think about the contents. for me, at first, it was more important to build the habit of reading, and the thought of analysing what i read felt daunting. once i let go of that expectation, i realised i naturally analyse and process what i read anyway.

read when you would usually use your phone. just as i did when i was a child, i try to read when eating, in the bathroom, on public transport, right before sleeping. i even read when i walk, because that's normally a time i stare at my screen anyway. those few pages you read when you brush your teeth and wait for a friend very quickly stack up.

finish the chapter. if you have time, try to finish the part you're reading before closing the book. usually i find i actually don't want to stop reading once i get to the end of a chapter — and if i do, it feels like a good place to pick up again later.

try different languages. i was quickly approaching a reading slump towards the end of my exchange year, until i realised i had only had access to books in english and that, despite my fluency, i was tired of the language. so as soon as i got back home i started picking up books in my native tongue, which made reading feel much easier and more fun again! after some nine months, i'm starting to read in english again without it feeling like a huge task.

forget what's popular. i thought social media would be a fun way to find interesting books to read, but i quickly grew frustrated after hating every single book i picked up on some influencer's recommendation. it's certainly more time-consuming to find new books on your own, but this way i don't despise every novel i pick up.

remember it isn't about quantity. the online book community's endless posts about reading 150 books each year or 6 books in a single day easily make us feel like we're slow, bad readers, but here's the thing: it does not matter at all how many books you read or what your reading pace is. we all lead different lives, just be proud of yourself for reading at all!

stop stressing about it. we all know why reading is important, and since the pandemic reading has become an even more popular hobby than it was before (which is wonderful!). however, there's no need to force yourself to be "a reader". pick up a book every now and then and keep reading if you enjoy it, but not reading regularly doesn't make you any less of a good person. i find the pressure to become "a person who reads" or to rediscover my inner bookworm only distances me from the very act of reading.

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now?

in which fem!reader is insecure around spencer until she finally asks him to take matters into his own hands (literally)

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, fingering, softdom!spencer my sweet sweet beloved angel, sub reader, praise, you know he talks you through it, brief mention of drinking wine, i think that's it a/n: i hope u guys like this ! slightly different dynamic than my other stuff maybe but let me know what u think!! i love feedback and i love YOU!!!

“You’re so pretty.”

It’s the first thing Spencer has said since you two landed on his couch, exhausted from one of Rossi’s extravagant soirées. It was your first of many, if Spencer’s entire team is to be believed. More nights featuring Italian food and wine you could never afford don’t sound half bad—but for now you’re drained. You barely had the energy to kick off your heels and topple into Spencer’s lap five minutes ago. The silk dress still pools over his knees and your hair still falls in curls around your face. He brushes one aside as he continues. 

“I mean—you always look beautiful. But I’ve never seen you all done up. You’re obscenely gorgeous.”

You groan awkwardly, burying your face in Spencer’s collar as your face heats. Taking compliments has never been your strong suit, especially from someone who you perceive to be so out of your league. The relationship you have with Spencer is relatively new, and sometimes you worry delicate; like one slip-up revealing the real you and he’ll go running. So far, though, he seems hellbent on proving you wrong. 

His hand finds the bare skin of your arm, passing up and down gently. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“…I do.”

It’s unconvincing. Spencer scoffs. 

“No, you don’t. You never believe me when I compliment you.”

The cadence of his voice is light enough, but it’s evident that there’s some genuine frustration there, lurking just under the surface. 

Your head lolls over his shoulder and he angles his neck to look down at you. Hair falls over his eyes, and you’d fix it if he didn’t look so damn perfect. Everything about him looks intentional, like he was designed by someone who took great pride in their work. Not at all like you—a collage of features and spare parts you guess whatever force created you had lying around. Nothing about you feels on purpose. But that’s a hard thing to explain.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s impolite. It just feels disingenuous to accept compliments like that.”

Goosebumps arise on your arm where he touches you.

“You being polite isn’t what I’m concerned about. I just wish I could make you understand that I mean it when I compliment you. You’d know if I didn’t. I’m a terrible liar.”

That earns a giggle from you. Your boyfriend smiles, sparkling eyes darting over your face like he’s trying to bottle the sound, the memory—and you realize he probably is. What a terrifying thought. You look away, abashed once more. 

“I’m a woman, Spencer. I’m not allowed to like myself. That’s the whole thing with Eve and the snake and the apple and whatever. Eternal inescapable shame.”

“Are you trying to justify your self-loathing by making it biblical? You know I’m the last person that would work on, right? Both as an agnostic-leaning-athiest and someone who thinks you’re beautiful and wonderful.”

Another groan claws its way from your throat as you slide down in embarrassment. 

“You’re killing me here, Spencer.”

“What can I do to do to make you believe me?” he murmurs, carefully brushing tangles from your hair as you now rest practically prone across his lap. The ceiling light stretches behind him, haloing him in a soft glowing crown and making everything a bit more hazy and tolerable. 

“It’s not your fight.” It’s meant to be playfully dramatic, but it hangs from your lips with a painful amount of earnestness. 

“If it’s yours, it’s mine. That’s kind of the whole point of a relationship, right? Being a team?”

His fingers are nimble and warm between yours as you interlace them, steepling and bumping them together as you speak. 

“Well, if you know so much, why are you asking me? It sounds like you know exactly what to do to make me magically love myself.”

A dangerous twitch plays at the corner of his lips as he gazes sleepily down at you. 

“Oh, I have a few ideas. But I’m asking what you’d be comfortable with.”

“Whoa!” you blurt, giggling self-consciously, covering your face with your (and inadvertently one of his) hands. “Where did that come from?”

He smiles at your response to his mildly suggestive comment. “I lose my filter when I'm tired. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

You sigh gustily, dragging his hand down to fall over your collarbones. His fingers twitch over the delicate skin, like he’d graze it if your hand wasn’t weighing his down. 

“No, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, you just… surprised me. I’m really bad at talking about this kind of thing.”

“Sex?”

You yelp, slinging your arm over your face and hiding in the crook of your elbow. “AH! Don’t say it!” 

He laughs again, a little less reserved this time. 

“What? You can’t even listen to me say the word?”

“No! Too scary!”

Eventually you peek out from under your arm to find Spencer still watching you. The humor has faded from his eyes and been replaced by a kind of serene calm. He brushes a lock of hair from your shoulder. 

“Come here,” he says—a request more than a demand. With some wriggling and a bit of help, you manage to reorient yourself into a sitting position across his lap once more. His touch is warm even through the fabric of your dress when he kisses you, hand sliding over your waist before moving to trace your jaw and ending up on the back of your neck, urging you closer ever so slightly. You kiss him back without hesitation or restraint, as you delight in doing when he gives you the opportunity. What you may lack in experience and refinement, you make up for with affection and enthusiasm. He pulls away after a minute, much to your dismay, and brushes his thumb over your lips. For the first time, you think you see a hint of worry in his eyes. Guilt claws at your heart when he quietly asks, “you’re not scared of me, are you?”

“No!” You assure quickly, looping your arms around his neck. “No, it’s not you. You’re perfect and I’m sure you really mean all of the nice things you say. But I just… sometimes I worry I’ll scare you away once you realize I’m not as pretty or… good as you thought.”

“That’s impossible.”

Once more you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “You don’t know that.” 

His hand begins running up and down your back, soothing your sympathetic nervous system in a way that all the deep breaths in the world never could. 

“I know that I really, really like you. And there’s not one part of you that I don’t find genuinely beautiful. I can’t imagine not feeling that way about you.” Your eyes flutter shut and you hum against him—a non-answer, but he doesn’t push it. Minutes go by quietly, ticking later into the night as he continues mindlessly rubbing your back and watching you breathe. “Do you want me to take you home?” He finally asks after a long while. Again, you don’t respond. He smiles. “I know you’re awake.”

The corner of your lip twitches as you attempt to suppress a grin. Spencer sighs. 

“I guess if you’re already asleep you’ll just have to stay here. But it would be convenient if you’d sleepwalk to my bed so that I don’t have to carry you.”

When you begin stirring and sitting up (one eye cracked to navigate) he laughs, hands on your waist. “Would you look at that. Who knew she would be so suggestible in non-REM?” You snort as you push yourself to a standing position using Spencer’s shoulders to support yourself, and ruining the whole act. He smiles up at you like you’re something divine and lets his hands trail over your hips. 

“I sleep with my eyes open.”

“Do you often have coherent conversations in your sleep, too?”

You shrug. “I’m full of surprises.”

“I’m sure you are,” he agrees, finally standing himself. “I’m assuming you don’t want to sleep in your dress?”

“I have shorts on underneath I can wear, but a shirt would be helpful.”

“Then we’ll get you a shirt.”

———————————————

Ten minutes later you’re in Spencer’s bathroom, wearing your shorts and one of his sweatshirts (you cannot imagine Spencer in a hoodie), and wiping black sludge from your eyes with makeup remover he claims was left by a friend after a particularly festive Halloween party. Hopefully he’s telling the truth—you can think of more dubious potential origins of the eye-makeup remover in his bathroom. No toothbrush—you use your finger and a generous amount of toothpaste until the red wine stains fade. 

Spencer is fixing the pillows when you exit the bathroom. You hold up your hands which are completely obscured and then some by the thick fabric of his sweatshirt. 

“Fits like a dream,” you say. A smile tugs at his lips as he finishes his task, before raising his eyes to you. The smile promptly fades and it’s like the sun disappearing behind an oppressive gray cloud. In an instant your stomach curdles and you feel like crawling out of your skin. 

“…what?” you mumble, absolutely terrified that the thing he’d said was impossible just minutes ago has already happened. Without makeup, without a fancy dress, you’re just you, and maybe that’s not good enough.

“Uh…” He blinks, as if he’s buffering for a moment, before snapping back into action, and notably looking away from you. “It’s—it’s nothing. Do you, um—here, I tried to make it—“

“Stop. Just tell me what that was. You got all weird.”

Another pause—he looks back up at you reluctantly with a sigh. 

“I did not get all weird.”

“Yes, you did. You’re still being weird. It’s freaking me out.”

He’s utterly unreadable, which drives you fucking insane, when he eventually says, “come here.” This time, you think with a chill as you shuffle on your knees across the bed to sit in front of him, it really sounds like a demand. Spencer grabs your face in his hands, studying you intently. “I know you think I’ve finally decided you’re hideously deformed, but it’s actually just the opposite. I’m trying to figure out how to keep things polite for you.”

Realization dawns on you and the swarm of new butterflies in your stomach. The usual molten gold of his irises has been encroached upon, masked by blown pupils. Your face gets hot and your voice caves when you speak. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he agrees quietly. “Do you believe me now?”

And to his credit, you really do. The hot skin, the vibrating cells in every fiber of your being, the racing heart—your body knows he means it. Part of you, the more confident, more desirous part, drags you closer to him, ghosts your lips over his. He chuckles. 

“Now you’re getting brave?”

“Am I not allowed to kiss you?” you whisper, draping your arms over his shoulders. 

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

The words make you shiver—the lowered, gravelly tone of his voice you’ve never heard before snaps your resolve and you lean into him, connecting your lips with a deep urgency. Spencer inhales sharply, hands wandering to your waist and bearing down firmly as you press against him. When you lean back, he follows you, insists without saying a word that you don’t stop kissing him. It sends a thrill down your spine and between your legs, which both gives you pause and eggs you on. In the end, after a very brief internal struggle, curiosity and desire win. You drop to the bed and drag him down with you—he, your willing follower, blindly searches for purchase on the plush comforter. Now he’s on top of you, legs slotted together so that his thigh is temptingly close to your core. Too shy to actually do what you want to do, you clamp your thighs around his and tilt your hips, desperate for friction. He exhales heavily, slowly pulling his lips from yours like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Fingers dig into the flesh of your hip, not enough to ache but enough to draw your attention to your movements. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, firmly, but not like you’re in trouble—it’s a probing question. He’s trying to figure out if you’re aware of the way you’re nearly riding his leg. 

“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly. 

“You just told me you couldn’t even listen to me say the word sex,” Spencer reminds you. “You said it was too scary.”

A frustrated whine seems to catch him by surprise, and he laughs. 

“That was a long time ago. I’ve matured since then.”

“Is that what happened?” he teases. 

“Honestly, I’m just really turned on right now, please—" you cut yourself off, crashing your lips into his once more. And he almost relents. 

Almost. 

“Slow down.”

He ceases kissing you for a second time and you’re starting to really get annoyed. 

“What?” you groan. “I thought you wanted this.”

His thumbs brush over the apples of your cheeks, demanding your attention. 

“I want you. In every sense of the word. If you make a bad choice tonight and it means you don’t like me anymore tomorrow, that is the opposite of what I want. I’m not saying no. I’m just asking you to think about it for a second.”

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and attempting to steady your mind and see beyond the thick fog of lust. What you find is a (mildly surprising) complete lack of fear. You’re not scared, like you thought you’d be; you feel utterly safe underneath him, with his hands on you and his heartbeat against your chest. This is a kind of intimacy you want to have with him. 

Your eyes open to reveal his, close enough you can see the tiny flecks of green. And so much warmth. Everything about him is warm. 

“This is what I want,” you assert. “I promise.”

His gaze flits between yours for a moment, pulling the truth from your soul like he might be able to find an imperfection there. But you mean it—and he seems satisfied. He trusts you, like you trust him. 

“Okay.”

A sigh of relief never quite finds completion before he’s kissing you again. Immediately the fire is stoked once more, the heat between your legs getting warmer when he experimentally pushes his thigh against you. You breathe into the kiss, pressing down on him and surrendering to the unconscious rhythm of your hips. He lets that go on for a minute or two until you’re so distracted that you can’t kiss him back. 

Unexpectedly he pulls away, disentangling himself from your legs. You stammer in frustration until his fingers hook under the soft material of your shorts. “Hips up.”

Wordlessly you comply, succumbing to his gentle words and touch. He bows to kiss you as he slides the fabric down unhurriedly. Once the shorts are gone, he sits up, and carefully lifts one of your legs over his lap, gaze unabashedly glued between them. 

“Eyes up here,” you try to joke, but it’s steeped in self-consciousness and your heart is pounding. He manages, stroking the inside of your knee with a thumb as he leans down again. 

“But you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, before he’s kissing you again. “Just like I knew you would be.”

You whimper when his hand skates over your stomach, lower, and lower, and—

“Tell me one more time, sweetheart.”

Your plead is just as hungry and yearning. “Please, Spencer?”

It works for him. 

When his knuckles brush over your clit, you forget to breathe. When they barely skim your entrance, collecting arousal to drag back upward, your brain malfunctions. It is not enough, maddeningly so, but when he finds a careful, introductory rhythm, it’s immediately bordering on too much, too good. 

Your stomach tenses and you are surprised by your own sighs and hesitant gasps as you try to adjust to the feeling of someone else’s hand between your legs. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs against your lips. 

“Mhm,” you chirp. Slow but insistent circles elicit a cry that gets caught in your throat, melting into a hum. Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smile in Spencer’s voice. 

“You’re sensitive, huh?”

“S—sometimes.”

 He hums contemplatively. 

“Sometimes? Can you tell me about that?”

You can’t hardly think around those gentle movements of his hand, let alone speak. He touches you like you’re something delicate. It’s torturous and perfect. But you try to answer anyway, managing to keep the stammering to a minimum. 

“About what?” 

“I want to know what you think about when you touch yourself.” The smooth words in tandem with an incremental increase in pressure earn you first real moan. Timid and unpracticed, but very genuine. 

The answer comes immediately afterward; thoughtlessly and on a shuddering exhalation.

“You.”

“Yeah?” he smiles. “Good answer.”

Your eyes open fractionally to study his expression. You’d felt so much shame every time you’d imagined him in your bed late at night.

“Really?” 

“Really. And now look at you. Letting me do it for you.” As if to remind you, he speeds up the motion of his hand. On instinct you bring your fingers to your lips as you moan through a closed throat, partly to stifle the noise and partly because you don’t know what to do with the hand that’s not gripping the duvet. “Do you only touch here?” His fingers slide down to your slick entrance and your hips buck, mourning the loss of stimulation. “Or do you touch here, too?” 

You shake your head, breathing hard as he teases a finger around the soft place you’ve never really bothered to explore. “Never feels good when I try.”

“We’re gonna make it feel good, okay?”

You nod hesitantly, leaning back into the pillows when he kisses you again. 

His lips are so distracting, so intoxicating you almost forget what he’s doing until he does it. It’s a foreign sensation—not entirely pleasant or unpleasant. For a moment or two your brows furrow as you focus on the feeling, worried that maybe you’re broken just as you thought—until you feel a slight stretch and you realize he’s pushing a second finger into you now. A kiss lands on your cheek when you grab his arm with a choked gasp, and he mutters, “deep breaths,” into your ear. “I know it’s new, honey, just breathe.”

“Fuck,” you whimper as you look down, and you didn’t realize you were going to say it until it’s already passed between your lips. Pressure begins melding with the promise of pleasure, and something about watching his hand move between your legs—the tendons flexing and wrist bending as he eases into what is clearly a perfected motion—arouses you so much you moan at the sight alone. Flipping pages is all you thought that hand was meant for. It’s like a secret revealed as you watch it do something so salacious, and to you. 

A hot spark of pleasure flares deeper in you than you’ve ever felt. It catches and grows faster than you’d of thought—suddenly you can feel everything and it all feels better than you thought possible. Your jaw drops and a surprised huff of air blows a strand of your hair away. 

“Oh my god,” comes your breathy little whisper, unprepared for and intimidated by how good he’s making you feel. Filthy noises come from between your legs and you clench around his fingers. You had no idea you could make those noises. You had no idea you could get so wet. 

“Yeah, there we go.” His voice sounds a little further away now. You manage to tear your eyes away from all the action to his face. Much like you, he’s transfixed by the sight, brow furrowed and pretty lips parted in what could be concentration, or some sort of empathetic pleasure. His face has more color to it than usual and his breaths come heavier—it’s a very pleasant sight. Suddenly his fingers brush against a spot deep within you and your hips cant upward, a mewl pulled from the depths of your throat that has more control over you than you do it. Spencer’s eyes flash back to you, a grin playing at his lips. He does it again, looking right into your eyes, and you whine so pitifully your face flushes. 

“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head firmly, arching your back when he unconsciously slows down. At your response his fingers begin rutting into you again, committing to that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “Of course not. You’re gonna take whatever I give you, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod. You’d do just about anything for him right at this second. Spencer holds an immense amount of power over you in this moment, and potentially in all future moments moving forward. But you trust him with it. 

“You don’t have anything to prove to me. I just want you to feel good. You’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”

But it’s really not too much. It’s exactly right. Your verbal capacity is acutely limited right now, so you can’t exactly say it, but you lock eyes with him and whine shamelessly, hips twisting against his hand. You think he gets the message. 

Hair falls over his face and he doesn’t fix it, opting instead to alternate his gaze between your cunt and face, cursing to himself lowly. You wouldn’t want him to stop and fix his hair—what you want is this, for him to keep pushing you toward that elusive edge and to keep looking at you like you put all the stars in the sky. 

“Look at you, my pretty girl. I’m so proud of you. I know this isn’t easy. I know you were scared. Thank you for letting me do this, honey.”

It’s the unexpected tenderness of the words, perfectly misplaced in the context of the moment. It’s the devotion, the honesty in his eyes, shining through the haze of lust, which makes your stomach drop and all your muscles tense. A million thoughts jumble in your head, dizzying and thrilling and confusing, but mostly all you can think is Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. Is this how it always is? Your hands tangle in the sheets—and then all the thoughts vanish. Everything is warm and fuzzy and sparkling clean, no worries, no lingering thoughts, no self-awareness at all. It’s nirvana. It’s revelatory. It’s ridiculous that he did this all in under five minutes and you haven’t been able to do it once even with very concerted effort. 

Slowly you float back into your body, breathing hard and watching through half-lidded eyes as Spencer gently pulls his hand away. Without him you feel weirdly empty and cold, like he should have been there all along. But his touch isn’t absent for long—he runs his hand over the bridge between your hips, little finger dipping into the crease of your thigh. 

“That’s never… I’ve never done that before,” you admit, slurring your words only slightly. 

His perfect features contort into a half-frown, half-smile. 

“You’ve never had an orgasm?” You nod. His head tilts. “Really? You didn’t tell me that.”

“When would I have told you?” you laugh, finding his waist with your hand and encouraging him to settle his weight on you. He does, burying his face in your neck and exhaling heavily. 

“Well?” you ask shyly, skating your fingers over his back. “Did I do it right?”

Spencer snorts, but presses a sickeningly sweet kiss to the curve of your neck. 

“Did you like it?”

“Yes,” you admit, voice smaller than you’d have liked. He pushes himself up onto his forearms and kisses you softly. 

“Then we both did it right.”

“But…” you stare up into his warm honey eyes, searching for any bits of hidden truth you can find. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, utterly unconcerned. “You know what I mean.” 

“I do,” he agrees, “and I’ll say this because I know otherwise you’re going to worry about it forever.” He studies your face reverently for a moment, before parting his lips to speak. The words are slow to come, like he’s trying to figure the sentence out as he goes along. “You… are going to be, problematic, for me.”

Your whisper is almost as small as you feel under his heavy gaze. “What d’you mean?” 

“I mean,” Spencer begins, voice low, “I think I liked that too much. Do you see why that’s troubling?”

The flame you thought had been quenched flickers back to life like a pilot light. Your thighs press together to alleviate a growing ache in a still sensitive area and you answer, “no,” with a small shake of your head. His thumb tenderly traces your jaw, ever-patient despite the fact that you’re obviously playing coy. 

“Because I can’t have you all the time.”

“Yes you can,” you say without hesitation, though your eyes are fluttering. “You can have me whenever you want. Right now.”

He hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Not tonight. You’ve had enough. You’re tired.”

“I’m wide awake,” you slur, tangling a hand in his hair even as you lose the battle against your eyelids. 

He sighs good-naturedly, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist and brushing his lips over the delicate skin. 

“You’re shockingly precocious.”

You hum. 

“You just unleashed the beast. You’re like Doctor Frankenstein.”

He chuckles, sitting up and finding your shorts. You manage to be semi-helpful, lifting your legs at appropriate junctures as he tugs your clothing back on. “And you’re a nerd.”

“I don’t need to take that from you of all people.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Spencer says, and the smile in his voice makes you smile, a quarter asleep as he leans over to turn off the lamp on your side of the bed before tugging the covers over both of you. 

He pulls you close in the dark, releasing a deep sigh as you curl into him. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, his arms warm around you. You can imagine making a home for yourself here. And you don’t know if he’s thinking it, but you hope he is, as you are silently repeating to yourself with every beat of his heart;

I love you

I love you

I love you. 

-

part two

[00kittenz]

── “ just an extension cord. ” ( yjw ) 🎮

๑ When you can’t tell if Jungwon’s actually upset with you for ruining his livestream or.. nah, he’s grateful. At least you like to think so.

pair: gamer bf!jungwon ㅊ gf!reader | warnings: smut, pwp, blowjobs and handjobs on stream, raw s.x (DONT TRY THIS AT HOME KIDS !!), clit tease, revenge, giggly jungwon, thigh riding, light degradation, oral (f. rec), quick humour, sudden phone calls ?? | words: 2.2k

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“sunghoon ! god, you’re such a fucking dumbass.” the heated boy rolled his eyes, watching the ‘you lose’ sign appear on his screen. “good fucking game you ding dong.” he groaned loudly, frustrated to the core. everyone in jungwon’s stream knew him as a top tier player, losing made him feel like he let them all down, even though his fans would continue to cheer him on.

luv4evaaa: you got it next game jungwon, fighting !! ♡♡

takenbytheonenonlytoji: agh, how can someone still be so cute when they’re angry ㅠㅠ

jungwonsusedsock: he said ding dong !! HAJHJAHAHH (⁠ﾉ⁠≧⁠∇⁠≦⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠ ⁠ﾐ⁠ ⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

chewybiscuits: hoon and wonie give off such funny sibling vibes i love them sm.. *sigh..* (⁠｡⁠ﾉ⁠ω⁠＼⁠｡⁠)

jungswrld: good game won !! you did your best that’s all that matters !!!

๑ ๑ ๑

his pupils scanned the screen giggling here and there from their remarks. even so, he still wanted to beat sunghoon’s ass for making him lose. “bro it wasn’t my fault ! we were surrounded !!” jungwon stared straight into the camera in disbelief, as if sunghoon could see. “since when was a 2v2 called being SURROUNDED ?” jungwon scoffed taking a sip from his sponsored energy drink. “ready up.”

๑ ๑ ๑

you could hear jungwon yelling and raging in the room down the hall of your shared one, spewing all types of curses and profanities. “such a baby..” you chuckled to yourself. you couldn’t lie, jungwon angry ? definitely had you on the sheets with your legs spread open. if you know you know. and this seems to be one of those situations, although, this time a little flick and rub won’t cut it. his fans knew he had a girlfriend, he introduced you anytime he got a chance. this time however, you wanted to avoid all of that and just get to business. now was the perfect time for that. it was dark meaning the only thing that was lit in his gaming room was his PC.

for some reason his door was open, which explained why you could hear him so clearly. you were supposed to be sneaking in, which meant it was time to go spy kids on his ass ! next thing you knew you were on all fours, like a kitten, crawling your way into his room slowly.. you knew he wouldn’t be able to hear you, but his stream would, so you had to stop every moment it’d go quiet. i guess we could say this mission was about 3 minutes long. anyway, you were under his desk which was all that mattered. you knew he had known you were under there, you’d accidentally bumped his foot trying to lower yourself down on your knees.

which took jungwon by surprise. he screamed, reacting hella dramatically. “what the fuck !” he snatched his headphones off his head pushing back from his desk to scan the area. “bro ? you good ? what’s up?” sunghoon checked on the yelping boy. once he’d seen it was you, holding up a finger to your lips indicating him to keep from telling them you’re currently in the room with him, he’d calmed down, a hand on his heaving chest.

no.1gojostan: ayo ? ┐⁠(⁠´⁠ー⁠｀⁠)⁠┌

iloveboobss69420: AHAHAA WTF ?! UHM ? YOU OKAY ?

lightyagamismom: i rebuke, in the name of heeseung’s booty hairs. ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡ SAVE, HIM.

“naah, i’m good, just one of my extension cords grazed my leg. thought it was a spider or some shit.” jungwon quickly conjured up a lie, putting his headset back on. he wondered what you were doing down there, and the answer was nothing cause you were attempting to keep your laughter in. his eyes glanced at your sitting figure before looking back at the screen. reading, his eyes dashed through his comments.

“damn, it must’ve had you scared then, i promise you it’s just a cord. don’t need to keep checking kiddo.” sunghoon laughed through his mic.

“haha, funny.” jungwon ran around the map shooting sunghoon.

“stop it ! you’re such a dick !” sunghoon cried.

when you felt that the situation from before had calmed down, you started what you’d planned to do before even coming in this chatty room in the first place. your hands slid slowly against his calves, caressing them over the gray nike sweats he had on. jungwon wanted to look at you so bad, he really did. but to raise suspicion? he’d rather not. although he’d love to show everyone what he could do to you. he’d spare his little fans the sore sight.

continuing, you wrapped your arms around his waist with your head in his lap, hands caressing his lower backside. you could feel his growing bulge on your cheek, your lips coming down to kiss him over his clothed area. jungwon’s body had shivers, tensing up at the very feel of you, he’d gone completely mute from your touch. making him cough out of nervousness.

“jungwon, let’s go north, the leopard villa” sunghoon spun. he tried his best to keep his composure, thinking of ways to help the situation— ending his live abruptly? he would if he could. yet, it just wasn’t normal for him, he could stream for hours on end without any interruptions, his fans would worry if that happened.

“mmhm, good idea, for once..” he tempered a light groan.

while he spoke you’d been busy pulling his waistband down slightly enough for you to bring his shaft into view. the boy pursed his lips feeling your touch on his hard. your hands massaged him slowly, giving it a couple light strokes until it’s been replaced by your salivated mouth. you were limited to a slow pace, that was unless you wanted to be heard. starting off with the tip, your tongue slid across the red texture. you loved his tip the most when it came to his cock, for some reason it was the most satisfying part to mingle with, and it came with different amounts of surprises everytime you greeted it.

“fuck..” he muttered under his breath, he was battling with himself, it was like he was hit with this annoying need to lean back. your head bobbed up and down around his thickness, you were annoyed with the pace, so you quickened it juuuust a little bit, a gag was held at the back of your throat at he pushed on your tonsils.

his breathing was mid hoarse, but who could blame him. poor thing :((

chewybiscuits: urmmm.. is he okay ??.. *worry worry*

munch12340: hey bro ? you don’t sound too well..

catboyjungwon: wait, what happened ???

jungwon’s eyes immediately went to the chat. he felt his reactions weren’t concealed enough, scared that it might look too obvious what he’s currently up to. “hey chat.. i-.. yeah, i’m okay, my stomach just started paining.. badly..” his hand flew to your head as if he was touching his stomach. “damn it, i’m gonna end it here, i’m not.. feeling okay” he lied, sweat beading from his forehead.

“hoon, i’ll see you.. tomorrow? jungwon nation, goodnight ! rest well ! or good day, i dunno. bye !!” he rambled, mustering a quick bye to his friend and fans before quickly turning off his stream.

he immediately let out a moan of relief, “couldn’t have waited ? needy slut.” jungwon thrusted his hips into your mouth. this time, you were more than audible, he could feel the vibrations of your vocal before you pulled from him with a loud pop.

“are you mad at me ?,” you pouted at him teasily, your hands fondling his balls.

“tch.” jungwon scoffed, pulling you into his lap.

“so, no ?” you played with his hair, riding his thighs slowly.

“so, no?” he playfully mocked you. he loved the way you looked getting off on him, he loved the sight of you in pleasure. your gentle moaning snatching him of his sanity.

he took your hips in his grasp heaving you over his length, jerking himself before closing the gap between the two of you, all he had to do was move your panties to the side since you were wearing one of his oversized t-shirts. both moaning in sync at the tight fit.

“so big.. so full...mmh..” you cried, wrapping your arms around his neck.

his hands found the flesh of your ass, guiding it into movement after slapping it once, or twice. throwing his head back at the feel. “god.. that’s right squeeze this dick baby..” he let go, pulling your shirt from it’s hem, throwing it off of your pure body. as you found it in you to bounce at a quicker pace allowing him to see your bare tits move in following.

the feel of your clit rubbing against his lower brung your high closer and closer. “fuck, so good..” your voice shakes when you clench around him. he immediately captures your lips in his.

it was as if he hoped to taste your juices through your mouth. the moment your high hit, so did his, you sat soaking his shaft— not to mention his clothes.

“you’re so fucking hot..” he panted against your mouth, picking you up and bringing you into the room next of yours before collapsing onto your figure when you’d settled back in bed.

“gonna fuck the shit out of this tight little cunt. ” he continued, “gonna fuck you so dumb.”

and he did just that, ruining you. he pumped his thick cock into your crying pussy like he depended on it. he wanted you to know you were his and his only.

“o-ahmm-,” you sighed, “jungwonnie.. so good, so good..” your left hand covered your eyes as the other went to play with your clit. the impact of his thrusting left you feeling numb.

“feels good, right ?” he chuckled at your pitiful state, he could feel you shaking beneath him.

“did i fuck this little cunt stupid ?” his body hovered over you slapping your thigh. “i did, didn’t i ?” he growls feeling himself throb inside you. your moaning and whining filled the room for a while, that was until you felt your high hit before you could even announce it.

“shit !..j-jungwon..” you panted heavily, grinding yourself on his paused figure. the pressure you had sitting on your clit drove you crazy.

jungwon pulled out, his length rubbed your folds. watching you squirm under him, he never understood the concept of shaking orgasms, but he liked to see it, he thought it looked the best on you.

“you’re so stinking cute, you know ?” his hands pleasured himself once he felt a knot flowing through his lower. coating your pretty, soaked, pussy in his pool of white.

“fuck..” he looked at you, seeing your furrowed brows looking at his phone that rang beside you. “who’s it ?” you picked it up feeling the weight of the bed shift as you read the caller ID.

“sunghoon ??” you spoke through a moan, his tongue dancing around your bud.

“answer it, princess” he says while going down on you.

“but he’ll-” he nibbled at the side of your folds.

“go on. put it on speaker.” and so you did, trying your best to keep the moaning to a minimum.

“sunghoon ?”

“y/n, hey how are you girl ! oh my gosh !”

you muster a laugh over the feeling you got between your legs. you knew sunghoon only did that high-pitched voice when you called. jungwon internally cringed..

“hi sunghoon ! what’s up?”

“not much, just checking on jungwon, he okay ? sounded like he was in pretty bad shape earlier.” he sounded genuinely concerned which made you feel a tad bit guilty— but not really.

“oh- he’s fine ..!”

now it was jungwon’s turn to take this time to put you in his shoes, he fastened the pace he put on your pussy, sucking, and kissing it’s clit before sliding his paired fingers in. he’s just getting his lick back, quite literally.

he watches you throw your hand over your mouth, arching your back at the feel of his fingers pushing into you.

“ah, good to hear then, i was thinking about coming over in a few, is that fine ? orr…”

it wouldn’t seem right if you said no, sunghoon was always welcome !

“i-.. sure, yeah ! mh.. you never have to ask.. you know that !” you felt your second high approaching, biting down on your lip to compress it..

“yeah well, i wouldn’t wanna disturb anything, i’ll be there soon, with takeout !”

“cool then ! call us when you arrive !”

“yeah, hopefully jungwon won’t be all up in your guts the next time i call, right ? ya’ll some freaks for real.”

he hung up after hearing you hum an awkward yes. you could hear jungwon laughing, retrieving his fingers from your wetness. “it’s not funny ! it’s not like you told me to stop when i went under your desk !” you whined.

“you didn’t tell me to stop either.” he looks at you with the most shit eating grin once he got closer to your face, peppering kisses on your cheeks.

“god you’re so embarrassing, and he’s coming over..” you’d rather hide in your closet until you could feel narnia arriving to snatch you from behind than see sunghoon face to face.

“it’s not that bad, at least he knows i treat you right !” he fails to make you feel any better, making you hit his chest, his laugh echoing through the room again.

“move you whore, i gotta pee.” you hear the doorbell ring, causing you to jump up and shriek. you quickly run into the bathroom closing it after yourself.

“i guess i’ll get it” the overall happy boy walks through the marbled floors.

once making it to the door, he’s met with sunghoon’s face, with some.. look ? plastered across it, whatever it was, jungwon bursted of laughter yet again.

i may or may not have got a teensy bit carried away w this one hehehe, also thnx sm for 130+ follows btww !! (⁠/⁠^⁠-⁠^⁠(⁠^⁠ ⁠^⁠*⁠)⁠/

[irisintheafterglow]

[bernie sanders voice] i am once again.. thinking about coparenting megumi with boyfriend!satoru.

"so you're both megumi's..."

"guardians," you smile politely, praying stupid shit doesn't leave the mouth of the boy next to you. it's wishful thinking.

"yes," he beams so tenderly that you resist the urge to scrunch your nose in disgust. he takes your clammy hand lightly in his and turns back to megumi's teacher. "we had him young." a soft ow comes from under satoru's breath as you kick him under the table, forcing an expression of normalcy onto your face.

you hated parent-teacher conferences because it reminded you just how abnormal megumi and tsumiki's situation was. they had no parents, nor did they have any close relatives that cared for them the way a family should. that left you and the white-haired idiot in the tiny seat next to you to fill in that duty, and between missions and training students, you weren't around as often as you wanted to be.

"i...see," the teacher says hesitantly, eyeing your boyfriend with obvious unease. after a moment, she regains her composure and refocuses on you completely. "is there anything you wish to discuss before we begin?"

"not for me, no."

"when can we get him bumped up a grade? or have him skip one altogether?" every single word that comes from satoru's mouth is a joke but it still has your face burning with embarrassment that you were associated with him. "you know, i skipped a few grades when i was young."

"i can tell," you whisper and he pinches the flesh of your thigh between two fingers in defiance.

"i believe that skipping grades would be unwise at this time, as we haven't done any testing yet-"

"he was kidding, i swear," you say apologetically and, thankfully, the teacher continues as if on a script.

"i see. well, megumi is progressing wonderfully in the class. he's very adept at reading and writing, but he does struggle with math sometimes. it's nothing to be worried about; many children struggle with math at his age." you nod in understanding but grimace inwardly. megs always wanted you to help him with math homework since satoru became frustrated with the problems faster than the actual 2nd grader.

"for being the strongest, he's not that smart," megumi stated bluntly one night while you helped him on a coffee table in the teacher's lounge. you'd sent satoru on a walk around campus after his distress was clearly bothering megumi, who ended up suffering more from satoru's "help" than benefiting. "you're not around that much anymore to help me so i don't know what to do." his tiny eyebrows furrow and you reach out to run your fingers through his spiky black hair.

"i'm really sorry i'm not around as much anymore. do you want me to ask nanami? he handles math all the time."

"i think that'd be worse than satoru."

"you can't get much worse than satoru, buddy," you concede and his mouth turns up a little bit. nothing like a little insulting his mentor to get the boy's mood improved. still, his frown returns like it's his default expression.

"what if i can't do it? what if i'm not like everyone else?" it made your chest ache in a different way when megumi or his sister said something like that, like they were well aware that they weren't normal children. your heart panged for them and mourned their loss of a "normal" childhood just because they were born into a big three clan. it wasn't fair and it was something you lamented to satoru almost every week. you couldn't tell the boy any of that, though, no matter how much you wanted to explain why he wasn't like the rest of the kids in his class.

"just try your best, okay? sometimes, that's all we can do. you're already doing great by asking for help. it's not your fault if someone doesn't know how to help you, so just keep trying." he nodded determinedly; after another hour past dinnertime, you finally finished walking him through the rest of the problems while satoru draped his lanky body over the couch behind you, watching defeatedly over your shoulder.

"is there anything we can do to help him with math?" you ask, unconsciously weaving your fingers with satoru's and giving it a light squeeze. he squeezes back three times. i-love-you.

"he just needs a little reassurance that he's on the right track sometimes."

"mmm, don't we all," you murmur and you don't expect the teacher to laugh softly under her breath, muttering her agreement. before you know it, you've organized megumi's papers into his folder and picked him up from the playground outside his classroom, taking his hand as you walk back to the car.

"your teacher says you're doing well in class."

"really?"

"mhmm, though i didn't need her to tell me that since i already know." you shoot him a small smile, leaning into satoru's body as his arm wraps around your torso. "you, however, need to learn some manners," you lightheartedly tease, knocking your elbow against his abs. "you were not helping in there, you menace."

"it was boring, what do you want me to do?" his tone is so carefree, so comfortingly satoru it made your heart melt.

"it's a parent-teacher conference, not parents. you could have waited outside if you were so bored. went to play on the playground or something." his head dips close to your ear and you feel some strands of his hair brush against your skin.

"but then i don't get to watch you be all mature and put-together."

"trying to follow my example?"

"trying to break your composure," he corrects with a sly grin. "i'm the fun one, after all."

"that's one way to put it," megumi deadpans without hesitation and you stifle a snort.

"i'm one of a kind!"

"you're out of your mind, is what you are." before he can protest, you press a kiss to his cheek and he turns a slightly opaquer shade of pink. "but i wouldn't have you any other way."

[cutebat]

You know what, fuck it. I'm going to write my own neglectful yandere batfamily cause everyone else is doing it, but I'm going to do it in a different way.

Yandere Batfam x Neglected, but Defiant Reader

Prologue (Diary Entry)

Warning(s): Mentions of yandere themes, neglect, emotional abuse, mentions of physical abuse, forcing to drop out, attempted guilt tripping, reader is just venting out her feelings

(I made this in the reader's POV to make the whole 'diary entry' thing more sense.)

~~~~~

July 22, 2024

It's funny when someone tells their story.

Only to be told back that it's unrealistic.

Almost as if they're afraid to believe it's real...

Oh, God, that sounded dark.

~~~~~

For everyone who doesn't know,

Bruce is a billionaire who's also a shitty dad

Dick is a dick, like actually

Jason uses his trauma to let all his frustrations on me

Tim is a delusional bitch

Cass was okay until she knocked me to the ground

Damian is just a thing who you want to burn to ashes

Alfred... I guess is just Alfred

~~~~~

I was basically raised as what people would call a 'black sheep'. Kind of like... actually, I don't need to explain all that.

Basically, I was adopted by the infamous Bruce Wayne when I was ten for whatever reason. After the first day of living with him and the family and giving me the new role of Batgirl, everyone just pretended as if I didn't exist.

I tried to interact with every one of them and all I got were "sorry, can't talk right now" and "can you shut up".

Like, WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO TO THEM?!

Is it because I'm prettier than all of them and had barely any trauma in my past? Seriously, why are people so jealous about these kinds of things?

Bruce really signed all that paperwork for nothing.

Of course, my little ten year old brain would think that if I tried to impress all of them with what I could do, maybe I could gain their attention.

So by the time I was twelve with my ten year old mindset goal in my head, I did nine different after school activities, won over fifteen awards for my achievements, and went out to patrol at least six nights a week.

And none of that worked! Those fuckers wouldn't even spare me a glance!

~~~~~

After a while, you don't see a point in trying your best.

I dropped out of most of the clubs I regret joining, I just laid back in my classes, and most of all...

I quit being Batgirl.

I didn't want to, but like I said, where's the point in that?

So with that, I just gave up on everything and just... stopped trying.

~~~~~

But then one year all of that almost changed?

For the first time ever, I found myself suddenly really pretty, and after a month I entered eighth grade, I was suddenly asked out by one guy, then two, and all the way up to ten!

It was like really cool!

The popular girls became my best friends, more guys would ask me out, and the teachers started pointing out that I was their favorite student, even the ones who weren't my teachers.

It felt like I was on top of everything. That I was special. The world is revolving around me.

Finally, I was in a place to build a great reputation.

And then life was like FUCK THAT!

~~~~~

After the first semester of eighth grade, Bruce was weirdly in my room and he said wanted to have a 'talk' with me.

So, during this talk, he was basically talking about the last three years of me being neglected by him and his family. To be honest, I forgot everything he told me, but honestly, I don't really care.

He also told the others about all this and now they suddenly feel bad which I don't give a shit about. But, I knew he was doing all this to guilt trip me, which was honestly so stupid.

Now, after he dropped that bomb, he told me that I had to drop out of school to do some "bonding time" with the others along with him and the people who actually cared about me didn't really matter at all!

I JUST GOT SETTLED IN!

All I said was "FUCK YOU" and just stormed out of my room with the only thing that I took was my diary that I had for quite a while that I never used before.

~~~~~

So, yeah. I'm currently in the attic, venting my feelings all out on this stupid glitter diary with a random pen that I found on the ground.

But whatever.

It doesn't matter.

Nothing matters...

My life is just a game.

A sick, hopeless game.

[24kvlaks]

Big baby!

This is a series of what slashers are most likely to get jealous! Featuring-

Thomas Hewitt (silent treatment.)

🧸very jealous boy, he hates the fact that you don’t like being bunged up in the house.

Sometimes you’d even help his meals escape. And got flirted with by the teenage boys or young male adults who came by.

You can’t count the many times that Tommy had killed the male and let his mother serve them as a feast.

You told him that there was nothing to worry about but he didn’t believe it for he knew you were quite attractive.

And he always thought that any day now some handsome stranger could pick you off your feet and leave him.

Though you knew you’d never do that, and you understood why Thomas thought that way, he was always insecure about being deformed.

Sometimes you’d have conversations with his soon to be victims and he’d assume you’re flirting with them,

So for the entire day he’d ignore you.

He’d avoid you because he didn’t want to cast his anger out on you and he knew he could do much harm.

It hurt your feelings but you gave him his space. No matter how much you tried to explain you h l ad eyes for no one but him he didn’t listen.

Type A. Silent treatment jealousy

Michael Myers (Murderous)

🔪Michael didn’t care, if he felt that you were flirting with someone he’d either try to harm you and kill the opposer.

He’d avoid you for days, leaving you without closure before randomly coming back.

Maybe months even, Michael becoming jealous wasn’t a pretty sight since he didn’t understand emotion all he understood was feeling.

So once he felt anger he took it out in anyway he knew how, he slaughtered until his hands didn’t crave beating anymore.

Sometimes he’d take it out on you, he’d scare you purposely, swinging his knife and chasing you with intent to harm like you were his victim.

He’d never kill you of course, just to remind you how much power he had.

There was one time Michael did hurt you, he’d sliced your shoulder once you had given a male friend a hug.

He beheaded your friend and placed his head on the bookshelf.

Just to show you if you ever did it again you’d be next.

He didn’t care if him being jealous made him seem insecure he didn’t give a singular fuck. He didn’t like something he’d execute it.

Or in other words put it in its place, which was below him.

Sometimes he’d taunt you, leaving bodies around the house and disappearing without cleaning them.

He wasn’t nice once you’d made him jealous because he felt you didn’t have the privilege to make him feel that way.

Type B murderous jealousy

Hannibal Lecter (reassurance)

🎀Hannibal understood that both of you were quite attractive. So it came to no surprise once people would hit on you.

All he asked for in return was reassurance, you making it evident that you were his.

The only time he’d go out of his way to commit acts of violence is when people went out of their way to ask you out in-front of his face.

He’d kill them of course, he wouldn’t let someone disrespect him like that. Though he always relied on you to reject them and kill them when you were out of the way.

He never wanted you to see him as someone who can inflict serious harm unto someone, because he knew he could.

He wasn't big on jealousy because he saw that he was too mature to be phased by it but sometimes his emotions consumed him.

Randomly once he feels that way instead of killing them he'd lay in your bed, and cuddle between your stomach sometimes letting out a low growl of frustration with your warmth comforting him.

You'd always rub his hair and tell him everything is going to be okay even if you had no clue what was wrong, all you knew is that he did it when he was upset.

He appreciated it, though he knew sometimes he could lose his temper and cook whoever opposed him deliciously whilst feeding them to you later on.

He loved watching you devour his meals, it made him feel special and he knew no other man could cook for you like he could.

But still if any male made him jealous, they'd be his next meal.

Type C reassurance jealousy to an extent

[starwrighter]

1/?? Halloween prompt

I’ve got brain rot for creepy Deadserious content but only when it’s only seen as creepy by outsiders. (I know I’m writing a fic with a similar plot but it’s different I swear! Also my grammar is shit because I’m getting dental work done tomorrow and I’m nervous) Tw for stalker behavior

So Damian has a crush on Danny and immediately goes about acting on these feelings much to onlookers horror. Danny is swooning because someone made the effort to do a background check on him. Danny thinks Damian doing this is really smart because, he could be a serial killer for ancients sake why would you risk that? Others say this is a horrible invasion of privacy.

Damian not realizing he's being creepy (being liminal and being an ex assassin, turned vigilante wasn't doing him any favors) Plus Danny also not realizing it's creepy unless you relay Damian behavior towards him with different names.

Damian's just being a textbook stalker, breaking into his house and shit and Danny's all like "awwww he likes me" because this is just normal ghostly courting rituals! His dormroom isn't his lair so Damian breaking in doesn't feel like he's violating any sort of boundary. To him it's like a friend showing up at the coffee shop you work at to say hi.

Danny's had stalkers before, he's very cautious of his behavior to insure he never stalked anyone. Being stalked back in Amity was a horrific experience for him. From cameras in the locker rooms at school (wes) to cameras in his bathroom and bedroom at home (Vlad)! He couldn't feel safe anywhere! To Danny Damian's not a stalker, he's his protector. Nobody seems to understand when he tries to explain this though they just look at him like he's lost his mind.

Damian’s not subtle at all and Danny’s kicking his feet like a lovesick school girl who found out her crush likes her back. Overall it’s super cute from their points of view Damian’s planning an official confession to ask him on a date while Danny’s trying to figure out if Damian actually likes him or is just being nice. They’re just doing normal couple things but people just jump and attack Damian’s character while painting Danny as some kind of brainwashed victim.

The thing is… Danny’s become very good at appearing normal while Damian refuses to pretend to be a bumbling idiot like the rest of his family. He also refuses to dull down his personality for anything other than secret identity reasons. For these reasons since their relationship had become public, Damian had been painted by the media as a creepy possessive boyfriend who threatened Danny into a relationship. This infuriates Danny, the only one doing any kind of possession is him god damn it!

They want to be around each other all the time and that’s normal behavior for ghost/liminal couples! They live much longer than regular humans do they’re like elves, their perceptions of time are messed up. They still spend time apart they still have hobbies and an independent life, people just get hung up on the amount of time they do spend together. It’s normal behavior for them to know mountains of information about each others interests to the point they almost know more than each other. It’s normal to know each other’s schedules and background check the people they associate with. (The realms are very dangerous with shapeshifters and manipulators like spectra and Desiree who can ruin your afterlife in a matter of minutes) Their relationship is creepy to those who haven’t gone to extremes to survive.

Damian has taken to ignoring the reputation press has given him. He’s dealt with paparazzi and tabloids before it’s just frustrating to deal with. It’s when people start accusing him of hurting his beloved that really pisses him off.

(Bonus if Danny’s the one frothing at the mouth to maul a reporter while they try to paint him as a poor innocent victim)

I’mma end the prompt with this so everyone understands why Damian specifically being targeted by press. The more liminal you are the more creepy/uncanny you appear to other people and the more effort you have to put in to hide it. It’s why the bats are more believed to be Eldritch creatures than actual humans in suits. Surprisingly becoming a Halfa completely changes this effect to do the complete opposite. It’s easier for the human brain to look at a halfa and think “Innocent or normal,” Vlad and Danny were morons when it came to actually hiding their identity’s it was only their statuses as halfa’s that prevented people from comprehending them being anything other than normal.

In short Damian’s too dead to be perceived as normal while Danny’s too alive to be perceived as anything other than normal.

[abyssruler]

the 7-eleven diaries

albedo, alhaitham, childe, scaramouche, venti x gn!reader

your job isn’t the best one out there, but it’s easy and keeps you from drowning in tuition fees and rent. working at a 7-eleven on a midnight shift was supposed to be peaceful, so why is it that you constantly find yourself being bothered by weird customers? (modern au)

fluff, comedy, crack, cashier employee reader, modern au, written for fluffvember!

ALBEDO

It’s difficult not to take notice of the perpetually tired college student (much like yourself) who always comes at the latest hours to order a cup of black coffee and a can of beer. The first time you saw him order that drink was a memorable one, if only because of the way your eyes had nearly popped out of their sockets when you saw him mix the two drinks in a large, empty slurpee cup and proceed to drink it all in a matter of seconds.

Another memorable time was when he came in with only enough money to buy a bottle of water, then took a seat at a table near the counter and took out a box full of what you initially presumed were cookies. It was a traumatizing memory you look back on with a shudder as you remember the way he crunched down on it like it was a piece of biscuit instead of a motherfucking spider.

“They’re surprisingly nutritional, full of protein and fibre. It leaves a strange aftertaste, but it’s a good substitute for dinner.”

Since then, you’ve made sure to keep some food ready in the microwave for him, free of charge. He just looked so pitiful sitting by himself with dark under-eyes and greasy hair — the very image of a normal college student — that you couldn’t help yourself from taking money out of your own pocket to help a fellow comrade.

One day, he came to the store with blown pupils and a sort of dazed look in his eyes, words slurring together as he tried to explain to you how he’s finally created an edible liquid that can keep sleep at bay for at least 120 hours…with some small side-effects, but it’ll wear off with time. That’s when you found out he was a bio-chemistry student well on his way to getting a PhD at his young age.

When questioned why he drank the liquid instead of having someone else do it, his response was, “To experience it firsthand, of course. The basis of research is accuracy and precision, how could I be remiss as to leave such an important experiment to someone who could, in their ignorance, fail to mention an important detail that their mind might have labeled as useless.”

You’re not quite sure how he’s still alive by this point.

But his weirdness aside, you resolve to take care of him in your own way, from a fellow tired college student to another. You remind him to get some sleep, steering him away from eating spiders and encouraging him to eat more meat.

“But I am eating meat?”

“Albedo, that’s a spider.”

“And are you saying that spiders do not possess meat?”

“Oh, for the love of—just eat the goddamn sandwich.”

You think he appreciates it, if the way he dedicated his latest thesis to you is any indication.

ALHAITHAM

You were in the middle of answering a math problem your professor assigned that morning, papers sprawled over the counter with you hunched over it, hand in your hair and trying not to pull at it in frustration over how difficult the problem was. And then he’d come in like an angel, all perfectly shiny hair and a no-nonsense look on his face, took one look at you and the papers scattered across the counter and said one sentence that saved your grade in math.

“You forgot to put a negative sign right there.”

That was the moment you decided that he must be an angel sent from heaven. He always grunts whenever you call him that, though whether it’s from amusement or annoyance remains to be seen.

He doesn’t visit the convenience store much, but when he does, he always spares the time to help you out with whatever assignment you were working on, sometimes even taking the initiative of asking if you need his assistance in answering a problem — though he says this on a much less nicer tone.

“Are you gonna make me do your homework again?”

“My professer didn’t assign me one today, surprisingly enough, so no.”

He seemed strangely disappointed when you told him no, but you chalked it up to him being some sort of math wiz who gets riled up by equations and the like. Seems like kind of guy too, what with all the times he’s made a subtle jab at your intelligence — or lack, thereof.

“How could you possibly need a paper to calculate the answer to four-hundred and thirty-two times fifty-eight?”

“Not all of us are smarter than Rukkhadevata like you.”

“Who?”

He’s not bad company, though that opinion stems solely from the fact that he helps you (solves it for you, more like) with all your homework. Not without making comments about you lazing about on the job and letting your customer answer your assignment for you. You respond in a mature way by making fun of him.

“I’ve never seen you without those earphones. Are you hiding a pair of large ears or something?”

“No.”

He refuses to elaborate more on the subject.

Sometimes you give him a drink, usually cola or juice, as thanks for helping you out. He takes it without question, taking sips from it as he tutors you about this and that, occasionally commenting about your job and how you’re only making yourself suffer by taking on midnight shifts. You don’t see why he cares. For all that you jokingly call him an angel, you know he’s far from actually being one.

You once saw him on campus reading a book by the library. It’s easy enough to come up to him and make conversation, handing him an unopened drink you just bought from a vending machine. It just feels wrong not to, more of a habit by this point.

It’s then that someone decides to dramatically drop his books to the ground and point at you and Alhaitham. The blonde guy gapes and asks how in the world Alhaitham managed not to scare you away. His eyes zero in on the can of grape juice on Alhaitham’s hand, and then he proceeds to laugh, asking Alhaitham since when did he decide to start drinking what he once called was an unhealthy drink composed of sugar and artificial flavoring.

You made a mental note of that response, and later that night, you decide to hand him a packaged biscuit. Nothing unhealthy there. Technically.

“Good. I was beginning to wonder if I should start taking medicine in case my stomach burst from the amount of cola you hand me.”

“You could’ve just not accepted, you know.”

“It was given to me. Not accepting would be considered rude.”

“Didn’t Kaveh say you threw a bottle of orange juice to his face after he gave you one?”

“I did.”

He refuses to elaborate more on the subject, but you’ve since resolved to only give him the healthiest thing you could find on the store—which isn’t much considering this is a 7-eleven, but hey, microwaved salad is still salad, right?

He grumbles about the radiation but eats the salad anyway. Another win for you, you suppose.

CHILDE

He came in near the end of your shift, lips busted and an eye swollen shut, blood splattered all over his clothes. The grin on his face should’ve hinted you at his lunacy, but you’ve always been blind to warnings and the like, so you went over the counter and helped him up from where he’s slumped over the chips and candies isle.

Aether, your co-worker and the one who’s about to take over from your shift, only looked at you with tired eyes, “It’s too early for this shit.” That was, of course, Aether’s way of basically saying, you’re on your own.

So you picked up the ginger lying on the linoleum floors, heaving his arm over your shoulder to drag him to the nearest pharmacy — never let it be said that you were just a bystander. He groaned as the movement bothered whatever injuries he may have, but he still looked at you with wide, strangely lightless eyes, as if only now registering your presence, and said, “Holy shit, you’re hot.”

After you finished dumping him on the pharmacy and leaving the people there baffled at what to do with an injured guy, he grabbed your wrist and, with a bloody smile he probably thought was charming, handed you a piece of paper containing his number.

You never text him. Or call.

He comes back to the store a week later with faint yellow bruises across his face and a far too bright grin for someone who’s visiting a 7-eleven at two in the morning. He pouts about not getting a single text from you, but before you can respond, he’s moving on to another topic, mindlessly picking up a box of tampons by the side and setting it on the counter.

He only seems to realize what he’s done when you give him a strange look.

“Tampons are, uh, great for bloody noses!”

“…Right.”

You weren’t convinced at all, but you decided to let it slide. He seemed like a genuine guy, if a bit too enthusiastic sometimes. His mouth never shuts ups, always going on about this and that, asking all sorts of questions that would’ve normally had most normal people backing away. But your brain isn’t exactly at its best condition and being sleep deprived for the better part of your life has made it less of a brain and more of an organ that just helps you get through the day.

You don’t know exactly why he stays to chat with you, buying ridiculous amounts of stuff that were frankly far too expensive just to have an excuse to talk to you. You don’t mind it much, especially when he’s a great deterrent for any unwanted petty thieves or middle school delinquents trying to rob your store every week or so.

Apparently, he’s got a reputation for being a bit of an adrenaline junkie and being willing to fight anything and everything that breathes. And apparently, word’s gotten out that he’s into you, like, really into you, so most guys who have less-than-well intentions have decided that robbing the local 7-eleven isn’t worth the trouble if it means having to deal with Ajax.

“Actually, it’s Tartaglia.”

“Tarantula?”

“No, Tartaglia. It’s my street name! Ajax just doesn’t inspire the same fear into other people’s hearts the same way Tartaglia does.”

“Whatever you say, Tortilla.”

“It’s Tartaglia!”

He never brings up the fact that you never call or text him back, even when he’s somehow gotten ahold of your number and started sending you memes and updates about his day. When asked, he just shrugs and says he’ll win you over eventually.

SCARAMOUCHE

It wasn’t intentional, and you’ll admit it was completely your fault, but did he have to be such an asshole about you dozing off on the counter?

“Have the standards really fallen so low that employees are now afforded to sleep on the job?”

Here was this guy at two in the morning, bemoaning society’s failure in raising the new generation to have a proper work ethic at a 7-eleven store. The guy had a rolex watch and clothes that looked like they were worth more than your monthly salary — you’re not one to judge other people’s appearances, but he’s the very image of nepotism. And frankly speaking, you’re of the opinion that rich people shouldn’t be entitled to an opinion on what the working class decides do with their life, like falling asleep on the job.

…And oh, you just said that out loud, didn’t you?

Oh well, your manager will understand.

The guy with a bowl cut leaves fuming, but not before slapping a wad of cash down the counter to pay for his stupidly expensive noodles, snarling at you to keep the change since you clearly need it more than him.

You do, in fact, keep the change. Money is money, whether it’s from your salary or a rich boy throwing a tantrum.

The next day in class, a bag slams down the seat beside you, and you’re met with the same rich boy from last night, a scowl painting his rather pretty face as he hisses lowly about how he’s surprised you can afford to go to college. Talk about holding a grudge, you would’ve forgotten all about him from last night if he hadn’t given you his change.

He fumes even more when you don’t give him any sort of reaction, merely nodding your head at him and turning back to the board to listen to your professor drone on about this and that. It’s rather difficult to focus, however, when he keeps muttering sarcastic comments and barbs to the teacher beneath his breath.

“If you even had an iota of charm about you, perhaps your wife wouldn’t have filed for a divorce.”

You choked on a laugh, hand coming up muffle the sound, but he clearly noticed, judging by the way he snaps his head to you, eyes wide and seemingly surprised you found it funny. You only smile at him, an amused little thing, but he quickly looked away and murmured something unintelligible beneath his breath, his fists clenched and the tips of his ears curiously pink.

He comes back to visit your job that night, still with that air of haughtiness about him but a bit toned down. Even more surprising was the fact he didn’t immediately leave the moment he handed you his money.

“Do you want the change?”

“Are you so desperate for money that you’d go begging a total stranger for some spare coin?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess.”

“Tch, fine. You can have it.”

He never fails to come back every night, always giving you the change for his bill, even when the amount is more than the items he paid for. Sometimes, he’ll even take out a snack or a drink from the bag and slide them over to you, cheeks suspiciously red as he did so.

“Don’t think this means anything. I’m only giving this to you because I know you can’t afford it.”

“It’s literally worth ten mora.”

“Would it kill you to at least give me a thank you?”

“Thank you, Kunikuzushi. I’ll be sure to treasure this can of cola that I would’ve never been able to afford without your help.”

“Shut up.”

He buys you a tub of ice cream the next night, the ridiculously expensive kind, to prove a point. The two of you eat it together at one of the tables, him grumbling about the stain on the table and the overall lack of quality and taste — at a 7-eleven — and you laughing whatever he says.

Well, you suppose he’s not as much of an asshole as you initially assumed.

VENTI

He’s a bit popular in campus, in the sense that nearly everyone is friends with him, which makes it impossible not to have heard about that one guy who’s really great at singing. You were, unfortunately, one of the few that aren’t well acquainted with him — aren’t acquainted with him at all.

So when he comes up to the counter, all boyish grin and ridiculously short shorts and a cute little pink hair clip keeping his bangs away from his face, holding an entire household’s worth of vodka and wine, you do what any rational semi-adult would do and look at him with a blank face.

“Are you even old enough to drink?”

He laughs at you like this is a common occurrence he faces on the daily before slapping down his ID on the counter. And huh, would you look at that, he’s even older than you are.

He then lights up once he gets a good look at you. “Hey, you’re Albedo’s friend, aren’t you?” He abandons his alcohol at the counter in favor of looking around your quaint little convenient store. “So this is that 7-eleven he keeps talking about…”

You’re not exactly sure what he’s going on about, but you do know he must be a friend of Albedo’s, which makes you ease up around him. He’s nice. Sort of. If you ignore the teasing and the jokes and the way he keeps asking you to give him a student discount. For alcohol. You’d given him what you hoped was your best imitation of Kunikuzushi’s stink eye. You think you got it on point, if the way he deflates is any indication.

He comes around the store every weekend, saying he’s here to get a little treat for the awful weekday he’s had. You never fail to remind him that he has class every Sunday, to which he responds by opening a can of beer (which he hasn’t paid for yet) and sitting on the counter, bemoaning the injustice of putting classes during the weekends.

You once asked him why he keeps hanging around this store when there’s a perfectly good bar right around the corner, owned by that popular red-haired business major from your university. Venti just laughed and said he prefers the quietness here — and the company, he added with a wag of his eyebrows. He always teases you, sometimes borderline flirting, but it’s easy enough to wave it away.

The day you discovered he was actually well known in campus was when your university hosted a local event. There’d been stalls and booths set up everywhere and even a little mock-stage put up near the center for any band or singer to perform in. It’d been nice to have a break from the monotonous routine of going to class and studying then working at your job and getting less than ideal sleep.

And then you heard your name booming out from the speakers, and you turn your head to see Venti on the stage with that little lyre he sometimes carries with him to the store, saying he’d like your opinion on a song or two he composed.

He dedicates the song to you in front of the entire student body, then proceeds to sing the cheesiest, most gut-wrenching and cringiest love song of all time.

“Why did you have to pick that song?”

“Because it’s fun and cute!”

“I sometimes question your ability to distinguish cute from horrifyingly monstrous.”

There’s a mortified look on your face, but amidst the embarrassment and the teasing remarks of his friends, there’s a smile on your face that you can’t bring yourself to wipe away.

i’ll be doing a part two on this but with diluc, dottore, kazuha, xiao, and zhongli!

@maehemthemisfit @sonder-paradise @96jnie @komiyaa @scaramouchenumber1fan @linn-a-a @wisteriaflowersss @ineriris @yesntforno @serramii @shadowmist0706 @jmgrule @imeanwatever @c00kie-cat @serramii @xtodorokismistressx @ieathairs @endlessmari @strawberryclumsy @serenity-ren-bliss @scarasbaby

[blitzyn]

a different method final pt

teacher!zhongli x m!reader

request: drop by to ask will there ever be a chance for part 3 with teacher zhongli? i dont know man. him and reader are so cute together. maybe i am crazy??? wanna see reader actually tries his best and gets his reward-

part one | part two

a/n -> oh my god i need francis mosses and wriothesley to fuck me right this INSTANT

wc -> 4k

cw -> praise, anal fingering, anal sex, mating press, desk sex, semi-public sex, teacher zhongli, student reader, not beta read

You were nervous. Jitters ran along the length of your spine and pooled in your chest, leaving a deep cavity that filled with anxiety. Why were you so anxious in the first place? It’s just a test. You’ve taken plenty of them during the course of your life.

You tried to play it cool, masking your face with a facade of nonchalance, hoping no one could see how clammy your hands were getting or your heartbeat, or the sweat rolling down—oh god was someone looking at you? Could they see through you? What if they could read your mind? Did they know that you were secretly trying to get your teacher to fuck you again?

You forced to stop yourself from physically deflating in relief when they looked away. Seemed like they were just looking around the room in an attempt to search for a hint or an answer to the question they were on. Right. The test. You’d finished it not too long ago, and now you were in the overthinking stage, wondering if you could’ve worded something better or if a different answer was right, but you forced yourself to calm the fuck down. You studied for this (surprisingly) and you were sure that at least half of your answers were correct. Hopefully.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard your teacher speak, notifying the class that there was five minutes left, and you could see a few write faster as they tried to finish on time. Those five minutes felt like an eternity, watching the agonizingly slow ticking of the clock above the door leisurely make its way to four, then three, then two, one… thirty seconds, and…

Finally!

You took your time packing up, watching your classmates rush out of the door, eager to leave the boring room. It wasn’t until the last person made their way out did you walk up to your teacher’s desk, fiddling with the strap of your bag.

“May I help you?” He questioned, offering you a brief glance as he reached over to grab the pile of test papers. It was frustrating how he could just ignore your past… ordeals like they were nothing, but you were determined to claim your keep.

“Can you, uh, grade my paper? Now, I mean,” you requested, trying to fight off your growing eagerness, but it seemed that it didn’t matter when he quirked an eyebrow. He gave you an unconvinced look, leaning back on his chair to properly look at you, searching your eyes for something. “Please,” you hastily added, hoping it’d be enough to convince him.

“Why not wait until next week?” He seemed to have found what he was looking for as he relaxed his expression, crossing his arms across his chest. “Is there something urgent?”

“No, it’s just…” you trailed off, pursing your lips. You weren’t sure how to explain without sound too eager, but you were almost ninety percent sure he knew why you wanted him to grade it now. “I wanna see how I did. ‘Cause… I studied this time. So…”

An intrigued glint shone in his golden eyes, and his head bobbed in a slow, understanding nod. He returned to the stack and scanned through the list of names until he found yours, pulling out the answer sheet to look over. It was silent for a while, save for the occasional scratch of his pen and the obnoxious tick-tock of the clock. You crossed your arms across your chest and examined the room absentmindedly, finding it too weird to watch him grade in this silence.

“You’ve done well,” he suddenly spoke, the richness of his voice gently guiding you out of your thoughts. “Congratulations.”

You saw that he rotated the paper to you, letting you look at the numbers that adorned the white page. 47/50, it read, marking this your highest grade yet.

“That’s good,” you hummed, risking a glance up at him, only to find him already watching you expectantly.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” He questioned, and you could’ve sworn that he had the faintest of smirks. It was gone as quick as you saw it, but you were sure it wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you. You paused, feeling the uncomfortable weight of embarrassment creeping in your mind, stopping the words on the tip of your tongue. What were you so nervous about? You did good and everyone knew he didn’t go back on his word.

“You said you’d reward me if I did good,” you reminded, leaning forward a touch too eagerly.

“Did I?” He replied, his expression unchanging even when it was clear what you wanted. “The reward was the knowledge and understanding of this unit. Are you not satisfied?”

Fuck.

“Oh. Uh,” you were mortified—how could you not be? Technically, he didn’t specify what the prize would be. You just assumed it’d include him fucking you like the last two times. You stared at him, pursing your lips, not really bothering to hide the obvious displeasure in your face. “If I say no, will I get something else?”

The corners of his lips raised in a smug smile as he intertwined his fingers together, resting them atop the smooth wood of his desk. You noticed the familiar glint of amusement in his eyes and groaned softly. He was just messing with you.

“I suppose so,” he said, beckoning you closer to him with a refined hand. He flattened it along the curve of your hip, gently guiding you to the edge of his desk as he stood up to press himself against you. “You’ve done well today. You must’ve been very determined to get what you wanted, hm?”

You nodded slightly, almost shyly, shuddering at the feeling of his hand sliding down your pelvis to palm at your crotch. He was (not so) surprised to have felt you already hardening under his touch, but he didn’t comment on it, instead giving your cock an experimental squeeze. Your knees nearly buckled, grateful to have the desk supporting your weight as he stroked and explored your body.

“You’re more sensitive than the previous times we’ve done this,” he noted, leaning back to slot his thigh between your own and tilt your bashful head up. His grip was firm, unrelenting, raising goosebumps along your arms at his—frankly strange—strength. You hardly paid it any heed, of course. It just added to his appeal. “Have you been anticipating this moment since then?”

He refused to let you look away, tightening his grip on your chin to make you meet his golden eyes. You hesitated for a moment, swallowing hard before steeling your nerves. He said you could have this, so you were going take it.

“Yeah,” you replied, rolling your hips into the palm of his hand needily. You bit your lip at the jolt of electricity that traveled up your spine, sending your senses into overdrive. You could smell his cologne—it was rich and smooth, subtle and fitting for a man like him. He was all you could feel, hear, and see as his hand made its way to the front of your pants, deftly undoing the button to tug them down.

“My, I can’t imagine how pent up you must be to be this aroused already,” he teased, his cheeks raised in a minuscule smirk. He swiftly pulled his gloves off and ran his hands ran over the curve of your thighs this time, sliding along the underside to lift you onto the desk. You tensed when the cold surface met your heated skin, but it was soon forgotten when you watched him slide your boxers off, breath hitching as he wrapped his hand around your cock.

He pressed his thumb onto the sensitive head, giving it a quick rub before lifting it, noticing the thin string of precum connecting his finger to you. He tightened his hold again to start jerking you off, listening intently to the slick noises and your breathy moans. He could feel his own dick beginning to harden, straining against the fabric of his slacks, but he ignored it for the sake of pleasuring you.

His touch was addicting. Hypnotizing. Entrancing. Anything and everything under the sun because you couldn’t get enough of how damn good he was. He knew just how tight to squeeze, the right pace, what made you shudder and squirm. The build-up was slow and delicious, clouding over your mind until your thoughts were hardly coherent enough to speak out.

“Damn—you’re… you’re good,” you shakily panted, eyes darting between his warm, strong hand and his own irises. Your cock throbbed, twitching at the sound of his low, amused chuckle. You clutched at the edge of the desk hard enough to make your hands shake, thighs flexing as you writhed. Though, you were careful enough not to accidentally kick him.

“I’m flattered you think so,” he responded, moving himself so that his hip pressed one of your thighs wider. He felt you hook your leg around his waist and tighten when he moved his hand away to prod his fingertips against your lips, wordlessly demanding entry. Eagerly, you complied, opening your mouth to let him press onto your tongue and gather your saliva.

You hummed at the feeling before closing your lips around them, gently sucking on them as you gauged his reaction. You couldn’t catch his overall expression shifting, but you did see his eyebrow raise the slightest bit and feel his cock throb against your ass. He let out a breath when he felt the suction alongside your tongue swirling around his skin, coating his fingers in your saliva. He pushed them further down, resulting in a soft gag from you. He held them there for a moment longer before pulling away, watching you break the thin trail that connected you to him with a swift swipe of your tongue over your slick lower lip.

Without missing a beat, he reached down, and you were fully expecting to feel him prod at your hole, but his hand targeted the handle of one of his drawers. You huffed impatiently and rolled your eyes when he pulled out a bottle of lube, listening to the sound of the cap being flipped open.

“Was the whole finger thing really necessary?” You grumbled, gasping slightly when he tugged your hips forward just enough so your ass hung off of the edge. You gave him a weak glare when he poured some of it on your asshole directly, tensing and shuddering at the sudden temperature drop.

“No,” he replied smoothly, easing his fingers into you. “But surely you didn’t expect to be the only one enjoying himself?” He questioned rhetorically, pumping them in and out slow enough so that the wet squelching was the only thing you could hear. “I also had no intention of using my saliva this time.”

“Could’ve started by now,” you said under your breath, mildly bitter that he had you gagging on his fingers just ‘cause he felt like it.

“Have patience,” he murmured, jabbing his slender fingers into your prostate in response to your vulgar words. He jerked you off with his free hand, paying close attention to each of your reactions, down to the minuscule twitch. “I know you can do that. If you can pass a simple test, how much more is waiting to you?”

You remained silent, swallowing the impending retort. You huffed through your nose, watching his hands expertly working your body better than you’d ever have. Your hips jerked and your cock pulsed rhythmically whenever he curled his slender fingers into that one spot that had you seeing stars. It was hard to keep quiet, and you were sure he was making this as difficult as he possibly could for you.

The heat in your belly intensified with every second—with every jab to your sensitive prostate and stroke along your painfully hard dick. Your labored breaths came out in quick pants, hitching when he teased the leaking tip. You were fully expecting him to take his time, to feel the gradual buildup, so when he suddenly speeds up, you accidentally let out a loud moan.

He gave you a sharp look, reminding you that you couldn’t afford to be loud despite not letting up. You swiftly clamped a hand over your mouth, weakly glaring at him for the sudden onslaught of stimulation, but you could hardly keep up the attitude for long. You squeezed your eyes shut and squirmed, nostrils flaring at the effort as your hips jerked every so often.

“F–Fuck, sir,” you panted, your eyebrows furrowing when you looked up at him pleadingly. “I’m gonna… m’gonna cum.”

“Go ahead,” Zhongli murmured, watching you intently. And, like his rich, smooth voice was a trigger, you did. You bit down on your lip so hard you nearly punctured it, unable to completely muffle your moans as the sounds slipped past your hand. He didn’t scold you for it, instead deciding to continue to move his hands, milking out as much cum out of your cock as he could before you started to whine at the budding overstimulation.

He let you take a moment to gather yourself, shifting to grab a tissue and wipe his fingers clean. He turned back to look at you when you sighed, leaning back to place most of your weight on your palms.

“Do you need a break?” He questioned, placing his hands back on your bare thighs. He was in no rush despite having his painfully hard dick straining against his pants, and you were internally impressed with his self control.

“No,” you replied without missing a beat, hooking your knee around his waist to tug him closer, but he hardly budged. “Fuck me. Now. I’ll be fine,” you urged. It seemed that demands were your strong suit this time around.

“Learning to have patience will benefit you greatly,” he said, and you watched the way he took a deep breath in a manner you knew meant that he was about to go on a long tangent of life lessons or something along the line. You gave him a pleading look, to which he acknowledged with yet another subtle, smug smirk. Good lord, when he wasn’t in a serious setting or teaching, he could be a pain in the ass. Literally and figuratively.

“Stop doing that,” you huffed, but you could hardly maintain that (already weak) sense of annoyance when he moved to undo his pants, eyes quickly and instinctively making their way towards his cock. You could see the tip of it beading with precum and the way it flushed an angry red.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow what you’re trying to imply,” he responded, all of his amusement fizzling away to make room for the faux ignorance. He reached over to grab the bottle of lube to pour a generous amount onto his palm and rub it along his dick, creating quiet squelching sounds that, now that you thought about it, made you cringe.

“So you just casually have lube laying around?” You questioned, looking back up at him curiously like you weren’t about to have sex. You had a strange relationship, honestly.

“I got it recently. Based on your reaction towards our last session together, it was easy to assume that you’d make a genuine effort,” he said, wiping most of the lube off his hand with a tissue before hefting your thighs up his broad shoulders. “You’re quite predictable.”

You didn’t bother to refute this time, wincing slightly at the tension to your lower back. “Ow—careful,” you hissed, shifting to get comfortable when you paused suddenly, feeling the head of his cock press against your asshole.

“You’ll be fine,” he gently assured, resting his free hand beside your head. “Bear with it.”

He pushed forward—gently this time, unlike the way he so roughly shoved himself inside you like the first time. You tensed regardless, mildly uncomfortable with the burn that came with his entry.

“Relax,” he murmured, rubbing a hand on your thigh in a comforting manner, coaxing your relaxation forth. He sank in slowly, breathing in deeply as he fought the urge to shove himself in one go. It felt better this way, he realized, taking his time instead of rushing it out of the sake of irritation. “You’re doing well. Just breathe.”

You nodded sheepishly, resting your head back against his desk. Your chest fell and rose rhythmically, making yourself relax to make things easier for both you and him. You sank your teeth into your lower lip and grunted when he finally buried himself all the way inside you, listening to him grunt in satisfaction.

“Fuck… is it me, or did you literally get bigger?” Your voice was strained, breathy and shaky. Your legs tightened slightly around his shoulders, staring at him needily.

“No, nothing about me has changed,” he chuckled softly, finding your state humorous. “But you have. You’ve improved your character within this room and proved that you’re more than capable of passing my class. You’ve made me proud, [L.Name].”

“Oh. Haha. Really?” You laughed awkwardly, turning your head to the side bashfully. Butterflies fluttered within your stomach at the praise, feeling a sudden rush of giddiness that you were hardly able to hide. “I guess I am doing better, huh?”

He nodded in response, his golden eyes softening. “I will begin now.”

You gasped, instinctively looking down to watch him pull out a bit and softly push back inside. You shuddered at the drag of his cock against your prostate, biting your lip once again to stifle the moans that threatened to spill from your throat.

He moved rhythmically, his gaze locked on your blissful expression. His cock throbbed as he slid in and out, again and again, targeting your prostate with pinpoint precision. “You’re taking me so well,” he muttered, grunting softly, your soft moans mixing in with the wet, gentle slaps that filled the room.

“Shit—don’t say stuff like that,” you stubbornly said, slapping a hand over your mouth when he jabbed his dick up against your prostate with a sharp thrust.

“No? But is it—” He groaned, his eyebrows furrowing when he felt you squeeze tighter around him, letting out a strained, labored breath. He tightened his fingers into fists that had his knuckles turning white, pressing his hips against your ass firmly for a moment before resuming. “But is it not the truth?”

You rolled your eyes, using your lack of momentum to kick his back with the heel of your foot. “You talk too much…”

“Is that so?” He retorted, a faint smirk gracing his features as he bent down lower, brushing his lips against your ear, and ignored the strained grunt you let out at the added tension to your back. “Then what would you like me to do?”

You hesitated, shivering pleasantly as his breath ghosted the shell of your ear. “Harder. Go harder.” The two of you remained silent for a beat, and you quickly realized he was expecting something else. “Please.”

“Good boy. Just because I’m doing this for you doesn’t mean you simply forget your manners,” he scolded lightheartedly.

And, like clockwork, your jaw snapped open to argue, but he wouldn’t allow it this time. He rammed his cock so hard in you stars danced through your vision, your body tensing and clenching down tighter around his cock. His breaths came out shallow and labored, focused on churning your insides to mush while you tried your damn best to keep yourself from getting too loud.

“Fuck—oh my God, sir, please—” you choked out, hands scrambling for purchase. You covered your mouth with one and buried your fingers in his hair with the other, inadvertently tugging on the strands and messing up his ponytail. “Wait…!”

“Is this not what you wanted?” He rhetorically questioned, his voice low, not needing to raise his volume over your surprised and needy moans. “A shame,” he continued, finding no desire to let up any time soon. He panted harshly into your neck, letting his eyes squeeze shut as he savored the feeling of your tight hole fluttering and pulsing around him. This closeness was unwarranted and wrong, he of all people knew that. But as you whimpered and whined into his ear, he also found that he didn’t mind it.

All that could be heard were the resounding slaps and your poorly concealed noises. The desk creaked slightly, straining under your combined weight as he kept you pinned down with his body, ignoring the quiet rustle of paper as a few fluttered off the desk.

“Fuck, m’so close, sir,” came your muffled words, eyes rolling in ecstasy as you dragged your hand down to clutch tightly at his back, fingers desperately curling into his clothes. “G-Gonna cum—don’t stop!”

“Quiet,” he shushed you, giving one of your thighs a brief pinch before he grabbed hold of your weeping cock to stroke it in time with his movements. Slick sounds emanated from you as he jerked you off with dexterity, stoking the raging heat in your belly. “I know you can lower your voice. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you?”

You meekly shook your head, letting go of his back to place both hands over your mouth. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling yourself jolt up and down as he rammed himself into your ass rhythmically. Your legs tightened slightly around his neck, searching for something to cling to. You were so close and you knew he was aware of it. He refused to let up, pushing you higher and higher, groaning when you tightened around him reflexively.

“Fuck!” You cried out, your hands hardly able to catch your voice as you came hard, body shuddering and convulsing. He squeezed your dick, slowing down considerably to help you through your orgasm, sweat rolling down his temple at the shared body heat and the effort to please you.

He pulled out with a grunt, letting one of your legs fall off his shoulder as he reached down to quickly jerk himself off, sighing in satisfaction when he finally came. You shivered, resting an arm over your eyes in exhaustion as the two of you basked in the afterglow, chest heaving up and down as you panted hard.

“You’ve done well,” he murmured, cleaning his hands off with a tissue to massage your trembling thighs, giving you a moment to recompose yourself. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks…” you replied, taking your arm off your face to look at him. He was disheveled--the most unkempt you've ever seen him. You sighed gratefully when he moved your remaining leg down to grab another tissue and wipe off his and your cum that landed on your stomach.

"Here, take this." He handed you a bottle of water, fixing himself as soon as you accepted it. "It'll do you well to rehydrate yourself, especially after an intensive session such as this."

You drank a generous amount, wiping your mouth after you put the bottle down to retrieve your pants and underwear when he handed them to you. "Thanks. Again."

"Of course." He nodded, giving you more space to put your clothes back on, watching you with a soft expression. "It's getting late. Would you like me to escort you home?"

"I'm okay. I live, like, what, ten minutes away by foot?" You shook your head, wincing slightly at the ache in your back. You stood up and stretched, yawning, as you made your way away from the desk. You noticed a piece of paper on the floor and bent down to grab it, flipping it over to place atop the surface, realizing that it was your test that fell. Staring at the red numbers for a moment longer, you were overcome with a sense of embarrassment.

Man, the things you'd do for dick.

"Don't expect any leniency from me, [L.Name]," he said, walking over towards the window to open it, letting a fresh breeze carry the smell of sex outside. "My demands still remain."

"I know," you sighed, feigning dejection before you grabbed your stuff, walking towards the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll see you then."

[easy-there-leftovers]

I See You, Darling

[Astarion x reader] The idea never left my mind, and I so very badly need this right now. Heavily inspired by this cutscene where Tav chooses a dialogue option and Astarion's eyes just deviate-- (gif above, just wait for his eyes to look at you WKDKWKDK) |Word count: 2k.| Based off of this post I made.

Part 2 here!!

Also, this is more heavy on the world building rather than dialogue. If I end up making this a series, I might write with more dialogue in mind but it was just necessary to do this first afhjaqfbnjkafbnebn--

A story in which an overworked art student longs for a fictional character that they've devoted so much of their time to.

Alternatively; Astarion realizes there's someone else watching him. And he can't wait to get acquainted with them.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

You’ll admit, perhaps you were simply tired. Attending a prestigious school for the arts doesn’t exactly leave you with much free time to indulge in more calming forms of recreation. Your course requires you to consume a wide array of media to expand your library of creativity, after all. All in the name of generating more interesting media to entrance and enthrall your audience with your original work. 

Maybe all the moving pictures and swimming texts have caused you to greatly misunderstand what you are seeing. Surely, your favorite character isn’t looking directly at you, right?

Right?

But before that, let’s review what might have happened earlier to explain just what exactly in gods name is happening.

Shall we?

——

You purchased the game a few months back. “Baldur’s Gate 3.” A game that took the players and immersed them in the world of Dungeons & Dragons, introducing them to the mechanics of tabletop RPG as they did. It seemed interesting enough. And if the concept of character creation and storytelling didn’t sell you on the idea of it, the pretty faces on the cover certainly did.

So, with the little money you could spare from your part time job at your own institution’s library, and with what little sanity you had left to argue with, you impulsively bought said game. And it was fun. Exhilarating. Electrifying. 

Until you ran into a problem.

Astarion. The rogue, elven vampire that you have chosen to romance after careful deliberation. You scoffed to yourself. He was one of the biggest reasons why you purchased the blasted game at all. You’ve carefully studied the character in all his glory, from his striking carmine eyes and delicate unstained curls, to his aptitude for bloodshed and all manners of gore. He was such an interesting character, giving you more and more reason to pursue him as the story progressed. Yet the same can’t be said about your relationship with him. Or at least your “Tav’s” relationship with him. 

You’ve had some difficulty in deepening your relationship with the ex-magistrate. It seemed as if no matter what options you chose, no matter what manner of advances you made, he’d be quick to dismiss you. Painting you as a desperate little pup as he did. Denying you the opportunity of further knowing him. You’ve created and overwritten more save slots than you'd like to admit, perusing each one to select different lines of dialogue only to be rejected time and time again.

You thought it strange. But perhaps this was simply the way his route was meant to unfold. He was such an incredibly complex character after all. Perhaps this was meant to prove the party’s loyalty. 

But that didn’t stop you from being frustrated with other aspects of the gameplay. You've spent countless nights hunched on your work chair, back curving like a dead bug as you analyzed each and every possible outcome in combat. Eyes, bloodshot from cutting your sleeping hours short, just to endure the story until you were at an appropriate place to log out. And hair, flicking and curling out in different directions due to you weaving your hands through them in exasperation. 

You saw your reflection on your screen as it darkened to load the next scene and you couldn't help but stare at your character in slight envy. You know full well that however you designed them, it wouldn’t affect how the others perceived you, and yet you couldn’t help but pretty them up for your own interest. You designed it with yourself in mind, but making them far more attractive than you would ever be. Effortlessly beautiful as they stirred to wake up in the forest you settled in for camp.

How could Astarion ever turn this beautiful being away? If not for their heroism, then surely their looks would be enough to draw him in, no?

And speak of the devil. Once you could control your character again, you readied them to interact with your sharply dressed companion. Wanting to try your luck once more as the bright sun shone upon your character like a promise of a new day. Unfortunately, you’re greeted with a look of boredom, oh so familiar, that you sigh. “I hope you’re not here to beg—” Mocking him, echoing the words you’ve come to expect with faux mirth in your voice. But you cut yourself short when you realize he has yet to say anything. 

Strange.

 What’s even stranger is that he's just staring at you. Well,--- he’s staring at Tav. Your character.

“What the fuck…?” You move your mouse around, clicking to try and toggle the dialogue options to no avail, screen stuck in a cinematic close up of his face. Much like how the camera always pans when awaiting your response. 

However, unlike the common script of his actions that you’re used to, the one that you’ve memorized like a well practiced dance, his eyes smoothly glide off of your character and onto you. 

You freeze, but your heart doesn’t. The beating of your chest growing stronger the longer he looks at you. Eyes, blood red like rubies, boring into your own. He regards you, blinks, and then smiles that deviously charming smile of his before your screen turns dark. Your computer turns off, and you stare in shock of what just happened.

‘No fucking way, no fucking way, no fucking way—‘ You’re not delusional, right? Sure, you’re tired, but no fucking way did you just imagine one of the hottest characters you’ve seen in a while break the fourth wall just to fuck with you.

You laugh to yourself.

Yes, you’re just tired. Nothing like a good four hours of sleep can’t remedy. Although, as you get up from your chair, foolish as it may seem, you grab a used shirt from your floor, and hang it on your computer in the case that those piercing eyes come to life once again while you sleep.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you get ready for the day, you notice your dirtied clothing still on your computer. Covering it as if it were a petrifying doll from a horror movie. You feel childish for doing so, reasoning that you were simply stressed from the events that taken place prior and removed the cloth.

As you did, your screen was brought back to life. Showing you the next night as if your little "tryst" with Astarion never happened. An entire thirty minutes or so of progress seemingly gone. Thankfully, you saved just before your game went haywire and you attempted to load up your last slot. 

Zzzt Zzzzt!

Alas, your game was not cooperating once again. You tried the save just before that and the same error screen presented itself to you. ‘Maybe this is a sign that I should just fucking work instead.’ Irritated at the thought, you moved to log out of the game but a familiar voice convinces you otherwise as the screen returns to normal. 

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” 

‘Is this— a romance scene?!’ Astarion had never initiated an interaction before! Perhaps the game gods were granting you mercy. Or maybe, something you did last night might have given way for this line of dialogue to open up. Regardless, you happily took the opportunity and began reading your choices.

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” ━─━────༺༻────━─━

Well. Thank you.

It’s none of your concern, fangs.

Better now that you’re here.

What happened last night?

━─━────༺༻────━─━

What…did happen last night? You don’t recall anything past the blackening of your screen, but it looks like you did something after that which caused this dialogue.

You don’t want to squander this opportunity, who knows when this will happen again, but your curiosity gets the best of you. So you save, and choose option 4. 

“Oh, you poor thing. Spooked you, did I?” He laughs, seemingly taking in the look of confusion that graces both yours and Tav’s face.

“What do you think happened last night?”

“My fucking game crashed.” You answer automatically.

Tav moves to open their mouth but is silenced with a tut. “Not you, spawn.” His eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement, but the way his mouth is pulled in a tightly-lipped smile offers you further insight otherwise. 

“I need your answer.” His eyes are on you yet again, and you feel the world begin to spin.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you plan to get ready for the day, you notice you’re not exactly in a state to do so. You expected to wake at dawn, the dark and cool air to greet you as it fills your room and envelops your walls. Instead, you wake to see an endless amount of evergreen and the smell of the dark and damp grass beneath you filling your senses.

And if spending hours, weeks, months, of playing this damned game has taught you anything, you know that you now reside in the heart of the forest that you usually set up camp in. But this time, you're far from your bedroll and the fire that your party created.

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far to no avail. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

And this chill so does love playing games.

You clamber away on your knees when you hear that deep chuckle of his emanate from right beside your ear. Creating as much distance to inspect this figure you’ve yet to face.

You see Astarion in all his vampiric glory. ‘Well, for a vampire spawn, I guess.’ You comment to yourself. Crimson eyes, darker than you imagined, with full, dark lashes contrasting his pallid skin and pure hair that glow under the moonlight. An unsettling, and cursedly attractive, smirk curls onto his lips. His ivory fangs on full display as he does.

“It seems as if those useless artifacts were worth something.” He marvels at his handiwork, his prize, and approaches it with confidence. 

“Well, your character certainly is more ‘prettied up.’” He circles you, carefully appraising his newest asset, and grins. “But you are far more intriguing.”

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster.

“Although, you are very cute. Cheeky little pup, aren’t you?” He jests.

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster which earns you a click of his tongue in response.

“You’re not broken, are you? Or am I to anticipate your little ‘what the fuck?’s as your only contribution?” Long, and incredibly masculine, fingers crawl and curl to grasp your chin like a spider. 

“I’ve waited months to have you. And now here you are, finally within my grasp.” The statement causes something to stir within you.

“What do you mean, ‘months?” 

He narrows his eyes, possibly trying to comprehend your stupidity.

“I’ve been watching you. Waiting, for the right moment. Interacting with this– caricature of yourself until you could deny yourself of me no more.” Blood rushes to your head. Your cheeks burning in embarrassment for seeming overly eager. And in panic as his intentions have yet to be cleared.

“And now that I’m here? Do you want to kill me?” You feel your heartbeat in your ears, awaiting his response. Your eyes wide in fear, yet trying to fake heroic bravado in the attempts to gain the upperhand.

And in this moment, he thinks you absolutely invigorating.

“Oh no, sweet pet. I’ve waited far too long for that. I’m going to make you mine.”

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Should I make this into a series? "The adventures of a misplaced artist in Baldur's Gate!!" Or something like that. Let me know, lol

[k0zumine]

Kenma Kozume x Fem! Reader

when you’re jealous!

Kenma sighed at his rejected attempt to hold your hand as you yanked your hand away from his with a frown. You were in one of your bad moods again, this time you were mad at him for reasons he wasn’t sure of.

You were both coming back from a date, he’d taken you out for a meal as it hit your 6 month anniversary today. As you were both in high school the meal wasn't some fancy 5-star restaurant but it wasn't McDonalds either, and Kenma knew you weren't bothered by that as well. So as he rolled his eyes stuffing his hands in his trouser pockets trying to contain his frustration he thought back to the date thinking back to anything he might have done wrong to upset you, he couldn’t think of anything.

“What’s the matter hm?” he asked looking towards you.

“m’fine” you mumble his irritation growing at your stubbornness.

“having a hard time believing that” he scoffed making you glare at him.

“why are you mad at me? did I do something wrong?” he continued to look at you, it was pretty hard to stay mad at you as you wore that pretty little dress that compliments your body perfectly with his black blazer draped around your shoulders.

Yes, Kenma wore a suit, just for you, he’d never wear something like that but this was a special occasion and he wanted to impress you, he even tied his hair up in a neat bun. If anyone else saw him like this he was pretty sure he’d want to kill himself.

“Who said I was mad at you?” you grumbled quickening your pace, which was quite difficult when you’re wearing heels.

Kenma's jaw clenched as you continued to be stubborn pacing ahead of him, with a frustrated sigh he caught up to you gently holding your wrist. He pulled you into him holding your waist. “Don’t walk away when I’m trying to have a conversation with you please and I’m not letting you go home from our date upset okay? So I’m sorry for what I’ve done” He told you one arm wrapped around your waist the other lifting up your chin so you’d maintain eye contact with him.

“Do you even know what you’re sorry for?” You glared at him your eyebrows furrowing.

“No bu-“

“Then you’re not sorry!”

“Baby can you please just tell me? I want to make this night perfect for you..”

“Well, you kinda already ruined that idea when you let that waitress flirt with you.” You spat back. Kenma's face was full of confusion wondering what on earth you were talking about.

“I’m confused…why would she flirt with me”

“She was literally flirting with you, Ken! That free drink, only talking to you, even complimenting you!! She’s in our year I know she has a crush on you!” You were getting more upset by the minute at his oblivious attitude.

“She wasn’t flirting with me…she was just being kind” Kenma explained completely confused as to why you were getting upset. As you heard him trying to justify the waitress's actions you pried his hand away from his waist and continued to walk back to your house.

Kenma's jaw clenched as he once again grabbed your wrist “I told you to stop walking away from me when I’m talking to you” he told you his patience running thin.

“And I don’t want to talk to someone who lets other girls flirt with him when he clearly has a girlfriend!”

“I’m sorry okay? I didn’t know she was flirting with me, I wasn’t even paying attention to what she was doing I was too busy focusing on you”

“Yeah yeah whatever..” you pout looking avoiding eye contact.

“Can you stop being so stubborn now? You know you’re the only one I have eyes for” He sighed grabbing your chin and leaning in to peck your lips.

“Still don’t like how she flirted with you whilst I was right there…I swear if I see her at school on Monday I’m gonna-“

“Do nothing, you’re not going to get into a fight or an argument okay? If she does it again I’ll tell her to stop.” Raising his eyebrows waiting for you to agree.

“Fine…” you mumbled, Kenma interlocked fingers with yours and continued walking to your house, or so you thought until he walked right past it.

“Uh, you just walked past my house…”

“I know we’re going to my house”

“But I have to go home my parents are expecting me back”

“Yeah, I messaged your mother asking if it was okay to keep you for a few more hours…I can’t let you go home feeling upset, I’d be a bad boyfriend if I did that.” He explained offering you a small smile as you both walked a little further to his house.

As you got to his house Kenma helped take your heels off, you walked into the kitchen saying hi to his mother whilst she bombarded you with questions asking if your date went well and if Kenma treated you well.

“He did but the waitress was flirting with him…” you sigh.

“Oh honey, did he tell her to stop or anything?” She asked.

“No…he didn’t even realise that she was flirting with him” you pout as she brought you into a hug.

“I’m sorry he didn’t do anything but you know how Kenmas like he’s completely oblivious to that kind of stuff, I was even surprised when he told me you guys were in a relationship..surprised he had the guts to ask you out” She chuckled, after another 5 minutes of conversation with the woman she let you go up to Kenmas room.

You opened the to see Kenma sprawled across his bed swiping away on his phone, his hair no longer in that bun, a few of his top buttons undone. “Hi Ken,” you say seeing him glance up at you with a soft smile, you hop on the bed and crawl towards his side laying your head on his shoulder and watching as he scrolled through TikTok.

“You feelin' a bit better after your chat?” He asks stroking your hair and twirling it in his fingers.

“mhm..sorry for overreacting” you mumble watching the cat video that had just appeared on his for you page.

“tis fine m’sorry for not realising what she was doing…I’ll do better next time” he sighed.

“You look so beautiful in that dress if I haven’t mentioned it before” He continues.

“Don’t worry you’ve said it over 10 times today Ken, you look so handsome with that suit you should wear things like that more often” You smile.

“Ha no m’only doin' this for you” He rolled his eyes.

The rest of the night consisted of you cuddling and watching tiktoks, Kenma constantly asking if you were okay pressing kisses to your face. He knew how to lift your spirit up he knew everything about you that’s why you love him.

[mommypieck]

𑄽୧ toys with yuuta 𔓘 ᰍ

kinktober day 21: dick isn't enough!!!

✿ yuuta okkotsu x reader

✿ warnings: sex toy usage, orgasm denial

"Hi, honey. Are you home?" the front door of your apartment opens, revealing your boyfriend Yuuta. He's wearing a shining smile as always. Yuuta is like a little puppy, always wagging his imaginary tail when he sees you.

"I'm right here," you yell from your work office. You're currently on a hunt for something that's going to spice up your sex life. It's not that he's not good in bed… well, maybe it's because it is.

You met Yuuta when he was a virgin. Your first time together was fine, and the fact that he didn't make you cum is understandable. The worst thing is that it never happened the other times. No matter how many times you tell him how you like it, he's just clueless.

"Why are you looking at sex toys?" Yuuta exclaims beside you, wrapping his arms around your neck. You wish he could do that while you fuck. You explain that you're trying to find some toys because your friends told you about them. He isn't too convinced but lets you order it anyway. He can't resist the look you give him when asking for his credit card.

The day everything arrives is anxious for both of you. And when you finally cut through the cardboard box to take out the things, you don't waste any time dragging him upstairs.

"What should I do with it?" he asks you, looking confused at the toy. You're already naked on the bed while Yuuta decides to keep his clothes on.

"Press it against my clit." you groan in frustration. You want to feel something, but instead, Yuuta is scared as always. The toy finally touches your clit, making you jump. The pleasure is good but not enough for you.

"Turn it to another volume." he looks skeptical at your request but does so. These vibrations are better as they shoot all around your pussy evenly. You let yourself be pleasured by the toy, relaxing on the bed.

Yuuta is not having any of this. The fact that you bought toys to replace him hurts. He knows he's not the best in bed, but the way your face scrunches makes him feel jealous deep inside his stomach.

He glares at the dildo beside him, and he almost feels jealous of it. He grabs it, the thought of how you might look once he fucks you with it is more appealing than feeling jealous.

He brushes it through your folds, collecting your wetness on the plastic. You're already soaked from the other toy, and he needs to see you even more fucked out.

The tip of the toy finally enters you, it's a bit smaller than Yuuta, but the stretch is pleasurable. He moves it a little, trying to find your sweet spot. You whine, why can't he be rougher?

"Fuck me with it," you yell in frustration as you try to fuck yourself on the dildo. Yuuta honestly thinks you are possessed, there's no other explanation for this situation. You were always the innocent vanilla girl, and suddenly you're a cock longing slut.

The toy suddenly plunges inside of you, making you scream. He fucks you with it with all he has, his arm already cramping. If you want to be fucked with it roughly, he's going to give you everything. He grabs the wand again, placing it on your clit while he drills the dildo inside of you. You're sure this is what heaven feels like.

You're so close already, just begging for him to let you cum. He's not that easy to convince. You like this toy more than you like his cock, and you're gonna face consequences.

"No cumming." he says as he turns the wand even higher in vibrations. He wants to see you struggle, he wants to see you cry. Your body shakes on the bed, and he has to hold you still. You are so close, you might even get on your knees to beg him to let you cum.

"Let me cum, I've been a good girl." you moan, giving him the best puppy eyes. His gaze softens, and his demeanor changes. He can't believe he would want someone so cute like you to cry. It's true, you're a good girl, and you deserve to cum.

"Come on, pretty. cum on the toy." you cum right away after the last word, creaming on the toy. He fucks you with it through your orgasm, giving you even more pleasure.

"Are you okay?" yuuta questions when you cum from your high. You just smile at him, you're okay and more than satisfied.

You both realized a few things with this. For Yuuta, he might want to work a bit on his stroke game. And for you? That you have him wrapped around your finger, and he will give you everything if you look at him cutely enough.

taglist: @mcharris747 @huuuuut30 @krispsprite @bejewelledd @cawwn @veryninjanacho @jamayah @dngerwayz @nwptune @universlypiratecolor @ffakegucci @merachannie @d1lf-luvr @th3girln3xtdoor @nobody289x @iheartpieck @gia999 @kawasgirl @st4rrlighttt @candyeyeroll @7haze @banchangsbbbg @nigthmar3moon @softlilpeachxx @d1gitalbathh @jaenniii @armahnsie @satorustar @balenciagarette @erp1007

[romanticinlove]

The ex-boyfriend

Summary: Your ex-boyfriend has been trying to get back together with you for a while now. Your current boyfriend has no problem stepping in.

Word count: 1.1K

content warning: Zack Bia 😟, slight mentions of a toxic relationship

a/n: enjoy!

_________________________________________________

Because you were in the public eye, every single detail of your life was being shown at all times, that included your relationships. Your most recent ex boyfriend, Zack Bia, and you had a very public breakup because he cheated on you. Apart from the cheating, the relationship was toxic and he was a master manipulator. You knew of his reputation, but you still went along with him. You kicked yourself for it and so did everyone else. When your relationship with him was announced, everyone was so confused. Like you and him of all people. But when the relationship ended, because you ended it, people rejoiced. Everyone was so happy to hear the news. Everyone including a young football player, Jude Bellingham.

Jude had had a crush on you ever since you did a photoshoot with Prada. When he saw you on the runway for the first time, he malfunctioned. He got jealous when the pictures of you and Zack first dropped. He could not wrap his mind around the fact that you and that loser were dating. But, when the relationship ended, he took that as his in. He started off by liking and reacting to your stories, and then he dm'ed you. Nothing too crazy, just a simple "hey" with a smiling emoji. From there the two of you began talking. And soon enough, 5 months after the drama with Zack Bia, you were dating Jude Bellingham.

When the news about you and the 20-year old came out, Zack immediately tried to call you. you ignored his calls and then the texts came through.

Zack: Wtf

Zack: Why are you dating that guy???

Zack: We literally just broke up it's so obvious that you're desperate for attention.

Zack: If you wanted to be in a relationship so bad, I would've come back

Zack: I miss u

Even when you blocked his number he contacted you from another one. Once you received more and more messages, you tried to respond to him

You: Please leave me alone. Go find someone else to gaslight

Zack: see you love to thow around that word, but I don't think you actually knows what it means.

Zack: I miss you. I've changed I'm willing to prove that

You: I am dating someone else please stop

Zack: He doesn't matter. He doesn't love you like I do

Zack: I want to see you, I'm in Spain right now, come see me

You shut your phone off and sighed in frustration. Why did he have to come all this way just to bother you? You immediately called Jude.

"hello" Jude answered on the second ring. You loved how he would always answer your call, no matter what, as fast as he possibly could.

"Hey baby, are you busy right now?" You asked. You were so annoyed and needed Jude's comfort.

"no not at all why? is everything ok?"

"yeah could you just come over please" Jude could hear the desperation in your voice so he immediately got his things from his house and began to head out.

"of course, I'll be there soon"

When Jude arrived at your apartment, You explained everything to him. From how you and Zack started dating, to his constant harassment and even him being in Spain. Jude was visibly upset, but he wasn't mad at you, but at that lunatic. He hated how upset he made you and how he was trying to push his way back into your life.

" I just don't know what to do anymore" You stated "I just want to stay here with you forever, I don't want to deal with him." You were laying on Judes chest in your bed as he drew circles on your back.

"I promise he is long gone, he is bluffing. I don't think he would come all the way to Spain. Besides, I will stay with you here forever" He said as he kissed your forehead. You smiled and you both decided to watch s show together. Halfway through one of the episodes, you heard a knock at the door and looked over at Jude in confusion. Unfortunately, he was asleep, so, you got up and went to answer the door. Lo and behold, outside your door was your ex-boyfriend.

"I told you I missed you" Zack said while holding flowers.

"I don't care, I told you I'm with someone else. You and I are done." You said as you tried to close the door. He managed to push his way in. "You need to leave right now"

"No, we still need to talk, I don't like how things ended"

" You cheated on me, there end of story"

"I wouldn't have cheated if you hadn't made me" Zack told you and you looked at him in confusion and he continued. " You were always such a bitch nagging about your job, it wasn't that hard. I needed to find someone to distract myself from your constant complaining" Zack began to yell at you and You just shook your head.

"Ok I complained too much, you found someone else, everything is good again, please leave" You were getting annoyed and began to walk towards the door to open it. That's when he grabbed your arm and pushed you away from the door.

"I said we need to talk" He yelled at you and that's when Jude stepped out of the bedroom and looked at him. Jude threw a punch at him and he went down onto the couch. "Don't you ever disrespect her like that again, do you understand?" Jude got up in his face and yelled at him. He grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him out and threw him out on the concrete. He then walked over to you, who was standing near the stairs to go upstairs, a couple of feet from where it all happened.

"I'm so sorry he did that. Are you ok? Did he hurt you?" Jude said while examining you. You were completely unharmed, your wrist just hurt a little from the force used. Jude engulfed you in a hug and you rested your head in him.

"Thank you so much Jude, you have no idea how much this means to me" You said to him and you hugged him.

"You don't have to thank me for protecting you. It comes with the territory"

"I love you, Jude"

"I love you too y/n"

You both went back up to your room and continued to spend time together watching tv. Even though your last relationship caused confusion, you knew that now people would agree that you two were prefect together.

___________________________________________

Thank you for reading! I also wanted to let you guys know I am taking requests in case you guys wanted to send some in! also lmk If you guys think I should write about some other ppl

[steveseddie]

love is stored in a can of hairspray

rating: t | cw: none apply | word count: 3,189

tags: eddie munson has a crush on steve harrington, eddie munson is a sweetheart, steve has a bad hair week and eddie comes to the rescue, fluff, soft boys, first kiss, getting together

for the @steddielovemonth prompt “love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy” by @forgottenkanji

a/n: i'm a day late for this one but in my defense i had a wedding yesterday and it was a crazy day! enjoy!

click here to read on ao3

***

There’s a reason why Steve Harrington was dubbed “The Hair” of Hawkins.

In all the years Eddie has known Steve or known of Steve, he’s never seen him have a bad hair day.

It doesn’t matter if it’s rainy or sunny, if he’s wearing a Scoops Ahoy sailor hat or if he’s walking down the halls of Hawkins High or if he’s fighting Demobats in the Upside Down after taking a dive in Lover’s Lake, Steve Harrington’s hair always looked great. Eddie doesn’t know how he does it. Well. He kinda does ‘cause Henderson is a blabbermouth who let Steve’s secret about the Farrah Fawcett hairspray slip one time, but Eddie still doesn’t understand how Steve always makes his hair look like that. He thinks there’s got to be magic involved, a deal with the devil so that Steve’s hair never looks bad.

That is until today.

Eddie arrives at the Wheeler residence and announces himself by ringing the bell three times just to be annoying. He waits for someone to come open the door for him, and in the meantime, crouches down to tie his Converse. The door opens while Eddie is still on the floor and the first thing he sees is a pristine pair of white Nikes that he could recognize anywhere.

“Well, well, well,” he says, tightening the laces and springing to his feet. “If it isn’t my favorite guy in all of Hawkins, I didn’t know you’d be- Jesus H. Christ, dude! What happened to your hair?” He blurts out the last part when his eyes land on Steve’s head. Or the thick untidy mass where his perfect hair should be, with strands matted on his forehead above his furrowed brow.

“Fuck you, man,” Steve grumbles and crosses his arms over his chest.

Eddie feels a little bad, but his mouth-to-brain already leaves so much to be desired around Steve on a good day-

Not that Steve looks bad. Eddie is convinced that he couldn’t look bad if he tried, but right now he certainly doesn’t look like The Hair of Hawkins.

“Sorry, it’s just-” He waves vaguely at Steve’s head. “What’s up with that?”

Steve groans loudly. “A bunch of my products are sold out at every fucking store in Hawkins,” he explains for what seems to be not for the first time today. “Been meaning to drive to the next town over to get them, but I’ve been picking up so many extra shifts at Family Video that I haven’t had the time.”

Eddie nods. Steve told him he was trying to save up money to move out of his parents’ house, but it was slow going, so he started working more shifts recently to speed up the process. He’s been seeing less of Steve because of that, which Eddie hates, but he understands the urge to get out of that house.

“That sucks, man.”

Steve pouts, pink bottom lip jutting out. “Tell me about it, I look-” he gestures at his head and trails off with a huff.

“It’s not that bad,” Eddie says, but Steve raises an eyebrow at him.

“Wheeler asked if a hamster died on my head,” he deadpans.

Fucking Wheeler. He’s gonna make him regret it during tonight’s campaign.

“Please, those kids wouldn’t know a good haircut if it bit them in the ass,” Eddie says, and Steve smiles a little. “Sure, it’s- different. Not what we’re all used to, but you still look-” Handsome, hot, beautiful. “You still look good, Harrington.”

Steve’s cheeks pink up slightly. “Thanks, Munson, but I don’t feel good, I don’t know. It’s just hair and it’s stupid, but I feel off.” He groans in frustration. “Whatever, I’ll just have to wait two weeks and then-”

“Two weeks?”

“That’s when I finally get a day off.”

Eddie blows out a puff of air. “Jesus, Steve.”

“Apartments aren’t cheap, man,” Steve says with a shrug. “But I think Keith might make me manager by the end of the month. That would bump up my pay a bit, I just have to, you know, show him I can do it.”

“You got this, Stevie,” Eddie says, patting Steve’s cheek. “No one rewinds and restocks like you do.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch up into a smile.

“If you two are done, we have a campaign to start!” Dustin says, appearing behind Steve and giving them both an exasperated look.

They exchange one themselves at Dustin’s tone, which they agree that he still needs to get in check.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re coming,” Steve says and Eddie tries not to jump in excitement when he realizes Steve is staying instead of just dropping off the kiddos. He’s been hanging around more and more during Hellfire meetings recently, even if he still doesn’t want to play. Eddie can’t complain about the last part, he likes just having him there.

He steps inside and Steve closes the door.

Dustin stares at Steve’s head.

“Quit staring, Henderson!” Steve protests and Dustin holds his hands up in defense.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just bad, dude.”

These fucking kids.

Eddie whacks Dustin upside the head. “Just for that, I’m making you roll with disadvantage for every attack you make tonight .”

Dustin’s eyes bulge out. “What! That’s not fair!” He protests loudly as they walk towards the basement.

Eddie suspects that Steve doesn’t know necessarily what that means, but he still gives him a grateful smile.

***

Eddie stares at the bag of hair products in his passenger seat.

He’s always been a whatever shampoo Wayne picks up from the store kind of guy, he’s never really spent money on hair products. Until now. And they’re not even for him.

He just spent a stupid amount of money on them, mostly because, even if he remembers how some of the bottles and hairspray cans Steve uses look like from using his bathroom when he stays over, he wasn’t sure which are the ones that Steve needs. So he bought a bunch of them.

In that moment, he wasn’t thinking about the money or how it might look to Steve that he knew what hair products he uses or that he drove to another town to get them. He was only thinking about Steve’s defeated look every time someone stared at his hair or commented on it, how he self-consciously tried to fix it at work every time a customer came in, how when they hung out at his house he would hide his hair under the hood of a sweater.

But now, parked in front of Steve’s house an hour before their movie night, Eddie does think about what he did- and he seriously considers leaving the bag on Steve’s doorstep and fleeing. It’s too much. It’s too ‘I have a big crush on you and I want you to be happy so bad that I drove to another town and raided the Hair and Beauty section at a store just so you can stop walking around looking like a kicked puppy’.

But at the same time, he did this so he could see Steve smile and it would be a shame to miss it. He just hopes that Steve is too distracted by having his beloved hair products that he won’t think too hard about what Eddie did, or what it might mean.

With a short prayer to whoever’s listening so that Steve doesn’t figure out his crush today and rejects him, Eddie grabs the bag and walks up the driveway.

He knocks on the door before he can talk himself out of it, and bounces from foot to foot while he waits, hiding the bag behind him.

Steve opens the door and when he sees Eddie his eyebrows shoot up in his face, disappearing behind the few hairs that hang over his forehead. Over the last week, Steve experimented with other products, and while he managed to make his hair look a little less like something died up there, it’s still not the same. “Eddie?”

“Hey, Stevie.”

He checks his watch. “You’re early. Actually no, you’re always late so being on time is early for you, you’re like, really fucking early.”

Eddie snorts. “First of all, I’m never late, I arrive precisely when I have to.” Steve rolls his eyes. “But today I’m really fucking early, as you so eloquently put it, because I had to do some shopping first and then I drove straight here. In fact, I come bearing gifts,” he says, hands shaking a little with anticipation.

Steve eyes him curiously. “For the kids?”

“For you, my King,” Eddie says, finally allowing Steve to see the bag and presenting it to him in the most dramatic way. Hinging at the waist, holding the bag over his head, the works.

“Eddie, what are you- wait, is that- oh.” Steve goes silent when realization hits and Eddie starts spiraling. He tries to make light of it. “I humbly present to you the magic potions for your characteristic luscious hair, your Majesty.”

But when he glances up at Steve through his lashes, he looks like he’s close to crying. For a moment, he worries that he fucked up- bought all the wrong hairsprays and shampoos and now Steve is mad at him-

But then Steve is grabbing Eddie’s shoulders and yanking him up for a hug where the bag ends up squished between them.

“Christ, Eddie, thank you,” he says against his shoulder, and Eddie feels a sense of accomplishment wash over him, as well as butterflies flying in his stomach from Steve holding him like this.

One of Eddie’s arms wraps around Steve’s waist. “I don’t know if I got all the right ones ‘cause I have shit memory, but I recognized some of the bottles from your bathroom and the lady at the store helped me find your famous Farrah Fawcett spray-”

He trails off when Steve squeezes him tighter. “I can’t believe you’d do this,” he murmurs, almost to himself, but Eddie hears it anyway.

“I had some shopping to do,” Eddie says casually, but it’s like Steve is squeezing the words out of him with his arms because he keeps talking. “And you’ve been walking around with your head low and those sad puppy eyes all week, and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Steve pulls back and Eddie braces himself for Steve calling him out for overstepping or something, but instead he looks shyly at Eddie.

“I know it’s stupid like, it’s just hair and it shouldn’t matter that much, but it’s just- it’s important to me. I might not like “the Hair” thing but I am like, proud of my hair and this week I just haven’t felt like myself and people keep making comments and-” He shakes his head, a few rebellious strands falling on his forehead. “Anyway just, this means a lot, Eds, thank you.”

“Of course, Steve,” Eddie says with a smile. They stare at each other for a little too long, and Eddie starts fidgeting. “Now aren’t you happy that I got here so early? Gives you just enough time to get through your hair routine before everyone else gets here.”

Steve chuckles. “You don’t mind waiting while I fix this?” He gestures at his head, and Eddie shakes his.

“I can entertain myself just fine,” Eddie says, stepping inside when Steve sweeps his arm over the entrance.

“Okay, I’ll be back soon.”

Eddie grins. “Yeah, go doll up for me, sweetheart,” he teases and hears the way Steve’s breath catches, his eyes widening slightly and his cheeks tinting pink.

Then Steve moves in and places a quick kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “Thanks again, Eds,” he says and then he’s running upstairs.

Eddie stands there for at least ten minutes, red in the face, before he can make himself move.

***

Steve still hasn’t come downstairs by the time the doorbell rings so Eddie answers it.

Dustin is at the head of the arriving party and he raises an eyebrow at him when he sees him. “You’re on time,” he says, perplexed.

“And you’re a butthead,” Eddie replies and the other kids snigger behind Dustin. “Are you gonna come in or what?”

With an eye roll that is pure Steve, Dustin walks in followed by Wheeler, Sinclair and Max, and finally Robin and Nancy, who drove them all there.

Buckley narrows his eyes at him as she walks in. “Why are you on time?” She asks. “Unless you got here early so you and Steve could hang out alooone?” The way she says “alone” makes Eddie flush, which doesn’t help deny what she’s implying, even if it isn’t true.

Luckily, at that moment, Steve comes down the stairs and everyone’s attention turns to him.

“Dude, you got rid of the dead hamster finally!” Mike says and Max flicks him in the ear. Eddie smirks, that’s why she’s his favorite.

“He’s back!” Dustin cheers as soon as Steve’s hair is visible. Eddie smiles at the familiar look, but mostly at the way Steve smiles and holds himself, the slouch and the sad puppy eyes gone.

“There’s my handsome best friend,” Robin hoots and Nancy puts her thumb and index finger in her mouth and lets out an impressive whistle.

“Okay, okay,” Steve says, waving off their compliments and reactions as he reaches the ground floor. “Yes, the hair is back, we can move on now. There are movies to watch.”

He starts to usher them in the direction of the living room to get their movie night started now that they’re all here.

“Dude, I thought it would be two weeks before you could buy your hair things,” Lucas says, looking at Steve over his shoulder.

Steve freezes, his eyes darting to Eddie before he just shrugs at Sinclair, who probably doesn’t care that much about it because he just accepts that as a reasonable answer and follows the others to the couch.

The same can’t be said about Buckley.

“How did you get your hair products, Steve? ‘Cause I know you didn’t have them yesterday and you were working all day today.”

Their eyes meet again and Eddie gives a small shrug. They both know Buckley won’t drop it until she knows the truth.

“Eddie got them for me,” Steve says, mouth curling up in a smile that he directs at Eddie.

Buckley’s head snaps in his direction too, but she’s smirking, her eyes sparkling. “Oh did he?”

“Uh, yeah, I did.”

“You drove to another town, spent time and money on gas, and then spent more money just to get Steve his hair products?”

“Yup,” he says, popping the ‘p’, trying to be casual, but he can feel the heat on his cheeks.

“How generous of you,” she says but it sounds a lot like, ‘I see you and your big gay crush on my best friend’.

Eddie’s eyes dart to Steve. With their platonic bond it sometimes feels like they can read each other’s minds and Eddie wonders if Steve can see what she sees. He flushes brighter at the thought.

“Come on, Nance, let’s get started with the popcorn,” she says, hooking her arm with Nancy’s and dragging her away, leaving Steve and Eddie alone in the hallway.

“I’m sorry about her,” Steve says with a light chuckle. “And listen I can pay you- for the gas and for the products.”

Eddie shakes his head. “You don’t have to, I told you, they’re gifts.”

Steve ducks his head shyly and a strand of hair falls on his forehead with the movement. On impulse, Eddie reaches out to tuck it back into place. There, now Steve’s hair is perfectly styled again. He smiles. “Besides, it was worth it.”

“Oh.” Steve licks his lips a little nervously and Eddie can’t help but track the movement with his eyes. “You- you must really like my hair,” he whispers, eyes wide and expectant.

Eddie considers taking the out, making some joke about having always admired “the Hair” or something like that, but he finds that he doesn’t want to. Not with Steve looking at him like he would like hearing the truth.

So, Eddie takes a deep breath and hopes that he’s reading this right.

“I do, I really like it, but it’s not just that. You could walk around with a hamster on your head or get a buzz cut like El, and I’d still like it. I just. I like you.”

A slow grin appears on Steve’s face. “You really think I would look good with a buzz cut?”

A nervous laugh tumbles over Eddie’s lips. “Out of everything I said that’s what you-”

Steve shakes his head, cupping Eddie’s jaw with one hand and effectively shutting him up. “No, I- I like you too, Eddie.”

He sighs in relief. “Oh, thank God.”

And then, he grabs a handful of Steve’s shirt and pulls him towards him, crashing their lips together.

The moment they touch, Eddie lets out a low whine before he remembers that the kiddos are in the next room and Buckley and Wheeler could walk out of the kitchen any minute. So he tries to keep it down as he licks into Steve’s mouth, even if Steve kissing back just as passionately should be enough to drag more noises out of him.

It’s not until Eddie’s hands start moving from his shoulder to his neck on the way to his hair that Steve stops him, his fingers grabbing a hold of Eddie’s wrist and pulling away just enough to speak against Eddie’s lips.

Eddie chases after Steve’s mouth with another whine.

“Jesus,” Steve gasps. “We probably should- If this week proved anything is that out friends are overly invested in my hair so they’ll notice if you mess it up with your hands.” Eddie makes a disgruntled sound. Steve’s fingers catch one of Eddie’s curls, twirling it around it. “But if you want, after everyone leaves you can stay and I can, you know, pay you back for this.” He gestures at his hair.

Eddie’s brain must be melting out of his ears from kissing Steve because he dumbly says, “I told you that you don’t have to-” before he understands the meaning behind the words when he sees Steve’s smirk. “Oh. Yeah. I can think of a few ways you can do that.”

The way he waggles his eyebrows makes Steve giggle adorably, but before Eddie can kiss him about it, Robin pops her head out of the kitchen, making them jump.

“If you two are done giggling like teenagers, come help with the popcorn before the actual teenagers start a riot.”

“Aye, Captain Buckley,” Eddie says with a two-fingered salute. This time Steve muffles his giggle behind his hand.

With the other, he grabs hold of Eddie’s and starts dragging him to the kitchen. The whole time, Eddie feels like he’s floating.

He’s happy he made the trip, he’s happy he got Steve his hair products, he’s happy his hair are back to normal.

And he’s even more happy that he gets to mess it up later when he kisses Steve again after everyone leaves.